Chapter Text
Sherwood Forest
The Old Church
The walk to the Friar’s Parish grounds took both Kuro and the Friar through the brush. Ducking underneath low hanging branches and side stepping over exposed roots that grew up and out of the ground. They walked in a shared and at times awkward silence. Kuro would take a few steps in the wrong direction and the Friar would suck in his teeth and call for him to follow him more closely. The badger would trip and Kuro would rush to his side to help him up. A resettling of their paves a quick thanks and then it was back to silence. Then they broke the treeline. Kuro saw a garden filled with carved stone and a small church with a single bell. Kuro huffed at the modesty. He was spoiled by cathedrals of wood, iron, and dozens of bells. A phantom ringing of the bells sent a chill down his back and salivated his mouth. He sucked it down and trudged forward with a pair of heavy boots.
The area surrounding the church were the christened grounds of those who have passed, their tombstones having faded by the unyielding rays of the sun. Kuro wondered what the gravesites and the cemeteries were like on Midgar, if there were churches and cemeteries for their dead. A morbid thought that came was how many of them were filled with his quarry and his enemies. He thought for a moment the weight of the dirt that held them down, the sound and sight of their distraught families as they buried what was left of their brothers, husbands and fathers when Kuro was finished.
He tried to harden his heart and he followed the Friar into the church. They chose their path, just as he chose his own. They were men, and they could choose to be evil. A statement that made what little sleep Kuro could have a little more peaceful than someone like him deserved. Kuro thought of the Avalanche members that never got funerals. The SHINRA troops were surely buried with honors and held to high esteem by their peers and family. Kuro and what remained of Avalanche held that responsibility for their dead. No funerals or well wishes and services. And Kuro would carry that responsibility with him. As long as he could for as far as he could. The doors on the rusted hinged squeaked and rattled when they were opened and they were met initially with silence. Pews of men and women praying, eyes closed and their attention on their requests. Then the Friar cleared his throat and got their attention.
The uproar of the patrons of the parish startled Kuro, to say the least. Not expecting such a loud crowd in a small little church. Those that were in the middle of their prayers pausing to give salutations to the holy man and return to requesting blessings and safety. Young and old, fit and frail, all those that were here held a somber stare in their eyes, a glimmering glint of passion and happiness sparking when they saw the big and clearly loved badger.
“Hello! Friar!” Out of the wall came a small and excited voice, the small pitter patter of feet echoing in the stone church. Emerging from the crevice were a pair of small gray mice. They were tiny, both would both fit comfortably in the palm of Kuro’s hand. The father mouse wore a white collar and black robes, a small ebony shaded cap on his head. His wife, the sister, wore a bonnet and a modest blue dress and apron. Their responsibility was to maintain the church grounds alongside the friar, ringing the bells for the hours and for Sundays, as well as support the community as representatives of the faith for when the Friar was out on business. “We were wondering when you would come back. We were hoping to see you before the evening bells. What happened?”
“Some nonsense, nothing to worry about. The important thing is that the parish will do what it can to keep the spirit and hold the faith. You both did such a wonderful job.” The Friar said with as inviting a smile as he could muster, his voice rising to a level of confidence and strength that it even surprised the Heartless. The Heartless sightline muted and grew dark, what he found within was unsurprising. The somber crowd was ringing out soft rings of deep violet heartbeats. Signs of deep despair, fathomless uncertainty and true sadness. Kuro felt a pain in his heart, seeing such devastation in the eyes and hearts of those poor folk. The badger cleared his throat and hummed. “As we are expected and we are blessed to do.”
“How can we keep any faith with empty pockets and bellies, when that tyrant John taxes the heart out of the community?” The small church mouse squeaked, hands closing with a solemn expression on her face. Her eyes bounced from the badger to the crowd that was gathered in the church. So many broken, tired and especially hungry people. “The world feels so much darker than before.”
“Why, we do have a responsibility to help who we can, when we can. Now keep your faith, Little Sister. Someday, there'll be ringing bells, prosperity and happiness again in Nottingham. Sooner than you think.” The Friar noted with a hopeful wink, a few nods and a nervous twiddling of his thumbs. He felt the energy in the room, and it chilled him down to the bone. He settled his voice and continued to speak. “Until that day, we do our work. When we have nothing left to give, let us be grateful to know we’ve exhausted every avenue and gave all we could.”
“Friar Tuck, ever since the last cycle of taxes, we’ve been gathering what we could scrape by from the baker and the nearby farms were willing to spare. It’s not much and I know our own reserves will barely last the three of us for one evening, but please take it for the people.” The mother church mouse asked, her weak smile breaking across her face with a sigh of resignation. They were there to help people, and they were going to. “It would be most wonderful to have something to give.”
“Oh, sweet little sister. No one can give any more than that. Bless you, both of you.” The Friar said as he was led by the tugs of the small father church mouse. Who led the Friar to the small and modest pantry the church had for those in need of food and water. When the badger opened the doors, his spirit sank at the state of their rations. With two small baskets full of what little there was left to share. With a mighty heart and a renewed determination, the Friar prepared to get to work.
Kuro saw the downtrodden sit along the pews, praying for food, clear skies, and better days ahead. The Heartless let out an awkward sigh, hands retracting into his pockets and his eyes shifting anxiously from one side of the rather modest and humble church to another. Beginning to feel the stone walls begin to close in and threaten to crush him. The Friar came to his side, and with a warm smile, wordlessly handed him a small woven basket.
Inside of it was a bundle of small linen wrapped over itself several times. Kuro, curiously, unwrapped it and found nestled underneath the fabric were several burnt quarters and untouched heels of bread. The rough and hard texture of the loaves knocking into each reminded Kuro of chalk tapping on blackboard, as they were disrupted by his jostling. He watched as the Friar reached for his own basket, and began to walk down the row of parishioners and hand out the food to the crowd. His basket filled with wilting carrots and grapes a few days short of becoming raisins. Giving a soft and tender smile to the sick whose eyes were aglow with excitement as they received real food.
Kuro without prompting did the same. He offered a loaf to each of the children on his side, making sure the small rabbits and turtles and ducks were the first to receive the loaves. Kuro handed one of the larger pieces, in size no bigger than his tight fist, to a young turtle who took it and split it with a nearby old sparrow. Who took it gracefully and spoke blessings to the boy as they broke bread together. A glimmer of kindness, even in a world so dark.
“Can I ask you something, Friar?” Kuro inquired with a raised brow. The badger nodded to the Heartless, supporting a broken heeled bloodhound as he adjusted in his seat to elevate his foot for comfort. “Why did you ask me to come with you?”
Kuro was curious, and honestly confused, while he handed out a few loose heels of bread from the basket, hearing the softly uttering ‘thanks’ beneath the breaths of those who were waiting for the food, giving Kuro little embers of warmth to spread through his chest with each expression of gratitude. It brought to mind the Midgar meals he paid for so long ago. Then he thought of how Jessie looked so happy when he said was so generous. Then he thought of the children who lost their lives on Quasimodo’s world. His heart ached and his tongue soured in his mouth.
“I needed help with giving out our daily bread.” The Friar chortled, his thick cheeks and chin bounced as he held a lady rabbit’s hand and clutched it sweetly. A few prayers uttered for her family and her community. “Be well, sister.”
“You don’t know me, you could have grabbed someone you knew.” Kuro noted with a strained expression on his face, unsure of all the tender hearted people he knew were at the camp, how he picked the one who spilt more blood than anyone. Kuro’s hand anxiously tightened and flexed, the faint chill of steel resting in his palm was both a blessing and made him feel ill-prepared. “Someone the community already knows.”
“I felt a need. And I sought to address it.” The Friar said as he walked with his own basket and handed people corked small bottles of fresh water and a few small wrappings of carrots and a potato each. The holy man offered a warm smile to the Heartless. “I think you were in need of a little positive energy in your life. And giving to those in need feeds the spirit and the mind.”
“What told you that?” Kuro asked with a raised brow. He handed out the last loaf, a truly pitiful sight as the ones that received bread immediately started attempting to break their portions into smaller chunks to make sure everyone got something to put on their stomachs.
“The Lord on my shoulder. The wind in my hair. Your eyes, mostly.” The Friar said, tapping his temple with one of his stubbed claws. A warm smile breaking across his face. “They tell me you’ve seen your share of tribulations.”
Kuro didn’t know what to think, until the Friar turned to him and dipped his chin in acknowledgment. As if asking Kuro to speak. The Heartless cleared his throat, felt his shoulders loosen and his heavy heart begin to spill. He handed out the last piece of bread and rested the basket on the floor.
“Forgive me if I’m a little hesitant. The last time I had a conversation with a holy man, it didn’t end well. It probably ended the worst way it could.” Kuro noted as he walked along the pew and traced his nail along the wooden carved arm. The heft of steel held in rage was heavy, Kuro letting the weight of the memory make his finger trail off the wood before taking a sidestep inward and sitting down on the wooden seat. The phantom smell of smoke from below burned his nostrils, the unfelt heat of the roaring fires of the crumbling city making the air around him so hot that whatever sweat he had was immediately evaporated. That same burning now closes his throat and makes his mouth dry.
The Judge’s cruel and evil glare toward Quasimodo was one held with such vitriol and hatred, Kuro was unsure if he would ever see such a level of disgust again. The sound of steel scraping against stone raked across his ears and caused his jaw to lock and physically cringe. The grating noise echoing, making his teeth hurt. He forced his eyes open and turned to the only stained glass window of this humble little church. Hanging just behind the preacher’s podium, was a portrait of a haloed Saint, painted rays of starlight washing him in serenity and grace. The sight of it eases Kuro’s mind and settles his breathing. The Judge was just a memory. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.
“He used his control over his men and his power to just hurt innocent people. I would not be able to live with the fact he almost died thinking he would be absolved of his crimes by his God. And I killed him for it.” He had expected a sound of surprise or an aside look or even just a shift in the eyebrows. But the Friar didn’t seem to even be affected by his words in the slightest.
“When our transgressions are to be blotted out, we are told that the divine does so as to not remember our sins. Nor will those sins be used against us.” The Friar preached with a voice that revered the gospel he spoke when he felt a sudden wind blow through the stone building’s open windows. He sucked on his teeth with a mild annoyance at the breeze and walked over to one of the candles that had just been blown out by the evening’s chilling gust. He reaches into his pocket, pulls a single match and strikes it between his thumb and pointer finger, reigniting the candle and letting the smoke trail of the now shaken matchstick linger in the air. Slowly falling to the floor in a loose unraveling spiral before dispersing into nothing when they hit stone. “That is a benefit of our relationship to the heavens. To know that no matter our own illfootings and our shortcomings, that we are and shall be forgiven for them. That we are not too late to save. That no one is beyond redemption.”
“You’re ok with that? To have these awful pieces of sh-sh- should I just-just-just- shit. The horrid don’t deserve that. That peace. That, ‘I can rest.’ How can one cause so much damage, disrupt and destroy so many lives and still be forgiven for it? Why should a killer find peace when he denies others theirs?” Kuro asked with a furrowed brow and a stern glint of irritation on his glare. Jaw clenching and hands coiling into fists. The smoke from burning candles is replaced with the popsmoke of gunfire. The sound of steel on stone is quickly becoming the sound of crunching armor beneath heavy strikes. The sight of blacked hateful eyes morph into a glowing hellfire glare. The Friar paid that look of the Heartless hardly any mind, seeing the reaction in Kuro and sitting beside him without a word. A few moments pass in a shared and deeply felt silence, Kuro’s shoulders eventually losing their tension and his breathing settles. The Friar stares into the stained glass window beyond the podium and offers a serene and simple smile. A glint of knowing in his eyes.
“I believe it isn’t my place to question the design of the divine. Just listen.” Friar Tuck noted, steepling his hands over his rotund stomach and rolling them over one another with a soft sigh and a thoughtful nod. “All we can do is work with the tools we have. Son, I’m sorry you feel such a burden. To acknowledge the complexity and the pain of taking a life. It is not easy. Nor should it ever be. Which is why we have to be careful about our own choices. Because we don’t know the longstanding ramifications of our own actions.”
Kuro furrowed his brow as the Friar turned to him with an inquisitive expression and a gentle smile. The Friar adjusted in his seat and leaned in with an interest in his eye. Giving the Heartless his undivided attention.
“Tell me, Kuro. In your efforts to make and find peace using your violence and your anger, has it brought you, Kuro, peace?” The Friar asked with a questioning jut of his chin and feeling a knowing grin break across his face when Kuro’s eyes narrowed in surprise and thought. His hands flex and his face twinges in the afterglow of such a question. Kuro thought of the war he’d waged on Midgar and all the SHIRNA Soldiers who fell to his blade. How many Cabal collaborators he had devoured the Hearts of. All the Heartless he’s killed that were in his way. When did his violence ever bring him peace? Would it ever bring him peace? He fought to have a day where he wouldn’t have to again, and be with Naminé. Would that day ever come? Would his violence just invite more violence? Would he ever stop fighting? The Friar lets out a soft huff and taps his own wide stomach. Getting the young man’s attention. “We often forget the easiest path is not often the most prosperous. ‘Enter by way of the narrow gate. For the gate that is wide and the way that is easy is often one that leads us to destruction. There are many who have entered it who don’t return. For the gate that is narrow, that the way is hard that leads to life. However, those who find it are fewer in number.’ I feel your way of violence is hard on your mind, on your spirit. Specifically, on your heart. But that is truly the easy path. To rise against one’s enemy without remorse, to strike them down with vengeance and in rage? That is the path of those who chose the path of least resistance to handle the situation. To stand for justice, for goodness, for the sake of your fellow man, that is the hard way believe it or not. It is the right way.”
“You don’t know what I’ve faced, Friar. I have fought both men and monsters, and I know you know that sometimes they are one in the same.” Kuro said with a deep and rumbling voice, his jaw clenching and his hands trembling. Breathing in slowly and steadily. “How am I supposed to forgive the people who took my friends away?”
“What did your enemies have to lose if they didn’t? Did they not lose friends to your blade? To your fire? What makes your blade strike truer than theirs?” The Friar asked, and when Kuro opened his mouth to respond and argue, he continued to speak. “I’m sure they thought that they were justified in their response just as you surely do. And it’s acknowledging that simple truth that we are often working with the tools that we have, that we can begin to see humanity in one another. Because once we see our enemy as a conflicted brother instead of a malicious monster, it’s only then that we can find ourselves in their shoes. That is the way to truly understand and heal.”
“That’s the issue, Friar.” Kuro huffed and shook his head. Slamming a closed fist into the palm of his hand and letting out a discontent and a deeply unsettled sigh. He turned his glare towards the badger and met the Friar's beady black eyes. The Heartless leaned back into the pew and turned his attention to the ceiling. The phantom weight in his hand felt the all the familiar leather bound grip of his sword, the slight resistance when his flared steel met industrial soldier armor, and his ears stung with the sound of crunching bone. “I am not a conflicted brother to the men I kill. Nor would I ever want to be. What I am, I’m something scarier than man. Oftentimes, I know I’m something worse.”
The Friar could hear the pain behind that poor attempt at a boast of power in this young man. The way his hands held firm into fights not out of a need to fight but a fear for future protection. How his eyes scanned the windows not for a spot to hold up and take position but to barricade and perhaps run through. How his jaw clenched to not control his breathing but to keep himself from yelling or screaming in his anger. The Friar had seen his fair share of soldiers who have returned from conflict. And he didn’t see this war monger or frenzied berserker that Kuro surely thought he was. But a man who simply lost his way like so many others have before.
“Oh son.” Was all the Friar could say, a heavy heart weighing down his words as the doors to the old church were pushed open with such a force, they nearly blasted them off of their hinges. Kuro snarled at the smell of wet unkempt fur and the Friar said a prayer under his breath. Children hid behind their mothers and the men took position in front of the small families.
“Well, if thisn’t a fine how do you do!” The blow hard of a rotund wolf bellows out of his big mouth. He waddles into the old stone church with a little chuckle. His forehead soaked with sweat that he immediately dabs with the front of his shirt, a few sharp breaths being taken between his narrow lips. “First time since I was a youngun going into the church and getting my prayers answered!”
“What do you want, sir?” Friar Tuck let out a sigh of annoyance as he slipped his hands into his pockets. He nodded toward the official and cleared his throat awkwardly. The Sheriff fingered his ring loop and spun it around with a roll of his wrist. Letting the skeleton keys knock against each other with each rotation. “We have a full house of people who need to be fed and need to be taken care of.”
“Hey now. No need to start your preaching. Save your sermon and your breath, Friar. It ain't Sun’dee, and you’ll be needing it for all the prayers you’ll be praying for the hanging that’ll be tomorrow morning.” The Sheriff raised his finger and wagged it in front of the Friar. Such a declaration caught the attention of peasants and the Heartless. The tucked tunic slipped out of his pants, the wolf grabbed up his belt and tugged it to rest firm on his hips and shoving his tunic under his waistband when it slipped out. He turned his attention to Kuro, winking at him. “I’ll be needing that boy to come with me on the order of Prince John.”
Before Kuro could yell an obscenity and start swinging on the Sheriff, the Friar settled his stance and glowered at the wolf. His gaze hardened and his hands balled into tight thick fists. Crooking his neck so that he could stare up into the wolf’s eyes.
“He won’t be leaving with you. He has sanctuary in this holy place.” Friar Tuck said with an authority and a strength that stayed in his voice. Speaking with a power that Kuro respected and the Sheriff feared. The fat wolf tucked his tongue into his cheek, nodding with a disappointed look in his eye. “You need to leave, now.”
“Don’t make me say it, Friar.” The Sheriff said with a sneer, followed by a phlegmy hacked up spittle that splashed onto the stone floor. He blew out a nostril that sent a glob of snot onto a nearby pew. The Friar shifted in his spot and let out a short and sharp breath to control his anger. When the friar saw the Sheriff walk over to the donation box, he could see the Sheriff bottom it out onto his hand. Only two small spheres of Munny rolled into his hand, which he let rest level in his palm before pocketing it. “Under the rule and power of the Great Prince John, I am placing that vagrant under arrest-”
“Now, you listen here, you unruly bastard! You evil flint-hearted scoundrel!” Friar's voice rose and his finger sternly pressed to the chest of the Sheriff. The women would clutch their pearls if they had any and the shock blew the hats off of some of the men in the crowd. The Sheriff’s posture and stance wasn’t ready for any kind of resistance and much less push. In response to the stern finger, the wolf was knocked back a step and the badger pressed onward with two steps of his own. Ignoring how the Heartless Wolfguards were already forming an attack line with their spears drawn and their golden eyes focused on the crowd as they began to gather around and close off any chance to move further into the church. The Friar stood tall, unafraid and with righteous fury on his side. “You ignore my order, you continue to harass this young man, and you go and ignore the orders of a servant of the Lord? You think because you march around and pretend the people actually respect you, you can do whatever you want? That you can move around here like some kind of unruly plague to thin out our harvests and steal from our tables? Collecting these ‘taxes’, and being the face for the extortionist, arrogant, greedy, ruthless, crooked, good for nothing Prince John?”
The crowd of the church joins in with the name calling, voices raised so high the very heavens could hear their cries. The mouths of babes called him a snivelling and grovelling child. The blacksmith and the millers spoke out and named the Prince a measly weaselly vermin. The older folks said he was nothing more than a blabbering, jabbering, jibbering noise maker pretending to be King. The farmers spoke ill of the prince, comparing him to a plundering and plotting pirate. The Sheriff could feel the walls closing in, the crowd of people he’s ‘taxed’ in the past were all screaming at him and besmirching his Prince. The Sheriff whistled, the Heartless taking a poised stabbing stance, Kuro’s left hand was thrown out in response. His dog-faced shield was called to his hand in its burst of purple and blackened smoke, taking position between a spearhead and a mother rabbit with her small daughter in her arms. Kuro’s free arm ushering whoever could move behind the protection of his steel.
“You all listen here! You're getting frightfully loud, and you're all gonna end up like that wily orange eyed buggard and swing alongside him with your necks tight with a hangman's noose.” The Sheriff chest bumped the Friar to make some room. He warned the lot of them before he pointed a finger to the silver haired Heartless and flashed a crooked grin. “Now, you all step aside and have that prisoner come quietly or else I'll have to resort to more unfavorable means.”
There is a pause in the conversation, a still breath held collectively by the crowd. The winds outside could be heard howling through the woods and breaking against the stone. The individual drops of the water that dripped and trailed off the stones and down onto the floor could be precisely counted and heard by all the townsfolk. The Friar glanced over his ill flock, the poor and the downtrodden, the hungry and the young, the old and the sick, and it’s there that he met eyes with the Heartless. Kuro, seeing the regret and the shame in the old Badger’s eyes, knew what was to come. Kuro mentally prepared to face this horde of Heartless and the Sheriff as the Friar settles his posture and-
“He has a sanctuary. And you need to leave.” The Friar stated with a stern and an unshaken expression on his face. Kuro’s face twisted in utter confusion. Why would he risk his life and the life of his people for a man he didn’t know. For this Heartless? He would do that for him? “If it needs to end unfavorably, then let it start with me.”
“You’d die for some low grade hellion?” The Sheriff asked with a raised brow and an unimpressed crooked smile. Licking his chops and nodding his head toward the patrons of this parish that were lined up behind him. “Why risk the flock of needy sheep over a lowly ill-fated wolf?”
“I’ve had enough! Of you! And that rotten John! I said leave and you! Will! Leave!” The Friar bounced his stomach into the Sheriff’s and knocked the wolf off of balance. The Friar was gearing up for a fight. “Get out of my church!”
The second belly bump knocks the sheriff out of his church, sending him tripping over the short steps leading into the church and down into the dirt. The old Friar picks up the nearby broom, slams his heels into the neck of the bristle head to break it off of the shaft, and carries his stick out to meet the Sheriff.
The Sheriff goes to draw his sword, only to get snapped across the wrist by a quick swat by the
Kuro jumps into action and sends a right cross into the nearest wolf heartless’ cheek. The Heartless dodges a few quick spear thrusts as the Heartless rushes out of the church and out into the rain. Heels dragging in the wet mud as he is followed by the wolves. Kuro spins on his heel and feels a spearhead pierce through his side. Threading through ribs and peeking out of his back. Kuro grits his teeth and swings his shield down to break the spear head off. Kuro reels his arm back, the edge of the shield knocking up against the chin of the Wolf that stabbed him. Kuro followed the shield bash with a stern right straight that compounded the snout of the Heartless and buckled beneath his power. Kuro sees three more Wolf soldiers charge out of the church with spears drawn, giving chase.
Kuro pivots and throws the edged shield into the one leading the charge, the shield slicing through the shoulder and chest of the Wolf, dividing the guard into nearly two pieces before combusting into a dense cloud of purple smoke. The shield lodged into the soldier’s chest directly. The power behind the throw takes the Wolf Guard Heartless to the dirt. Kuro rushed and tackled the Wolf Guard on his left, following the grapple with alternating right and left punches that pummeled the Heartless into the dirt. Knees sinking into the mud before the Wolf Heartless exploded in his grasp.
The Sheriff eventually created enough distance between him and the pursuing Badger to draw his sword and enter an attack stance. Hands over one another and the pommel of the sword resting on his stomach. The Friar swung his stick over head and knocked against the Sheriff’s shoulder, the Wolf was far too slow to move and guard the blow. Feeling the wood sting and leaving a sizable welt underneath his sleeve. He shoots a glare to the other Heartless Wolf Guards and sneers.
“Dagnab it! You all buckle down that church and throw a few match sticks inside! We are making an example of this misgiving toward our prince!” The Sheriff ordered with a bark and a pointed claw. He narrowly blocked another swing from a broken broom swing with a parrying swipe of his steel sword. The Heartless Wolf Soldiers heard the order and immediately got to work on the plan. The Sheriff fixed his stance and started to meet the holy man swing for swing. Cackling as the thunder rolled above. “Out of the pan and into the friar, eh Preacher?”
The Friar battered the sword with a few more wide arcing swings, each cracking of the wood against the sword nearly knocking the blade out of its owner’s hands. The Friar yelps with a croaking battlecry before slamming his hip into the Sheriff’s side and knocking him off guard. The Friar crashed the fat wolf back into the dirt and turned to see the Wolves’ throwing a few torches through the open slotted windows and throwing their bodies up against doors to keep them shut. Leaving the poor folk trapped inside. His eyes turned to Kuro, who had linked his arms around the waist of a nearby Wolf guard and crashed them hard into the dirt with an overhead slam.
“Save the parish! Please! Save my people!” Friar Tuck shouted as he slammed his broomstick handle against the skull of a nearby Heartless wolf guard, disorienting the creature just long enough to bounce his stomach off of the dazed enemy and send them toppling off their feet and into a nearby gravestone. Snipe snapping over the slab of slate and slinking down into the slick wet mud. A holy man who put the needs of his people over his own needs? Kuro couldn’t help but appreciate the bravery of the gesture.
Kuro nodded without hesitation, rising to his feet and taking off into a mad dash toward the front doors of the old stone church. He needed to get through the barricade of Heartless Wolves.
He slammed his shoulder into the Wolf Heartless guard on the left hand side, crushing the skull against the wood and dazing the wolf. Kuro grabbed hold of the snout to keep it pinned to the door, slamming his heel into the opposing door’s barricading wolf.
The wolf is knocked into the stone wall behind him, before Kuro lifts the held wolf up over his head and crashes them into the floor with a powerful slam. Letting the Wolf Guard bounce off of the stone, before crushing their skull beneath his heel. The Heartless burst and Kuro threw the doors open. Using the swinging door to pin the remaining Wolf to the wall, and repeatedly bashing the door against the Heartless until it was dead. The wave of blackened smoke flows out of the church doors in a washing not unlike an ocean wave. A continuous rolling dense cloud bellowing out of the stone and rising up towards the turbulent gray skies. Kuro moved out of the way as much as he could as many women, children, and men rush out to get some fresh air.
Kuro watches everyone get out and prepares to leave when he hears amongst the crackling and blazing wood, the little chirped cries of the small sextons. Kuros doesn’t hesitate to charge into the kindled pews and torched rafters. Kuro’s eyes burning and his sweat drying and sticking to his skin as he felt the hairs on his arms and neck begin to singe. His coughing and violent hacking so loud it overpowered the fearful cries of the small mice.
Kuro rushed towards the back of the church, a burning rafter beam crashing down beside him and sending splinter shrapnels into his cheek and eye. Kuro ignored them as best as he could, the irritation dissipating as his healing factor shoved out the shards of wood in his eye and sending them into the ashes that gathered on the floor.
Kuro feels a blast of hot air that scalds him as he keeps pressing forward. Passing the second row of pews and making his way forward. He was getting closer with every step.
“You could save these little mice? But you had no heart to save the Hunchback? He deserved his fate?” The voice echoed in the dark, a pair of Crimson eyes peeking out of the black smoke. A sinister snicker echoing amongst the crumbling church. “Maybe you just needed more motivation… maybe a fair maiden for you to bed, or an innocent heart to devour? Those dull needs and wants for such a simple creature.”
“Go to Hell!” Kuro shouts into the dark boi, screaming with vitriol towards the pair of glowing blood shaded eyes. “You don’t know me!”
“By all accounts… no Hell can be worse than the one you made yourself… How is your Naminé? Does she know how much danger she is in… cavorting with a Devil like yourself? How soon until she’s ruined and destroyed by your senseless war?” The eyes disappear amongst the black, Kuro getting within striking distance and right hooking through the smokey silhouette near the pedestal. Missing the jaw of the Lich Lord. Kuro grumbled a few more curses under his breath as he crouches down and sees a burning chunk of rafter wood had landed right in front of the mouse hole. Without a moment to spare, he barehanded grabbed and tossed the burning wood aside, the bubbling blisters along the digits and the center of his palms deflating as quickly as they bloomed. He lent a hand down, feeling two little creatures crawl into his hand. He had to get out of the church before it fell atop of him.
The Sheriff of Nottingham came around from behind as the Friar cracked his knuckles across a wolf guard's cheeks with a slow and hearty combo, knocking it down to the floor and slamming his foot into its side to keep it down. The Sheriff took up his baton, saddled up behind the fat friar and knocked the club hard against the back of his head. The Friar is struck and immediately sees stars explode behind his eyes, his vision going black and stumbling forward until his foot dug into a divot in the dirt and he crumbled down into his knees. Landing with a squishing wet thud into the mud.
“Friar Tuck! By the power vested in me given to us by our Lord King Richard, I have hereby sentenced you to death for high treason and conspiracy against the crown!” The Sheriff shouted as he clapped the pairs of irons along the Friar’s wrists and one larger one around his throat, putting an end to his resistance and dousing the flames of his righteous rage. The old badger’s shoulders lost their tension when the irons fell heavy along his hands, the breath in his chest deflated when his throat was constricted, and his back became crooked and bent. As if he realized he was fighting at a pace of a man half his age and suddenly felt the years come washing over him abruptly. He was haggard and breathing heavily, his eyes winced shut and falling to the mercy of the Sheriff. Knees sinking deeper into the dirt and his hands falling loose in his lap. The Sheriff tugged on the chain and let out a devious grin. “Better keep your prayers for yourself. You’ll be hanging by the sixth morning bell ring for your actions. Get him up and outta here, boys.”
The wolf guards struggled initially, but eventually pulled the Friar up onto his feet to drag him to his cell. Then other guards got to work wrestling and cuffing the parishioners. The cold irons’ bite along their wrists weighing on their spirits and their bodies. It was over. The shepherd along with his flock were carried off down the King’s road to receive their punishment. Marching off to cold cells of the Nottingham Prison.
Kuro rushed out of the church, bursting out of the dense cloud of black smoke like a phoenix erupting out of its ashes just before the fire finally brought the old holy site to collapse in on itself. The support beams having been burned to such a degree the weight of the stone crushed what was left and leveled the stone building. Kuro could only watch out of the corner of his eye the tearful chain gang march along at spear point as he carried the small little church mice towards the treeline to find some measure of safety. His smoke filled lungs breathing out heavier, making him feel more winded than he would have thought and his smoke irritated eyes trying to refocus on the blurred image of the shackled Friar and his cuffed flock through his tears. He would save him. All of them. He had to.
“-Choh! Choh!- Let me find you a place to sit you down, and I’ll go back and start freeing everyone. I’ll -Hohk!- -Hohk!- knock those teeth out of that goddamn Sheriff’s mouth and shove them down his -Ghod-Dhahm- throat.” Kuro said to the small Sextons, his blood pumping and his eyes wide as he could hear the jingling of chains and the rattling of cuffs from the treeline. All of it deafened by the sound of thunder rolling in the dark clouds above and the cracking of lightning far in the distance. The Sexton grabs hold of his thumb and squeezes it intensely, getting the Heartless’ attention even amidst his rage.
“We can’t just rush them all! There are too many people, they are all chained up and those guards won’t hesitate to hurt them if you strike. It’s just you! They’ll all die!” The Mother mouse said as she peeked over Kuro’s curled claws and saw the troops of Heartless begin to drag and pull the poor and the downtrodden away from the church in droves. The chains swinging and ankle locks dragging against the mud. The townsfolk were pulled out of what was supposed to be the safety and the sanctity of the church being led back to the Hell that had become the town of Nottingham.
“Then what do I do? I can’t just go in and kill them and wind up hurting those people, but I also just can’t sit here while they take the woman and children away in chains! What should I do? Please?” Kuro asked with a pleading and troubled tone, eyes bloodshot and his face falling to a sullen expression. He heaved and rubbed his eyelids with the heels of his hands, groaning to himself. He could just storm the troop but that would end with them just callously killing the innocent. He could just storm the castle, but storming castles alone has proven to be less than ideal for someone of his position. He dragged his hand against his cheeks, the Sexton and the Mother talking quickly amongst themselves before turning to Kuro. Having come up with a plan. “What’s the next move?”
“The best thing to do right now is not fight. They are being taken prisoner, and that means they are going to be in the one place that can house all of them. The Prison of Nottingham. We have to go tell Robin what happened! He’ll know what to do! Quick!” The Father Mouse stated before Kuro reached down with his palm flat and picked the two mice up off of the ground.
He tucked them both into his breast pocket, with an assuring tap against the leather. He rose back up to his feet, and began to retrace his steps as he rushed back towards the camp.
Sherwood Forest
Robin’s Camp
Robin’s hands found their way around his sweet maid’s hips as he pulled her closer to him beneath the looming branches of a nearby tree. The shadows of the dancing folk shifting across the wood lands. The thief rested his chin along her shoulder and nuzzled her beneath the torch light. The partying didn’t seem to cease since the departure of the silver haired creature and his dear friend Friar Tuck. With the wine ever flowing, the music never stopping, and the laughter endlessly followed by a hearty spirited cheer of joy. It was as close to heaven he was sure he would ever get, and with Maid Marian by his side, he would have it no other way.
“It seems like only yesterday we were just some silly children who wanted to run away together. Carving initials into the trunk of a tree. Weaving grass into rings to exchange.” Maid Marian said with a wistful and tender tone, her eyes half-lidded and her heart beating down to her fingertips. Maid Marian let her hands slide over his, intertwining her fingers with his own. “Have you thought of us?”
“Every night. I imagine being wed. We'll have a home in the forest, with a cottage by a babbling brook. A warm hearth and hot food, a comfortable bed.” Robin kisses the crook of her neck and feels her giggling against his lips which in turn only fueled his desire to kiss her more. “Six children to fill our lives with light.”
“Six?” Maid Marian said with a snicker and flush to her cheeks. She sways against him, her back pressing to his chest as she rests her head along his shoulders. Their heartbeats in sync as she utters these words under her breath. “After the adventure it took to get us here? You’re looking at a dozen pairs of little feet pitter and pattering in our home.”
Before they could begin to start potentially naming off their little kits, a rustling in the bushes drew an alarm. Little John grabbing a hammer and Robin bravely putting himself in front of the dainty lady. Out of the brush came out the silver haired man, his eyes narrowed and his orange glare glowing in the dark.
“The friar! They are going to kill the friar!” Kuro roared as he rushed into the center of camp to seek out the rogue. “They said they wanted to kill him!”
“Settle your breath sonny, settle down.” Robin called out with a harsh bark while he approached the Heartless. Hooking an arm around him and pulling him close. His voice lowered to a lower volume, his breathing steady and soft. “What are you babbling about?”
Kuro’s breathing mirrored the fox’s as he turned to face the wanted thief.
“The Sheriff said he is going to hang the Friar. In the morning. They came to his church, burned it down and took him and the rest of the people hostage.” Kuro said, taking this moment to breathe a true clear breath before he gently lifted the Father Sexton Mouse and the Mother Church Mouse out of his pocket as gingerly as he could to place them on a nearby log. He tenderly placed them as he tried to steady his breathing as his mind once again started to race once again, running his fingers through his wild silver locks to smooth the hair down. Kuro’s mind was a tangled mess of frayed live wires and his heart was echoing strumming beats that thundered and echoed through his whole form. Images of tied off rope flashing across his eyes and the sound of bones crackling and eventually snapping echoing in his ears. “They want to kill him.”
“Settle down, old boy. Settle down. They aren’t going to kill him. Not even the Prince is so ignorant to do such a thing.” Robin stated surely as he rubbed a hand along Kuro’s shoulder to calm the Heartless. He nudged his chin towards Little John and glanced over towards the children, which the big bear immediately took to notice and went to gather them up and distract them. He got the blacksmith and the matronly chicken to perform yet another puppet show for the children as the adults talked. Particularly the tale of when the Prince started to suck his thumb and rub his ear when he was upset. Robin turned to the sextons and lowered his voice. “What is the news, little Father?”
“It’s true, Robin. And It isn’t just the Friar, Mister Hood.” The little Church mouse said with a somber tone, eyes wet with tears as she anxiously smoothed out her dress. She had to look nice for the Church services. Always look nice. “They arrested the old and the hurting, the young and the sick. Locked them into these heavy chains and iron cuffs. They are all being taken for conspiring with Tuck. They are all going to prison.”
This gathered the most attention, and caused Robin’s jaw to drop. Marian’s heart sunk into her stomach and her hands clapped over her snout. Her cowardly uncle was many things, even if he had done some dastardly things, the Friar was a holy man. He was a kind and generous soul. He was to be trusted and faith to not just the light but to the world. Be a shepherd for his people. He wouldn’t dare do something so callous and dangerous and evil.
“He protected me when I should have been protecting him.” Kuro said with a faraway look in his eye and his hands flexing and clenching into hard fists. His heartbeat thundering so hard in his chest it made his eyeballs get thrummed in their sockets. His ears ringing with gunfire. The taste of blood on his teeth. Tears on his cheeks and the licks roaring fire singing his skin. Kuro’s lips babbled and his eyes darted all around the forest. The woods pulled together into a solid wall of bark, bolts and soon sheen sheets of steel. He would have been fine in the church. He would have been safe fighting off the Sheriff. That Friar should have just let Kuro do his work. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have just stepped aside. “Goddmannit old man.”
Dusk rushed to Kuro’s side, their claws reaching out to grab ahold of him. Trying to calm him down with a few steady rubs along his taut forearms. The big bear gets the children settled with the funny tale before he joins the fox’s side. His mouth was dry and his face fell into an expression foreign to the bear, a truly beaten down frown. The women, sick, and the children? All ushered to be thrown into a jail cell alongside the good Friar? Who is to be hung in the morning? He rubs his chin and thinks logically about the next step.
“Rob… the little children and the women. They can’t be locked in no prison. Especially when The Sheriff is on such a power trip. No way, and no how.” Little John spoke so softly and tenderly, defeat on his lips before he looked over to the few townsfolk becoming distressed and worried, their families being imprisoned for crimes against the Prince and at the thought of their dear Friar Tuck being hung by the rope for all to see. He saw the young rabbits look at him with tears in their eyes and faces pulled down into frowns. John fixed his expression, shooting them a playful wink before searching for the strength to rise to his full height and flash a fake but warm smile. Trying to inspire some level of confidence in the situation, at the very least for the children. “We also can't just let Prince John get away with letting Friar Tuck hang. He’s our friend!”
The cheers of the crowd followed after John’s declaration, much to the delight of their fearless leader. Kuro’s eyes surfed along the crowd and he felt a stir of emotion in his chest. A rising hope in his heart. Robin Hood stroked his chin thoughtfully, only taking two measured steps before settling onto their next plan.
“Then it appears we are left with no choice. You, Kuro and I will have to go in and save Friar Tuck.” Robin Hood said with a tone of confidence and determination, to which the crowd responded with an inspired and excited cheer. His lips curled to a hopeful smile and a confident tenor to his voice. “A proper jailbreak it is, that is the only chance we’ve got to save them. Save all of them.”
“A jailbreak? Out of Nottingham Prison? All of them? With just the three of us?” Little John shook his head as he let out a sigh of disbelief. A massive bear paw combing over his round head as he mentally went over the optics and the mental mapping of the entire prison. The forty foot huge iron and wooden gates, iron doors and chains behind lock and key. Not to mention the Prince’s army of soldiers. With their only offense being the archer Robin Hood, the muscle of Prince John, and the rage of this silver haired man. The old were too old, the sick too weak, and the young too precious to bring into combat. “We ain’t talking no simple break in, that's a siege! A battle! A sure fire way to face an entire battalion! There ain't no way we can get in there without bringing the whole world down on the three of us! And after that stunt we pulled at the tournament? They won’t take you in as a prisoner, Rob! They will hang you! Right there alongside Tuck!”
Maid Marian hears those words and immediately goes to join Robin at his side. Her forehead to his shoulder and her hands interlacing his own. Already muttering all her most important prayers and thoughts. Keeping Robin close to her. She already knew she almost lost him once, she was petrified at the thought of him going back out into danger again. And this time against such insurmountable odds.
“We haven’t got a choice, John old boy. It’s not just my life we have to worry about. It’s all the people Prince John has in his cells. Tomorrow it’ll be our Friar, then the next day it’s someone else’s son, then someone’s mother, and so on and so forth. It'll happen again and again until we've lost everyone we love. There is no other way. We have to go and save Friar Tuck and the rest of the captives tonight.” Robin Hood somberly said and tenderly squeezed Maid Marian’s hand, gazing into her eyes with a sympathetic yet steadfast expression on his face. Maid Marian recognized the determination in his stare and solemnly nodded, giving him her permission to go. He brings her hands up to kiss her knuckles, offering a warm following hopeful look before turning to the forest. “Our beloved friend is to be hung by the morning bells’ ring. Let’s go see about getting him out early for good behavior.”
Kuro’s thundering mind was deafened by the crowd as he focused on the mission at hand. At hand. He would be taking up arms and fighting another cabal member. Storming another castle, fighting another enemy, trying to kill another monster. Fighting and killing. Fighting and killing.
The Heartless flexed out his hands, a phantom throbbing in his skull as he could still feel the hot iron of the Keyblade wreck his body with its thundering blows and wielded in cruel power. The weight of the power behind those harsh strikes and the crunching sound of his bones snapping beneath each swing. The Heartless shook his head, grounded himself with a few short breaths and did what he could for now. He couldn’t go to Naminé, he couldn’t go run off to Avalanche. So he just has to try to ignore the feelings that crept up and down his spine to refocus his mind on the task at hand.
He had to go save the Friar, he had to go save the families of those that were stolen, and he had to go kill Prince John. Save the Friar. Kill the Prince. Kill Prince John and eat his heart. Eat his heart. Eat his heart. Heart. Heart. Heart.
“Kuro, you ok?” Dusk asked with a soft and gentle pleading voice. Kuro’s eyes were vacant and devoid of any of its usual warmth and energy. That roaring orange had fallen to a low and dim amber glow. His hands balled up into taut fists. His shoulders pulled together and tight. His body poised to strike. Dusk cleared their throat and called out to Kuro again. Their voice caught his attention and pulled him out of his cycle of anger and hunger. His eyes grew wider, as if he could hear again. The Seeker of Darkness steadied his breathing and straightened his back. His orange eyes losing their strain and his hands losing their tight grip and his shoulders falling. “Kuro?”
“I’m ok.” Kuro muttered through his fangs as he rolled his thick shoulders and shook his stiff hands. He cracked his neck with a twist and a bellowing breath of settled anger. He was ready. He saw Robin take up his bow and quiver, give his darling sweetheart a kiss before rushing off into the forest. Little John bolted behind him in a rush, Dusk and Kuro followed shortly behind.
The evening air was still, as if the world itself was holding its breath over what was to come. The sound of heels against the dirt, the rustling of arrows in a quiver, and the sight of four figures slinking around in the dark. The waning pale moon hung overhead with its rays of soft and gentle light piercing through the breaks in the looming and dense tree branches. The shade of the forest hiding the shifting and ever moving shadows of the Merry Men as they strolled through the woods. Focused on saving the women and children, Friar Tuck, and getting their revenge on Prince John.