For A Heart

“When the gods were still young and fought mostly amongst themselves, a young jackal warrior named Ryuma quickly rose up among the ranks of my army. He was a brutal fighter; swift and agile, graceful and cunning. Ryuma and his companion, a white jackal named Ichimonji, shown brighter than any other. I rewarded this greatness and named Ryuma a general within the Army of Anubis. There he, and Ichimonji, fought until all the battles had ended.

“Peace flooded the gods realm and the time for armies was put aside. Now, skirmishes would still arise, so I made Ryuma the head of my guard and it was his job to command all of the guards who looked after the palace and temple grounds. The rest of the army dispersed throughout the underworld, creating homes for themselves and waiting, in near silence, in hopes I would have need for them to fight once more.

“Time passed, as it always does, and even Ryuma would grow restless, taking Ichimonji for long walks around the underworld. A favorite pastime of theirs was to walk to the lake of fire. Unfortunately, it would be there that would be their undoing.

“While out for a walk one day, Ryuma and Ichimonji were attacked by the god, Set. Set is an evil god, looking only for ways to further his powers. He’d heard rumors of Ryuma’s eyes— eyes that had the ability to see the innocence in people— and decided he needed them for himself. He set a trap for Ryuma and Ichimonji, pleased when they both fell into it without the slightest bit of warning to its presence. Ryuma was outraged by the incident, but kept his head, freeing Ichimonji before himself. This is also where Set made a grave mistake.

“Instead of pouncing right away, Set laughed and watched as Ryuma struggled in his bonds, only acting once the jackal was free by revealing himself, in his towering form, as the mastermind behind the trap. Ichimonji stepped between Set and her master, but Set easily kicked the jackal aside before descending upon Ryuma. Unable to free himself, Ryuma could do nothing but lay there, on the cold obsidian ground, as Set gouged his eyes from their sockets, setting them aside to kill Ryuma. Ichimonji appeared, returning too late to aid her master, but she was able to find his eyes, abandoned in Set’s foolishness, as he killed Ryuma in front of her.

“Ichimonji was furious, fleeing with her master’s eyes and hiding them away so Set could not find them and use them for whatever evil it was she knew he would attempt. Leading him away from their location, Ichimonji avoided Set’s capture until she was sure Ryuma’s eyes were truly safe, then she turned and faced her master’s murderer. In the end, Set killed her as well. Both Ichimonji, and the whereabouts of Ryuma’s eyes, have been lost to us.” Mihawk walked across the armory toward the forge, hands behind his back. He’d brought Zoro to the weapon smith in hopes of getting his young son a weapon of his own. On the way, he’d told Zoro the tale of Ryuma, in hopes of getting his attention and sparking an interest in learning to fight.

The master armorer was a large dark skinned man, easily wielding a hammer as he worked to form a heated piece of metal against his anvil. As soon as he noticed Mihawk, he set the hammer down, calling over another to continue to craft the weapon he was working on. “How can I be of assistance to you,” he asked, bobbing his head in a nod of greeting.

“I came to see if we could arm my son.” Mihawk raised his hand, meaning to rest it on Zoro’s head, but he had seemed to have vanished from Mihawk’s side. “Zoro?” Turning, he frowned, unable to spot the boy, or his jackal, from where he stood in the back of the armory. “Zoro,” he called again, taking a step back the way he’d just come from. Next to him, Yoru huffed and Mihawk looked down to the black jackal, inhaling to yell for his son a third time.

“Bahk!” Zoro’s voice sounded from another room of the armory. “Look what I found!” Zoro appeared, backing out of a small room while dragging a white non-descriptive staff after him. Kitetsu ran around him barking as he went, tail wagging happily. “Can I have this?”

“Zoro,” Mihawk started, his frown still in place. “You mustn’t treat a weapon like that. Pick that up.”

The young god paused, grunting under the weight of the staff as he tried to pick it up off the floor. He didn’t make it far, but Zoro was, in fact, able to lift the long, heavy staff off the ground. Mihawk was wholeheartedly impressed with the strength his son showed.

“Anubis,” the master of arms spoke up. “If he wishes to use a staff, I have some smaller ones, better suited for young jackals, such as himself.”

“No,” Zoro interrupted, still struggling to lift the staff. His ears were tilted back against his head, a frown of his own etched onto his young face as he concentrated. “I want this one,” he grunted, finally managing to shift the staff upright.

“Zoro,” Mihawk started, trying to reason with his son. “That staff is meant for an adult, it’s much too big for you to wield currently. Let’s find a smaller one that is better suited for your size. You should listen to the master armorer, he knows of what he speaks.”

“I want this one!” Using both hands, Zoro slammed the butt of the staff against the floor, holding it tightly in his grasp. Turning from what he was sniffing, Kitetsu ran to Zoro’s side and sat next to him, reacting to the sound the staff made on the stone, even without being taught. The staff was a couple feet taller than himself, but Zoro was holding firm in his decision, tail held stiff and ears flat back against his hair in his anger.

Mihawk rubbed at his temples as the master armorer chuckled beside him. “He is your son, Anubis.”

“I know. Zoro,” Mihawk placed a hand on the shoulder of the man standing next to him. “Put the staff aside and let’s see what else there is in the armory for you.”

“I am keeping this staff.” Zoro’s grip tightened around the weapon as he squared his shoulders and stood up to his full height, glaring up at Mihawk. Kitetsu mimicked Zoro’s actions and Mihawk huffed in annoyance. There was a defiance there, one Mihawk could recognize as the one he’d taught Zoro himself: challenge everything.

Mihawk resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, Zoro was indeed his son. “Yes, you can keep the staff, but all Anubis Warriors also learn to use a scimitar, among other weapons. Every warrior is a true master of weaponry. You must learn to master several weapon styles as well, if you are to become an Anubis Warrior.”

Zoro nodded sharply, his mouth set in a hard line. “Yes, Father.”

“Very good.” Walking over to him, Mihawk reached out for the staff, only to have Zoro yank it away with a growl, almost toppling over with the heavy weight of it. Snapping a hand out, Mihawk grabbed the staff to steady Zoro and the weapon, but his son pulled the weapon away again, this time almost hitting both Yoru and Kitetsu in the process.

“No,” Zoro started, baring his teeth as he continued to growl. “I said I’m going to keep it.”

“I agreed you could.” Dropping his arm to his side, Mihawk frowned down at the boy, whose ears were still pressed flat against his hair in anger. “How do you expect to look at other weapons while holding that staff?”

“I don’t want another weapon, I want this one.” Zoro squared his little shoulders and held onto the staff tightly, glaring up at Mihawk again. Despite his anger, Mihawk could see the very tip of Zoro’s tail wagging in hopes that Mihawk would cave and let him have his way. Next to him, Kitetsu was pleading in his own way, head tilted to the side slightly with his ears forward and his golden eyes looking up at Mihawk.

What choice did he really have? Mihawk took a deep breath and was about to speak, when the master armorer spoke up behind him. “Maybe starting him with a scimitar isn’t the right path for him. Why don’t we look at the rest of the staffs.”

Zoro’s ears twisted forward and he grinned. “Really? Can we, Bahk?”

“Well, I—”

“I still want this one!” Zoro shifted his grip on the white weapon, grunting under its weight as he moved passed Mihawk toward the blacksmith. “I’m keeping this one.”