CascadePines – The Epic of Danzaburo
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Needless to say, this was not an ideal situation to be in. Danzaburo had his tanto through the neck of a businessman in an elevator. Sure, the guy had done some insider trading, but it’s still a rough way to go. Danzaburo much rather would have killed a genocidal asshole, but Senators tend to have better security than corporate office buildings. Danzaburo’s biggest worry was not the blood dripping on his knife – It was rust-proof – It was the two-dozen people in the building lobby currently staring at him. That’s inconvenient.
He slowly removed his knife from the man’s neck and stepped out of the elevator as the man slumped to the floor. Danzaburo tried to come up with something witty to say to cut the tension, but came up empty. Those action heroes make it look so easy in movies. Oh well. Security guards ran in from every corner of the lobby, and surrounded him with their guns drawn. Seems a like a bit much for a guy with nothing but a knife and a sword, but alright.
“Don’t move!” One of the guards shouted.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, if you’d just give me a moment, I can explain everything,” Danzaburo replied, leaving a sizable pause after he had finished. He then immediately turned around and jumped back in the elevator, utterly failing to explain anything. He frantically pounded buttons while the guards scrambled to run after him.
This is not the way this was supposed to go. Danzaburo is now stuck in an elevator with a fresh corpse on the floor. It’s honestly not that different from a regular Tuesday for him, but he’s supposed to be a professional. He expects more from himself. By this point, the blood from the corpse has made a puddle covering the floor of the whole elevator. A shape rises from the puddle and coalesces into the shape of a man.
“Hey, Dan,” said the man.
“Hey, Rick,” replied Danzaburo. The man’s name is actually Richter, not Rick, and he’s not a man either. They just like using the nicknames because they hate each other. They hate the nicknames.
“You’re in a bit of a pickle, I see.”
“Nothing I can’t handle. I still got the offering.” He gestured to the corpse and blood on the floor.
“So you have. How do you plan on making sure you can get more?”
“Working on it.” The elevator stopped and the door opened. A few scattered screams broke out from hapless workers before Danzaburo shut the door again.
“Well, best of luck mate. I hope you survive.” With that, Richter disappeared once again into the pool of blood. Danzaburo can’t quite put his finger on it, but he really can’t stand talking to him. Just one of the many drawbacks of having a contract with the Blood God.
The elevator doors opened at the top floor, and Danzaburo realized he had his tanto in his hand this entire time. He sheaths it so as not to appear threatening, while also being covered in another man’s blood. The hallway outside the elevator is thankfully empty. That is, until Danzaburo looks to the right and sees at least twenty people. Still failing to come up with a witty one-liner, he turns and runs to the left. He’s got to work on his quips. He luckily finds stairs to the roof and makes his way up there, staring out over the city. He should also work on his escape plans, seeing as he’s currently on the roof of a high-rise, with security guards and police no doubt pursuing him. He briefly considers jumping to a neighboring building, before realizing that’s a completely stupid idea, and going back inside.
Most of the people seem to have left, leaving Danzaburo free to enter an elevator. It’s worked so far. He takes special care to get a different elevator, since the body must be beginning to smell by now. The other workers in the building must all have an irrational fear of elevators now, because Danzaburo’s ride is completely uninterrupted all the way down to the garage. Why didn’t he think of this before? He quickly finds his car and tries to climb in, but is stopped by the massive sword on his back. A zweihander, to be specific. It’s effective, but quite bothersome in small places. After safely stowing his sword, he drove out of the garage, making sure to pay the parking ticket on the way out.
He got back to his apartment later that day, barely managing to put his dirty clothes in the washer before collapsing on his bed and falling asleep. His dreams played out like they always do, by showing him the Ledger, a report of all the people who are tributes to Richter, the Blood God. Information about offerings made poured in from all over the world, along with Danzaburo’s own offering from earlier that day. The sheer number of tributes was staggering, owing to the fact that Richter is a shameless liar. At the very end of the Ledger was news of a new tribute: a young woman, with short black hair and a septum piercing. Just another in a long, long list.
Life isn’t easy for a god’s tribute. With Richter, you have to make an offering in the form of killing someone at least once a month. If you didn’t, something seriously bad would happen to you. Danzaburo didn’t actually know what happened to people who had failed their contracts since they didn’t show up in the Ledger, but he knew that the Blood God was not the kind of person to be understanding.
It’s been so long now, it’s getting hard for Danzaburo to remember exactly what had compelled him to become Richter’s tribute. Richter had told him some story about making the world a better place, but it all made a lot less sense in retrospect. Now, it’s just something from his twenties he’s stuck with forever. Such is life.
With his offering complete for the month, Danzaburo had nothing to do the following day, so he found himself in a small café downtown. After getting a hot chocolate and an almond croissant, he went looking for a place to sit, and found none other than the woman from the end of the Ledger last night, looking at her phone with a coffee in hand. Danzaburo sat down across from her, and she looked up first with confusion, then understanding.
“I know you,” she said.
“And I know you,” he replied. “I saw you at the end of the Ledger last night.”
“So that’s what it’s called. Richter just called it a ‘boring TV show in your dreams’”
“Yeah, our benefactor isn’t big on transparency.” They shared a small laugh.
“I’m Winona by the way.”
“I’m Danzaburo.”
“Nice to meet you, Danzaburo.”
“Likewise.”
“So, what brings you here?”
“Oh, just out for a snack, then I saw you and thought I might say hello.”
“Oh.” They both sit in silence for a moment. There really was no real reason for this conversation to start in the first place.
“So, how was your first offering?” Danzaburo asked.
“Some guy tried to mug me with a knife outside an abandoned smoke shop.”
“Ah, at least you could say it was self-defense.”
“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
“One thing I’ve learned is that you need to have a good excuse in order to live with yourself. Otherwise, there’s no way you can keep doing this. It’s not the kind of job with high worker satisfaction.”
“Yeah, I just started yesterday, and I already want out.”
“What did Richter tell you to get you to join?”
“I barely remember it now. Some schtick about saving the world.”
“Yeah, that’s how he gets you. Reel you in with ideals, then you’re stuck as a psycho god’s lapdog.” They fall silent. Winona looks at her coffee for a moment before looking up again.
“What if we could do something about it?”
“Like what?”
“Like breaking the contract.”
“Well, it’s a blood contract with the Blood God. So, I think the only way you can break it is to stop having blood.”
“I think we can go to where our contracts are kept and destroy them.”
“You think the gods just keep their tribute cabinets in a filing cabinet somewhere?”
“Well, a friend of mine is a tribute for the Nature God, and she said that each god needs to have an Anchor here in order to affect the physical world. It’s a temple, basically. And it’s where each god stores their tribute contracts. So, if we find Richter’s Anchor, we can get our contracts and destroy them.”
“Could that work?”
“Maybe? I know different gods have different ways of doing things, but I think it’s worth a shot.”
“And you’re willing to trust me?”
“Why not? We’re in the same boat. We can help each other.”
“In that case, I think I might know someone else who can help.”
With the community of Richter’s tributes spread out across the whole world, international travel quickly becomes a necessity when you want to meet up with another tribute. Unfortunately, it is quite difficult to get on a commercial airliner while carrying an assortment of deadly weapons, so Danzaburo and Winona had no choice but to fly private. Private flights are notably relaxed about having medieval Germanic weaponry onboard.
After a long and expensive international private flight, they arrived in Cardiff, Wales, home of unpronounceable words and a dragon on a flag. They are there to meet Caleb, the oldest known tribute to Richter, and a notorious drug kingpin in Europe. From the information shared in years of Ledgers, Danzaburo has a good idea of where to find him, but there’s still a long cab ride between the airport and where they need to go. So Winona and Danzaburo sat in the back of a cab, waiting to get to their chance at freedom.
“You know, I realize we don’t really know all that much about each other.” Danzaburo said.
“Do we need to?” Winona responded.
“Well, if we’re going to be working together on a grand mission, I think we should be at least acquaintances.”
“Alright. What do you want me to know?”
“Well, I became a tribute shortly after college, and I’ve been doing it for about nine years now.”
“Really? I joined right after college too.”
“He certainly has a type. Where did you learn to fight?”
“I was on the wrestling team in high school, and I taught myself armed combat with videos online.”
“No way! That’s how I started too!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I would practice swinging a cardboard tube alone in my apartment to get the moves right.” They both chuckle. It’s comforting to find a kindred spirit.
They arrived at the warehouse where Caleb ran his operation shortly after midnight. It was a place Danzaburo had seen many times in the Ledger. When they entered, they saw men packing boxes and loading them onto vans, with Caleb himself on the far end of the room. Everyone stopped and looked at Winona and Danzaburo as they entered.
“Caleb,” Danzaburo called, “We’re looking for the Anchor.” Caleb just looked at them for a moment, as if deep in thought. Then:
“A million quid to whoever kills them!” At his command, the room burst into action. Danzaburo drew his zweihander, and Winona drew her dual hatchets, as Caleb’s thugs charged towards them with batons and pocketknives.
The zweihander’s superior reach meant that no one could get close to Danzaburo without receiving a strong slash to the neck. He cut his way through them, sometimes taking out as many as three or four with one swing. Winona practically danced between through group of thugs, alternating between chopping with her blades, and blunt strikes with the hammerheads on the backs of her hatchets. They worked their way through the gang, taking out everyone in their path, before finally arriving at Caleb. Danzaburo and Winona flanked him on either side.
“Do you know where the Anchor is?” Asked Danzaburo.
“No one does.”
“What? Why did you have your men fight us?”
“Because. This ought to be interesting.” Caleb glanced down at the floor. Danzaburo and Winona looked down and saw large pools of blood spread out across the entire floor, and as they watched, the pools began to move and merge into one massive pool of blood in the center of the warehouse. A dark figure rose out of the pool and stared them down in all his sinister glory. Richter.
“Hello, kids,” he said. He stepped forwards and put both of his hands on their shoulders. They felt his fingernails digging into their skin. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We want out of our contracts,” Winona replied.
“Very well then.” With that, Richter, Winona, and Danzaburo were pulled down into the pool of blood beneath their feet. When they came out on the other side, they were in a well-used slaughterhouse, with various types of blades and metal instruments on the walls.
“What is this place?” Danzaburo asked.
“It’s my Anchor,” Richter said plainly.
“What?”
“I thought I’d save us all some time and bring you here myself.”
“Huh,” Danzaburo looked at Winona. “I honestly thought it would take a lot longer for us to get here.”
“Why would you bring us to your Anchor?” Winona asked.
“Who knows. Maybe I was bored. But in any case, there’s no way either of you are getting to your contracts.” He gestured to a door behind him labeled “Office”.
“Is that door even locked?”
“Well, no, but I’m still standing between you and there, and there’s no way you’re getting past me.”
“We can interact with your physical form, right?”
“What kind of question is-” Before Richter could finish his sentence, he was struck across the nose by the back of one of Winona’s hatchets. He fell to the ground clutching his face.
“OW! My nose! This stupid physical form! Why did I think this would work?”
“Huh, I thought my planning was bad.” Danzaburo remarked. Winona let out a chuckle as they stepped over Richter and went through the office door.
Outside the Anchor, Winona and Danzaburo found themselves on a long rural road shortly after sunrise. They walked out into the field opposite the slaughterhouse. In the center of the field, Winona placed her contract on the ground, and drew her hatchets. With two mighty strokes, she plunged them into the paper of the contract. It glowed white. When the light stopped, Winona looked at her hands as if seeing them for the first time and took a deep breath of the fresh country air.
Danzaburo placed his own contract on the ground, and drew his zweihander. He stopped a moment to consider the blade that had been by his side for so long, had furthered his dedication to Richter. Now, it would set him free. He turned it upside-down and plunged it into the center of the contract. What followed was a rush of new feelings. He felt his blood flowing in his body. His blood. No one else’s. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, but now, he had the rest of his life to enjoy the feeling. He looked at Winona and smiled at her. She smiled back. Their mission was over, now they have to figure out just where the hell they are.