Intervention

"Y-yuki?" he shook her tentatively, but found no answer nor breath from her lips.

She sat motionless in his embrace, and for a moment he forgot reason and gave in to full blown panic. He dismissed his own pain and fatigue and merely shook her with force, yet to no avail.

She refused to wake up.

"Yuki… wake up!"

His pleas were ignored.

"What's wrong…? Wake up!"

His cries fell on deaf ears.

( Sigh… )

A distant yet all-encompassing sound stilled his weeping. Leonardo's eyes shifted, from their vibrant amber to a dull, time-worn brown. Emotions all but vanished from his face, leaving only faint traces of elderly compassion. Such an expression clearly did not belong on that young face, painting an unsettling image.

Time and space seemed discordant in that moment. Leonardo's bones seemed to ache as baleful Karma flooded his bones to the brim.

Seemingly knowing that time was short, he leaned in. Covering her nostrils, he inched closer. Inhaling, he drew the virus into his own self. Exhaling, he filled her with renewed breath.

His reserves devoid of chi, he sapped his own wellspring. His organs shriveled in size, his musculature losing density while his bones fractured in places. Squeezing every bit of life energy he could afford, he shared with her one final sacrificial breath.

( Thump! )

As he collapsed on the floor — her heart beat anew.

- — ☯ — -

"Is this.. the end?" Leonardo questioned himself solemnly.

His thoughts were slow, his figure a ghastly blur of gray surrounded by bright lights. His hands were transparent, but in his dazed state he paid no mind to his indistinct figure floating amidst the void.

It took some time to reassess reality, and he vaguely remembered everything. Someone took over and saved Yuki. Then… this place was..?

"MUCHEN!"

"You need not shout," a voice echoed in the area, just as warped as the first time they'd met, "Your thoughts are sufficiently clear."

The lights in the room drew closer together, leaving the blanket of stars empty. An indistinct figure formed before Leonardo, its features still obscured, shrouded by time itself.

"You are not dead just yet, but it will certainly be a miracle if you can live through this."

"So, why am I here?" Leonardo queried with more calm, "And where is this, exactly?"

"You're… in a coma. Your will sapped, your body in conditions just as terrible. This should be your inner mind space. Your last refuge as it were."

"How do I get out?" urgency surfaced in his voice, "Yuki still needs-…"

"Worry for yourself first before saving others. If you leave now, you will certainly perish," Muchen interrupted him bluntly, "As for Yukiko, she will be fine. I made sure of it."

Sighing, Leonardo nodded in acquiescence and took a closer look at his mind space. Though, save for Muchen's figure, everything was pitch black. Now that the stars on the canvas vanished, he didn't even know how big the space was or if it even had boundaries.

"Size bears no relevance. It is the contents within that matter. This is where your will and ego resides. It should recover as you rest."

"Oh, by the way… I thought you were gone? How come you didn't speak to me earlier?"

The lights flickered, as if Muchen was lost in thought. Unlike Muchen, Leo couldn't read unspoken thoughts so he could only wait.

"It is because I have given up," a somber answer was delivered.

"Huh?" Leo groaned inwardly. 'It took him so long for that? What's it even supposed to mean? Gave up on what?'

"I can still hear you."

"Oh," Leonardo stammered with embarrassment, "Well, given up on what?"

"The future."

'Ugh. Why is this geezer so difficult? Oh wait, he can read these thoughts too. Shit—'

"Remember that you chose this. You've foregone the memories I left of myself in the dream domain," Muchen snapped him out of his tirade, "I gave you freedom so that you could live your own life, at your own pace."

"We are one, but also inherently different. I — a broken failure unwelcome in this time. You — a clean slate, unfettered by pain or loss."

"Originally, I was to take reign and guide you, but I gave up when we merged. I could not bear to burden you with my mission."

"What mission are you talking about?"

"I wanted to rewrite the past — your future. Alas, I was reborn centuries too early. My goal is impossible to achieve, so I resigned myself to a spectator's role. Originally, I intended to merely observe your life. Even if you died, I would watch and do nothing."

"Well, thanks for your care," Leonardo's reply dripped with sarcasm. "I sure could have used you before this. That said, what's changed?"

"Your weakness and pain reminded me too much of myself. My wife almost died once too. I was helpless and nearly lost her. I managed to save her, but she lost her legs in the accident. That remorse has been with me ever since. I couldn't bear to see you go through the same things. Though, a part of me simply didn't want to lose Yukiko. She's a great child. Reminds me of my grand-daughter."

"Thank you, Muchen," Leonardo replied with a bow, this time sincere, "I don't know what I would do if I'd lost her…"

"My intervention is not without cost," Muchen shrugged, "You'll probably die. So, take it that I traded your life for hers."

"Oh? How come?" Strangely at peace with the notion of death, Leonardo remained unconflicted and grateful. Deep down, he agreed with Muchen in finding the trade worthwhile.

"I do not belong in this time. The technique I used to save her is also something you're incapable of doing. Naturally, the kismet took note of our transgression. Because of all the other children you saved, you were already on the verge of judgement. My intervention will subject you to punishment the likes of which you'd never seen.

"That said, karmic judgement will mostly weaken you. The disease will do the killing blow. I took in all of Yukiko's virus, and it's ravaging through you like a sentient war machine as we speak. Your transcendent reinforced organs is the only thing keeping you alive."

"Well, shit," Leonardo coughed as if feeling his body's pain, "I should have carved a nicer coffin."

Despite trying to lighten it up, the gloom atmosphere settled and Leonardo finally acknowledged he would die.