He lay curled against the wall, eyes shut, breaths shallow, all that remained was the hollow shell of him.
Then the voice returned.
"Good job. Take your reward."
Boshi's eyes snapped open as the air in the room felt thicker, warmer or was it him and not the air, he did not know. Something inside him stirred, an unfamiliar surge. He sat up, faster than he had intended. Pain shot through his limbs.
In that moment a image came: Kale's hand, massive, wrapped around a great hunting knife carved from a bone. A flash of a memory, snow, grey plains, the roar of a storm, the creature had fallen beneath the blade. Boshi didn't know where the memory came from, because it wasn't his.
Yet it filled his mind, vivid information came from the memory: the thing about big game dressing,from the sternum to the tail, insert the blade with edge up, avoid puncturing organs that will spoil the meat, tie off the bladder and anal tube to prevent contamination....
Boshi's gut clenched. He understood the process now, not just the basics, but the precision, the in's and outs, how to cut, the anatomy. He felt as if he always knew this.
Behind him, the body of Kale lay still, a monstrous figure felled by unknown folly. Boshi stared at it, and a strange instinct rose. Not fear, not guilt, something predatory. The sudden hunger for curiosity, as if to rust off skills one had not used in decades.
A second memory: Kale's father climbing. "You eat or you're eaten," he had said. The thunder of storms, the bones of giants, with a giant storm in the distance, Boshi felt the cold wind in his lungs now, even though the air around him did not change.
His hands clenched, he rose unsteadily to his feet. The faint imprint of Kale's stories lived in him now countless new info about cutting and perserving came to his mind: position the carcass on its back, legs apart… make the incision just below the sternum… pull the guts toward you… avoid puncturing the intestines… allow body heat to escape immediately to prevent spoilage.
He moved toward Kale's body and knelt slowly, he reached toward the Oni's chunk of bone-carved knife, hanging losely by his side, it was, big way to big for Boshi, but he had to make do.
He lowered himself, fingers trembling and grasped the knife.
He paused, heart pounding, the knowledge inside him unfolded: how to open a chest cavity, how to separate the diaphragm from rib-cage, how to decant organs and tie off waste tubes to protect the quality of meat and body.
He pressed his hand to Kale's chest.
He felt a feeling from deep within himself, a voice deep within his soul, it was hungry, as if wanting to prey on Kale's memories.
"Absorb it's knowledge, take it's experience"
The thrill of power came with the disgust of death. The room spun, his knees hit the floor. He felt the weight of the blade and the burden of what he must now carry.
Boshi heard Kale's whisper in his ear.
"The pelvis… split 2 cm each side of the centre cut… avoid sharp bone shards…"
Boshi heard it as if he had lived it himself.
Than another memory surfaced:
Around a roaring fire, shapes loomed, men and oni alike, scarred and broad-shouldered. Their voices rumbled with like thunder, Kale stood among them, younger, grinning, holding something steaming in both hands.
"The heart of a fallen brother" an elder said somberly "You take it not to steal his strength, but to carry his life, his burden, so he never fades."
They had eaten it raw beneath the cloudy sky, each bite a vow, to take the burden of the dead into the living.
The smell of iron and rain filled Boshi's nose, then firelight flickered out.
-
Boshi's hands trembled as the knife traced along Kale's chest, he pressed the blade carefully, following the path the memory dictated: between ribs, along the sternum, careful not to puncture the organs that he planned to preserve. His stomach churned at the thought of cutting open Kale.
He could not stomach holding the heart, even with the memory urging him forward. Sweat ran down his temples, the smell of blood mixed with a lot of different scents. He made the decision with shaking hands, The heart, pulsing with residual life in his mind's eye, went straight to him, not as a preserved specimen, but as nourishment to honour kale.
The rest of the organs, the liver, kidneys, even the thick muscles around the shoulders, he began to preserve, he had to do what he had to do. He worked slowly, laying them aside, letting his hands fold them with care, applying the methods he had absorbed: tie off vessels, keep surfaces clean, remove what might spoil, but only enough to remember. He had begun to form his first movement: Preservation.
Boshi whispered to himself as he worked, the words more like a ritual than instruction: "Sternum… incision… diaphragm… tie… fold…"
Boshi didn't notice the time. Hours—or was it minutes passed as he worked, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to feel the first trace of a framework forming in his mind, the Movement: Perservation.
He felt as if he wouldn't need to be worried about the meat spoiling any time soon.
Movement Index 1: Perservation
This movement allows the Auctor to perserve Biological matter, it was formed from Boshi's already existing basic knowledge of Nature with Kale's added on experience from butchering and hunting. This Movement only formed because of Boshi's minimal Knowledge in any subject, this will be the main Knowledge line he will follow.