The Keeper

My Keeper, the Viscerebus

The mixed feelings that ruled Rocco as he completed his task weighed heavy in his heart. He had secured the tickets for both of them. The inevitability of their parting is now tangible. He was both reluctant to hurry back and take his time. With the moments that ticked by, he wanted to squeeze every second with Anza, and yet, not seeing her felt like he was holding back time.

As if Fate was rubbing it in, his phone rang. It was Edrigu.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said. Edrigu's call is another dose of reality.

"Good afternoon, Rocco. How are you doing with your mission?"

"We are flying to the mainland tomorrow. Anza has agreed to go home," his heart heavy with that declaration.

"Congratulations. I knew you could do it," Edrigu's pride in him should suffice, but this time, it failed to lift his spirit. "Did she make a fuss?"

"Not really, sir. She already came to her own realisation when she got sick. But the idea of negotiating a measure of freedom from her father convinced her to go home."

"Well, she would not have a hard time. Manuel agreed." That was welcome news.

"What did he agree to, sir?" Perhaps he can advise Anza what to ask from her father, so she can get as much freedom that she can.

"We did not discuss the details. Just that he would allow Anza to make friends with humans, allow her to keep in contact with them. I trust that Anza can navigate herself in this. Based on your reports, she's got pluck."

"Yes, she's got that in buckets." He cannot help but feel proud of his kitten. Anza will hold her own against her father.

"So, does she know who you are?"

"No, sir. To her, I am a friend she made here in the island. Her first human friend. A temporary keeper."

"A temporary keeper..." There was a brief silence on the other line. Edrigu seemed to have understood the pain in his heart. "So, I will expect you to be back here by tomorrow as well?"

"Yes, I booked a flight in the afternoon." He has today and tomorrow with Anza. He planned to make the most of it.

***

He was perusing the tourist brochure for a place to take Anza to dinner later that evening when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi, bro," Diego stood beside his table, looking uncertain yet defiant.

"Diego," he stood up, surprised. He is not happy to see him here, but he cannot be rude. "What brought you here?"

"I was looking for a place to eat, and..." his direct look made Diego falter. "Fine. I came here specifically looking for Anza. I saw you guys come here earlier," Diego admitted.

"Why are you looking for Anza?" There is no use in prevaricating, in pretending he does not know Diego's interest in Anza.

"I will be honest with you, Rocco. I like Anza. I want to become her friend," Diego's straight reply and unwavering gaze impressed him.

"Anza is sixteen years old. She has a very sheltered upbringing. She's very naïve in many ways. And you cannot take advantage of her because that will colour her every view from then on," he paused and took a breath. "So what is your intention toward her?"

"My intention is pure. I truly like her. And I can be her friend, if that is the only thing she wished for at the moment..." Diego's hanging statement conveyed that he wanted more.

Emotionally, Anza is a blank slate. If a human, like Diego shows her kindness, she might just fall in love with him. But he cannot be selfish about this. Anza's welfare is more important.

"What she wish for and what she needs might not be the same thing. Are you prepared to put her needs above your own?" he wanted his word as a man. If Anza is going to go out into the world, it would help that she has another human in her life who would not take advantage of her lack of experience.

"I have never taken advantage of anyone in my life, Rocco. I am not about to start with Anza," Diego's defensive response was empathic, but not enough for him.

"Diego, Anza needs someone who would allow her to experience life. She needs to make many friends, to develop relationships that would expand her horizon. Would you allow her to grow into her own before making her yours?"

Diego stood still for a long moment. The understanding that dawned on Diego's face chafed at his insides, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

"Is that what you are doing, Rocco?" Diego's question struck him with the force of a sledgehammer.

"Can you do it, Diego?" he asked, ignoring Diego's question.

Diego gave a long in-drawn breath and held out his hand. He took it as an acknowledgement of their silent agreement, the passing of a baton. Diego does not know it, but he will take his place in the human world. As Anza's keeper.

"When can I see Anza?" Diego asked, clearing his throat.

"Not today. See her in Manila. We are leaving Basco tomorrow," he said. He wanted all his remaining hours with Anza to be only his.

At Diego's expression, he took a piece of paper and wrote Anza's phone number. "Here you go. That is Anza's number. Her phone is off at the moment, but she will turn it on when she returns to Manila," he handed it to Diego.

Diego looked at it and considered him, "Thank you, Rocco." Diego pocketed the paper and with a nod, left him.

His borrowed time with Anza is bleeding away uncomfortably fast, so with grim determination, he stood up to take advantage of it, walking to where she is.

Anza was still napping in her room when he entered. He watched her for a while, absorbing the curve of her shoulders, the relaxed, half opened mouth, the lashes that threw a slight shadow on her baby-soft cheeks and the gentle rise of her body as she slept. He will commit them to his memory, etch it in his heart. This child-woman that destiny threw in his path continued to create chaos in his soul without knowing it, and with so little effort.

He sighed and laid down the dress that he bought for her at the foot of the bed. He hopes to see it on her tonight. It will be the one and only time he could do so.

***

Mrs Bassig allowed them to use her vehicle when she found out he was planning to take Anza to Fundacion Pacita for dinner. She did not want Anza exposed to the chilly night air if they rode his rented motorbike.

As he waited for Anza to come down, he did not realise that he held his breath until it he saw her. When she showed up wearing the grey dress, it rendered him speechless. She fixed her hair into relaxed waves, and she was wearing makeup. She gave him a vision of what she would be like as a woman, when she becomes old enough for him. And he was choked with emotions.

"You look stunning, little one," he said through a tight throat. His voice sounded rusty, even to his own ears.

"Thank you," Anza looked bemused. "And thank you for this dress." Self-consciously smoothing down her dress, her smile was shy and grateful.

"You're welcome," he swallowed, "Shall we?" offering his arm to hers. She took his offered arm and walked with him to the waiting car.

"No bike tonight?" Anza asked, surprised, looking around.

He smiled at her fondly, "No. Mrs Bassig does not want you to get too exposed to the night air."

"Oh! Does that mean we are going somewhere far?" her eyes alight with excitement.

"Not far, but somewhere special," he replied, and ushered her to the passenger seat.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll like it. You'll see..."

***

They were greeted by a garden glittering with tiny fairy lights. It gave Fundacion Pacita an otherworldly ambiance. Perched atop a gentle rolling hill, with three-hundred-sixty degree of amazing view, the beautiful stone building reminded her of a small castle ruling over a compact kingdom.

Rocco booked a table for them on the verandah with the view and the sound of the wind-swept sea accompanying the sumptuous meal. Their illumination came from the glass lamp set in one corner of the table. They sat close to each other, allowing them both to enjoy the view, and talk at a comfortable level.

There were very little words exchanged between them during dinner. Rocco seemed content. He gave her smiles, affectionate little touches and intent looks that she can't fathom. For herself, she was happy with just being with him, in this peaceful setting. They were in a total camaraderie that time is fleeting, and silence is the best way to savour the ticking away of the seconds.

She recalled when she woke up earlier and found the dress draped on the bed. The one she wanted to buy but decided against as it was worth two weeks of her budget. It can only be Rocco who got it for her. And she was touched by the gesture.

The dress made her look like a woman, or at least older than her current age. And with the aid of make-up, she felt worthy of the opportunity to breach the age gap between her and Rocco for tonight.

As she glanced his way, she caught him contemplating her, a look of indecision on his face. But he took a deep breath and his smile chased it away.

"Why were you looking at me like that?"

"What do you mean?" his expression guarded.

"Earlier, you looked like you were weighing your options, and whatever it was, you... decided against it," the flickering light of the lamp made it hard to read his thoughts as they seem to dance its way across his face.

"I was thinking whether I was going to order dessert, but I had enough... food already. It was just... greed," he replied. She sensed that he was not referring to food, but she let it pass.

"What is our plan tomorrow? What time do we leave?" The thought of going home and seeing her father again gave her butterflies.

"Eleven a.m. We need to leave the hotel by eight. Will you be ready by then?"

"Yes. All my possessions when I came here fit in my backpack." Packing her bag brought the finality of her decision home. "Where are you staying in the city?" Her own drive to hold on made her ask.

"I do not know yet, but I will escort you to your home, to your father," he said, covering her hand in assurance.

"You do not have to. I can call him. I am sure he will pick me up at the airport," she did not want him to feel obligated.

"I want to do this, Anza," Rocco's response was firm, but she found it unsatisfactory.

"As my keeper?"

"As your keeper."

"How long are you going to be one, Rocco?" she asked, leaning closer to read his expression better.

He paused before answering, "For as long as it takes."

It was still a vague response, but the promise of a future reassured her. If her father agrees to her bargain, Rocco would be her first official human friend. And she could not have done better.

A cold breeze swept over them, making her shiver. Rocco immediately took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulder, grasping the front of it close.

"Shall we go?" he asked, tapping the end of her nose.

She nodded.

As she stood by the entrance, Rocco stopped. She glanced up at him, questioningly.

"I've got a request, little one..." Rocco smiled down at her, gently tucking the wisps of hair framing her face behind her ear.

"What is it?"

"Can I have a souvenir photo of you?" his expression self-conscious as he held up his phone.

She was not expecting that, nodding her agreement in bemusement. With the fairy-lighted garden as a backdrop, Rocco took a photo of her on his phone. The seriousness in his face as he took her photo made her smile. And she wanted to give him an excellent shot. The satisfied glint in his eyes as he looked at his phone widened her smile.

The drive back to their hotel was leisurely. Rocco made sure to stop by the lookout points that they passed by and took photos of them. It was like Rocco was trying to capture all their moments together as much as he can.

"You have to give me copies of those shots, Rocco," she said in jest.

"Of course. I will transfer it into your phone later," he nodded. "Have you turned your phone back on? Or called your father yet?"

"No... Not yet... I was planning to do it tomorrow, when we are at the airport," she said. The truth was, she feels nervous about calling her father.

Rocco squeezed her hand. "Everything will be okay, little one," he murmured. Somehow, she believed him.

They got back in time just before the wind changed. The downpour that followed made the shared coffee moment between them cosy and heart-warming. They spent the late hours of the night and well into the early hours of the morning talking, or just merely being together. At one point, Rocco held her cuddled to him for hours. No conversation was necessary.

They both remained awake, watching the darkness turn into light. They listened to the whispering wind that turned into a howl as the morning came. The flashes of lightning made the swaying streams of rain visible. Stormy weather never looked as fascinating, as compelling.

The moment was broken when Rocco received a text message. His content expression turned into alarm as he read the message.

"What?" she asked, unnerved by his grim silence.

"They cancelled our flight because of poor weather." Rocco's flat tone scared her. The flight cancellation seemed to have created a panic in him.

"It's not too bad... isn't it? We can re-book tomorrow, or the next day..." her voice faltered as the panic in his eyes grew. He does not seem to hear her.

"Anza, I have to go... somewhere... to do something... Stay here. I will return later," Rocco said almost absentmindedly, as he rushed out of the door, not waiting for her response.

For the first time in her life, she was scared - of something she does not know. It was a premonition of something terrible, and it settled like a boulder in her stomach.

***

Rocco tried to phone Edrigu, but the signal was bad. He sent him a text message, just in case. It was a disaster to be stranded here for one day. There is no tribunal source of human viscera here in Basco. His vital hunger is rising. His Crux is strong because of practise, but he does not know how long he can delay his reflexive transformation into his Animus, his animal form.

Once transformed, his animal form would force him to hunt, to secure the viscera he needs. And hunting humans is a capital crime in their laws. But more importantly, he does not want to unleash his monstrous side in this island paradise. It will ruin their peaceful life.

The weather, which seemed beautiful earlier, now seemed like a sign that all things that could go wrong just did. His only consolation is that people will be less likely to come out in this storm. He would be less likely to find one his Animus can attack.

Now, it is time for Plan B. He had scoped the area the first day he arrived for a potential shelter just for an incident such as this. There is a seldom used barn, made of stone and clay, just behind the hotel. And as is his training, he brought everything that he would need with him. Shackles, sedatives, muzzle. He will barricade himself there until sustenance arrives. He just need to contact Edrigu or their coordinator in Tuguegarao to let them know his situation.

His pounding heart threatened to jump out of his heart, deafening him. He took deep breaths to calm himself down, to slow his heartbeat, to tap into his Crux and determine how many hours he has left before he loses complete control of his Animus. He needs to be away from Anza before that happens.

He has about six, maybe eight hours before his Crux weakens. He has enough time to prepare the barn, to protect the people from him. And hopefully, he would have some to spare to reassure Anza. She would be alone and by herself during his confinement. He does not want her to worry, to think he has abandoned her.

***

Rocco had been gone since six a.m., it's past noon now.  Where is he? He was not in his room, and not in any of the public areas of the inn. No one has seen him. And they doubt that he went anywhere outside since it has been pouring rain since dawn.

Anza cannot shake the thought he is in trouble. And that something dark is looming and it will affect them both.

The verandah, which she grew fond of because of the moments she had spent with Rocco there, now felt restricting. She could not stay in there. The serenity that it once offered just a few moments ago was wiped away by that single text message stating their flight was cancelled.

Why did the delay in their flight cause so much distress to Rocco? What is it he needs to get from the mainland so badly that must be done today?

Despite their connection, she really knows very little about him. He could be a fugitive from the law. He could be a psychopath. But even as she enumerated every potentially negative and dangerous scenario about him, she cannot disregard the fact that he had been nothing but caring to her.

He could have taken advantage of her many times - at the Lighthouse, when she was sick, and even last night. There were plenty of times she was alone with him, and if he had wanted to do her harm, he would have been able to easily. And without a trace. The fact she ran away, and he knew about it, he could have done away with her and no one would find out.

She was pacing in her room when there was a knock on the door. She rushed to open it. To her disappointment, it was Mrs Bassig.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Bassig," she said, stepping aside to let her in.

"Good afternoon, Anza. I heard that they have cancelled your flight," she said, carrying folded bed sheets, towels and pillowcases.

"Yes, Ma'am. I think it has been rescheduled for tomorrow..."

She handed her the fresh bed clothes to hold. Mrs Bassig stopped by the bed and saw the backpack.

"All packed?" Mrs Bassig said over her shoulder as she stripped the bed of its sheets quickly. "You must be excited to go home to your family," she said as she took one of the fresh sheets from her and efficiently redressed the bed.

"Yes, I do..." she nodded, fidgeting.

"I'm glad that Rocco was able to convince you to go home. While I would have loved to have you work with us, I was quite worried about you, as you are very young," Mrs Bassig prattled on as she stripped the pillows' the old cases and replaced it with fresh ones.

"And I thank you for your generosity, Ma'am. I truly appreciated it when you offered me the job," she said truthfully.

"Have you called your father yet? He must be beside himself with anticipation for your homecoming," Mrs Bassig mumbled. She had stripped the second bed, and peeled the cases from the pillows.

She shook her head. "Not yet, Ma'am. I have to turn on and charge my phone still. It might be flat," she found the tediousness of their exchange grating. She's worried about Rocco and would rather go look for him.

"Oh well, I am sure Rocco has informed your father already," Mrs Bassig said, shrugging her shoulders as she fixed the new sheets on the bed. "He's an efficient emissary." She said as she tucked the ends of the sheets under the mattress.

Emissary? "What do you mean, Mrs Bassig?" She had taken a step closer to her, unable to believe what she just heard.

"I'm sure your father made the right decision in sending Rocco... I like that boy," Mrs Bassig continued, unaware of the upheaval that she created in her. She was busy shaking the pillow into the fresh case. She fluffed it and dropped it on the bed.

Her heart, already beating fast because of her anxiety over Rocco's whereabouts, suddenly stopped and sank like a leaden weight into her stomach.

My father sent Rocco? After me? She cannot believe it. She had to find Rocco. She needs to hear from him. Maybe Mrs Bassig misunderstood. Maybe Rocco just said that to her to protect her. There are a thousand other reasons that could have prompted Rocco to say that to Mrs Bassig.

She rushed out of her room to search for him, barely aware that she just left Mrs Bassig in the room without a word. Driven by emotions she cannot define, the horror that Rocco might have played her, echoed repeatedly in her head as she rushed to his room. But he was not there. His backpack was also missing.

Did he leave her? Her heart pounded even harder at the thought. 

She ran down to the lobby, trying to find Rocco. But just like earlier, he was nowhere, and no one has seen him. She felt crushed and bewildered, telling herself not to jump to conclusions until she had spoken to him. She did not know where else to search, short of running around in the rain. She had no choice but to go back to her room.

Just as she turned the corner of the stairway, she noticed movement in a small stone building at the end of the hotel compound, close to the herb garden at the back. She thought she saw someone slip inside. She did not really see him, but her gut told her it was Rocco.

She sprinted downstairs and ran the distance from the back door to the stone building, unmindful of the downpour. The wooden door looked heavy, but it was slightly ajar. She pushed it in. The door just gave enough space for her to squeeze through. It was dark and musty. She was unable to see the interior of the barn. Caution made her stop. She  paused by the entry and waited for her vision to adjust. But she sensed a movement inside and it raised the hairs at the back of her neck.

She heard panting and knew immediately that it was Rocco. And then another accompanying sound that came from the depths of the dark interior.  That was something unknown to her. It sounded like a wounded beast. 

She took a step forward, but faltered when a harsh voice stopped her.

"Anza, no!" An agonised voice came from the corner, behind sacks of grains piled high like a wall. "Stay there."

Her eyesight had adjusted to the dark, and can now discern that the heavy sacks partially barred the door. It looked like Rocco had created a floor to ceiling barricade, to keep himself inside. And judging from the uneven height of the stack, it was unfinished.

"Rocco?" she whispered.

"Anza, please... leave me..." His plea went straight to her heart, propelling her to climb atop the unfinished stack. Rocco was curled on his side, his entire body shaking. He looked to be in horrible pain. He has a dog muzzle on, and he shackled himself to the stone wall, a thick leather vest attached to the chains wrapped tight around his torso. That familiar contraption, one that she had seen in every Viscerebus household of her family, explained everything to her.

Rocco is a Viscerebus.

That one item confirmed everything Mrs Bassig said to her earlier. Anger rose in her, in its wake, the pain of betrayal. He was her keeper because her father sent him. He meant to take her home because it was his mission to do so. He was to gain her trust, her friendship, to make her voluntarily come home.

She stood there, unable to move, rooted on the spot by the desire to lash out and to leave him, never to see him again.

"Anza, please... go... you cannot be here..." Rocco's pained voice pleaded to her. That broke through her clouded thoughts. And she realised that he was protecting him from his reflexive transformation, because she is the closest viscera source around.

If she ran and hide, if she left him to his fate, he might break away from his shackles. His wall of grain sacks is incomplete. He could escape from this barn. If that happens, he would be in danger of attacking one of the staff in the inn. And the humans would go after him. They would kill him.

But even if he escaped them, an attack like this, in a place like this island, will make national news. The Tribunal will end his life because he had just revealed the existence of the Viscerebus. Rocco will be in trouble no matter what.

Instinctively, she made a decision. She knew exactly what she needed to do. All her life, she had known and prepared to give out the only valuable thing she can offer to her Viscerebus family members - her viscera. Rocco has no time, and there is no way for the sustenance to arrive in time. She is his only hope.

She jumped down from the sack and rushed to Rocco's side. He immediately recoiled, crawling away from her, he held out his hand, warding her off.

"Anza, no! Stay away... Go to your room. Please... I may not be able to..." Rocco said, alarmed.

"Shut up, Rocco! You need my help. And you are running out of time," she started looking around for tools to use. She might need to go back to the kitchen and get a sharp enough knife, and the first aid kit.

"How much time do you have before you shape-shift?" she asked him urgently.

"I don't know... perhaps an hour or two..." Rocco replied, panting. He looked at her in confusion.

"Okay, I need you to hold on. I will go to the lobby and ask for a knife and their first aid kit," she said, turning away from him.

Rocco's hand shot out and captured hers, stopping her.

"I have those... in my backpack," he gasped, pointing at his backpack, lying unnoticed behind her.

She hastily reached for it, digging for the kit inside, conscious of the time constraints. She took out a soft bag marked with a big red cross. Inside it, she found three hard plastic cases. The first contained a scalpel, some surgical clips, clamps, a pair of scissors, and various suture needles and surgical threads. Another held a small bottle of antiseptic, plastic-wrapped bandages and cotton pads. The slightly larger, but slimmer case carried two individually packed sterile syringes and needles and two tiny glass vials.

"Anza, what are you planning to do?" Rocco asked, his face reflected his suspicion, and was aghast by it.

"You are going to absorb me, Rocco. It is the only way to save you," she said plainly, firmly. She does not want him to doubt her intent, does not want him to argue. If he fights her, she would lose her nerve.

"No... Anza... you do not have to do this..." Rocco's weakened denial was hopeful, contradicting his voice.

"Rocco, don't argue. I have made up my mind. This is the best option. You will end up killing a hapless human if we do not do this. Or, you will end up murdered by them," she said emphatically. "This is hard enough. I do not know how to do this, so you would have to guide me where to make the incision," she pleaded. She had taken out the scalpel and the bottle of antiseptic and hiked her t-shirt up, exposing her rib area.

Rocco's trembling intake of breath halted her. He must have seen the determination in her eyes, saw the fear of what she needed to do, her anticipation of pain.

"Okay,"  he said. "Let me do it..." He took off his muzzle. And took the bottle of antiseptic from her. With shaking hands, he ripped open a package of cotton pads, twisted the cap off the bottle and moistened the pads with it.

He told her to hold her shirt up and made her lean against a sack of grain. He wiped her right rib area with the antiseptic-moistened cotton pad. With efficient motion, he took a syringe, fitted a needle in it and took one of the glass vials in his kit. He began syphoning the contents into the syringe.

"This is a local anaesthesia. It should lessen the pain," he said. Thank Prometheus for that. She nodded in acknowledgement and gratitude.

"Are you sure, Anza?" he asked again, his expression pained. She swallowed and nodded once more.

"Yes. I am sure. Hurry, before you ran out of time," she said urgently. 

The first puncture was quick, like an ant bite. He dispensed a quarter of the contents of the syringe. Three more punctures followed, and it was done. She breathed out in relief. Sweat beaded her forehead.

"How long before the anaesthesia takes effect?"

"A few minutes... I will make this quick. I have another vial, if we need to..." he said, unable to finish his sentence. "Tell me when the area feels numb," he said, unable to meet her eyes.

While they waited in the pregnant silence, Rocco busied himself by preparing the suturing needle that he will use later. She focused on regulating her breathing to arrest her growing panic. Finally, she felt her rib area go numb.

"Rocco, it's time..."

He then poured antiseptic on his hands, rubbing it together. Then took the scalpel from her and poured the antiseptic on it.

"Ready?" he asked, his thumb and forefinger pressing on the area where he will make the incision.

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes," she took a deep breath and braced herself for the cut. She kept her face averted. She did not want to see the blood.

The sensation it created as the sharp end of the blade cut deep into her flesh made her wince. Not in pain, but in the strangeness of it. She was aware of the warm blood that poured out of the cut and as it ran down her torso. Then a sharp twinge of pain as the blade reached deeper and cut through the sheath that surrounded her liver. It made her gasp and jerk involuntarily.

"Sorry," Rocco mumbled, his voice as pained as hers, one hand holding her down to minimize her movement.

Her hands clenched on the t-shirt she held up and away from her ribcage, her body trembled at the pain. She closed her eyes, tears leaking out of the tightly squeezed lids. It was unlike any pain she had ever experienced.

"Relax, Anza. Deep breathing... you will hyperventilate if you do that," Rocco's calm voice alerted her to her shallow breathing. With effort, she followed his direction, as he widened the cut to expose a bigger portion of her organ. Blessedly, the cutting of her muscles didn't hurt, giving her reprieve.

However, when he cut through her liver, though it was blessedly quick, she could not hold back her scream. The pain almost made her lose consciousness. Through her fading alertness, she heard Rocco slurp the piece he had taken from her. She was vaguely aware of Rocco pinching the wound close tightly.

Her body was covered in cold sweat, her efforts not to hyperventilate forgotten. Every puncture of the curved needle as he sewed her up made her appreciate the power of the anaesthesia. But every moment, she was expecting the return of the pain. Rocco worked quickly, efficiently. His movements practiced.

After what seemed like an eternity. He cut the excess suturing thread from her body. He gently wiped her torso clean, then poured antiseptic on the cut. The last thing she remembered was Rocco pressing a square of bandage on the wound. Then everything went dark.

***

Rocco panicked when Anza's body slackened. His thumb immediately touched the pulse on her neck. It was strong and fast, but it slowed down to its normal pace after a while. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The realisation of Anza's enormous sacrifice was suddenly overwhelming. Gratitude and something else he cannot comprehend engulfed him. It was his undoing, his own tears flowing freely.

His bloodied hand picked up hers gently and he kissed it reverently. Every emotion he had inside him, he poured in that kiss. This child-woman in his keeping became his keeper. She does not know it, and she probably will never know, but she will always own a part of him that no other person in this world will ever get to do.

He unshackled himself. There is no need for it now. Her liver gave him a week before he would need sustenance again. He got out and washed the bloodied towel and his own hands in the rain. He returned inside the barn to make sure Anza is comfortable. While she slept, he put away his things in the backpack, and started putting the sacks of grain that he made as a barricade back to where it was before - stacked at the back of the barn.

He kept a close eye on her wound. It had stopped bleeding. When the rain abated, he slung his backpack, and lifted Anza in his arms. He carried her to her room and gently laid her down on the bed.

He realised that this is the second time he would have to undress her. Her t-shirt and jeans were damp from earlier. Like before, he kept his eyes closed, but this time, he did not dress her in a bathrobe. He merely covered her with the sheet. Her cut bled a little, soaking the bandage with blood. It would be easier to dress her wound when necessary. 

After replacing the bandage, he took her t-shirt to her bathroom and washed it. He hung her jeans and wet underclothes to dry. His mind occupied with praying that she does not develop a fever.

He was thinking of getting to his room to change out of his own damp jeans when his phone rang. He quickly answered it - it was Edrigu.

"Rocco, I had been trying to call you, but you were out of range. Manuel said that your flight was cancelled. How are you doing?" Edrigu knew that he was due for his sustenance today.

"I am well, sir..." he replied. "The storm made it hard to get a signal," he explained. He does not know how to tell Edrigu of what Anza did for him.

"Can you still hold on for another day? I will try my best to fly in sustenance for you. Although I do not know if our team in Tuguegarao can brave the weather," he said, forewarning in his tone.

"There is no need for it, sir..." he began. "Anza offered... her liver to me..." he choked.

"Wow!" Edrigu seemed shocked by the information. "How is she?" he asked after a momentary silence.

"She's resting," he said. Unable to voice his fear that she might develop infection.

"Do you have antibiotic in your supplies?" Edrigu asked, his perception of the situation clear. His calm tone implied that everything that happened was commonplace.

"Yes." Edrigu's question reassured him he has whatever is required to make sure she will be well.

"Good. Now, you need to call Manuel to assure him you are taking Anza home in another two days or so," Edrigu said.

"Should I tell him... what Anza did?" he asked.

"I think it is Anza's decision to make. Ask her when she wakes up," Edrigu advised.

"Okay, sir. Thank you," he said. The load on his shoulder lightened considerably with the support of his mentor. "By the way, sir, if I need a chopper... just in case. Would you be able to arrange one?"

"Yes, just let me know if you need it. I will have one on standby," Edrigu assured him.

After he ended the call with Edrigu. He took a deep breath before he dialled Manuel Soledad's number. Their call was formal, his emotions tightly in check, no trace of the agitation ruling him. He assured him that Anza has agreed to go home, and that he will arrange it in two days' time, when the weather improves. As expected, Manuel was impatient and wanted to send a helicopter to pick them up, but he told him that the weather could make the trip dangerous.

Manuel wanted to speak to Anza, perhaps to reassure himself that he said was true. He got out of it by telling him that Anza was still unaware of him being an Iztari, which was technically true. Manuel was pacified by two promises; that Anza will call him immediately after she learns the truth about himself; and that he will call Manuel by tomorrow afternoon to reconfirm that they got a flight back to the mainland the following day.

Anza stirred awake a few minutes after. He rushed to her side. She tried to get up, but the wound on her ribs made her wince and flop back to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. The pallor of her skin worried him.

Anza touched the bandage on her rib and realised that she was naked underneath. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment.

"Anza... on my honour, my eyes were closed. I did not dress you because it is easier to change your bandage should I need to..." he said hastily, apologetically.

His agitation calmed Anza as she looked back at him. Her abashed expression faded and transitioned to a serene one.

"Rocco, I need an explanation," her quiet words struck him like a big bang.

He sighed and nodded. "Yes, you do... I am an Iztari, and your father sent for me to find you," he began.

"My father asked for you specifically?"

"No. The Chief Iztari appointed me because I was the closest to your age. Your father told us you know how the system works and you would expect Iztaris to come after you. Your father did not want you to be forced to come home. He does not want you to run away again. I was supposed to work undercover," he explained.

"So, the friendship... all to get me to trust you? To convince me to go home?" Anza's tone was clipped.

"No..." he swallowed and took a deep breath. He needs to be completely honest with her. She deserves nothing less. "In the beginning, the goal is to get your trust. The friendship came naturally," he hoped that his sincerity reach her behind her defensive wall.

Anza indecisiveness hurt. He rubbed his chest to ease the pain of it - losing her regard might be the price he has to pay.

"Is that why you called yourself my keeper?" her question came after a long silence. She sounded uncertain.

"No, Anza. That, like my friendship, was unplanned, unexpected, and it came directly from my heart."

Anza's eyes met his. In earnestness and without words, he pleaded with her to believe him. He felt tears pricked behind his eyes, and he swallowed hard to push them back. Anza's gaze softened. She smiled and reached out to touch his cheek.

He closed his eyes at the relief. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss at the centre of her palm. Her hand closed on that kiss and pressed it to her own heart.

To him, that small action was the most beautiful, the most excruciating thing he has ever seen in his life.