Miraculously, Wamuu managed to sneak back into the museum late at night, and use his wind powers to replace the statue with himself in his stone form. He adjusted the UV lights and his tag, as Roberta got home to her apartment with a big grin on her face. Not only had everyone brought the idea of "Jorge Miguelos"- the museum hadn't even noticed tha they were gone! She laughed as she put away her rollerskating gear, pulled on her comfy old PJ's, and crawled under the duvet. Tomorrow was Saturday, so she could lie in for as long as she wanted. And on that blissful note, Roberta nodded off.
Saturday night came along, and whilst Roberta was off training her Stand with Kylie, Wamuu had awakened again. He'd swapped himself with the statue, and had decided to take a wander around the museum. He knew from Roberta that the alarms wouldn't go off unless an artefact was moved, so as he walked around the cases (expertly contorting his body to hide from the night guards), his thoughts drifted to his fathers- entombed in stone under Mexico City.
I should use my freedom to awaken them. The loyal side of his brain said.
Surely it would be better to reconcile with Santana first? Said another part. Wamuu cringed, thinking of how he hadn't tried to find his brother in the archives. Yet if he did, what would come of it? And what about Roberta?
She's just a puny human, don't let her cloud your thoughts! What would your masters think?! His loyal thoughts screamed
She trusts you. What kind of warrior would you be to break her trust? Yes, you'd win the respects of your fathers/masters, but at what cost? There's no honour in betrayal. Wamuu groaned, and pressed his hands to his temples. What was he to do?! He looked over his shoulder, to the door that led to the archives, and gritted his teeth. Surely Santana couldn't still be mad at him after all these years? It couldn't hurt to talk to him, then, to try and reach an agreement...
Wandering through the archives, Wamuu paused at a box marked "BIG DUMB STONE STRIPPERS." With an insulted sniff he looked inside, to find records of his presence throughout history! The papers reeked of that human, Joseph Joestar - a mixture of bubblegum, hair gel and greasy fingers. Pushing the box back onto the shelf, Wamuu continued walking forwards. Pillar folk have an innate ability to sense where others of their kind are, in order to act as a survival instinct for mothers to find their children. He could sense that Santana was on the other side of the heavy vault door, but he could also sense a huge amount of UV light. If he were to open it, that would be suicide. So instead he put his hands on the door, and gently- like how one attempts to awaken a sleeping child- focused his thoughts on a message.
Long ago, when Kars had put the stone masks on him and Santana, he had told them of a secret ability they had. The masks allowed telepathic communication with others who had worn it, provided that they were standing within 3 metres of you. Wamuu focused his thoughts into a message, and projected it to Santana.
Santana? Can you hear me?
Silence. Then, a response-
You abandoned me. You all ignored me. How come you didn't ask that human to wake me up?
You would have eaten her.
So? She's a puny mortal, that's what she's there for. Don't get attached to them, Wamuu. She's a primitive creature, her kind live in caves and wear skins.
I won't betray an ally like that, Santana. I came to ask that you wouldn't eat her, so that I could awaken you and we could reconcile.
Reconcile? Have you changed your mind on what our masters said all those years ago?
Wamuu thought back to all those millenia ago, to that fateful argument.
I haven't. Strength makes a being greater, and it's ability to hunt others. I... I stick with the human because she has a strange ability, she can project her soul as a warrior. I can't see this warrior, but I've felt and seen it's...
Then leave me here to rot. You were always the golden child, the favourite, the perfect boy. And here you are, with your pet human, lecturing me on why being fearsome and cruel makes a being powerful, parroting what our masters said. You didn't even listen to me! So don't get that human to wake me up- I'd just do as our masters taught me, and devour her. Then maybe I could be the favourite for once, since I'm nothing but their dumb little puppet- like you.
And on that note, Santana fell silent. Wamuu walked back to his pedestal, moved the statue away, and sighed. He still hadn't forgotten that argument, the once they'd had centuries before leaving for Rome. The one that had solidified Wamuu as the "favourite" son, and Santana as the other, the spare, the mistake. And oh, how guilty he felt- but he couldn't ever betray his masters, could he? He'd just made an alliance with Roberta because it was useful, right? Try as he might, Wamuu kept thinking back to that night which had changed everything...
"For the last time, Santana! What good is empathy? Force is what makes an ultimate being ultimate, not snivelling because some puny human broke it's leg!" Kars yelled at the redheaded teen.
"It's why we train you so much. Wamuu's developed his Wind Mode, but you're stuck with just Foul Flesh and rib blades. Why can't you just try to be fierce?" Esidisi moaned, tears welling in his eyes. "All I want is two vicious sons to be proud of!"
"Well, I believe that an honour code is..." Wamuu began, trying to stick up for his younger brother.
"What good is honour?" Kars sniffed. "I believe that a win's a win, by any means necessary."
"The boy has a point - but you've got to stop being so curious about humans, Santana. I mean, all they do is cower in their caves! There's no fierceness to that! Now both of you go train." Esidisi sniffled, wiping tears from his eyes. The two boys went to train in the arena of their temple, but as they sparred, Santana looked up to Wamuu.
"Let me show you what I mean about sympathy making you smarter." He said. "It's working for the humans." Wamuu sighed, but let himself get taken along. Santana crawled out of the arena, snuck through the hallways of the temple, and led Wamuu to an outcrop overlooking a plain with some caves. There, the humans were nude and vicious, squabbling over raw meat like a pack of hounds.
"These ones... Just violent. But these ones..."
He then led Wamuu to another set of caves, where a fire burnt in a pit. Paintings of hands and deer-men decorated the cave walls, and the humans wore furry animal skins to guard against the cold. Amongst them was a young woman with a shrivelled leg, who couldn't walk properly. Her arms were too weak to pull a bowstring or forage for roots, and she was deaf in one ear. The pillar tribe his fathers grew up in would've left her on the cliffside for the direwolves and sabretooths to eat, but these humans- they were kind to her. Two of her peers led her outside, half-carrying her, and they sat her down on a rock. Her friend pulled some roasting meat from the fire and fed her, firelight glinting on their dark skins, whilst another made sure her arms weren't harmed from being shrivelled.
"I don't get it. Why are they feeding her?" Wamuu asked.
"Because they care. Because they're compassionate. And because of that- they're wise. Compassion makes them adapt, and because the girl can't eat raw meat, they cooked it. It gives their brains more nutrients, and because they have to think how to best be kind, their brains grow. Fathers were wrong- kindness is what makes a being evolve and grow."
And to this day, despite his master's teachings, those words stuck with Wamuu. A single tear ran from his stone eyes at the thought of that girl, who's friends kept her safe not because she was their servant, or their guard- but because they loved her, and that's what loved ones do for each other.
"What's up? You look like you're thinking about something." Roberta asked on Monday, after his argument with Santana.
"I'm just thinking of... Someone I used to know." Wamuu said. It was strange, although Roberta no longer held any use for him, he still spent time with her out of enjoyment for it. But why?
Maybe it's because you care for her. And maybe that's making you grow A voice said on his head, one which sounded not dissimilar to his brother.
I must not disagree with my masters- but maybe Santana wasn't all wrong...