#esonikofanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

esonikofanfiction · 4 years

Text

K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER XI: MIDNIGHT

A mere twenty four hours had passed since Fushimi heard those startling words uttered by Rei Kiyoka.

We’re going to kill Hisui Nagare.

Like a broken record, those words ran like chills again and again through Fushimi’s sleep-deprived brain. They didn’t want to go away. The more he heard their weighted echo ringing in his ears, the more unsettled he became, which was an even greater shock to him, given his utter lack of empathy for any person ever.

Of course, this is what you wanted, he would tell himself. You want him gone. He’s sick. He’s twisted. He needs to be stopped. Yet all the while, Fushimi failed to realize just what wanting him gone really meant.

Stopping Hisui Nagare wasn’t just about defeating him. There was no halfway mark that meant locking him up and hoping he’d learn his lesson. Only one solution would ensure that no more harm would come from Hisui’s aura-ridden hands. It was simple, really, only Fushimi hadn’t gotten that far mentally. Hence the growing feeling of unease he couldn’t seem to shake. Plus, of course, the notion that, to kill a man – even a sadistic one like Nagare – would somehow ruffle the unruffable feathers of Saruhiko Fushimi. If shame was ever something to be felt by Fushimi, it would happen over something so ridiculous and highly out-of-character as this.

Naturally, these troubling thoughts succeeded in deflecting any notion of sleep over the course of those twenty four hours since his obvious wall of naivety was shattered like a fragile piece of glass. What an idiot, he kept thinking to himself, hardly noticing the world around him. Nor did he quite comprehend the mission he was currently engaged upon, partnered with Rei Kiyoka for whatever reason. Oh yeah, he realized somewhat vaguely, recalling to his mind, an instance with the Captain several moments (or perhaps hours) before.

“I want you to find something for me,” the Captain had said ominously with his insufferable air of vagueness that Fushimi couldn’t stand.

Pricked as usual with annoyance, Fushimi asked, almost like he was talking to a child, “And what might that be?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” came the worst possible answer that the Captain could have given.

Yes, how could I forget such a stimulating talk? Fushimi wondered with a jilt while traversing through the windy, uncrowded alleyways of Shizume. Kiyoka paced several steps ahead him. The sight of her cascading waves of jet-black hair, her angled features peering into passing shops and her roaming eyes that never once appeared to him as natural, produced once more the image from the day before, equipped with those same words remarked with such a casual air as to make even his hair stand on end.

Kiyoka, on the other hand, appeared in brighter spirits – innocently bright. Once again, a slight glimmer of humanity reflected itself off of her, her current gaiety centered on the city that surrounded them: the scores of people strolling down the windy streets, the storefronts and their catchy signs, bakeries wafting out delicious scents into the air; above it all, a shimmering gleam of yellow sunlight blanketing the scene.

Kiyoka splayed her featured over every single one of them, as though the view was somehow foreign to her, as though she had never witnessed a display of the mundane, of ordinary life, of the utter simplicity of being present in the world. It was, every bit of it, new to her, though Fushimi couldn’t imagine why.

Kiyoka had spent her fair share of time out in the world since her stint at Ignatius Banks (the thought of which still made Fushimi twitch). Yet it seemed she never stopped for very long to gaze out at the scenery, to grab a cup of coffee, to shop about aimlessly, or go on casual walks, exploring every facet of the city. She had done none of those things. Instead, she had focused all her power on her mission. On me, he couldn’t help but emphasize. A slight flush surfaced on his cheeks. Deliberately, he brushed the heat away with the cuff of his sleeve, as though he were only sweating from exertion and not from something else much hotter deep within himself.

Seeking to distract his wandering thoughts (since, clearly, the silence wasn’t helping), he chose the only option he could think of.

“I have a question,” he said, calling out to Kiyoka.

Maintaining her calm interest on a tea shop they were passing, Kiyoka answered mildly. “Of course you do.”

Pricked nearly back into silence, yet preferring an argument over the current terror of his thoughts, he persisted. “Why won’t the serum work to neutralize your powers? If that was what was in the vial you left for me to give to the Captain, why haven’t you taken it?”

“That’s two questions,” she noted, eyeing a passing stray cat.

“Are you going to answer or what?” Fushimi challenged.

He saw in her profile, a hint of amusement, partnered with the gentlest of chuckles. Spinning round, she eyed him up and down, appraising him and drawing more amusement in his growing discomfort under her gaze.

“Would you trust something you stole from your enemy?” She asked.

It was a simple question, yet blatantly true.

Of course not, was the obvious answer.

Discerning from Fushimi’s sudden pause that he had understood her meaning, she flipped back around and started up again, walking with her back to him and her long hair flipping side-to-side with every skipping step.

“We still have to analyze it to see if it would even work,” she continued. “The serum is meant for those who haven’t already gone through the Imperium Procedure, given that it’s essentially a hyper sped-up version of it in one concentrated dose, giving others the same level of power that I have.” She cocked her face halfway toward him. “Without the side effects, of course

“There’s no telling what it would do to someone who’s already been through the Imperium Procedure, and frankly, I’m not too excited to find out. I’ve been through enough experiments without my consent. I’m not about to go blindly into this one when I know I have the option to discover with absolute certainty what it’ll do to me.”

She said this so matter-of-factly, it almost didn’t register in Fushimi’s mind how deeply enslaved this woman was for so many years. Did she even realize it?

Then he slumped internally. Of course she realizes it, you moron. Who wouldn’t? Especially after having been freed? And yet her casual nonchalance made him wonder. If it had been him, … But you’re not her, he made a point specifically to remind himself. We may be similar in some ways – a lot of ways, in fact – but it doesn’t mean I can expect her to behave in the same way I do. Just look at her track record so far. She’s been anything but predictable.

“What if the serum comes back clean?” He pressed her. “Would you take it then?”

At this, Kiyoka paused, all sense of her surroundings fading back into the void as she turned slowly to look at him. Her deep green eyes studied him. “No,” she said, and began to walk again.

Fushimi stopped, confused, then picked up in a jolt and darted after her, speeding up to walk alongside her. “You mean you won’t even try it? Even if it meant getting rid of…” he motioned up and down her walking frame.

Kiyoka frowned. “Better to be flawed and alive, than potentially dead.” Then her voice took on a jaded undertone. "I would have thought a narcissist like you would have understood the concept of self-preservation.”

“And I would have thought that someone so reckless as you, who takes risks as easily as a kid popping candy, would have gone for something as questionable as this without batting an eye. Knowing you even a little bit, I’d bank on you finding a way to cheat yourself out of something so trivial as death.”

He had a point, and Kiyoka knew it. Her face, borderline appalled by his defiant comeback, showed him just how little she expected it, though far be it from her to be put out by it.

After a considerable pause, she opened her mouth to speak, either with a serious remark or with some lame comment on how precious it was that Fushimi believed enough in her to survive, as had become her natural, lewd inclination to do. But instead of saying anything, her attention shifted drastically to the side, cautious of another presence, some new force encroaching on the scene. Whatever it was, Fushimi couldn’t feel it. All he sensed was Kiyoka and her unmistakable power wafting all around him.

“What is it?” He asked, peering around, attempting to catch wind of whatever it was she had picked up.

Kiyoka’s eyes darted side-to-side until she locked onto the source. Her eyes squinted to a frown, probing it, deciphering it, her brow increasingly furrowed.

Fushimi took a step toward her, his own concern growing. “Rei, what –“ he began to ask, and was abruptly cut off as Kiyoka’s eyes shot unexpectedly wide and she took off down the street.

“Hey, what are you doing! He called after her, but she didn’t answer. “Rei, stop!” He hollered, racing after her. “Rei!”

She disappeared around a corner, forcing him to speed up. In and out, he weaved through the general throng of unsuspecting people as he tried keeping up with her.

When at last, he caught sight of her, paused before a storefront with an ardent gaze on something deep within, he made at once to race to her, then stopped himself in something of a recoil, his entire body bathed in apprehension and alarm.

The store that Kiyoka chose was none other than Homra, the regular watering hole of Red King Mikoto Suoh and his clan – Fushimi’s old home. Not that it ever felt like home, he couldn’t help but recall. But what was she doing there? Rei Kiyoka had no connection, no reason, to go there. Is she just messing with me? He couldn’t help but wonder.

It was then when the Captain’s shrouded words came back to mind. I want you to find something. You’ll know when you see it. Was this what he was talking about? If so, then it’s no wonder he didn’t tell Fushimi openly about it. Fushimi wouldn’t have gone if he knew he’d wind up there. Where he was. Creepily, those memories started surfacing, yet before they had a chance to scurry up, he clamped them down, back into the hole that was his past, from which, as greatly as he tried, he couldn’t see, to escape. Nor could he find a way to make himself forget.

Cast drastically into a horrid mood, Fushimi balled his fists, took a deep breath, and strode up to Kiyoka. Still, she stood there, silent, staring.

“There you are,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. She flinched and turned to look at him, her eyes wide open, totally exposed.

“It’s here,” she breathed, hurried emotion in her eyes.

Fushimi frowned, his own urgency to get away from there obstructing his ability to comprehend her. “Rei, we have to get out of here,” He said, giving her arm a tug while glancing side-to-side, hoping no one would notice them. “You have no idea what this place is.”

“I’m going in,” she said, ignoring him.

“What?! No! You can’t —!” He tried to argue, but she slipped out of his grasp and strolled in through the door, the light ‘ding’ of the the bell atop it chiming as she did.

“Rei, get back here! You can’t –!”

“Oi! Saru!” Came a raspy young voice behind him.

Fushimi paused mid-step, closing his eyes in a dreaded blink.

“Perfect,” he mumbled low beneath his breath. Just what I need right now. Heaving out a grumbling sigh, he slid around to view Misaki Yata, the royal pain-in-the-ass that was Homra’s vanguard – and also his former best friend.

“Well if it isn’t Mi-sa-ki,” he sneered tauntingly. He eyed the young ma, who was quite a few inches shorter than he, yet with no shortness of aggression in his features.

“I told you not to call me that,” he sneered.

Mounted halfway on a skateboard with a baseball bat flung casually over his shoulder, the vanguard smiled wickedly at him. “You know, it’s too late to come back. Or are you just here so I can teach you a lesson? Traitor.” The word came like poison from his mouth.

Fushimi grinned, bursting into a wicked laugh that was anything but pleasant.

“By all means, try,” he answered. “I haven’t killed anyone yet…today. And I’ve gotta tell you, I’m really in the mood for it.”

From within his sleeves, he drew his red-soaked daggers, a rakish smile present on his face as he advanced upon an equally exhilarated Misaki. The two of them neglected what went on beyond their own immediate sphere that had, by then, completely formed itself.

Inside Homra, Rei Kiyoka had her mind on other things –of the wave of onyx power wafting through the halls, of her own power dominating fully in this tiny, compact bar that she could not, and cared not, to remember the name of. All she sensed was the same void of pitch-black darkness that entwined the very essence of her being, only it wasn’t coming from her. Her aura – that mystical force she loved, yet never knew the source of – was radiating out to her from somewhere else. From someone else.

The place itself was empty, save for the bartender, a tall man in glasses; and a woman seated opposite him with her back to Kiyoka. Her long white hair dripped past her waist in shimmery silver tendrils, and as Kiyoka entered, she turned, sending her red stare across the room to scrutinize the person, in whom, she sensed as well, a similar power.

It’s her, Kiyoka thought. It’s coming from her.

Instinctively, she knew. Standing face-to-face with a woman of so obvious a supernatural connection to her, that the person she was looking at was not just another like her who bore that same magnificent power as she, but the very source from which her own originated. At last, after so much time spent thinking she was all there was, the missing piece of her puzzle had finally been found.

“How is it possible?” She breathed, lost to understanding and entirely in awe.

The woman, likewise, shared in some surprise, for her features, though calm, seemed suddenly pleased. She rose, a regal presence standing before Kiyoka, and approached until she stood a mere few inches from Kiyoka’s face.

Gently lifting one slim hand to cup Kiyoka’s cheek, she breathed a wistful chuckle of relief. “It’s you,” she said with such affection, Kiyoka hardly realized the emergence of emotion in her eyes. “My beautiful Midnight power,” the woman said. "It belongs to you as well.”

Overcome with an emerging bliss, Kiyoka nodded. “I thought I was the only one.” Tears started streaming down her face.

“As did I,” came the response. “But that was not to be, it seems.” Her large red eyes squinted in a contended smile, calling forth a similar smile from Kiyoka as she wiped away her tears.

“What’s your name?” The woman asked.

Regaining her composure with a shaky breath, she answered. “Kiyoka. My name is Rei Kiyoka.”

“Rei Kiyoka,” the woman repeated, seeming pleased with it. “I am Anna Kushina. I’m the Midnight King. And you, it appears, are my clansman.”

Eyes shot wide, Kiyoka’s mouth dropped open. A sense of purpose filled her, partnered with a feeling of true kinship and belonging. Never before had she felt these things so purely, like a weight that had been suddenly cast off, or like a trick equation she had finally found the answer to.

“Sit down,” Anna offered her. She took Kiyouka’s hand and lead her to sit down at the bar. “Izumo, fetch another drink, will you?” She asked, and the man behind the bar nodded.

“Mei oui, mademoiselle,” he said in his slick, cool tone, and began tinkering with the bottles of alcohol stacked neatly behind him.

“Tell me,” Anna said, leaning on her elbow and leveling her ardent gaze on Kiyoka. “How did you come by my power when I don’t even remember giving it to you?”

Her presence, imperial and beautiful, was not at all oppressive or accusatory. Instead, it was kind, soft, riddled with the same power that wove about inside Kiyoka.

A mutual understanding sprung up between them as a result. Kiyouka felt free, able to speak without restraint, unbound by this new feeling of inclusion. Finally she could speak to someone who would truly understand and who would truly know her for who she was, regardless of having never known one another until that moment.

Truthfully and unabashedly, she replied. “So, you had no idea that I existed?”

Anna shook her head. “I would have come for you, had I known. Because, you see, this power is special. You know it is. You can feel it.”

It’s true, Kiyoka felt it. It was a rich, deep power, giving her a sense of everlasting will to overcome the world. It was comforting, pure. And she knew full well that if it weren’t for it, she would have died long ago at Ignatius Banks.

A sudden light sprung in her mind. “Ignatius Banks!” She said excitedly. “That was where I first came by this power.”

Anna’s face grew stern, concerned. “You were at Ignatius Banks?” She asked, a genuine pain in her eyes. “You were also at that awful place?”

Kiyoka sat up straight, curiosity in her tone. “You were a prisoner there, too?”

Anna nodded. “For a brief time. It was many years ago, long before I came to be here. I remember very little from it.” She shook her head, as though attempting to be free of some invisible force that sought to erg her down. “They did many things to me,” she went on, reflecting painfully with both eyes closed. “Later, I realized that what they were attempting to do was harness my power. To this day, I still don’t know why.”

“I think I do,” Kiyoka chimed in, prompting Anna’s attention.

Kiyoka then proceeded to tell Anna the story of her time at Ignatius Banks, of the Imperium Procedure, and how it was their mission to replicate supernatural power to be used on non-aura wielders. “They probably thought your rare abilities as a black aura wielder would help them,” Kiyoka posed.

This time, it was Anna who sat up straight with alarm. She clutched Kiyoka’s hand that rested on the bar next to hers. “Did they use my aura to harm you?” Her face was full of fear.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Kiyoka assured her as the bartender, Izumo, placed a drink before her. “Thank you,” she nodded to him. “In fact, it was your aura that saved me. I don’t even think they knew I had somehow gotten it, and to be honest, I don’t really know how it happened.”

She then recounted the day she had spent in her cell alone, how Anna’s aura burst through the walls, straight into her, and how it had remained her constant companion ever since, fueling her and aiding her in her survival against the Imperium Procedure’s brutality; how it had inevitably saved her time and time again when Imperium took her powers too far.

“That was no accident,” Anna said to this. “Your power is greater than most auras. It can destroy all that it touches. But it has another name for it as well.”

At this, Kiyoka peered a question at her.

“It’s called ‘Restore,’” she revealed. “As I’m sure you’ve already discovered, it is a healing aura that can return anything it touches to an earlier stage of its existence. Therefore, just as Midnight brings death, so also can it bring about new life. And for that, I am so glad that it found you when it did, for now I can sit here with you like this and marvel at the clansman I inadvertently created. In the midst of so much darkness at Ignatius Banks, at least this one bit of goodness came from it. You are a true miracle, Rei Kiyoka.” She smiled, relief and happiness flooding her features.

Kiyoka smiled back, her own sense of familiarity and relief breaking down a whole new set of barriers she didn’t know she had. For once, she truly felt both heard and seen.

Filled with this new sense of peace, she studied the glimmering amber-hued drink in her hand and took a sip, it’s profound flavor smooth and comforting on her tongue.

She swallowed, allowing the full potency of the liquor to waft down her throat. “That’s one good bartender you have,” she said, only then aware that he was no longer in the room but had most likely slipped off to some side room behind the bar to give them some privacy.

“He’s much more than the bartender here,” Anna laughed, and Kiyoka rose an inquisitive brow.

“Oh? Are you two, uh…” she twiddled her drink in the air, furthering her emphasis, but Anna merely laughed.

“Would you like to meet my love, Kiyoka?” She asked, fondness in her voice.

Kiyoka made to answer, stopping herself curtly at the sound of her cell phone’s muffled ringing coming from her pocket. With an apologetic glance to Anna, she drew it out and answered it.

“Hello?”

“What the hell are you doing!” Came the distinct, agitated tone of Fushimi.

Kiyoka paused. “Hello?” She said again.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Can you?” She snapped. “Your phone etiquette is appalling.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Do you have any idea who that is?”

Kiyoka, unperturbed, peered backward to the door, glancing out the window. “Where are you?” She asked.

“You’re just now realizing I’m not with you?” Again he clicked his tongue. “Listen, that woman is with the Red King! You have to get away from her!”

Delighted, Kiyoka turned an interested expression to Anna. “Ah, so your love is a King as well – and a regular bad boy, at that. Well done.”

Anna winked back at her.

But seriously, where are you?” She said, redirecting her attention to Fushimi.

“Just forget it,” came his grumbling reply. “Just get out of – Ah! Hey!”

A residual boom erupted on the other end. Kiyoka frowned. “Sashimi? Hello?” But Fushimi didn’t answer. Instead, another zapping boom cracked painfully through the phone, causing her to wince.

“Ow,” she said into the phone. “Sashimi, what are you –?”

She paused mid-sentence, silenced by a laugh, somewhat maniacal and sounding eerily like Fushimi’s (or what he would sound like if he did laugh, for she realized that she’d never heard him do so before).

“Is that all you’ve got?” She heard him say in the most giddily twisted voice she’d ever heard.

“Sashimi…?” she ventured in.

“I haven’t even started, yet, Saru!” Came a distant, gruff response.

Another set of blasts and zapping booms commenced.

Kiyoka blinked, nearly bored. “Sashimi…” she said patiently again, to no reply.

She looked to Anna, shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the words What is going on?

Anna merely grinned, seemingly knowing something she didn’t.

One of the explosions on the other end made the ground beneath her rumble, and she glanced back to the window, witnessing Fushimi and another young man battling it out with conflicting red and blue auras that looked about ready to kill one another.

“Oh, there he is,” she said as trivially as though commenting on the weather.

Fushimi and a young man that Kiyoka had never seen before were deeply engaged in all-out war with one another in the street.

The young man wore a white sweatshirt and a beanie, donning around his neck a set of headphones, a red shirt tied around his waist, and a baseball bat in his hand as he paraded in an aura-ridden circle on a skateboard round Fushimi. He bounced around so quickly, it was difficult to determine how tall he was.

Meanwhile, Fushimi parried every red-aura blow that came by way of the baseball bat, countering with his blue sword of Reisi Munakata, partnered with his red-aura daggers in a startling display of warfare – one that Kiyoka couldn’t help but think they’d had before.

“Who is that?” She asked Anna, casually observing them.

“That’s Misaki Yata. He’s a member of Mikoto’s clan – Mikoto Suoh, I mean.”

Kiyoka gave her a sultry look. “Your love,” she crooned.

“Indeed,” Anna answered, blushing a little.

“Misaki and Saruhiko grew up together. They were inseparable,” she added.

Kiyoka nearly choked as she attempted another sip of her drink, spitting scotch into her glass and spraying it all over her nose.

Sending a perplexing glance to Anna, she couldn’t decide whether to be shocked at Anna’s casual use of Sashimi’s name, or at the prospect of him being ‘inseparable’ to anyone. With so many questions swirling in her mind, she chose to ignore all of them for the time being.

“So, they’re fine, then?” She asked, nodding to the seemingly destructive battle beyond.

Anna shrugged. “Oh yes, they’ll be alright.”

Kiyoka held the phone back to her ear. “Did you hear that, Sash? I’m going to hang up now, okay?”

No answer. Instead, “Don’t you think you’re getting a little old to be throwing temper tantrums, Mi-sa-ki?” Fushimi taunted.

“We’re the same fucking age, you moron!” Came Misaki’s reply, followed by a whooshing zoom of an aura blast that boomed over the phone.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Kiyoka offered politely, then nodded against the non-response she received. “Brilliant.”

Hanging up the phone, she smiled in Anna’s direction. “Right then, where were we?”

“You’re not worried about him?” Anna asked, amused.

Kiyoka shrugged, studying the remainder of her drink. “He’s been through far worse from me. I think he can handle this.”

Anna gave her a perceptive smile as the door burst open and Fushimi barged in, Misaki trailing behind him.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going?” Misaki hollered after a completely disinterested Fushimi. “This is Homra, idiot! You don’t belong here anymore!”

Fushimi ignored him, strolling up to Kiyoka and snatching up her arm.

“What do you mean you’re going to hang up?” He said deliberately, earning a blink from Kiyoka.

“You were actually listening?” She asked, a hint of a smile creeping along the edge of her mouth.

“Like I can tune out something so piercing as the sound of your voice,” he answered, pulling her up out of her chair. “And you don’t get to hang up on me. Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

“But Sash,” she tried to argue. “She’s –“

“I don’t care!” He shot back, dragging her toward the door.

“But I do!” She cried, emitting a brief tremor of her darkened power outward through the room. The reverberative thrust shook Fushimi off her and he turned to her, stunned.

Locking eyes with him, Kiyoka’s own widened pleadingly. “She has my power, Sash!” she conveyed to him. “My aura,” she clarified to Fushimi’s deepening scowl, and then his brow shot tall, sudden understanding flooding in.

“You mean she’s…” He peered from her to Anna and back, at an utter loss for words.

Kiyoka nodded. “It was hers to begin with. Sashimi, she’s my King.”

That word struck him like a dagger, and in a fumbled attempt to speak, Fushimi stumbled backward, eyeing her with what she could only assume was betrayal.

He cocked his head emphatically to the side. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He shouted, coming back to stare at her with malice. Taking a heavy step toward her, he pointed one long finger at her. “Is there no end to the havoc you can wreak!”

Kiyoka blinked again. This had successfully dumbfounded her.

“W-what are you talking about?” She stumbled out, her tone soft, confused, hurt. But he wasn’t looking at her. Sure, his eyes appeared to be, but somewhere deep inside, he was looking elsewhere. A darkness settled over him that Kiyoka didn’t recognize.

A weighted silence took them, Kiyoka staring up at him, disarmed; Fushimi bearing down on her, holding her ensnared.

Then that strenuous bond snapped as he tore his stare away from her, glancing briefly at the silent Anna still seated at the bar, then back to Kiyoka, an entirely new distance between them.

“Fine,” he uttered flatly. “You do what you want,” and he turned his back to her. He hardly seemed to notice Misaki’s look of hatred as he slammed the door behind him, the bell above it giving a parade of irate jingles in his wake.

Kiyoka watched him go, her mouth drawn open, emptiness abounding in the room. “Sash,” she nearly whispered, her steps drawn toward the door.

“Kiyoka, wait,” came Anna’s voice behind her.

Kiyoka turned to find the Midnight King no longer seated passively but standing tall beside the bar. Compassion and resolve swirled about her form.

With a regal step, she strode toward Kiyoka, taking up her hand.

“You will always have a place here,” she told Kiyoka. “Though, I understand all too well that a person must find her own place in her own way and in her own time.” She cast her red gaze over to the door, the remnants of Fushimi’s presence lingering like a passing scent that wafted down the street. “Whether yours is out there or in here, or someplace entirely different,” she continued, turning back to Kiyoka, her gentle features emanating warmth, “That is up to you. Go. And I promise you: we will see each other again.”

Bolstered by Anna’s words, emboldened to return a nod of certainty, Kiyoka clutched both hands around Anna’s, giving a tight squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, then raced out the door to find Fushimi.

(Chapter X: Answers // Chapter XII: Traitors)

(K:Tales of Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)

9 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 4 years

Quote

Never really did he smile - not outwardly at least; though when he looked at me, I saw the smile hiding in his eyes.

Anna Kushina on Mikoto Suoh

#memories of mikoto #esonikofanfiction #k project #mikoto suoh #anna kushina

57 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 4 years

Text

K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER IX: INFILTRATION

The room was chock full of high-ranking members of Scepter 4. Everyone was buzzing about the recent incidents surrounding Jungle. Following the attack at the Crosswalk and Rei Kiyoka’s subsequent strike and ultimate defection from Jungle’s ranks, the followers of Hisui Nagare had since become unhinged, wreaking all kinds of havoc throughout the city, as though their former actions weren’t enough.

According to Kiyoka, this was all a part of Nagare’s ploy. Chaos is a favorable distraction when concealing one’s motives. Fortunately enough, those of Scepter 4’s high command knew something of Nagare’s plans, thanks to Kiyoka’s efforts. Yet even so, the Green King was not one to follow through with all that was expected of him. King also of deception, there was ever the possibility that he had something else in mind, a well-known contingency that Blue King Munakata and his right-hand men and women sought to undermine with every procurable resource at their disposal.

Thereafter, it was Scepter 4's objective to flush out the insurgents behind these sporadic bouts of aggression springing up all over the city and to restore peace, all the while confirming Nagare’s ultimate goal by infiltrating Jungle’s network using the device that Fushimi expertly retrieved from Hirasaka Douhan in the Underworld a few days earlier. But these things were easier said and done. Jungle’s system was highly impregnable and the attacks themselves far more numerous in volume. Moreover the insurgents seemed to greatly outweigh those then flooding through the halls of Scepter 4. If this was any evidence, it could only mean one thing: Nagare was indeed planning something, and it was just as big – if not bigger – than Scepter 4 had anticipated. Now, more than ever, discovering his mission was imperative to stopping him.

In Scepter 4’s Operations Room on a cloudy afternoon, every monitor flashed something different. Breaking news segments, search modules, lines of code, voice and face recognition software and surveillance camera footage kept the Blues heavily occupied.

In the general throng, seated more or less together toward the rear of the room, Akiyama, Dōmyōji, Hidaka, Fuse, and Benzai were working diligently on their laptops while Fushimi did his own work separately nearby. Also present, seated alone in the back corner near Fushimi was Rei Kiyoka, the only non-member of Scepter 4 working on the case.

Unlike the others, clad in crisp blue uniforms, Kiyoka donned her tailored suit of midnight black, her long sleek trench coat worn atop her fitted dress and knee-high boots, her jet black waves cascading down her back. It posed a vast contrast that merited not one or two, but countless pairs of shifting eyes that all appeared to say the same unspoken thought, though none seemed keen to voice that thought aloud.

She was seeming more and more her old self – that is, her imperious, terrifying self that always looked as though she thought it might be fun to overthrow the world; or that at any moment, she might unleash her midnight aura, partnered with her deadly induced power, and proceed to slaughter everyone in the room. Perhaps that’s why the others kept their distance. Perhaps that’s what she wanted. But then again, perhaps not.

She wore at her waist her glistening rapier, much like the others of Scepter 4, who donned their sabers constantly as a rule. Only they didn’t look quite so unpredictable with theirs. She didn’t care, though. It didn’t seem to matter to her that she stood out, that others tried their hardest not to stare at her outright, yet did so openly when they thought she wasn’t looking. She was used to the attention – or rather, the scrutiny and judgement – of others by now.

Draping herself lazily in her seat, arms crossed, feet propped up on the table, her eyes were closed as though she were asleep, despite the overt bustle of the room. Beside her on the table sat an open laptop, its screen filled end-to-end with neon green as lines of code ran rampant like a never-ending ribbon, seemingly to nowhere. Kiyoka merely sat back, unperturbed, allowing it to run on uncontrolled. All the while, her cohorts were beyond themselves, the whole of their department set on high alert for hours since, and every member brimming with an endless stream of work. As such, the pensive looks cast onto Kiyoka morphed considerably to those of disapproval as the afternoon wore on, the general air about the room conveying that Rei Kiyoka’s lax demeanor marked the laissez faire attitude of an outsider. No longer did it speak of hopeful wonderings of the advantageous stranger who appeared to them with vital information and a willingness to help.

Through a set of open double doors, Lieutenant Awashima marched headlong into the room, one hand resting firmly on her saber. "Alright, everyone! Listen up!” She ordered in her crisp, commanding tone. The others, having rushed about their business, paused to offer their attention.

“As you know, Jungle is our top priority,” she emphasized. "Our mission is to gather as much intel as we can. I want to know where they are, what they’re planning, and how many people are involved. I want you to get inside their head’s, people! Learn everything you can! It’s absolutely vital that – “ She stopped abruptly, issuing a sigh of agitation. “Excuse me, will someone please wake her up?" She sent a pensive hand out, motioning to the darkly-clad delinquent to her left.

All eyes then descended onto Kiyoka.

Slowly, Kiyoka peeked one eye open, then the other, to look at the Lieutenant.

Awashima donned a heavy frown. “I do not appreciate your blatant disregard for protocol in high-alert affairs, Rei Kiyoka,” She declared derisively. “Nor the laziness with which you present yourself. You may not be a member of Scepter 4, but while you're in the building, you will show it the necessary respect it deserves. Do I make myself clear?"

Kiyoka didn't seem the least bit phased. Picking her feet off the desk, she rose, stuffing both hands in her pockets, and sashayed out the door without so much as a word.

The Lieutenant’s mouth dropped open and her right eye gave a noticeable twitch. "What do you think you're doing? Get back – !"

A ding erupted from Kiyoka's laptop, cutting her off. The frown she harbored magnified, her focus redirected onto the laptop.

Fushimi, having barely struck an interest in the feud that Awashima seemed insistent on rekindling, then found his senses piqued. Closest to the laptop, he reached a hand and spun the screen around.

The Lieutenant took a step in his direction, eyeing the computer. “What is it, Fushimi?”

"It's Jungle's network," he said, scanning it. "She got in."

Like a rush of wind, the former air of disdain flooded back to awe as shuffling gasps and gestures of confusion struck the members of the scene.

”How is that possible?" Hidaka rose, stunned as all the rest.

Beside him, Akiyama stared, his own confusion spreading like a sheet across his face. “But wasn't she asleep that whole time?” He asked.

"She didn't even move," Benzai confirmed, looking around skeptically.

Awashima thought a moment, setting her long fingers on her chin. “So then all that time, she was just…”

“Well, I guess we know now why she wasn't listening, Lieutenant," he said, straightening his glasses and so hiding his approval. Sharpening his focus on the screen, he buckled down and started typing deftly at the keys.

Akiyama sidled up to Awashima, speaking covertly. “Lieutenant, Jungle’s network is impossible to crack. We’ve been trying it for weeks. Ever since they upgraded their system, no one’s been able to come even close to breaching it. How’d she manage to do it? And so quickly, too?” He added, almost to himself.

Fushimi, having heard him, found this interesting. Apparently the Captain hasn’t told them yet. Even though she’s openly working with us, they still have no idea who she is or what’s going on – not the truth of it, anyway.

Amused, he set the thought aside to cut in, saying, “It doesn't matter how she got in. All that matters is she did. But we have to act fast." Focusing his sights, his fingers worked a mile a minute, pixelated flickers dancing wildly on the lenses of his glasses.

Fuse stole this moment’s chance to offer up a tone of disapproval, partnered with an all-consuming frown directed at Fushimi. ”You don't seem very surprised by any of this,” he probed.

“I’m not,” came the reply.

“So then, how’d you –?!”

“Look, if you want answers, ask someone else,” Fushimi parried, keeping his eyes locked on the computer screen. “We only have about five minutes before Jungle kicks us out, which means five minutes of absorbing as much data as we can."

"Can't you just run a download of their files?" The Lieutenant questioned him.

"It doesn't work like that,” he countered, his typing speeding up. “Jungle’s a constant open network of postings. Whenever a mission goes live, a player can respond to it, hitting the 'Accept' button. Once it's completed, the post is erased as new ones pop up automatically. Think of it as Jungle’s way of covering its tracks. I can't go back and look at prior postings. All I can do is run a sweep of the current ones and all the players who are active. By doing that, we might be able to identify some of the users and figure out their targets. We can intercept them before they carry out their missions – plus, maybe catch a glimpse of Nagare’s other plans while we’re at it.”

"Then hurry up and get it done,” Awashima ordered.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He returned, no less delicate.

Another moment of incessant typing from Fushimi and intense anticipation from the others brought a high-pitched beeping from the laptop. The others looked up with alarm but Fushimi kept his cool. "Well, they know we're here."

The Lieutenant journeyed up to him and peered around his shoulder. "I thought you said we had five minutes."

Fushimi scanned her briefly. ”All they've done is realize that we're here,” he said, sliding several inches from her. "It'll take them a few more minutes for them to initiate a full-system lockdown. We've still got time."

"Access the control room and flag their user network as corrupted," came Kiyoka’s creamy voice behind them. Somehow managing to escape the other's notice, she had slipped back into the room and was then leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed, observing them.

Both Hidaka and Dōmyōji looked to one another, baffled, and, turning to Kiyoka, Dōmyōji was the first to speak. "You mean setting off another alarm? What would be the point? They'll just shut us out even faster."

“They'll assume there's another hack coming from the user log-ins, and all remaining power will be routed to that one specific point," she explained, nearly bored. "They'll shut down user access, cutting off their currently active players from the system without fully kicking them out. It's their way of trapping the intruder so they can go through one-by-one and figure out who it is. So, while Jungle’s investigating them, so can you.

“Meanwhile, you can access the bulk of their internal database and set the parameters of their reboot to ensure another lockdown is impossible – at least until their servers are back online. Essentially, it'll lock the central mainframe out of its own program.” She didn’t bother looking up but rather turned to scrutinize her nails held up before her. Her thumb traced the black polish lining their tips. “That should buy you enough time to gather everything you need.”

The Lieutenant gave Kiyoka an irritated look, but turning to Fushimi, she said, "Can you do it?"

"Huh," he mumbled, and the Lieutenant froze.

"What is it? ...Fushimi?"

"She's right. By tripping the user access alarm, we can trick the system into thinking there are two intruders instead of one. It won't be able to fix them both at once, so it'll go to whichever one it sees as the bigger threat, which, in this case, would be a user hack. We'll just be seen as a part of the internal mainframe attempting to reset itself, and the system will revert to shutting down the user access module instead.”

"Eventually, though, the user network will reboot itself and you'll be rediscovered as the primary intruder,” Kiyoka warned him. “At which point, it'll resume the former shutdown of the mainframe, but not before you have a chance to sweep the entire network for intel.”

By this time, everyone had gathered around the Lieutenant and Fushimi to watch. Fuse came alongside also, facing Kiyoka. "How is it you know all this?" He asked, his eyebrow raised disdainfully.

Hardly moved, and as though it were obvious, Kiyoka replied, "Because I built it."

"Re-built it," Fushimi clarified, "using the Kawaguchi Algorithm."

Fuse, as well as the others, locked their eyes now on Fushimi, then Kiyoka yet again, all of them dumbfounded. Only the Lieutenant appeared less than pleased by this announcement.

"You mean you're the one who stole the Algorithm?" Akiyama asked.

In a quick response, Fushimi said, "She built that too."

"Hold on," Benzai said, waving a hand out in the air. He squinted tightly, thoroughly confused. "I thought you said that you two were competing for the Algorithm, meaning you were on opposite sides. You're telling me she’s actually been with us this whole time?”

"She's also good lying," came Fushimi’s terse reply.

Kiyoka grinned at this. "There you go again, Sashimi – "

" – Don't," he stopped her.

"There he goes...what?" Dōmyōji asked, shifting hesitating eyes between the two.

Fushimi shook his head. "You're just encouraging her,” he grumbled, but Kiyoka paid no heed to him.

Turning to Dōmyōji, she smiled. “Complimenting me,” she answered brightly. "He says he hates it, but he does it all the time."

There was a momentary pause, though in the midst of stricken revelations, the Lieutenant stepped between them, eyeing Kiyoka coolly. "If you built this system and the Kawaguchi Algorithm, why'd you waste valuable time in leaving when you could have stayed and done all this yourself?"

This was yet another discovery for Fushimi. Not even she knows everything, he realized, suddenly wondering if, in reality, he really did know more than he thought.

Kiyoka shrugged, her boredom not so hidden anymore. "I told you before I didn’t want to be here. I want to be out there, gathering intel,” she said, nodding toward the door. "Not in here, playing kids’ games. Besides, I already said I was leaving you in capable hands."

Startled momentarily, Awashima took just enough of a break from her scowl to widen her eyes briefly with a twitch. Slowly, she glanced sideways to observe the minor slant of Fushimi’s lips curved upward in a slightly twisted manner as he stared down at the screen.

"Got it!” he declared, and all at once, the high alarm from the computer ceased. "We're in.”

Kiyoka gave a little hmph, peeling herself off the wall. "See?" She said, popping her brow. And just as swiftly as she came, she was gone.

The others gathered closer to the desktop, each one more in awe than the next. Even Awashima, angry as she was, could not contain the stunned look on her face. Instantly, she started giving orders, the room a buzzing scene just as before.

Fushimi couldn’t hear them, though. Instead, he eyed the door from which Kiyoka left, all those thoughts surrounding her a whirl inside his head. They rose up, growing louder, louder, forcing their way out until he couldn’t keep his silence anymore.

He leapt from his chair, making straight for the door. The others paused their efforts, watching as he did. Perhaps they even called to him. He didn’t hear, nor did he care. More than anything, he knew he had to talk to her. Now, for once, he was going to get some answers.

(Chapter VIII: Esprit de Corpes// Chapter X: Answers)

5 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 4 years

Text

K: MIDNIGHT: EXTRA SCENE: WAIT FOR ME

October 1, 2010

He could hear his breath whooshing fiercely in and out. It was a lot louder than he remembered – faster, too. He couldn't seem to stop it growing more and more intense. He needed air, but couldn't seem to get enough, no matter what he did. He stumbled down an alley, gripped the wall with one hand, his chest with the other. He could always feel the heat of his own fire, but today he felt a sweat as cold as ice begin to rise up from the depths of God knows where inside his furnace of a soul. The burning in his chest was not a fiery one but froze him to the core. Huh, that's weird, Mikoto thought, tensing as the pain coursed like a hammer, sending shock waves through his bones. Is this that thing that Tatara always talked about? He heaved another precious breath, swallowed it, then let it out again, feeling none the better for it. Mikoto had been trailing passing Shadows since the night atop Shizume, the night he fought the Blues and their insufferable King. Mikoto ducked out early, though. A call to Munakata had informed them both of something that Mikoto simply couldn't lay to rest: The Shadows had escaped. Mikoto's jaw invariably tightened, the memory just as vivid as the moment that it happened. The Shadows, he recalled, clenching his fist deeper to the wall. The stone beneath it cracked. I have to...

The freezing burn shot through him once again. Unwittingly, he caved against it, falling to his knees.

Yeah, he realized, blinking through the haze of it. I'm pretty sure that this is what he meant. A mopy sigh escaped him. What a pain.

But then the thought of her came flooding back to him, and all those freezing burns became at once a warmth that entered him like nothing his own red had done to satisfy before. It filled him with a softness that belayed his thoughts of bitterness. It lifted him, empowered him. It made him leave behind that brooding air he loved so much. Again he clutched his fingers in a fist, though not against the wall this time, and not with pain, nor emptiness, with grumbling or despair. No, this time, it was held before him, partnered with a second fist, the pair of them ignited into flames. "Anna," he said down to them. The labored breathing stopped, replaced with something shaky like a gasp. His heart beat ever faster and he closed his eyes against it, feeling, listening, as though he sought to hear her voice inside of him the way he always had. Wait for me, he called to her. I promise I'll come back to you. The air, by way of answering, came swirling up to him, entering his lungs as though to offer him new life, the life he fully recognized in her. He knew it hadn’t come from her; but then, perhaps it had. Slowly, he regained his feet. Anna, he called out again, frowning his eyes open to reveal a heavy stare. The flames he bore spread rapidly to cover him, something of a fierceness in his stature and a longing in his eyes. I can't let this end, he said. I won’t...

...not without you knowing...

His chest began to throb again, a fiery red encompassing the pain he felt before, piercing him the more, but with a fervid savagery that spoke of all the things he ever wanted but was too afraid to hope that he could have; yet somewhere in the course of time, those things he was afraid to have had somehow found their way to him. She had found her way to him; and now his only fear was that she’d somehow disappear before he had the chance to tell her.

A hollow breath escaped him, swirling into fumes. I promise, he repeated resolutely to the air. I promise you’ll know everything.

So for right now...

...for just a little while...

...wait for me.

23 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 4 years

Quote

Such was the way of the Underworld: no path was ever certain but that all were met with darkness at the end.

K: Tales of Midnight, Chapter VII: Underworld

#esonikofanfiction #k project #saruhiko fushimi #underworld #darkness

16 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 4 years

Text

K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER VI: IMPERIUM

The alarm bell sounded loudly through the halls of Scepter 4. Fushimi lay asleep within his quarters, yet against the blatant siren call, he squinted his eyes open with a twitching click of his tongue.

"So loud. What now?"

Sleepily, he rolled onto his stomach, fingering his PDA. The glow was painfully bright, and while he didn't have his glasses on, he vaguely caught the blurry numerics that made up the three o'clock hour.

He slapped the PDA back on the desk and groaned his face against the pillow. "Shit."

Outside, a rhythmic tromping rumbled down the hall. Eyeing through the pillow, he could see the blacked-out streaks of passing footsteps flashing past the crack beneath his door. Then, to his surprise, the door itself swung open, pouring in a blinding beam of light and with it, a mere instant of perception that allowed him to detect the bleary outline of a figure swooping in. Then all was swept away, reduced to utter darkness as the door was shut again.

Fushimi bat his eyes against the sudden change and glimpsed the figure's pitch-black form approaching dangerously fast.

An urgent breath, a burning grip inside his stomach urged him into consciousness. All sense of sleep and restfulness abated and a desperate, innate motion sent his fingers in a clutch along a hidden dagger resting on the floor.

He lunged an outstretched hand and caught the figure by the arm, giving it a sturdy yank.

The figure hurled over him and landed in a bouncing plop beside him on the bed.

He flew himself on top of it, his giant flourish whisking bed sheets well above their heads as he produced the dagger – lit with Suoh’s fiery red – and hovered it atop the figure’s neck.

Then he paused.

His eyes shot open wide.

His breath caught in a stammer as he witnessed Rei Kiyoka staring frantic emerald eyes at him while shushing him to silence.

Fushimi's upper lip involuntary twitched. "You!" He howled in something of a whisper, though she only hissed above him to be quiet. "Of all the idiotic — !”

" — Reisi!" She said over him, gripping slender fingers on his arm.

Fushimi cocked his head, startled to confusion. "How do you — ?"

" — Get Reisi!" She called urgently. "I have to — ah!" She winced into a painful cry, which he suppressed by clamping a palm across her mouth, feeling (though he knew not why) an equal urge for secrecy against another passing party charging down the hall.

As he did, a subtle deviation caught his eye.

He followed it, scaling downward just below the reddish glow emitted from his dagger to the bare space near the collar of Rei’s coat.

Kiyoka's ordinarily porcelain skin was tainted black with branching veins that seemed to be alive. Even as he looked at them, they crawled beneath her skin, inching their way upward to her throat.

Mortified, he snatched his hand away. "The hell is wrong with you?!”

“There isn’t time," she stuttered out, another painful twinge producing further stifling from her captor.

“Damn it, woman, be quiet!” He found himself scolding her, and then he stopped himself. “Wait, why am I hiding you? I’m arresting you. Geez, what is wrong with me? And you for that matter?”

“Reisi…” she repeated through his fingers, and something in her voice commanded him to look at her.

Slowly, he released his hand.

“I have to tell him. I have to tell Reisi. I have...” She kept repeating over and over, oscillated in and out of consciousness. Fushimi felt her limbs contract, then relax. Her words turned to mumbling as her fluttered eyelids dimmed with the final disappearance of her strength. “Reisi,” she called out again, then laid back still and silent as a doll.

Fushimi's eyes flashed.

Checking her pulse, he found that she was only unconscious. Then he, too, relaxed – long enough for him to venture back to his former query. Staring down, he looked at her in silence. The noise inside his head grew louder.

This woman...knows the Captain?

Sounds like she more than knows him. She said his name so casually, as if...

His scowl increased while inwardly, his mind began to race across some hidden past between the two, some way — any way — to explain how someone sinister like her, a member of Hisui Nagare's clan, would ever be on such informal terms with Blue King Reisi Munakata. It made no sense, and yet the fact that he knew close to nothing about her gave him cause to doubt himself.

Everything regarding her was so damned contradictory. And then it came: the bold-lettered question, the one that ever lingered in the back of every thought he ever had of her. It spun in circles round and round, flashing through his mind with all the things she'd done, the way she’d proven time and time again to be the enemy, and he times she almost wasn’t; overall, the blur that was the one thing he could never understand: Just who is this person? More importantly, who does the Captain think she is?

It consumed him, domineering every thought, shutting all else out until a sudden interruption made him jerk his head up, instantly made conscious by a pounding on his door.

Sitting fully upright, the sheet slid off his shoulder. He peered down to Kiyoka sprawled across the mattress. Her eyes, mere slivers looking up at him, held just enough intention, just the right amount of familiarity, to make him angry.

His hand holding the dagger came up and his face glowed red as he held a finger to his lips. "Not a word," he ordered, and tossed the sheet back over her, shielding her completely as he stood and sauntered quietly to the door.

"What?" He said abruptly upon opening it.

Akiyama and Benzai stood outside.

“Er- sorry to wake you, Fushimi, but there's been a breach of headquarters," Benzai announced, much to Fushimi's evident shrug.

“Someone broke in. Maybe a thief,” Akiyama added. “We’re not sure what his motive was, but we managed to trace his movements to this area of the building before the trail went cold.”

"You haven't seen anything, have you?" Benzai asked.

Annoyed, Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Does it look like I have?"

The two men straightened stiffly in their places. Benzai choked a cough. "Uh, no. We were just — "

Stepping in, Akiyama interrupted. "The Captain’s looking for you, Sir."

Fushimi glared at them. "Fine. Just let me get dressed,” he said, turning back into the doorway. "Unless you've got a problem with that…”

“Uh, n-no, of course not — “ Benzai started as Fushimi slammed the door.

A cautious pause ensued until he heard the footsteps die away, at which, he turned and scanned a witting eye across the room. "You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to guess?"

Kiyoka peeled the sheet away, her pale expression vaguely lit by rays of moonlight streaming through the window on the far side of the room. She didn't say a word, nor could he identify the silent look she bore; however, it conveyed the answer plainly and he shrugged. “Guess you’d have to have a pretty good reason for coming here half-dead, wouldn’t you?”

He took a step into the room. "You're twisted, that’s for sure, and I’m never going to trust you. But for all that, I can't exactly accuse you of being tactless."

"I'm touched," she whispered, drawing in a shallow, quaky breath. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"That's depends on why you're really here."

"I told you — "

" — Yeah, I heard you,” he waved, cutting her off. “Look, either way, it's not going to be easy. What with all your noise, I'm surprised you made it this far."

Kiyoka let her breath out in a laugh. "There you go, complimenting me again. You better be careful."

"Don't kid yourself," he shot back. "You were insane to break into Scepter 4 in the first place. If you really needed the Captain, since you seem to know him so well, there were ways you could have called; but no. You had to come to me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Is it really so hard for you to stay away? Why risk your life? And for what? The ‘fun’ of it? And how'd you even know this was my room?” He added as an angry afterthought, yet even as he spoke, he stopped himself, holding up a palm against her. “You know what? I don't want to know." He turned back to the door, cautious of another passing party, and then his voice descended to a whisper wreathed in bitterness. “No doubt, just another reason why you're so damn twisted."

"Please, Sashimi," he heard her whisper quietly behind him, and he twitched, shifting her a narrow glance. His eyes had since adjusted to the dark and he could see her staring fixedly at him.

A small eternity passed and he could feel himself grow angrier and angrier until at last, he grit his teeth. Damn it, he thought. “Put the sheet back on. I don't want you looking at me while I change."

Several minutes later, he finished strapping on his saber and mumbled the words, "Don't move,” as he left her in a grumbling search for Captain Munakata.

Scepter 4 was booming with officers, all in a rage to cramp up every aspect of security. Strolling through the commotion, Fushimi slid his glasses into place. Idiots, he thought with satisfaction.

He followed the trail of officers to the initial scene of the crime along the southeast corner of the building, where a side door stood ajar, hanging loosely on its hinges with the lock blown off. Its blasted remains lay scattered in a heap of charred black metal on the floor. Captain Munakata stood before it. Beside him was Lieutenant Awashima. Meanwhile Akiyama, Benzai, and Dōmyōji ran a sweep of the area with a slew of lower-ranking officers at their heels.

With one hand on his hilt, Fushimi eyed the mess before him. “So this is where he entered, huh? Not exactly subtle.”

The Captain, arms crossed, turned a casual eye to him, instantly perceiving some small discord in the regular passivity of his subordinate's features.

“Indeed, it was a rather sloppy performance," the Lieutenant answered. “Clearly this was the work of a single intruder. What's odd, though, is that, given the level of power manipulation involved, this intruder appears to be highly skilled and could have easily managed a more refined operation; yet, judging from the blast marks, he was in too much of a hurry to plan out a strategic approach."

"You're saying he was desperate?" Fushimi asked.

"It appears that way, yes. It would explain why he acted so carelessly. However, until we have him in our custody, we have no way of knowing his true objective. As it is, this is the only location we've managed to obtain any evidence thus far. We're now in the process of conducting a more thorough investigation in search of further clues. In the meantime, all the exits have been sealed. If he's still inside the building, we'll find him."

Fushimi turned his head, scanning the door. ”Why the fuss for just one person? What's so special about him?"

"What's 'special,'” the Lieutenant retorted, "is that the amount of power he has exceeds the regular boundaries of supernatural users. To put it more distinctly: this person possesses abilities of both supernatural and genetic significance."

Fushimi eyed the Captain, who didn't move an inch. "Genetic powers, huh?”

Awashima crossed her arms. "If you observe the intruder's point of entry," she nodded toward the door, "you'll notice subtle traces of his aura (which, in and of itself, is rather strange. I can't seem to pinpoint its origin). However, if you gather a sample of the residue and break it down more thoroughly under a microscope, you'll find the essence of a powerful stimulant not yet widely known among the scientific community. Its primary use is to enhance and ultimately harness a person's supernatural capabilities — more specifically, the abilities of natural-born users."

"Strains," Fushimi supplied.

The Lieutenant nodded.

“So that’s the intruder’s main power source? It really is just a Strain? And with the help of this…drug,” he waved, “she’s able to cause this level of destruction?”

“Not exactly. The aura doesn’t emanate from his powers as a Strain. He’s developed a completely separate aura from his natural-born powers, though whether from the Slate or through artificial means, that remains to be discovered. I believe several other factors may be involved. However, the influence of the stimulant is apparent and has worked to amplify his powers as both a Strain and an aura-wielder."

Fushimi hummed, thinking back on Kiyoka’s use of power up to date. Slowly, things were starting to make sense. “This stimulant have a name, Lieutenant?”

"Applying the correct medical terminology, it's known as Desoxy — "

"Just give me the simplified version," he stopped her.

"We refer to it as Imperium."

Fushimi knelt down, examining the scorch marks on the floor. "So, in other words, through a process of genetic mutation using this Imperium drug, scientists have found a way to replicate a person's supernatural abilities, is that it?"

“That’s it exactly."

At this, Fushimi's lips curled with disgust. "Sick," he mumbled, rising once again.

"And given how thoroughly the stimulant was scattered all throughout the aura's blast range," Awashima added, "it seems the intruder was subjected to a great deal of human/Strain testing in order to achieve the appropriate DNA level required for replication."

"How can you tell they were actually able to achieve it?" He asked.

Beside him, the Captain shifted him a glance as the Lieutenant pulled up a schematic on her PDA.

"The results are off the charts," she said, holding it before him. "His aura has completely synced itself with the stimulant. Whatever the procedure entailed, I imagine it was long, and no doubt, he endured a substantial amount of pain; but the outcome is clear."

"So, then: the lab rat has since become a super rat," he proposed, and the Lieutenant noticeably blanched.

"To put it crudely, yes; however, it's not that simple. You see, the Imperium Procedure is an illegal practice that Scepter 4 has been attempting to irradiate for some time. As it does not comply with the laws set forth to safeguard supernatural wielders, the grand majority (if not all) of Imperium's test subjects undergo the procedure against their will under the exploitation of modern scientists who have neither the knowledge nor the understanding of the power once originated from the Slate. As a result, many Strains perish before ever reaching the point of replication, while of those few who manage to survive the process to completion, a vast percentage experience damaging (and ultimately life-threatening) side-effects."

This piqued Fushimi's interest and he frowned. "What kind of side-effects?"

"Once the drug has sufficiently aligned itself with a Strain's DNA, it has the ability to enhance that individual's capabilities derived from the Slate, but to a dangerous degree. While the powers designated to each person — either by a King or as a Strain — are specific to his or her DNA, Imperium works to genetically mutate that DNA in order to extend the natural limitations of the body's tolerance. The reason why a Strain works more coherently with this idea is because — "

" — a Strain is born with its powers," Fushimi chimed in, "therefore, its body, which has already accepted the Strain capabilities into its DNA, is more susceptible to further alteration. Then going one step further, possessing an aura unlike any other may just serve to sweeten the deal.”

Again, the Lieutenant nodded. "Correspondingly, the individual (or, in this case, the Strain) will become infinitely more powerful; meanwhile scientists may then extract the blood in order to create a serum, thus enabling ordinary humans to wield a similar power. However, as the drug was initially created outside the influence of the Slate, it wouldn't matter if the test subject survived the procedure. It would slowly start to consume him if too much of his Imperium-induced power is used." Staring back out at the scene, her expression became stern. "It would appear that whomever this intruder is has just exhumed a substantial amount of power — much more than his body should produce — and is now running on empty. Even if he's managed to succeed in whatever his reason was in coming here, I imagine he won't get much further."

A sudden sinking feeling caught Fushimi in the gut. "You mean she could die?"

The Lieutenant turned a flashing eye to him, awakened to his differed use of pronouns. ”If she isn't dead already, then yes, I'm afraid it's very likely, which is why I'd like her to be found as quickly as possible."

An instant shadow blanketed Fushimi. He stared out at the aftermath of Kiyoka’s toxic power, feeling oddly guilty. Guess it really was important if she was prepared to die just so she could see the Captain, he realized. Even now, she may already be... A sudden sense of urgency invaded him, though he quickly caught himself. Get it together, he swore inwardly.

"Captain," Awashima went on. "I recommend we take this Strain in for questioning and, if possible, implement the necessary protective measures that will ensure no further harm can come to him…or her," she said, shifting Fushimi a glance. "Despite the evident danger involved, this person may well need our help."

While she spoke, Fushimi stole apart from her, stepping past the Captain with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his stature slumped in boredom. Casually he peered around his shoulder, a mopish glare shot squarely through the Captain’s metal rims. The Captain didn't strain himself to meet it. Rather, he assumed the innate courtesy indicative of his nature and addressed his second-in-command. "I wholeheartedly agree, Ms. Awashima," he declared. “You may rest assured, I have every confidence in your judgement regarding this matter," at which, he turned to leave.

"Captain," returned the Lieutenant in somewhat of a question, watching with a twinge of speculation as the Captain, followed by Fushimi, exited the scene.

Not a word was spoken as they made their way across the crowded halls of Scepter 4 to the men's dormitory and into Fushimi's room with a silent turn of the knob. Adhering to a mild force of habit, Fushimi sought to flip the light switch, but the Captain held a hand to stop him. Then, without so much as a scan about the room, Munakata entered, making headlong for the bed.

A brisk and orderly flick of his coattails set him down upon the mattress as he scooped up Kiyoka neatly into his arms.

Witnessing this sudden, rather blatant act, Fushimi cocked his features to the side. He stared on with a fixed look, unsure of what he saw, though feeling somewhat strange, as though he shouldn’t look at all. Guess they really do know each other — and well, too, he couldn’t help but notice with a twitch.

He forced himself to look away and slunk into the doorway, sending out a side-to-side glance, making sure the coast was clear, then turned and shut the door.

"Brother," he heard in muffled tones behind him. Once again, he tightened with surprise, peeling his eyes back to view the scene. Brother? The air about him felt absurdly tight all of a sudden.

"You overexerted yourself again, Kiyo," the Captain answered, pulling a small vial from his pocket — the same vial, Fushimi realized, as the one that Kiyoka gave to him on the roof of the Susanoo Trade Building a mere four days before (though it felt like an eternity ago).

"If you continue in this manner," Munakata lightly warned her, "not even I will be able to save you." He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and spit the lid out on the floor, taking up a small mouthful of its contents.

"I...I had to see you. I had to tell you," she began, though her voice trailed off to subtle words mouthed quietly to the Captain, words that only he knelt down to hear, at which, her shoulders drifted back; her arms, once draped around his own, fell limply in his lap.

The Captain drew her head up in his hand, thumbed her lips apart, and set his own upon them, feeding her the liquid.

From the corner of her mouth, a narrow stream leaked out, trickling down her chin. She gasped a trembling cough as Munakata ran his finger down the spill, stroking her with genuine affection.

The tenderness with which he cared was daunting to Fushimi – not to mention it was wildly uncomfortable; and in a strange turn of events, he then felt himself to be the intruder as opposed to the actual one.

"I regret that I must place you in this rather awkward position, Mr. Fushimi," the Captain announced, still focused on Kiyoka. Gently, he deposited her sleeping form atop the bed and rose, adjusting his glasses. "It is of the upmost importance to me that Ms. Rei Kiyoka remain undetected for the time being. Particularly after our Lieutenant's overly acute explanation on the subject, I think you can understand why."

Striding up beside him, Munakata placed a hand along his shoulder, moving onward to the door. "Administer another dose if her condition hasn't changed within the hour. I'll return just as soon as I can."

The door creaked open and the yellow light poured inward as before, yet as the Captain passed, Fushimi turned to him. "You don't have a sister," he declared point-blank.

Munakata paused, toying with his glasses and so shielding his expression. "That is correct," he replied, and without another word, he was gone.

"Damn it," Fushimi mumbled once the door was shut. Glancing back at Kiyoka, he drooped his head and sighed, clicking his tongue. "Not worth it," he said, and strode back to the bed, sitting on the floor beside it. He leaned his head against the edge and, peering up, he saw more clearly, Kiyoka's blackened fingertips mere inches from his face. He sighed again. "Neither was that, was it?”

A passing thought raced through him and he eyed the place along his hand where, only yesterday, a shard of glass had severed it clean open – a wound that would have surely needed stitches. Fushimi then caressed the smooth, untainted skin. No trace of any cut appeared; not even a scar. It was all so very strange to him. Never in his mind would he have thought that in the moment Kiyoka’s aura struck, he’d witness something other than that same life-sucking void that it appeared to be. He pictured pain, abundant pain, enveloping his core; he pictured living lifelessness and torment that resulted in oblivion. Little did he wonder that an aura such as hers would offer comfort over pain, life instead of death; and yet the words of Awashima, telling him that Kiyoka’s healing power was, in fact, a poison slowly killing her, weighed deeply on his mind. Which of them was true? Or perhaps not one but both of them were true?

When he had woken some time later the day before, having seen that he was healed, he found that all the damage at the Crosswalk had been wholly swept away. The city and its people had returned to what they were an hour before. Not even a memory lingered to attest that any danger had befallen, but for in the minds of those of Scepter 4, left gawking in amazement at the turning of events.

Given the absurdity of it all, Fushimi deemed it wiser not to mention the connection that he made: that Kiyoka’s strange ability was undoubtedly to blame/thank for all that had occurred. But after what he just saw, he figured the Captain already knew.

Fushimi groaned uncomfortably at the thought. “What a load of crap you pull,” he whispered, staring up at her. "First you go and break the world, then mess it up by fixing it. You’re working for the Green King, yet you’re friendly with the Captain. Can’t you just be awful all around? Why do you have to confuse everyone by pulling something like this – something halfway decent?” He closed his eyes, running his healed palm across his brow and through his hair. “It’s no wonder I never know what to think of you.”

He leaned back once again, eyeing Kiyoka’s blackened hands, and felt a haze sweep over him, weighing on his eyes. He remembered it was still the middle of the night, but that was all his mind had time to think about.

The next thing he recalled, he was waking to the grey/blue dim of darkness, perceiving with a start that he had fallen fast asleep.

He uttered a small curse, pulling out his PDA. More than an hour had passed since the Captain had departed. He nudged up onto the covers and examined, somewhat frantically, the still motionless Kiyoka.

It didn't look as though she'd worsened (thank goodness), though she didn't look at all well either. The gnarled veins encompassing her body hadn't budged; and yet, they still appeared to be at work. Vaguely, he could spot their crystal movements just beneath the skin. For the moment, however, Kiyoka didn't seem to be in pain — none that he could tell, anyway. She was, in all, at some small element of peace. But not for long, he surmised. With that in mind, he wasted little time. Hunching down, he pinched her chin between his fingers, giving it a shake. "Wake up." She didn't move. Patience having never been a virtue of his, he proceeded with a set of semi-forceful taps on either cheek. "Wake up!" he emphasized.

This time, Kiyoka stirred, squinting groggily awake. “Don't...shout."

"I'm not shouting."

"Yes you a — ah – !” Her words were interrupted as Fushimi dove in, whisked her up, and grabbed the little vial from the table.

"Shut up and drink this," he snapped, and took a sudden swig, withdrawing the remainder of its contents. He reigned her head up nimbly by the neck and shoved their lips together.

Kiyoka drew a startled breath and snatched him by the sleeve. Her eyes began to water, though he made her force it down. She swallowed, then flinched herself away in an involuntary cough. "Bastard," she choked, and slumped her dizzy head against his chest, gasping several shaky breaths and trembling all over. ”I didn't think they paid you enough for this."

"They don't," he answered flatly, and he felt her muffled chuckle vibrate lightly on his chest.

Then, in a not-so-delicate manner, he grasped the outer collar of her coat, yanking it away to view the Imperium-filled poison crawling on her skin. Then he froze, blinking with surprise. Holding her so near to him, pressing her against him as he did, he hadn’t thought to notice that the blackened skin he looked upon extended further downward, past the open neckline of her dress, all the way down to… Oh shit, he realized, reddening instantly. Hurriedly, he tore his eyes away from her, only to be caught within her vivid emerald stare.

Unbeknownst to him, Kiyoka had been watching him the length of his discovery, though to his surprise, she didn’t seem to care enough to stop him; on the contrary. The look she bore produced a minor glimmer of amusement. No doubt she was savoring the awkwardness he felt.

Fushimi hid behind his glasses, staring past her features to the wall. “So, what is this stuff, anyway? An antidote?"

In the corner of his eye, he saw Kiyoka shake her head.

Instantly, the realization struck him and he flashed his face to hers, then her chest — Nope, not there. Squinting his eyes firmly to a close, he frisked his fingers quickly from her collar, then bore on her a potent look. "You mean that's the drug? The Imperium bullshit?!” Grumbling bitterly under his breath, he added, "What a stupid name."

"Reisi," she breathed, swallowing painfully. "He knows I can't survive without it. Not yet."

“So you're an addict," he accused her.

Kiyoka hummed a chuckle, though it turned into a cough. "Easy for you to say," she rasped out, "but I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

Fushimi only stared at her, confused.

"Tell me, Sashimi, can your worth be measured in a test tube?"

A shiver ran the length of him. He wasn’t expecting that. Unconsciously, his lower lip twitched open. “W-what?” He asked.

Therein her face, he saw a certain hollowness, something warped and broken like a fragment of computer code that missed its key component.

“Well, mine can,” she declared.

That’s when he realized. I can't judge her for this; and I judge everyone. Only difference is, they deserve it; but with her, with this… He paused, staring at the floor with a begrudging thought. I can't claim that right.

He quelled the urge to sigh. “I take it the Captain was the one who rescued you?” He asked. Kiyoka didn't answer, and, turning back to look at her, he found her fast asleep. Annoyed, he slumped his shoulders with a curse.

Faintly, from beyond his room, a steady thumping sounded, growing louder. A moment later, the door opened. “My apologies for taking so long," came the Captain’s voice. He shut the door. "Any improvement?"

"She hasn't gotten any worse," Fushimi noted, scanning her. "She hasn't gotten any better either.”

The Captain hummed a rumble of concern, which Fushimi heard and felt as though awakened from a daze. Suddenly the presence of the Captain made him conscious of his own, and he realized just how deeply he’d been staring down at Kiyoka. More than that, his arms discerned how closely he was latching on to her, just as Munakata had before. It pricked him with frustration and self-consciously, he meant to set her down, but Munakata intervened.

"Allow me," he offered, and knelt along his knee, picking Kiyoka out of Fushimi's arms. Fushimi twitched uncomfortably at the proximity and found himself annoyed. "It appears another dosage is required,” the Captain surmised.

Fushimi frowned. "I just gave her the last of it. You’re saying she needs more?"

"I good deal more, I'm afraid,” he uttered gravely. “More than neither she nor I anticipated."

"You mean you knew this would happen?"

The Captain cupped a palm around Kiyoka’s face and brought her sleeping features in alignment with his own. He studied her with something of a twinkle in his eye. “Why else do you suppose she would have left the vial in your care so as to place it into mine?” He asked.

“Yeah, I got that I was just the middle man,” Fushimi shrugged defensively. “But are you seriously telling me that she left it as some sort of a signal to warn you that she was going to die?”

"Sadly yes," he replied, and Fushimi drew a silent gasp. "Much to my dismay, I received her message — both of them, in fact – all thanks to you. I confess that I have waited for this day; though what I greatly feared has not yet come to pass, nor will I allow it to, not now while she is safely in my grasp, not when I may utilize my power to sustain this thirst of hers.” He dipped his forehead gently onto hers. “The thirst I drove her to.”

Fushimi’s mouth hung open. “The thirst you drove her to?”

Munakata sighed. “My greatest torment lies in forcing her to bear the countless terrors she so recently escaped. Yes, it was I who drove her back to them. My only consolation lies in Kiyoka herself. I maintain that this thirst is one I would not have placed upon her if I did not possess the means with which to quench it, nor she the will to face it and survive.”

“This is insane!” Fushimi fumed. “The more you give her, the more it'll consume her. Isn’t that what the Lieutenant said?" There was no answer and he realized he was clenching both his fists into the creases of the sheets, wrinkling the cotton to the point of nearly tearing it apart.

Munakata hardly seemed to notice him. With Kiyoka in his arms, he rose, heading for the door. "I am grateful for your assistance, Mr. Fushimi, along with your concern for Ms. Rei's well-being. However," he said, his tone deepening, "I must now ask that you relinquish that concern.”

Fushimi chucked his hold. "What are you talking about?"

Munakata paused, his back to Fushimi. "I doubt I need remind you of the secrecy surrounding all you have witnessed, and yet for that, I must selfishly demand your silence in this matter.” He turned once more to gaze upon Rei Kiyoka’s face, his voice that of a whisper. "She, above all else, must be protected."

The scowl across Fushimi’s brow relaxed itself, and then a wholly different frown grew heavy on his face, one single thought emerging and suppressing every other. Just who is she to you?

He felt the weighted silence of the moment as he focused on the back of Munakata, on Kiyoka in his arms, the pair of them before him and yet somehow far away. Then the Captain drew a step apart from him and broke him from the thought.

"For now, as it so happens, Mr. Fushimi," he declared, "you hold Ms. Rei’s life in your hands.” He turned a sidelong glance at him. “I trust you'll keep it safe." Then, just as before, he was gone.

Fushimi watched the door close, shutting him in darkness yet again.

An empty feeling settled in his chest, a darkness on his brow. Falling back, he laid across the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “The hell was that?”

He still recalled the feeling of her body, weak and fragile, in his arms. He cast an arm across his face, feeling hot, and knocked his glasses off, blanketing his eyes as though to shake away the thought. Stop it, he said to himself. I know what you’re doing, but stop.

He couldn’t seem to calm himself, so he took a deep breath, then another. A moment passed, then several more, the memory of Kiyoka, of the Captain, the entire episode, lodged firmly in his mind, yet somehow flitting by him in a whirl that wasn't firm at all, but fleeting, on the cusp of disappearing altogether. Somehow that frightened him.

Hours trickled by this way, though somewhere in the midst of time, it felt like but an instant passed; and on waking to the light of day, feeling the warmth of sunlight on his face, he rolled into a sitting pose, rubbing at his tired eyes and wondering if everything that happened was a dream.

He found his glasses strewn beside him, slid them on, and saw at once, the empty vial sitting on the floor. His shoulders caved instinctively, every sinking feeling from the night before pervading him again. Damn, it really did happen.

(Chapter V: Allegiance // Chapter VII: Underworld)

#esonikofanfiction #saruhiko fushimi #reisi munakata #kproject #kprojectfanfiction #kprojectanime #k project #anime #manga #anime fan fiction #fanfic #writing

10 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 5 years

Quote

The rules of this world don’t allow us the luxury of winning. That’s why I change the rules.

Saruhiko Fushimi

K: Tales of Midnight: A K Project Fan Fiction

#saruhiko fushimi #k #k project #fanfiction #writing #anime #manga #k project fanfiction #anime fanfiction #tales of midnight #esoniko #esonikofanfiction

89 notes · View notes

esoniko · 5 years

Text

K: Tales of Midnight

An Eso Niko Fan Fiction

Following the grand explosion of events at Ashinaka High School and the fall of the Colorless King, Saruhiko Fushimi of Scepter 4 is sent by Blue King Reisi Munakata to investigate the theft of the Kawaguchi Algorithm, a piece of technology that coincides with supernatural energy, only to discover another player is afoot, wielding an aura darker than the blackest sky at Midnight.

#k #kproject #kprojectanime #fushimi saruhiko #reisi munakata #fanfiction #anime #anime fanfiction #fanfic #writing #alone #lonely #scepter 4 #quotes #thoughts #sad thoughts #manga #esonikofanfiction

8 notes · View notes

esoniko · 5 years

Text

Hey if anyone cares about K Project fan fiction, I just started posting my book K: Midnight to a non-Tumblr site (in case Tumblr ever dies).

Just click here.

#k project #k #fanfiction #k project fanfiction #k fanfiction #fanfic #writing #anime fanfiction #manga fanfiction #k anime #k manga #k project anime #k project manga #k project fanfic #esoniko #esonikofanfiction

15 notes · View notes

esonikofanfiction · 5 years

Text

K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER IV: ROOK

"You should rest, Mr. Fushimi," The Captain offered.

"Like hell," came the reply.

While all the ranks of Scepter 4 had been deployed from Headquarters and Akira Industries to the unlit realm of darkness that was Tokyo, Fushimi wasn't about to let the tediousness of sleep obstruct him from snatching his last opportunity to catch the aggravating Rei Kiyoka, the nemesis he loathed, the one with whom he shared an equal blame in causing recent events. The blackout, having thus deposited the city into darkness, cast it likewise into chaos, a chaos that the Blue King was then forced to sweep back into order, lest the city overrun itself.

While, no doubt, the police were busy quelling violence springing up amongst the general populous, Scepter 4 had its hands full of criminality pertaining to the realm of the supernatural. Therefore, if Fushimi couldn't sleep on account of utter rage and a thirst for vengeance, it was a guarantee he would find no sense of peace when all of Tokyo lay a seething mass of lawlessness and turmoil.

Fushimi's abrupt response to the Captain's thoughtful — albeit unrealistic — suggestion, was met with no resistance. The Captain made no effort to instruct him on the proper course of action he should take (or not take), nor to inquire as to what Fushimi planned to do instead. He said nothing, which Fushimi ascertained as an unofficial signal to continue in whatever manner he saw fit. It appeared that Munakata had some faith left in his favorite of the Blues, a sentiment that, earlier, Fushimi deemed as pointless and unnecessary. Only then did he discover (however faintly) that while faith was never needed for assurances of friendliness, it did have a way of making his job easier to do.

With this in mind, Fushimi ventured out alone into the dim of early morning, that unpredictable landscape to which, from every shadow in the city, all the little terrors had sprung, wreaking havoc in abundance, free from all restraint, until societal decorum should restore itself again.

Fushimi had spent enough time in dismal situations both personally and — if one could speak thus of the likes of Homra — professionally to know what he was up against. He knew what sort of creatures lingered in the dark. He, himself, for all intents and purposes, was one of them. In places where no sense of light could penetrate, those unpredictabilities and dangers, held no power over him; nor at the very least, on his subconscious. Therefore not an ounce of fear prevailed itself upon him but the thought of Rei Kiyoka and the urge to bring her down.

Just one clue — abysmal and, in truth, perhaps a dead end — was left to him: the ‘circle’ was indeed complete, as Munakata said. The inner radius of Tachibana, Yotsuya and Yoyogi stations left some sleuthing still to do.

If I'm going to find anything down there, he told himself, now's the time: while the city's in shambles. Wait too long, and whatever evidence is down there'll be long gone — that's even assuming something’s there to begin with. That psycho played me twice already. It's not like I'm holding my breath.

Once again, Fushimi understood the sheer absurdity that came from his obsession; likewise he could see the paradox, grumbling at the actuality of it: I can't just leave a clue, no matter how pointless. What’s worse is that she knows it.

If, by some odd chance, obsession and a hunch paid off, Fushimi had hoped to pick up Kiyoka's trail. But then, when are the odds ever reassuring? He fought inwardly, rubbing tired fingers over dreary, blood-shot eyes. Either it’ll lead me straight to her, or it'll be a shit waste of time, or both. Outwardly, he sighed. “Geez.”

Not long after, he was at Yoyogi Station, the most recent place in which he'd picked up Kiyoka's signal. In the dull, deserted station, he switched on his wrist device to reveal a holographic screen: a 3D map of Shizume’s metro system. However this one carried further into the deep labyrinth of windy sewers, tunnels, all those incomplete passageways beneath the subway lines. As it was, no modern map existed of the vast, elicit network known as the Shizume Underworld, nor would one have helped. Part of the mystery surrounding the Underworld was that it was constantly evolving.

Nevertheless, Fushimi had his ways of proctoring the data that he needed, layering what intel he could find until an adequate map had pieced itself together. Riddled still with gaps and forcing him, in sections, to maneuver blindly through, he carried on, unhindered in his search.

Silently, he trekked his way down concrete stairwells, past the service doors, scaling afterward, a rusted iron ladder, to the grime-filled sewers below: the upper echelons of the Underworld.

It smelt of dank and thick precipitation, every little sound a harrowed echo running through an endless web of corridors.

Approaching a massive cavern indiscernibly deep, he found another metal ladder that descended into it, seemingly to nowhere. Without a care, he ventured down, his holographic map his sole illumination in the dark.

The ladder carried down about a hundred feet or so. When at last he reached the bottom, he was met with yet another set of stairs, at the end of which, passing through an arched walkway, he came upon a larger, surprisingly less disgusting chamber than the others; nor was it so life-suckingly dark: a vague inclination, he suspected. It was indeed a contrast to the overly decrepit halls left totally abandoned near the surface: A tactical decision, he divined. If it looks like no one's home, they won't be bothered by too many visitors — only those who come here looking for them.

Further signs of life revealed themselves the deeper in he went. Observing the walls, he found them littered with graffiti, coded guiding signals, evidence of secret trysts: messages encrypted in the slang that only those within the Underworld could read. The damp, as well, had greatly eased itself; the smell of rot and filth had faded to a mild, somewhat cool scent of stone.

Fushimi had hypothesized that many of the Underworld had stolen street-side, no doubt anxious for a chance to enter the festivities. But surely not everyone, he figured, peering all around. The place had seemed unnervingly deserted up until then, an observation that had begun to make him wary. Even those astute in keeping themselves hidden from his eyes could not have managed to conceal a sense of presence that Fushimi would have naturally discerned, and yet he felt nothing, nothing whatsoever; until at once, he did. From utter emptiness to an all-invasive force, he sensed a set of eyes, distinct, pursuant of him and him alone, approaching from behind.

Fushimi didn’t stop. Hiding his perception in his movements, he journeyed on as though he hadn't noticed. Meanwhile, his is slim daggers hidden neatly up his sleeves crept silently into his grasp.

He wound down more deserted halls and stairwells, following his makeshift map, thoroughly engrossed within the maze. The eyes followed.

After some time, sensing the inaction on the part of his pursuer, Fushimi began to feel a bit restless. Let’s see what you're made of, shall we? He decided.

Abandoning his slow and steady course, he jerked himself around the nearest corner, feigning escape.

He broke into a jog, weaving round one corner, then another. Then for the first time, he could hear the steps of his pursuer speeding up to match. Not just a pair of eyes now, are we?

Coming to a forked path, Fushimi didn’t hesitate. Picking one at random, he removed his wrist device and set it on the ground, the holographic map igniting him in dim electric hues. He quickly rose and crept his way down the adjacent fork, hiding in the shadows.

A moment later, he could hear the steps of his assailant growing, thumping ever-louder before stopping altogether.

Peering from his hiding place, he saw the darkened silhouette of a somewhat slight figure, hooded, stooping to retrieve his wrist device. Silently, he crept out from the shadows, taking stance directly in the figure’s rear.

“Looking for me?” He said. Before another movement could be made, he had the figure pinned inside a power hold, a red-soaked dagger drawn below the neck.

His captive cried out in alarm. “Wait! Hold up! I didn’t mean anything, man! I swear!“

All at once the tension ceased. Fushimi slumped with thorough agitation. “You must be joking,” he said, spinning round the figure. Swiping back the hood, he found a grungy teenage boy, staring horrorstruck at him.

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” He stumbled out, holding up his hands in a surrender pose. "I just thought I’d make an easy score, that’s all!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. Just an ordinary nobody.

“Look, man. Clearly I was wrong but –”

“Damn right, you were,” Fushimi interrupted, releasing the boy with a shove. The boy gave back a slight, uncertain look. “Go,” Fushimi ordered. “And don’t come back.”

The Underling perceived. He fumbled back a step, nodding furiously. “Y-you got it, man! I...thanks!” And with another a cautious glance back to Fushimi, he took off in a run, scurrying back the way he came.

Fushimi ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling to himself. “Kids.”

After that, he met no other obstacles, nor could he detect the eyes of further Underdwellers lurking in the shadows far beyond. He was alone, almost uncomfortably so, and then he realized why. I must be getting close, he ascertained. Wherever there are aura-wielders, normal people tend to run and hide – If you could really call these people normal, he added, thinking back to the boy he nearly sliced up with his dagger by mistake. From the look of him, the boy was all of thirteen years of age, yet even then Fushimi saw in him a slithering creature doomed to a degrading life of darkness and betrayal, of filth in every aspect, of lying, cheating, stealing, of ignorance and carelessness to every other form of life beyond that which he knew; but above all, Fushimi saw death – not immediately perhaps, but slowly over time, a festering decay that eats the soul away until there’s nothing left to call a man human anymore. This particular thought brought to Fushimi’s mind all sorts of other things, things he had forgotten, things too close to home. Sensing this, he quickly pulled away as one might redirect himself on taking a wrong turn somewhere. Thereafter, he referred back to his wrist device, following his map as thoroughly as before, lest he start to wander once again throughout a set of mental halls more intricate than those inside the Underworld.

He guessed that he’d been wandering around for about an hour when he came across a thick metal door - the first he’d actually come to that wasn’t already open or partially broken in. On the contrary, this one seemed relatively new. Adding to suspicion, it was locked. Fushimi found this amusing. You’d be better off hanging up a sign that says, ‘Here we are,’ than putting something so obvious as a locked door here. Of course I’m going to go in.

Less than a minute and Fushimi had successfully cracked the keypad and trekked his way inside.

Standing at the threshold, he peered into a room chock-full of blinking screens reflecting neon glimmers off the lenses of his glasses. "Now we're talking," he said, slipping inside.

Near the end of the room, he found a small cluster of monitors and slid into the chair before them, pulling out a thin magnetic disk, which he plopped atop the drive. Instantly, he set to work, scanning lines of code, gathering what intel he could find.

As he did, a screen behind him sounded out a little ding. Spinning round, he found a small IM box open on the lower left-hand side. The chime had been an alert, signaling an incoming message.

Sliding over to it, Fushimi skimmed its contents, subsequently pausing as he read the final line.

“Kawaguchi Industries: Payment received from Aka Shinku Technologies - item K004: localization complete // algorithm link established.”

"A transaction?" He said, squinting. “So Kawaguchi Industries sold the algorithm? But that can't be right. The algorithm was stolen from Kawaguchi. How could they have sold something they didn't even have? And who the hell is Aka Shinku Technologies? Why do they need the algorithm? Or do they actually have it?" Skeptical, he read the message over. Localization complete. Algorithm link established. "But that would mean..."

Scowling hard, his eyes roamed out to all the other monitors, their glowing screens replete with running lines of code. Subconsciously, he followed them, searching, thinking. Something didn't add up.

"Wait a second," he said, checking them again. "The algorithm: it was never actually uploaded to any physical drive, was it? The reason why I haven't been able to find a location for it is because technically, it isn't anywhere. Or I guess, it's currently everywhere at once. It must still be swimming around in some sort of an online matrix. That way, it wouldn't need a facility to house itself, and you could feasibly tap into it from anywhere in the world and have instant, total access to it. And yet, its supernatural influence must be what's making it so impossible to find." Then all at once, it dawned on him. "So that's how she did it. The only way to keep it safe while letting it roam out there in the open is to tie it to an aura, a very unique aura, one that no-one else has. Therefore, the only person who can access it is - “

"The one who holds the aura," came a voice behind him.

Fushimi whirled around, only to be taken all at once by supernatural arms that thrust him by the shoulders to the ground. His limbs as well were bound by glowing chains that suddenly appeared — conjured by two Strains who stood on either side. The more he tried to squirm, the more tightly they would bind themselves around him.

Their task complete, his attackers stepped apart, leaving him to fidget in his place. Struggling uncomfortably, he peered up to encounter Rei Kiyoka propped inside the doorway, her features calm, her arms crossed lazily before her.

For a moment there was silence. Neither one of them moved. How long has she been here? Fushimi wondered. And how much did she hear?

"You'd be right, you know," Kiyoka informed him, stepping into the room. "As it is, you cannot access the algorithm. No one can. No one except me."

Fushimi cocked his head, sending out a look of pure annoyance. "What you're saying doesn't make sense. What about Kawaguchi Industries?”

"What about them?"

"You know damn well what. You said you created the Kawaguchi Algorithm, and yet you also stole it from them? Why would you steal something you supposedly created?"

Kiyoka tapped her fingers on her chin, humming at the ceiling. ”Is it technically stealing if you're just taking back what’s already yours?" Peering back at him, her emerald eyes took on a neon glow from that of the screens.

"Kawaguchi stole it from me. I simply stole it back,” she explained. "Or rather, I stole all of Kawaguchi Industries in addition to my algorithm. Girl needs payback every now and again. So I guess you can say, I am now Kawaguchi Industries.”

Fushimi scoffed at her. ”You?”

"What? You don't believe that I would use the very algorithm I created to commandeer the company that stole it from me, so becoming the head of my own organization?”

"A corrupt organization, I'm sure,” he mumbled under his breath.

"But you're not so sure, are you?” She said, her eyes fixated on him, glowing, searching, eerily calculated. “I can see it,” she went on. “Something in your eyes that tells me, even in its smallest form, that you believe me. But of course, it's only natural that one creator recognizes another, you being the one who built the Yuishiki System after all."

Fushimi scowled, taken aback. "How did you – ?"

“Admit it. You believe that I would create something as outrageous as the Kawaguchi Algorithm because it's something you yourself would create. You have already created it, in your own way. So why is it so hard to believe that someone else could ever be like you?”

Blinking wide, Fushimi stared at her. Like me? He thought, suddenly speculative.

“But if you insist on being stubborn, go ahead, look into it," Kiyoka offered. "Take a peek inside Kawaguchi Industries. Plug it into your prize, the Yuishiki System, and see what you find."

Hold on, He thought. Clearly she’d have a lot to gain from holding me captive. So why is she telling me all this? “Are you saying you plan to me go?” He said aloud. “Again?”

Kiyoka shrugged. “I thought I made it clear - “

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You can’t kill me because He wouldn’t like it. But just who is this ‘He,’ you’re referring to? Anyone I know?”

Just then a little glimmer flashed across her eyes; or perhaps it was the haze from all the screens. Either way, Fushimi caught it, and Kiyoka blinked away, almost self-consciously.

“So you let me go,” Fushimi said, ”And in the meantime, you just get to disappear, am I right? While you send me off on another wild goose chase, off you go scot free." He shook his head. “I don't think so. I'm going to find out what it is you’re planning, and when I do, I will stop you. You don't get to be the one left standing at the end of this.”

“And I suppose you believe that you deserve that right instead?" Kiyoka asked, recovering her playful attitude.

"No one deserves that right," he shot back. "Besides, simply being the one left standing doesn't necessarily mean that I've beaten you. You will have tried, failed, and lost, all on your own. And what do I get? Some pathetic sense of victory that doesn't mean shit. That's not winning. The rules of this world don't allow us the luxury of winning. That's why I change the rules. If I'm not the one left standing, it's because I will have made sure that you're the one to fall, even if it means tying a noose around both our necks. I'll take you down with me if I have to.”

Kiyoka clicked her tongue. ”What a stupid way to go."

"For you, maybe. But not for me. Because unlike you, driven down against your will, I will have chosen for myself, a decision you will have failed to take away from me. As it happens, I will be the one who inevitably strips you of that right. That’s when I’ll know that I’ve won: when I’ve taken everything from you, even your ability to choose.”

At this, Kiyoka paused, nodding slowly. ”I see.” Eyeing a chair beside her, she reached her fingers out, fiddling the upholstery. “And are you so certain that I’ve not already made my choice? That I've not already found the path I wish to take down into hell, and that this isn't just my way of carrying it out?"

Gradually, she turned to look at him, a darkness in her eye.

“Perhaps this noose around my neck has already been tied, but it was I who tied it there; I who am now counting on you to let go of the other end, to give the final push. And for that, I can’t have you diving in head first before it’s time.”

”What are you saying?” Fushimi asked. “That you actually want me to kill you?"

“Kill me?” She chuckled sharply. Then her tone fell flat. “If only it were that easy. No, what I’m saying is this: that if I can't rely on you, Saruhiko Fushimi, then what really is the point of you?” All at once her playfulness subsided, as though it were a mask, finally stripped away. Not even in her eyes did he detect a sense of cunning anymore. As it was, her bluntness, almost human in simplicity and earnestness, had thrown him off completely.

“The hell?” He said in actual bewilderment.

Kiyoka didn’t stop. “You know, it would be one thing if you were simply unreliable. But after what you just said — all that blind talk of taking me down with you — you're not even that, are you? You're worse. Because you still can't even bring yourself to figure out why you should be relied upon, and why it is you can’t be. You’re too busy obsessing over the wrong things to even notice the bigger picture.” She shook her head slowly. “Someone with that big of a propensity for oversight is nothing more than a waste of good intellect – not even useful enough to be used.” She made a turn for the door and paused, her voice weighed down, strained. “What a disappointment.” Then with a tired flick of her hand, signaling her men, she exited the room without another word.

Feeling oddly anxious, Fushimi opened his mouth to stop her. Her words, he found, had left a sinking feeling in his chest. Not that he quite figured what to say to make her stay, only that by letting her continue, to watch her walk away, out his sight, he’d somehow lose her further to the darkness, one that no one else could see nor venture through but her. Somehow, this unnerved him, and prompted him to call her back; yet as he did, the aura-chain that bound him rung itself more thoroughly around him, burning him as would a red-hot iron pressed against his skin. He let out an instant cry, mainly from surprise, and that’s when he heard it: the item he'd been waiting on: the metal disk he placed atop the computer drive let out its own alarm.

Sudden action flooded into his face. With a rising grunt, he forced his limbs against the chains, unleashing both his auras in a two-fold blast that overwhelmed his captors, obliterating them, the chains, as well as half the computer room; more importantly, the evidence that he had seen regarding Aka Shinzu Technologies, information he was then certain Rei Kiyoka had no knowledge of. For once, he’d gained the upper hand.

Snatching up the disk, he ducked out through the newly blasted wall, only to discover a small army of aura-wielders in the presence of Rei Kiyoka, turned to witness the commotion.

For but an instant, their eyes met. Something of alarm — no; excitement, maybe? — carried in Rei Kiyoka’s gaze, and then she gave the order and her followers unleashed themselves.

Fushimi held a lasting glance on Kiyoka, observing her, then drew his saber outward in a flourish of his power, and vanished into the darkness.

He could still hear the shouts of Kiyoka issuing her orders to pursue, even when he was certain of escape, and it was several more moments before the final hints of aura flashes dwindled away behind him.

At last, he gained the fresh clean air and early rays of dawn atop the surface, though feeling somewhat strange, empty, as though inside the darkness of the Underworld, where Rei Kiyoka lingered, a part of him belonged: where the fierceness of the light forever failed to penetrate.

Exhaustedly, he stared up at the sky, sensed a gust of wind and closed his eyes against it, letting out a long, unhindered sigh.

Reflecting on Rei Kiyoka’s words, everything about her, everything that happened, none of it made sense. She won’t kill me; she won’t take me hostage; she knows I’m powerful enough, and that those chains would never have held me had I really wanted to escape. She could have used her own aura to stop me, but she didn’t. She let me go. But she wanted me — no, she wanted them to think she did everything she could.

Faced then with the unavoidable truth, he caved. She’s right, I’ve been obsessing over the wrong thing. There’s something more to it. I just can’t seem to see it yet. And that’s the thing: I do actually believe her, or rather, I believe that everything she’s telling me is just one piece of the puzzle - only half the truth. Before, I mistook that for lies, but now I get it. Only half a truth doesn’t necessarily make it a lie. It just means there’s more that needs to be told. And obviously she has a reason for not telling me, which makes her dangerous. I just have to figure out the rest of the puzzle. Only then will I be able to…

Again, he sighed, uncommonly troubled.

Opening his eyes, staring at the yellow morning glow, he hailed the Captain on the comms.

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you, Mr. Fushimi," the Captain answered. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Yes. No. Hell, I have no idea, he thought. Why does that question seem so hard to answer right now? Therefore, instead, he simply asked, “What do you know about an Aka Shinku Technologies, Captain?”

There was a slight pause. ”Very little, I'm afraid. Merely that it is an organization in name only, but that below the surface lies a collection of supernatural beings with, shall we say, questionable motives."

"You could just say 'terror organization,’ Captain."

"Very well, then. From what I’ve gathered, their primary focus lies in exercising supernatural dominance over those they deem as lesser or sub-standard.”

“Sub-standard? You mean regular humans?”

“Precisely. They believe supernatural beings should be at the forefront of society. Therefore, they employ certain criminal tactics centered on aggression so as to bring about fear, and ultimately submission to that same dominance they believe is owed to them. But why do you ask? What is their affiliation with this case?”

"I believe Rei Kiyoka is working with them. Somehow the algorithm's involved, too, but..."

"But what?"

“I’m not really sure. It could be just a feeling but…whatever it is she's planning, and whatever she’s about to do…I think she wants me to stop her.”

(Chapter III: Hakkā // Chapter V: Allegiance)

14 notes · View notes