I don't own Kill la Kill. The only thing I'd change would be the ending, anyhow. Incidentally, spoilers herein for the entire show. Please only read if you've watched every episode!
So, I finished Kill la Kill yesterday. Oh my God. Just, the feels. So many feels for these two! Uaaagh! I never saw myself shipping clothes. But well, here I am.
So, I have taken a risk and started a multichapter. I have only finished one of these, so please feel free to badger me and keep me super motivated! I'd actually love to get this one finished, and I can't see my feels diminishing for a while yet! Also, if more people could write fanfiction for them, that'd be super awesome. If you want to take any inspiration from this story, such as how Senketsu survived being vaporised, please feel free to use these ideas! I want more stories out there, so it's only fair to share ideas.
Also, my intent is to raise the rating of this story to 'M' at some point, so if it disappears from the K-T section, you know why!
Second chapter is pretty much already written, so that'll be up super soon, promise!
EDIT: Just did a little rewriting and updating for this chapter, the previous seemed too sloppy for me. Though even this could do with some fine tuning, I am more satisfied with it. It is probably worth re-reading, as I changed a few bits. Don't worry, the second chapter won't be long now, I just had to fix this one first. It was upsetting me.
All he knew was dark.
It was not warm, not cold. There was no breeze, no sound.
He was aware only of himself. And there was little enough of that.
He had not enough substance to fashion so much as an eye with which to view his surroundings. He tried to call out, but knew not whether his attempts at communication were unsuccessful because he was no longer capable of speech, or because no one was around to hear him. He had little sensation beyond the ability to feel what he was in contact with. Hard, smooth. He knew nothing beyond that. He could be in a box, or a vast room. He could be in a crowd; perhaps he could no longer hear, either.
He could not move. There was nothing to stimulate him beyond the feel of the surface beneath him. And his memories.
He remembered the pain of unravelling, of taking on too much power. He remembered the heat of the fire as it burned away his body, he remembered the roar of the atmosphere surrounding them as they plummeted to the Earth.
He remembered her screaming his name as his remaining life fibres disintegrated.
He remembered Ryuko.
He remembered every moment of being with her. From that first drop of nourishing blood to their last words as he faded from existence. He remembered every battle, every argument, every conversation, every laugh. Every day of her wearing him. He remembered the feel of her skin, the sound of her voice, the taste of her blood...
Drip.
Lightning flashed through him. Power. Life. That familiar, sweet taste!
Ryuko?!
No answer came. Just another drop. Every few minutes, another drop hitting his small form, reigniting him. Sustaining him.
Time meant nothing in this place. He knew not whether he was alive or dead. He felt alive, but it could not be so, with every banshi of his being atomised in the atmosphere. All he had was the surface beneath him, the regular drops of Ryuko's blood, and his memories of her to keep him from madness.
Never did he think he would be in this place again. Weak, unable to move, feeling time pass, no end in sight. Before, he had nothing, no memories to think on. Now, it was almost worse. He could do nothing but yearn for Ryuko, remember her every time her blood hit him, even if he tried to put her memory from his mind. For countless days or weeks or months he replayed his time with her over and over, ceaselessly yearning for her to find him, to save him from this place. To wear him, just one more time...
The mansion held few good memories for Satsuki. Those she did have were of time spent with her father during her youth, or drinking Soroi's tea. However, now her mother had been defeated, the mansion need no longer be the home of bad memories for her. Indeed, as new head of the Kiryūin Conglomerate, it made sense for her to spend part of her time at the Kiryūin family estate.
Besides, there were some parts of the building that yet needed exploring and clearing out. The remains of the chamber that once contained the original life fibre was currently undergoing a thorough search, and would soon be entirely demolished. She had sent Iori ahead to Nui's former sewing room, and was on her way to join him. Though the crazed couturier had doubtless used the majority of her remaining life fibres, if not all, in the construction of her final kamui, one could never be too safe.
Satsuki slowed to a stop, having reached a pair of interlocking steel doors. Beyond, the cavernous expanse of Nui's sewing chamber stretched deep into the bowels of the mansion. Though she would normally have been prevented from entering due to a handprint recognition lock, she had anticipated such defences, and sent Inumuta ahead. His previous experience hacking into secure systems had been invaluable in opening the mansion's inner sanctums to her exploration. As it was, the sensor turned green upon being presented with her handprint, as it now would anyone's, and the doors obediently flew apart to permit her entry.
She had no sooner entered the room when Iori nearly barrelled into her, eyes wide in excitement. He immediately forced a calm expression upon meeting her, though she could still feel his body thrum with a nervous energy.
"Lady Satsuki. Please, follow me. I have found something I feel you must see."
Intrigued, Satsuki nodded, following Iori as he turned and strode back into the chamber with her permission. Satsuki allowed her gaze to wander as they traversed the dimly lit room, slipping between large banks of equipment and down metal stairs dusty from disuse. As she had suspected, the room proved mostly empty, and she saw no trace of life fibres in the main chamber.
Eventually, Iori stopped at a door, raising his palm to disengage the lock. The room they were about to enter rested three levels below that of the main chamber, cut deep into the earth below the sewing room. Satsuki felt her pulse quicken in anticipation; it was likely here that Nui worked on any experimental projects. She palmed Bakuzan, feeling its comforting length against her leg. There was no telling what Nui may have hidden in these dark recesses of her chamber. As if sensing her unease, Iori turned to face her, standing to one side as the doors slid open.
"You need not worry about traps, Lady Satsuki. I have already had Inumuta scan the room. It seems Nui saw it unnecessary to further protect these deeper rooms."
Satsuki nodded, reliquishing her gentle grip on Bakuzan. If Inumuta could find no traps, it was likely none existed. She slipped past Iori, turning her attention to studying the small chamber.
Cylindrical glass tanks reached from floor to ceiling, merging with both surfaces fluidly. Within each container, of which there surely exceeded fifty, rested a single life fibre. Of course, one could only assume these had once been life fibres, as Satsuki was unsurprised to note that each fibre she visited had faded to a dull grey. Affected by the dormancy signal, each fibre had eventually faded and died, becoming no more than a strand of cloth. She was surprised to note that each rested in a pool of dried blood.
"Are all these fibres banshi, Iori?"
A small grin lit his features.
"Trust you, Lady Satsuki, to reach such a conclusion so swiftly. Yes, these are all banshi. It appears Nui was undergoing some experimentation here. So far as I can surmise, she was using blood to nourish these banshi in the hope of increasing their power."
Satsuki hummed, moving amongst the tanks. Each was covered in a thin layer of dust, accumulated over the months since Ragyo's defeat. As she passed, Satsuki ran a finger through the fine layer coating each cylinder, glancing at the dead fibres within.
"How very like the grand couturier. However, whether or not her experimentation would have led to success, she is no longer an enemy we need fear. I feel there is something you are not telling me, Iori. Surely the haste with which you brought me here would indicate you have more to offer me than Nui's failed experiments?"
A chuckle rose from Iori as he passed Satsuki, beckoning her to the far end of the chamber with him.
"But of course, Lady Satsuki. While I was examining this room, I tested samples of the blood in several of the cylinders. Each came from the same donor. It would appear Nui was trying to strengthen her banshis by feeding them Ryuko's blood."
Satsuki paused mid-step, momentarily stunned. Ryuko's blood? Iori continued, politely keeping his back to her so she could cover her slip in composure, though she was sure he had noticed it. A few moments later, and Iori had stopped by another cylinder, set to the back of the chamber. Though similar to the others, this one differed in having a larger container dispensing blood - a small pool still supplied slow drips to the thread below - and in its lack of dust. Apparently, during his examination of this particular specimen, Iori had cleared the glass of the majority of its coating. She stepped up beside Iori and only just managed to stifle her gasp.
"Iori, how can this be?"
Within the tank, a single banshi rested. It was no more than a metre long, and appeared as still and lifeless as those banshi in the other containers. It differed, however, in two ways. Its surface was not a dull grey, but the deep, rich red of blood. Blood which, contrary to the other tanks, there was no evidence of in the bottom of the container. Drops fell from above, but no blood stained the floor of the tank. Though it seemed impossible, only one possible conclusion could be drawn. Satsuki's eyes narrowed as she contemplated the implications. Iori swiftly confirmed her assumptions.
"Yes, Lady Satsuki, this banshi is indeed alive. It has not been affected by the dormancy signal, as have the other life fibres gathered here. I have a theory as to why, if you will permit me to test it."
His eagerness did not surprise her, though his withholding of information did. It was rare Iori kept anything from her. However, as she could not yet guess at his conclusions, she tilted her head towards him in affirmation.
"You may proceed, Iori."
A simple palm press to a scanner at the side of the container immediately allowed Iori access to the banshi within, a window of glass retracting into the base of the cylinder. Satsuki allowed a small smile. How typical of Iori, to be able to contact Inumuta about disabling the security around the device even as he rushed to locate her.
Withdrawing a needle from within his lab coat Iori raised the object and, before she could interject, forcibly jabbed the middle finger of his left hand with the tip. Quickly removing the pin, he slipped both hands into the cylinder, squeezing the tip of his injured finger with his right hand. Satsuki watched as a bead of blood formed and, finally, dripped from his finger to impact the thread below. Satisfied, Iori removed his hands, replacing the glass window.
They both waited. The small drop of blood remained, unabsorbed by the fibre. Satsuki watched as disbelief and excitement lit up Iori's features, and was frustrated to find herself still in the dark. What conclusion had he reached? What was he testing? What did it mean that the banshi would not consume his blood, when it consumed Ryuko's-
A quick pause in her breathing was the only outward sign of her disbelief. She knew at once what Iori had been testing for, what its implications were. But how could that be? How could Nui have acquired his banshi?
And suddenly, she remembered. Ryuko's first encounter with Nui. Then, the couturier had removed one of his banshi, hoping to unravel him. She had thought it discarded in the battle. But to see this life fibre here; unaffected by the dormancy signal, only able to uptake Ryuko's blood...
Satsuki straightened. There was only one way to test their hypothesis. She turned to address her subordinate.
"Iori. Please make arrangements to have your equipment transported to the mansion, including any remaining Goku uniforms still containing active life fibres. I need to contact my sister."
"Ryuko! Hurry, hurry, hurry! We're going to be late!"
Ryuko rolled her eyes, zipping up her jacket.
"Calm down Mako, we'll be fine. We're only helping with cleanup anyway, what is there to be late for?"
Ryuko chuckled as Mako puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, before relenting and heading to the door. Immediately, her energetic friend bounded after her, radiant smile now lighting her face.
Since the final battle against Ragyo, life had been returning to normal. Of course, the debris left around town, and at the academy in particular, had made cleanup the number one priority for the townspeople. With school indefinitely suspended until everything could be put back in order, Mako and Ryuko had been spending their days shifting rubble and repairing buildings with the rest of the town. Due to her greater strength, Ryuko was often called upon to remove larger pieces of rubble that the regular townsfolk couldn't shift. It was day after day of tedious, tiring work, but Ryuko didn't mind the labour. Now the battle against Ragyo and the life fibres had been won, Ryuko needed something to distract her troubled brain from thinking too hard. On the future, on what she should do now. Did she just go back to school, attend like any other student? After months of growing and learning through battle, after becoming the student that saved the world, was she now expected to assimilate into the routine of attending class? Doing homework? That routine had never suited her before this whole fiasco started, before the fighting, before she avenged her father, before she met... before-
She sighed.
Senketsu...
It had been six months since she had lost him, but the ache never truly left her chest.
Truthfully, as she threw herself everyday into shifting debris and restoring the town with a single minded determination, it was not thoughts of a future of school and homework and trying to fit in that threatened to invade and overwhelm her mind. Just thoughts of a future without her kamui. Over the months they had grown and fought and learned and laughed together, she never allowed herself to think what if. What if she lost him, what if he died? What would she do then? And now she found herself in exactly that position, without warning, and she found she could do little but force the issue from her mind.
Initially, immediately upon winning the battle, she had grieved. For weeks, Ryuko had been inconsolable, even Mako's cheery efforts to bring her out of her grief falling short of any success. She had been unable to cope, unable to comprehend a future without him. She would wake to see no uniform hanging from her dresser, her pyjamas covering her body in place of him, silence uninterrupted by his casual conversation or jabs at her weight or demands to be ironed.
Eventually, it was Mako who brought her back to herself. It was Mako who sat by her bedside and spoke to her in Senketsu's place. It was Mako who demanded she stop wallowing and get out of bed. It was Mako that took on Ryuko's grief as her own, holding her friend desperately and crying alongside her. In the end, it was the ever bouncy and optimistic Mako's grief that brought her back to herself. She had lost Senketsu, and she could not bear to be the one to bring such pain to her now closest friend.
And so Ryuko had forced her grief back down, back within the confines of her mind. She had allowed Mako to drag her from her bed, bathe and dress her, and force her from the house. It was Mako who, in one of her rare moments of intuition, had suggested helping with the cleanup, believing the work would bring Ryuko back to herself. It was Mako who had saved her from her own grief.
Over the months she had regained most of herself, of her pride and strength and attitude, but the ache persisted. She would never get over losing Senketsu, would never have him leave her mind for a moment. Without him, she felt naked. She was uncomfortable in her clothes, lonely when surrounded by her peers, and painfully incomplete when her body was healthy and whole. Though she kept these thoughts to herself, she knew her friends were not unaware of her suffering. She had heard the Mankanshoku's mention her sorrow when they thought she was sleeping, had seen the eyes of her sister soften near imperceptibly in pity. She was surrounded by reminders of her loss.
Angrily, she launched her fist at the remains of a concrete wall, reducing it to rubble. Here she was again, dwelling on the past, letting her misery take over. 'This is pathetic', she growled to herself, attempting to refocus on the task at hand. This area of destroyed residential buildings was nearly clear of large debris, though a few remnants of wall yet remained. Dusting off her hands, Ryuko eagerly strode to the next one, balling her hand into a ready fist-
The sudden blast of air from above was nearly strong enough to floor her, in her unguarded state. From the corner of her eye, she was aware of Mako somersaulting backwards, landing face-first in the rubble. Anger rising, she strained against the onslaught, turning her head to the left in time to see a large helicopter touch down mere dozens of feet from her position. How had she not noticed the sound of its approach? Her melancholy was making her lose focus. A sudden noise cut through the sound of the helicopter blades whipping through the air; a voice bellowing through a loudspeaker.
"Ryuko! Mako! Please board the helicopter! A situation at the mansion requires your immediate presence!"
Mako, struggling to her feet clumsily, managed to find the strength to waddle over to Ryuko as the helicopter blades slowed, reducing the force of the surrounding wind.
"Come on Ryuko! Big sister needs us! We must not be late for the helicopter!"
Swallowing her response, that they couldn't be 'late' to something that wasn't going anywhere till they were aboard (and that Mako needn't call Satsuki 'big sister', as they had no blood relation), Ryuko allowed Mako to drag her over to the copter. They had no sooner buckled themselves in than they had lifted off, gunning for the mansion.
Over the bellow of the copter blades, Ryuko called to Satsuki, who was seated across from her.
"Oi, Satsuki, what's this all about?! Why all the urgency? We under attack or something?!"
Satsuki shook her head, raising her voice just enough to be heard clearly.
"We will discuss this at the mansion. There is too much for me to relay to you now. You will understand better if we get there first."
Irritated, Ryuko sat back in her seat, watching the buildings whiz by out the window. Just what could be so important it warranted whisking her off in a helicopter?
Sound! There was sound!
He tried to make out the words, but he was so weak. The blood had been coming slower. He worried that soon it may stop altogether.
But finally, he could hear something. He felt his position on the surface he was on shift as he was moved from his prison to another location. He felt himself sway in time with the footsteps he could now hear rhythmically pounding a beat beneath him. He must be in a container then. He tried again to move, though his efforts proved in vain. He was still too weak.
He heard the distinct rattle and creaking of metal as his transporter continued their travel. Then the voices again. A woman's voice.
Ryuko?! Ryuko, is that you?
Still no answer. Apparently he couldn't be heard. The thought saddened him. But at least he had been found. Something was happening.
Perhaps these people could find out who he was. Perhaps they could lead Ryuko to him. If he could just hear her voice again, just one more time, he could die happy.
Ryuko...
Here ends chapter one. Apologies if this feels rushed, I may go back over and edit this at some point, but I'm quite eager to get into the thick of this story.
