History of War
Chapter 10: 10:34:06
The Point of Impact…
8/25/11 (Edited: 4/12/12)
AN: This is extremely unedited, so catch the flaws if you like. :) I'll be performing my own maintenance of the chapter by sometime next week. And if you're all curious, and at all, still interested to know: I have most of the REST of the story outlined, and even more shockingly, most of the next chapter written out. Huzzah.
AN 4/12/12: Ugh, that was so terribly edited. The constant tense switch annoyed me. Look forward to the newest chapter in the coming weeks. I'll be editing it, hopefully, a bit more thoroughly than the last one. This should be slightly more cohesive than the previous edition of this chapter.
Floating in a salty vat of water like pork brining wasn't the most enchanting notion Mai would come away from London with.
It was, however strangely, oddly calming. It also allowed Mai the most composure since she'd become a veritable playground for scientists. This was her third session in the Tank today, and it had yet to induce any of the desired results for the second day in a row.
And while Dr. Oehler was becoming increasingly irritated, Mai almost felt more whole and healthy since the first time she'd stepped foot on British land. And each successive trip to the Tank exponentially increased the feeling of wonder, the completeness—with the exception of the one hole Continental Instability left her without—her own ki.
But for once, Mai didn't feel like she was grasping for straws. The sense of well-being the Tank induced solidified her whole self, and at the same time, solidified the gaping maw of her power. With a little concentration, she could picture her hands running over the slowly healing wound in her spirit.
The edges were sealing, slowly sewing themselves back together and the slow burn she felt emanating from it was a comforting warmth, not frightening in the least. She rubbed the edges with her hand and could tell from the shape and feel where each piece of her power fit within the puzzle.
Astral Projection.
She struggled to picture the first emerging power to come to the front of her mind. It fluttered into existence with a tiny wingspan. A bird…yellow, a small canary. The bird who can carry a tune, or a message, much like the key that Mai had once given Masako.
Masako, who had been in dire need, of a reassuring word, and a flicker of hope.
Corporeal Transference. A cold, calculating power. The ability to take over another's mind with her own, or as she more commonly did, she inhabited their body. Neither was a settling thought. It was a callous, uncaring power. Like when Mai had briefly inhabited Lennie's memory with Clay on the couch.
And always in the background, landlocked around the rest of her missing powers was her intuition.
That treasured (though vilified) power that was ever-present, but diminished and flickering wanly like a far-away candle.
Her awareness crept back like the slow crawl of night drawing in. The cradle of power, her ki-base slid from her fingertips. She reached for her ki, wanting to give it one last reassuring touch, but she was pulled through the darkness.
Her reentry was much the same as the first. Her astral mind landed back in her body without much grace, and she sunk under the salt-buoyant water with a startled gurgle. Light spilled into the tank, and Mai surfaced, sputtering what must have been enchantingly.
She blew out, trying to dislodge any more water lodged in her airway. It didn't help as she coughed again, and another charming hack followed.
A towel filled her vision.
"Quite done?"
Mai pressed the towel to her face to get the saline water out of her eyes. It stung.
"I guess I am now that you're here."
Naru offered her a hand, but she brushed it off. His eyebrow lifted minutely, affronted.
"I'm all wet. I don't want you to ruin your shirt."
He took it with aplomb and held up the oversized robe for her. She donned it carefully and when she was wrapped securely with it belted at her hips, Naru had a hand at her back and was urging her along. In her haste, she had trouble slipping her sandals on her feet.
"I have a phone call in my office for you."
"So you do have an office here…that's where you've been disappearing when I'm testing. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you bothering me when I was working, or have you rifling through my desk at any given moment." The answer though honestly given was still prickly.
"What could I possibly want from your desk?" Mai said, and ducked under Naru's arm as he held open the door.
"That is the question," he replied.
In front of him, Mai patted her cheeks firmly as the blush threatened to creep upward.
Because it sounded exactly like something she would do.
Finally seeing the reclusive Naru's London office was a thrill in itself. It wasn't particularly large, probably due to him not being there often, if ever. The desk was only a few shades darker than oak; nothing particularly beautiful like Cherry Wood, or Mohagany, which she completely expected of him. There was a desk calendar that was five years too old, a pencil sharpener, and a telephone resting on top of the desk; and to the right three file cabinets were set against the wall.
But the oddity in itself was how clearly aged everything was. For not being there so long, every piece of technology was aged, and it was starkly obvious in the telephone.
"What is that?" She said pointing to the black box with a flashing red light.
Naru looked at her, annoyance bending his brow. "It's a phone."
"No, there are black wires hanging out of it, there's no screen on it and there's a red light. Clearly, it's a bomb. We should evacuate," she said soberly.
Naru did his best, but eventually he rolled his eyes, sighing.
"Just sit," he said, exasperated.
"What if it's motion sensitive?" Mai held a mock-frozen pose.
Naru regarded her. "Then we'll both be put out of our misery."
He picked up the phone (if it could be called one), and cradled it against his ear. "Speaking." Mai settled in the chair across the desk from him.
Noise clicked along the other side of the line. Naru nodded, a habit that no one could break even though the other person on the line can't see the motions, then said, 'yes, here she is.'
He held the phone out to her.
"Who is it?" Mai's brow furrowed in puzzlement.
Naru merely held the phone out, impassive.
She heard an impatient voice barely audible from the phone's earpiece. Mai mouthed, 'Ayako?'
Naru steepled his fingers and leaned against his desk, waiting.
Frowning, Mai picked up the phone, preparing to be yelled at, but bolstered herself with a tentative, "hello?"
"You kept me waiting long enough." The honeyed tongue of Japan's favored Medium.
Masako.
And about second to the last on the list of her favorite people was Mai. Probably why she sounded so happy to hear from her.
Mai's mouth dropped open. It was subterfuge. Naru was clearly working against her better efforts.
She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "You're getting desperate," she hissed.
Mai knew that everyone wanted her to remember what happened with Clay and what better way than to speak to the person whom Mai more often than not pulled into her visions than Hara Masako.
"Ahem, Taniyama-san," wrung out the tiny Medium's voice. "I heard that, and while, I appreciate your distaste of me and heartily reciprocate it to a much further degree than your tiny brain may comprehend, you are still, as of yet, unproductive, and therefore in need of my careful assistance."
"Is that so?" Mai muttered, eying Naru severely. He was sitting at his desk, calmly swiveling in his chair, equally assessing her in turn.
"So you're suffering from lack of inspiration to trigger your visions, hmm?" The cultured tone burrowed further under Mai's skin until she was visibly bristling. Across the room, Naru leaned forward, withholding his speculation for further evidence.
Masako made a wondering noise. "You're one asset is nullified, and I honestly don't know why they called me. As I am a continent away, there's not much else I can offer than 'hurry up and be useful,'" the medium pondered, not waiting for any sort of inclination from Mai. "What could Naru possibly see in you? There's absolutely no use in you, therefore, no use in talking to you. I think we can both acknowledge that I'm wasting my breath now. Please hand the phone over to Naru."
Shaking from her quick dismissal, Mai handed the phone back to Naru stiffly, the plastic of the phone smacking against his palm as she ceded the phone to him.
"Naru," the medium's tone softened noticeably. "I take it from your tone that my aggravation of her didn't work."
Naru leaned the chair back further. "I haven't said anything yet. As to how you interpret a tone from silence is beyond even me."
Masako gave a girlish murmur. "You didn't have to," she said, ignoring the latter remark. "So she's absorbing your ki now?" She asked quietly.
"Lin told you?"
"I check in on you."
Naru had no response to that.
"With the exception of one or two methods, I can't think of anything to work. Inducing stress always seems to encourage primal responses."
"So you're saying—"
"You can politely push her into oncoming traffic—"
Naru actually scoffed, sounding harried.
"With a helmet, of course. Safety first—"
Naru shook his head, and Masako continued at his silent insistence. "I didn't mean actually throwing her into traffic. With her, it just has to be imminent threat."
Naru rubbed a hand over face slowly, aggravated. "Well, your medium abilities precede you." He's paused and they're all waiting to hear the pin drop. "She's already walked into oncoming traffic—"
"Did not." Mai snapped, but she was largely ignored. "Was on the sidewalk. Almost walked into traffic. Almost."
Naru narrowed his eyes at her. (Idiot.)
"And when in, loosely-termed 'danger,' there was no response to the impetus."
Masako paused, considering. "Were you present both times?"
"Yes."
Masako let the thought sink in, then 'hem-hem'ed politely.
Naru pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a rise in pressure. "You think I shouldn't be there, and let her relive the efforts."
The medium measured this with considering noise. "Lin mentioned that you two were ki-linked, or some other drivel," Masako said, her ever-polite demeanor faltering. She quickly recovered. "Which is charming, and perhaps, life-saving, but also inhibiting. Let her try something perilous on her own. See the outcome. I'll wager you'll be pleasantly surprised, and then you may sweep in gallantly."
Naru chuckled darkly. It made the hair on her arms stand straight up.
"You sound bitter, Hara-san."
She clucked back at him, demurely patronizing. "I prefer enamored with an unwilling subject. I believe they call it 'unrequited.'"
Naru's emerging smirk further stoked the anger welling in Mai.
"Trying to eliminate the competition?"
"Perhaps, leveling the playing field is more astute. Have I duped you into tying her to a railroad track?"
"Not likely."
"I did not think so. In that case, we'll keep our Mai safe, shall we?" Her mood shifted swiftly from gest to assessing and serious. Mercurial-like. "Have you thought of triggering stimuli for response?"
"We've put her in the Tank a number of times now."
Masako's distaste was evident in the subtle changing of her breathing.
"Not subconscious stimulation," she chided. "Physical Stimili. Sight, touch, taste." Naru felt for a moment he was being scolded on his own specialty.
"We haven't."
"Well, try sensory memory. It's worked well enough before."
"For you," he implied, actively curious. Mai noted the change in tone and observed him suspiciously.
A pause. "Perhaps. Perhaps, a little too well." Her tone grew quiet and somber in memory. "Hospitals are too sterile smelling for my likings nowadays. And I prefer Vlad well-kept in his burnt crypt, if you please."
The memory of Vlad's blood bath and all the missing persons surrounding the Prime Minister's estate was better left to rest, but Naru's quick mind slipped into one dark memory before he quickly shut the door to the rest of those thoughts.
Masako gone. Mai disappearing beneath his watch. A blood-chilling shriek, and then finding the two of them in a horrifying surgery. Knives, Bloody footsteps, a creature so malignant—
A brief tremor shook his hands, but he suppressed it by squeezing the phone tighter until the plastic creaked.
"I'll think on your advice, Hara-san. Thank you for your insight."
"My pleasure." She hung up, and Naru was momentarily pensive on how well she knew him. He didn't observe all niceties, wouldn't have said goodbye and Masako knew that. If not for his own favoring of Mai, willing or not, he and Masako would have made a fair match. Not a happy one, but a fair one.
Across the room, the one, who had argued, cried, vexed, and fought her way into his life, sat divinely angry and beautiful in her current loathing of him. In large part due to Masako, but he'd egged it on with carefully chosen, and obscurely veiled words he'd exchanged with Hara.
Her ire almost brought a smile to his face.
Instead of attempting to diffuse her anger, he returned to his desk and rifled through his open drawer, searching for a certain something.
Mai wasn't known for her patience, or ladylike bearing. "Well?" She snapped.
Naru closed the first drawer and opened the lower cabinet in his desk, pushing files aside in his search.
"Naru," she warned. Deliberately disregarding her, Naru continued rummaging until his hands struck something solid. Not his paperwork.
He pulled it out and stood. The VHS tape creaked and rattled ominously. Dust flooded the air when Naru blew over it and looked to Mai in vindication. "A moment."
He walked around her to the cabinets behind her and opened a wooden panel. Behind it, electronics were concealed. A stereo, an older projection TV, a DVD player and behind that, Naru's hand found the VHS player. He hoisted the player into view and pressed the tape in, emitting a low noise when it didn't go in without anything powering it.
Mai half-laughed, found the dangling cord and plugged it in.
It worked. The machine whirred to life and Naru motioned Mai back to his desk.
He sat down and looked at Mai almost expectantly. It was his blank look, his usual, but Mai was good—no, excellent—at interpreting Naru's subtle expressions.
A tilt of her head indicated her answer. "I'll stand thanks."
Contemplatively, he watched her, then opened his drawer. In his hand, he held an old pocket watch complete with rusted chain. The golden coat was scratched and worn away in spots, but it was lovely in its age. He handed it to Mai, and she took it carefully, hearing the loose pieces inside chime as they rolled against the inner workings of the device.
"This was Gene's. He didn't carry it with him often. Hated it, actually, but it was our grandfather's, and whenever he was actively trying to channel, or perform an exorcism, he carried this. He seemed to have a notion that it helped him focus. Whatever it did, or did not do, Gene always performed exceptionally when he had it. Would you care to try it?"
Mai nodded, oddly stricken for words that Naru had shared something so personal of Gene's with her. When it came to his twin, Naru was incredibly protective of his memories, and tried to keep everything between the two of them, Gene and Mai, separate, at least in regards to him. He already had more competition with his dead brother than he liked.
Naru shrugged, an almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders, and clicked the television on. Static lit the screen and the hypnotic sound and sight drew her under. Why was static familiar…?
Psychic static? It was a way to bar psychic penetration from things like telepaths, or malevolent spirits. Emptying your head of all thoughts was how she had interpreted it. Gene had mentioned that once. But his definition was a little skewed from the original static she was sure the term's creator had meant.
A memory, one of Gene's endless lessons…
Psychic static.
'I like to think of it as thinking of something, rather than nothing. If you're thinking of nothing, an infinite amount of things can pop to your mind with the right wording. Imagine you're facing a bad guy—don't look at me like that, there are bad guys.'
'Okay, Astro Boy-sama,' Mai mocked.
'Anyway,' her spirit guide muttered, momentarily distracted, 'If you aren't thinking of anything, then I can say thinks like Peaches, or Santa Claus, right? And you think of it. A jolly guy; red one-sy; plump, red cheeks; bringing presents to all the good girls of the world. That would be you.'
'Me, good. Bad Guys, bad. Got it.'
'If you're going to be petulant about this…'
Mai saluted him. 'Go on, Captain.'
Gene glowered. 'But if you have something in your mind that can wholly distract you—'
'Candy, and bad test scores?'
Gene shrugged, 'I think of girls in bikinis.''
Mai's expression soured. 'Pig.'
'Opportunist," he corrected. 'If I get to pick what distracts me 100%, then I'll pick my poison. And girls in bikinis are a sweet, sweet poison.' Gene studied her expression, his own darkening in thought. 'It's okay, Mai. You can admit to Naru being your wholly encompassing distraction.'
'Shut up, Gene.'
'Cursing me doesn't make it any less true—'
'Jerk.'
Gene slung an arm around Mai's shoulders. 'Admitting a weakness makes it less of a weakness.' He smiled.
'With that in mind, let's go get the bad guys.'
'All right, partner.'
Something he had said shifted the memory, and even in front of Naru, she felt herself swept in the undertow, the familiar feel of a vision.
For some reason, this vision took to her more wholly than before. Others had a cold and sweeping air to them, leaving her feeling unwanted and unwelcome. They were harder to see, harder to understand everything it tried to offer her. This one embraced her, launched her into with startling clarity through physical sensation, but not as much eyesight.
It's Clay in front of her, down the darkened corridor and she can feel his laughter again like a vibration across her skin. She can't see anything, but she can feel the memory replaying. He's laughing, but it's not humorous. He's upset, laughing, but clearly disturbed over something.
A sick feeling begins clawing its way up her stomach and into her throat. Buried in Clay's torso is a gaping, glistening black hole no larger than her fist, but it's wet, festering and heartbreaking all at once. The tendrils of its malignant reach writhe for further purchase.
Clay winces.
And suddenly Mai knows. She can see its killing him, shortening his lifespan, but that's not her real concern. She knows that's not why she's in the vision. Clay knew he was dying before. That's not why he's here, to share in his heartache.
Clay's oddly accented voice clears her mind.
'You've a strange brand of psychic barriers. Psychic static, really? It's almost archaic, but I appreciate the novelty in it.' Clay places his fingers over his mouth to hide his careful amusement of her.
Mai is immobile, unsure of what to do, to say.
He shakes his head, his careful rapture broken. 'I'm impolite, sorry. I get a tad touchy when someone,' he makes a sweeping, gallant gesture from his torso and outward, 'when someone sees this. It's not my best side.'
'What is it?' Mai whispers.
His smile is crooked, broken. 'Does it matter?'
Mai looks up carefully from the wound. 'No.' She sniffs shortly, before rubbing at her eyes. She's crying. 'You'll die of it anyway.'
Clay himself makes a forlorn sound, and clears his throat, remembering that, he too, knows that's not why he's here. Sadly, they both have to keep reminding each other, but with the elephant in the room poking its tusk through the gaping, mortal wound in his gut, it's suddenly understandable that they're easily distracted.
'That's not why you're here.' He's speaking her thoughts and again, Mai isn't surprised anymore that she thinks things before people actually say them. It's happened far too often for her to be unnerved with it anymore.
'I know.' She hesitates, suddenly wary, 'Show me.'
His smile is careful now, tormented but held up by rigid scaffolding, which is always temporary and tenuous at best. 'If you don't mind…' he says apologetically. And Mai, with the first tears tracking down her cheeks, glances politely away.
There's a wet noise. She knows he's reaching inside himself. It feels like he's goring his soul along with her own. She holds down a nervous tickle in her abdomen. If she even thinks about it, she'll vomit, she just knows it.
She turns when he's done, and in his hands is a mixture of black and red. A swirl of colors off which no light reflects anymore. In his hands, it twitches, a live thing. His sullied heart. Alive and beating in his hands.
'Good and Evil aren't so different,' he says, and squeezes the heart back, returning its embrace. Mai gags, tries to cover the wince with her hands, but it's too late; she turns to the side, and retches miserably.
"Did the watch help?"
Mai snapped upright, her eyes fixed solely on the wooden grain of his desk. Reeling, she studied only one knot in the wood, keeping her eyes on it until the feeling of vertigo dissipates. It didn't take long to pass. She knows that she has gotten better at this.
Naru easily, but firmly pulled her down onto his lap, settling her backward until her back was flush against his front. His arms rested on her lap, not restraining, but just a reassuring reminder of his presence. It was comforting, and the gentle rocking of his chair even more so.
She gulped heavily, swallowing down the emotions before speaking.
"No, it's just a regular watch." She said it with certainty, but still ran a finger lovingly around the edge of it. Mai didn't want to have to explain anymore, didn't want to have to recall the visage of the cancerous, bloody heart beating out an irregular staccato in Clay's loosely clamped fingers. The watch reminded her of the vision and the sickness began to swell within her gut at the thought.
She held the watch, clutched it once and then carefully handed it back, suddenly wanting it out of her hands. Gene's or not, it left her feeling queasy now. "How long was I out?"
"Not even a moment. It was fairly quick. I felt you slip away, and then you were back."
Mai nodded, but remained silent.
"Did you learn anything?"
She shook her head. No, nothing that she wanted to talk about, that was certain.
"Anything I can help with?" His tone was slightly insistent, like he would be the answer if she just accepted his help.
Mai swallowed. "No. It's—I'm not sure how to explain it."
She felt him nod against the top of her head. "Clay?" He guessed.
She nodded, affirming it. His breath shifted the hair behind her ear.
"Well, that's a start…" He said, leading her.
Mai felt suddenly indulgent and as usual, trusted the feeling behind her sudden change of heart. It hadn't led her astray yet.
"It was just Clay. Laughing, crying." She wrung her hands together until her knuckles were white. The image of his bloody, black heart was enough to give anyone pause. "Naru, just…" She breathed. "…give me a moment. I don't want to make something out of nothing."
She sniffed as tears pricked her eyes briefly. "He's dying. That I knew for sure."
Naru made a low noise of agreement that vibrated through his chest to her back. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we're all dying a little bit more—every day, Mai."
Mai elbowed him. "You know what I mean."
"I do?"
She growled, pulling at the color of his shirt with a vicious tug.
"Hmm," he said in careful response. "In the meantime, I have something to watch. You're welcome to join me while you think on Clay."
"What is it?"
"You ask a fairly large number of questions."
"You avoid a lot of answers on a regular basis," she shot back.
His arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her more comfortably against him, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Stop talking," he murmured.
Mai noted that he sounded more gentle than usual and settled in without a fight. There was a time and a place. Maybe now didn't have to be it.
The TV screen that he had hidden behind the wooden panels flickered from static, then blue, and finally settled on a picture Mai couldn't make heads or tails of. The screen tilted as the camera angle was corrected, and in it, the image of a younger, brooding boy sat on a stainless steel stool across from a stainless steel table with a box of some sort resting on top of it.
He had a scowl that was all too familiar, but as of yet as refined and perfected as the one behind her. It was more sour than dispassionate. It was a teenager's sullen gaze.
It was Naru at younger than she'd met him. She'd place that bowl haircut at around 13 or 14 years of age.
The screen flickered and transferred across the laboratory. The same laboratory that was just down the hall if Mai was correct.
A boy, similar to the first, was buoyant, striding around the lab with his finger tracing along the glass walls behind him. "Seems fine," he said, nonchalantly. "It'll hold up." His voice sounded muffled. Far away. A research camera with an obviously shoddy microphone.
"Gene," Mai said, sinking into Naru, but instantly more alert.
Eugene Davis, alive and well at 13 or 14, just years before his death.
One voice came through clearly: "Positions then, please." Dr. Brandt.
Her brow pinched in wary reaction, an instant reflex to his authoritarian tone.
Mai put her feet up on his desk, bracing her weight and watched the low-quality film play. Naru shifted and her feet slipped off the desk, now out of reach. Mai rolled her eyes, but sat up in annoyance, and leaned against the desk on her elbows.
She put more weight on her arm and then jerked upright, clutching the inside of her elbow.
"Ow," she said, frowning. "Why does that hurt?"
Naru frowned. "They got a blood sample from you. The puncture is in the crease of your elbow. You didn't notice?" He says skeptical of her.
Naru shook his head. "Oblivious," he muttered like she wasn't 18 inches from him.
Mai studied her arm closely. "They did," she agreed, her mouth puckering in obvious displeasure. "There's a mark." She turned to Naru with vague concern in her eyes. "Why?"
"Why is there a puncture—or—"
Mai eyed him narrowly over her shoulder. The angle diminished the impact, but Naru felt her attempting to scald him with her willpower alone. "Why did they need my blood?"
Naru considered how to placate her, then reaching around her, paused the film with a click of the remote. "Dr. Oehler mentioned that it might reveal what was happening to you," he said, doubt obvious in his voice. Mai bit the tip of her nail, but dropped her hand away from her mouth when she realized what she was doing.
"How would she be able to tell that? Do I have less red blood cells or something? Psychically-induced low blood sugar?" Mai said tersely.
Naru tilted his head, assessing the forethoughts. "Dr. Oehler is a molecular biologist," he murmured, considering. "She very well might be able to tell why." He leaned back in his chair to look at her more easily.
"Just a moment ago, you didn't think she could," Mai said guardedly.
Naru lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I don't think she can tell," he admitted, "but I also know that's not why she wanted a blood sample. She also wanted my blood for comparison," he said indifferently.
Mai's frown deepened. "Why?" She asked, confusion spreading.
A bare smile crept on his face. The kind of infuriating smile when he wouldn't tell her something. He looked back to the screen in front of them and clicked 'play' again.
Gene was on the screen again. She couldn't hear him. He was doing some funny movements with his arms which looked oddly familiar—
—until he made a weird face, puckering his lips—and she knew it was a video game move—hadouken, or something. Gene was such a dork.
After a brief moment, things grew serious and at her back, Naru shifted as the point to pay attention had obviously arrived. Younger Naru flickered back on screen and he stood, arms crossed, form rigid. Short, no growth spurt as of yet. A thin, wiry form. Lanky. No muscle. He was only a child.
He was also distinctly spindling energy. She could tell from the far-away sounding, eerie echo of lightning in the air which was synonymous with Naru calling power.
In her gut, fear and worry were sinking sharp talons into her. She tensed at the memory and reached behind her to find Naru's hand once again. She gripped it tighter as the sound grew louder, but was equally as rapt as she was frightened.
A small bead of light appeared in front of him. Ki in physical form. A lightning shade of blue that flickered out and then back in brighter than before.
Younger Naru watched the small ball of light with nothing short of disappointment.
Mai waited for the Naru at her hip to say something. He didn't.
The screen split in half, showing both Naru and Gene at the same time, but from a different angle this time.
So many cameras, Mai thought with awe.
Gene settled into his own comfortable form and beckoned with his hands. The ball of light disappeared from Naru's screen and reappeared in front of Gene, exponentially brighter, but not larger. They did this at least three more times before the ball of light began floating towards Naru.
The sound was unbearably loud now, and Mai made a small cry, refusing to shut her eyes and miss anything. Naru lowered the volume as the recollection seemed to be bothering him as equally. The younger Naru reached out, impatient, but accepting. His concentrated gaze seemed to pull the ki light inward, until finally his arms crossed over one another in a ghostly embrace and the ball receded into Naru, disappearing.
On the left side of the screen, the camera flickered from Gene, turning black before flicking to the empty box on the stainless steel table.
That's not a box. Mai inched forward, reaching to be closer to the screen.
"It says 50 kilograms," Naru said distractedly. "Aluminum." Mai risked a glance at him. His head was perched on his fingertips resting at his temple.
He was watching her, not the video.
"I've seen it," he explained.
Mildly annoyed, Mai said, "Don't read my face like that. You know I hate that." She turned before she saw the undoubtedly smug smile crack the solemnity of his face.
Mai was still turned halfway around when she heard a loud crash echo from the speakers.
The block of aluminum wasn't on the table anymore. "Ah, I missed it," she sighed dourly, and patted Naru on the leg insistently. "Rewind it."
"They'll replay it," he said succinctly.
He was right. Half a minute after that they showed the completely flattened sheet of metal that had once been square-shaped.
Then they ran it again. And again.
They replayed the box flying across the room from six different angles. In the corner of the screen, a number ticker ran, showing the moment of impact reading at 10:34:06 at each recurrence. They wanted to verify that it wasn't merely a box shot six different times, but one shot from six angles. And they all would pause at that same moment.
10:34:06.
They had frozen the time of impact down to the millisecond.
Mai let out a heavy breath and Naru watched her reaction curiously. She met his gaze after a second and said, "Amazing," before squeezing his hand with reverence in her voice.
Naru inhaled, but didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Mai could read the silence like her could read her face. He was part prideful mixed with a hint of something joyful in nature, happy he had accomplished it, and then somber all at once, at the forfeiture of not only his power, but a greater loss in his brother.
"That's the video Masako was talking about. The one from the American Convention?"
"Yes." Naru pulled at the front of his shirt and looked resolutely at the static on the screen.
"I've learned not to be recorded since then." He gave a resigned, somewhat self-critical smile.
Mai nodded, then waited as Naru looked to be thinking deeply on something. Reminiscing on Gene? When he'd been alive?
Naru ran a tentative finger down her tricep, and then pinched her elbow. "Your preternatural abilities have officially flat-lined."
"Officially? Not in actuality," she joked, poking at his chest. "I'm glad you made the executive decision for me," she said, sounding somewhat maligned.
"Officially," he repeated.
"As in we're not telling them anything else. No more testing. We're done?" Mai wasn't sure how Naru expected her to react to this, so her tone was accordingly wary.
"All of the above," he said equally solemn. "Nothing has come of this trip. And I think any more time spent away from your home continent could potentially be more damaging to your ki." The hand at her waist tapped at her hip as if emphasizing the point.
Mai accepted the information with slight tingle of knowledge and no little twinge of discomfort. Maybe she should tell him about the cracks in her well of ki were healing. Slowly healing, but healing nonetheless.
But if her ki was healing, that meant that she was less of a leach on Naru's power which is something that he would have noticed immediately…so he already must have known, the clever, deceptive—
At the same time, she found it altogether satisfying to hear such finality in the words, though the feeling had been tempered by the all too obvious discontent and lethargy in Naru's voice.
Mai tested her words. "Well, that's…" She had expected her throat to be tight, but she hadn't expected to feel...almost embarrassed. Embarrassed for disappointing him, for failing to demonstrate all the claims in the reports he had made back at Shibuya. Back when things had been a fair bit simpler. He looked like a liar now, and Mai swallowed roughly at that thought. "Okay," she said, annoyed at how forlorn her voice sounded.
Naru sat back in the desk chair and rested his hands on the arms. "Not apologetic?" He prodded.
Mai ran through the list of adjectives that described her current mental, physical and philosophical state. Apologetic was not one of them. Not if it meant feeling sorry for that...maggot Brandt.
She shook her head. "Absolutely not. I know what I am, professionally, psychically tested or not."
"And as for my research?" He asked. Mai could hear the smirk behind his carefully even tone.
Mai strangled a small smile. "I'm sure you'll manage." She leaned forward, briefly pecking his cheek before she hopped off of his lap.
Naru raised an eyebrow, but didn't move. "Where are you off to?"
Mai joined her fingers and turned them outward, stretching. "If we're finishing up here, I wanted to see the others before we leave."
"To apologize?"
Mai answered by way of undignified snort. "We'll send the doctors a condolence card."
Naru crooked a finger at her. Come here. Mai smiled demurely, but crept closer, an answering smile creeping upward like the cat with a canary.
"Hmm?" She leaned closer over him.
"Happy?" Naru tilted his head up to her, still her ever serious boss.
"Unbelievably." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly.
It began in her toes. Like when she was a young kid creating static electricity by dragging her socked feet over carpet, the feeling zipped up the back of her legs, then her spine. She snapped up rigidly and winced.
"OW!" She turned her feral look on Naru who, as usual, hadn't experienced it. "Could you please cut that out!" Mai bristled. "I thought you said I was officially nullified—powerless-tank on empty. But if I'm getting better which means producing my own ki—which means not stealing yours. That means you should be at full capacity and there should be no kind of…of conductivity between us. What was that?"
Despite asking him directly, Naru appeared to have not heard her. Mai could see him performing mental math and coming up short of some variables. The wrinkle in his brow deepened. Mai guessed the variables were being difficult.
"It was me," he said finally. "Projecting. A sort of psychic 'boiling-over,' perhaps. Maybe." He'd answered her. Mai wanted to gape, but quickly made space between them by heading for the door.
Mai skipped a couple steps, slowing turning to address him. Nothing more was going to come of this (from the pensive look on Naru's face-closed off, and calculating) and she wanted to make her farewells.
She reached the door, and called over her shoulder. "At least, you're not leaching—like a parasite. You're just a rusty valve. A much more attractive prospect."
She'd barely made it out the door when her first inclination that something was wrong itched at the forefront of her mind.
Her intuition. It was back! Not in full capacity, but better than nothing!
Before when she used it in the early stages of her power's development, it had seemed like something out of the recesses of her mind occasionally poking and prodding her in the right direction (a reactive power, rather than a controlled, proactive one), but this reawakening felt more like a new awareness blossoming from the base of her neck to the temples. She turned right, it pulsed.
A warning.
And down the hall, there it was. The problem.
Naki.
Mai pursed her lips tightly. She really hated this laboratory. She glanced towards Naru's office out of the corner of her eye, unwilling to take her eyes off Naki. Naru wouldn't be able to sense her. Not with his power up and running at full capacity again. He wouldn't be able to sense any longer, not past his own self.
Naki floated and bounced, a kind of dance like no one was watching until the light fluttered briefly before stilling. The creature spotted Mai.
She felt Naki turn her watchful 'eye' upon Mai with a stillness that pinned Mai's feet to the floor like two stakes had been driven through them.
Mai didn't move.
Naki didn't move.
But if Naki was around, so was Lin, but why, why, why would he let her off her leash so soon after the last incident?
The thought didn't help the situation anyway. Naki had reacted like a guilty child being caught out of its bed after hours. But the intensity of Naki's scrutiny didn't sit well. It had intelligence. Something Mai hadn't known the creature possessed before. A frightening prospect as Mai could tell the demon was analyzing the options.
The anxiety built in Mai's stomach until she let out a shaky gasp. She hadn't been breathing.
She could call for Naru—
At her thought, Naki grew brighter.
A warning.
Mai's heart skipped a beat. She stepped hesitantly backward…
…and fell.
Cursed Naki...at it again.
Next Chapter: Beyond Good and Evil
(Subtitle: Genghis Kahn)