A/N: Another really long chapter – yeah, I've been working hard, Ripley's believe it or not. A process of birth, a precursor to the crescendo. Contact – the moment when everything happens. So many new stories and updates to inspire me! So many kind words to coddle me along. When I'm banging my head on the keyboard, cursing the fickle muse, it's the difference between giving up and going on. Bows. Thank you.
Silent Ee: Alice is choking on the pill. Never trust a caterpillar; something that can't pick a form generally gives poor advice.
Suikun: Coins are circular – flip, spin, drop the dime. Fortune often reverses itself. There was a lot of information in Reito's introduction. You were right on many fronts. Hopefully this chapter alleviates some of the consternation. I try to keep continuity in each chapter as it progresses, but 9-10 were mostly the same creature. I just had to separate them for fighting.
Naked Fish: I'm digging my version of Reito. It was a death ritual, I'm glad that conveyed.
Johnny: 'In the name of love… once more in the name of loveeeee.' Couldn't resist.
B14ck-r053: Tate did change, mostly because I couldn't get a handle on him. He's grown since, and is now Sergey Jr. Wanker. Mai is like Bloody Mary. Hmmm. Takes that idea and runs. Thank you for the correction. I like long reviews!
Stickytofu: Pain is the absence of love. Love is the worship of pain. Deliverance is at hand.
Kiltmandu: Ahh, the muse amused more this chapter, lent credence to delivered condolence. Offers a rose. Sweetness knows no bounds, nor can gratitude adequately convey my appreciation.
Interstate405: Eeeee! Goosebumps. Kawaii! The kimono is the representation of all that Shizuru descended from – a line of noble Samurai. Robe, check. Naginata, check. Ok, that about covers it – send in the fodder.
EA Simpson: Angst without outlet is a dangerous thing. Don't whine. Kill. Much more productive. Nao still doesn't know who Blond Guy is. Shhhh.
Aldia: She does want to die – she has no reason to live. Worry not. It will all work out in the end. Reito is the good guy. Tate is the bad guy. Like Suikun said, I love reversal of fortune. 12 jewels shining in the palm of his hand, and he and his sister. But is Mikoto a jewel? One wonders.
Shigan: Blushes. Please forgive the email… I wasn't asking for greater applause… I was half asleep.
UltraMarine, Jordan.D, fan-rei, xSojix: I loved the return of the Dark Side as well. Kill the men! Kill the elves! Save the gold for ourselves! Er... never mind. Laughs. Thanks for enjoying it… it still means the world to me that everyone's gotten so wrapped up in our story!
This chapter deals with the other side of the coin, and the machinations that move the machine. It helps to solve the paradox, removing suspicions by one. It brings Natsuki full circle as she embraces the past she never knew, and exposes the nature of the beast. Judge not, lest ye be smacked upside the head with your own stone. "The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit… The rest is silence." Enjoy.
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Chapter 11
Rain fell against the glass, casting tattered shade across the mahogany desk, the man who sat behind it, the door, the wall. A wholly different perspective from which to view the world – no mercy, no pity, no remorse – only motion, the ceaseless shift of creatures who knew if their bodies should rest, even for a moment, that moment would be their last. It lent an aquatic atmosphere, painted eerily depthless shadows, as if each object had silhouette but no substance. The gloom reshaped Smith's face as he turned toward his subordinate, transferring his gaze from fluid restlessness to congealed discomfort.
Stiff, hands unmoving at his sides, the man's eyes returned from a restless circuit of the room to the Director's ice blue gaze. He shivered; were this the ocean housed within steel, and brick and glass, Smith was a shark whose eyes never left his prey.
"Report."
"As you anticipated, subject Okuzaki Akira broke into the Coroner's Office and removed the designated files. She conferred with Sagisawa Youko, the school nurse, and now knows the documents were tampered with. I'm sure she will draw the logical conclusions.
"Flight records confirm subject Kanzaki Reito arrived in Fuuka at five forty seven via private jet the day before. He also spoke with Sagisawa, and was most likely informed subjects Tokiha, Minagi and Minakata died in the fire. Okuzaki returned to her dormitory, and Kanzaki followed. Should we bring him in?"
So. The Black Prince had returned to claim his throne two days ahead of schedule. Most fortuitous – he could collect the HiMEs under his wings, saving Searrs the effort. Smith imagined an assembly of ebony birds, jostling for position on the sorrow laden boughs of a willow tree. A murder of crows. How fitting.
Smith weighed the action, finally shaking his head. "No. Give him the time to accomplish our task for us. His search for his sister will bring him here." The subordinate nodded and continued his report.
"The nurse placed a long distance call to the US. Wiretaps verify it was to subject Sugiura Midori. Sugiura purchased a one-way ticket to Fuuka thirty minutes later. She will be touching down in fifteen minutes. We've assigned surveillance to continue observation of her movements."
The man behind the desk nodded his head in approval. "Continue."
"District surrounded Yuuki's residence at seven thirty this morning, retaining her mother as a hostage." He frowned. His job was threat assessment - to alert those who made decisions to negative repercussions, and advise methods of damage control, but Smith rarely listened to his advice. The flaxen man's motives were always obscure, hidden under layers of misdirection. The subordinate studied the man who sat in front of him, the man who most of Searrs' employees believed had murdered the previous director, and stepped cautiously – he wanted no part of Smith's undivided attention. It was seriously career limiting.
The shark's smile widened as his subordinate cleared his throat. "Recommendations?"
"Yes sir. Yuuki is no longer a viable target; she's been compromised. Her continued involvement threatens our acquisition of Kuga and Fujino. Recommend subject Yuuki Nao be scheduled for termination."
How short sighted people are. That was why they failed to attain the Golden Era the first time, why the Carnival itself had burned down around the Obsidian Lord's feet, burying him under the ashes of overreaching ambition. Yes, the HiMEs were weapons, but they weren't simply tools to be guided towards a costly goal. "Our objective demands genetically diverse samples to maintain homeostasis. Cloning has proven unreliable. We need them alive."
Smith watched the man war with conflicting common sense – to acquiesce, or voice his disagreement and likely become an instructive example to his replacement. Self-preservation won, as usual. "Yes sir."
"Excellent. The others?"
"Subject Kikukawa Yukino has thus far not been approached by District."
Smith raised his hand to halt the recitation. "Make sure District is made aware of Suzushiro's political involvement. They will likely use more direct methods of securing the HiMEs, once they recover from their current… setback. I have no intention of allowing them time to recoup."
His second in command bowed, accepting this duty. "Subject Sanada Yukariko was informed of her husband's continued involvement with District – we made sure she overheard the phone conversation confirming his plans to hand her over to them." He shifted his weight between his feet before continuing. No one wants to be the bearer of bad news. "She died in a fire late last evening."
"Oh?" Those ice blue eyes never left his face, and he started sweating.
"Yes, sir. She set herself on fire in the bathtub, after filling it with gasoline."
So. Tokiha got her revenge second hand. Truth had tipped the scales, and internal strain had finally overwhelmed the former nun's desire to live, her desire to abstain from sin. 'God talks to me in my dreams; he talks to me every day.' An unfortunate turn of events, but her ability to disconnect fantasy from persecution had steadily declined since the baby's birth. "By these acts am I purged." Smith folded his hands in front of his mouth, tapping his lip lightly. "Did we recover the body?"
The subordinate nodded once, quite forcefully, as if his handling of the situation after the fact could erase earlier failures. "Sanada's body was collected before District could respond. There was no sign of husband or child. We believe they're on the run to a District safe house."
"I see. Was there enough tissue left to take a viable sample?"
"Yes, sir."
The director grunted in irritation. "Find them. Dispose of District's dog, and bring in the child." No doubt Ishigami would use the child to barter for safe passage, and, if trapped, murder it for spite, but what they could no longer get from the mother might still be attainable though other means. "And the princess?"
"Kuga took possession of the vehicle and met with her contact. Remote monitoring of the computer shows the disk was accessed. Kuga left the premises five minutes later. Analysis of her behavior patterns suggests extreme emotional distress – we assume she is in the process of assimilating the provided information."
Smith smiled and leaned back in his chair. It won't be long now. The man was still standing in front of him, and Smith raised an eyebrow. "About Fujino…"
"Yes? What about her?"
"Sir, do you really think it was safe to goad her onto the offensive?" He seemed flustered, as if he were wondering himself why he was bringing this up, but obviously this round, self-preservation came in second place. "It is a good strategy to weaken the opponent. But, is it safe – if we want them alive? Natsu –
"Kuga-sama will follow Fujino-sama on her vendetta, and we are providing assistance. The potential gains outweigh the risks." Smith's tone was harsh; he despised explaining himself, especially to those who had no hope of comprehending the subtle shifts, the gradient weighing process he based his decisions upon. The princess would learn things from the experience; things she didn't want to understand, didn't want to recognize about herself, and her partner. The destruction Fujino would rain down on District, the ensuing chaos would be a footnote in comparison.
"But… if they die…"
"This discussion is over. Inform me once we have Yukariko-san's daughter in custody." His subordinate bowed, exiting as quietly as he'd entered, and the shark turned back to the window, resuming his meditations. He watched the raindrops patter against the thin film separating the ocean within from the ocean without. Yet in these acts myself almost despising; happily I think on thee… Whatever karma he earned by these atrocities, forcing development through trial, would be borne. They needed the pair quite badly; they needed Natsuki whole.
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She became aware of her surroundings by degrees, shading her face from the stabbing pain as the setting sun shone directly into her eyes. Where her body had taken her, what events had led to standing in this spot, she had no idea. She gathered the bangs out of her face as they tickled her, dancing on the brine scented air, and tucked them behind her ears. Shifting her foot, she knocked her helmet over to spin in a lazy half circle in the dirt. Her eyes dropped, following the sound, her fingers clenching reflexively as they crumpled the paper holding a small bouquet.
Why would she bring herself here? Okaasan. She studied the flowers clutched ever so tightly in her trembling hand. Her favorite flower. Amaryllis belladonna. The delicate stamens cast wavering shadows in the dying light as she studied the pale, sloping petals, her fingers relaxed. She traced the contours of the creamy blossom, from base to outward curl, feeling the texture of life below her fingertip – cool, evocative, soothing – and wrapped her hand around them, her mouth twisting. This time, there was no one to stop her, no one to mollify or direct her, and her fury overflowed, ripping the flower from its stem.
"Liar!" The maimed flower flew over the railing. More. More! She tore the entire arrangement apart, flinging them over the edge of the cliff. The disembodied petals flowed from her fingers, silent as pain, silent as her breaking heart. She released the remains, her anger hunkering down to await another target, and sank to her knees. It's all right. Everything in my life has been a lie; why should this be any different? I'll be fine. I AM fine. I just need to… need… Her shoulders hunched suddenly as she retched, divesting herself of what little remained in her system. She gasped between convulsions, trying to catch her breath, scooting away a few inches and falling on her side when the nausea passed.
Natsuki lay on the shoulder of the road, the road that claimed her mother's life, at the spot, the terminus, the end; she closed her eyes against the memories. Loss, pain, hatred. Air, water, fire. My whole life… Her arms wrapped around her helmet, pulling it into her chest, cradling it as she walked the razor's edge. She'd always been told her mother worked for First. She tried to think back, beyond the veneer of a child's perceptions. Her mother had friends in District, people who visited her in the hospital after the accident. Sakomizu-sensei. And yet her mother had been afraid, had restrained Natsuki, pulled her back into her arms whenever the dark-suited men came to the lab. It hadn't meant anything to her when she was young, but now…
Her mother had forbidden her to open the door the night the dark suits came to claim them, held Natsuki tightly as they dashed between house and car. And then the frantic drive. Why? Why had her mother been running from District? First had discovered she was working for Searrs, playing both sides of the fence. A mole? It was possible. So they ran to escape, through the growling darkness and the luminous headlights grew larger, rounder, forcing them through the railing and into the air – suspension, weightlessness, screams, whimpers, the deafening crack of the windshield as her mother fell into it, splashing blood across the glass.
Her mother died four hours later, unconscious and alone. Her fingers had been so cold and frail. So very cold. Hands led her away from the bedside, escorting her as she stumbled numbly through the antiseptic hallways. I'm sorry, Natsuki-chan. His face had been twisted with sadness, but a guarded necessity dulled the brightness under the wild curls atop his head. Kaiji had been the last person to exit the room, his hand had pressed the call button, summoning the nurses who tried to extend her mother's life. She shivered, her teeth chattering behind stuttering breaths. He killed her, made sure okaasan never emerged from the watery depths.
Had Searrs been there as well, trying to secure their investment? In her mind, the nine year old girl's head turned, following a line of movement, the dull sounds of the elevator doors as they closed, emerald meeting ice blue a second before the crack disappeared. Yes. He'd come, but arrived too late effect the outcome. Smith. Why hadn't he taken her with him? It was what her mother wanted, to protect her from District. The final payment Searrs had entrusted to Saeko hadn't been Natsuki's price, but money to break away from District's control, to facilitate a new life at a distance from the coming carnage.
Smith had pulled aside the curtain, revealing the truth choked by deception. "Liar! Liar!" The sobs finally came, washing away unspoken need, leaving no place to hide. Okaasan. Her mother hadn't betrayed her, but given up life her life in exchange. Sakomizu perpetuated First's deceit, carefully crafting the balance she'd lived by, removed her only protector, used her, camouflaging his actions with concern, fostering the illusion she was in control. Hate you. Hate you all! She couldn't muster the will to rise, couldn't be bothered to turn her face away from the stench of despoiled innocence. Just like before, when Nao drove me off the road.
I have nothing left. She curled into a ball, around her helmet. No one left. Compelling, but not the entire truth; she thought of rejected comfort. The adoring smile, the warmest arms, my hope, my companion. There was one person. The perfection of her lips as we touched, my strawberry-hazel savior. Of herself, that garden she bitterly maintained, little survived. No pride, no ambition, what am I? nothing left to learn, no purpose beyond yearned reassurance. I'm alone. "Shizu…ru." Her voice was hoarse, laden with anguish, bruised and battered; it tethered her to the reality of her situation, and dismay crept into her thoughts.
The pattern of events was well established. 'If they can't get what they want, the next logical step…' The raven haired girl sat up, wiping the moisture from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Surely District wouldn't be that stupid, knew Shizuru was too difficult a target, would be dangerous to wrestle into submission. Yet the older woman's moods were fragile, often dependent on factors she grudgingly admitted hinged more on Natsuki's actions then her own. Natsuki knew it took every ounce of self-control for her to sustain the smiles, to manufacture serenity from will alone. She hurts herself for me; I've always come first. Natsuki scrambled to her feet, filled with fear. 'I think you, especially, should hurry.'
"Dammit, Shizuru!" If something happened, it would be her fault, for shoving affection as far away as possible, for unfailingly upholding the separation, harshly denying any responsibility for the grieving hush, the muffled tears Shizuru wept when she thought Natsuki couldn't hear. Running away, that's all I do. Not this time. Shizuru was all she had left, and this time, she ran towards the outstretched arms, hoping it wasn't too late. Please… don't leave me behind.
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Takumi looked up as Akira flew through the door, panting raggedly. She slammed the door behind her, her book bag dropping from senseless fingers as she locked the door. She trembled violently, curling her fingers in her hair as she lifted her arms, shielding her face, and he stood, knocking the chair over in his haste. "Akira-kun?" There was something terribly wrong. Her arms lowered as she tracked his movements. Completely frozen, he watched her pupils contract, encompassing the whole of his reflection in their ebony noose, and he clutched his chest as the echoes of discomfort consumed him.
He staggered into her arms as she moved forward to catch him, her eyes searching his face for some semblance of herself beyond the urge, and finding none, she pressed forward, claiming his mouth with her own. The pain in his chest intensified, and he struggled to breathe. She was holding him too tightly, too ardent in her affection and he went limp in her arms. This wasn't passion, she was being driven. And although the urgency was expected, they'd worked around these attacks many times, this was much more acute; the torment intensified as it ate them alive.
He closed his eyes, submitting to her needs, wrapped his arms around her, whispering words of acceptance. The hug relaxed, allowing him escape, if he chose to take it, but he remained in place, smiling at her lovingly.
"Takumi." I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Her voice limped from her throat, tears spilling across her lashes, leaving pale streaks across her cheeks.
He wiped them away gently as he cradled her in his arms. Don't apologize. I love you. He lost himself, drowning in the burgundy-shaded desire, lifted his arms as she kissed him softly, allowed her to pull his shirt over his head. Her breath quickened as she guided them to the bed, falling on top of him in a pleasant weight. He buried his face in her hair, caressing her back, but she'd stopped moving, as immobile as he'd been when she first entered the room. Lips twitched as something beyond the door knocked and her muscles bunched, preparing to spring into feral motion.
"Go away!" Takumi flinched from the depth of his mate's wrath, unsure what to do.
"Okuzaki-kun, open the door. We have things to discuss." Past the politeness, he sensed the underlying command; a quality he knew the speaker tried to smooth by his choice of words, and the unchallenging deportment Reito worked to so hard to maintain. He recognized the voice almost instantly; the master of those honeyed tones was difficult to forget.
The silence stretched. "Okuzaki-kun, you are more my creature than your own right now. Let me help you, and you can help me in return." Takumi's eyes were large and frightened, his face turning between the door and Akira as she straddled him protectively. His eyebrows dipped in concern, the hands encircling her slipped from back to sides, his thumbs restlessly caressing her stomach, and she shivered. It wasn't a conscious thing – he wasn't aware of moving his hands, it was a nervous habit, another of the countless reasons why Akira loved him.
"Get away from here! What do you want with Takumi? You can't have him! And I'll… I'll kill you if you try to take him away." Akira swept her hair back with one hand, flicked an elastic band from her wrist into her hand, and contained it safely behind her back. The uniform was too constrictive; it hampered her movements. She struggled out of the jacket and undershirt, tossed them aside, rolled off the bed, landing soundlessly on the balls of her feet as she tore her pants off and searched for more appropriate attire.
The wood surrounding the lock splintered, and she lifted her hand to shield her face, thinking the door would likewise be pulverized under the Dark Lord's direction, but it didn't. It opened lazily, bumping into the wall behind it with hardly a sound. The figure standing in the doorway was just as striking as he always was, carried the aura of unruffled charisma she remembered so well.
"Akira-kun, you are as lovely today as the day we met." The dark haired boy smiled pleasantly, letting her know with the downward tilt of his head he approved of her method of greeting, and she blushed, looking down at herself, clothed only in panties and the binding about her breasts. The stain in her cheeks spread over her head, across her neck. She was sure, at that moment, even her hair was a reddish hue. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, but her feet were already positioning themselves for her attack, her weight distributed evenly between her feet as she lowered her center of gravity.
Reito smiled, moved by some inner amusement as he watched her eyes narrow, gracefully sidestepping her attack as she rushed forward, reaching to close the door with unhurried ease when she ducked behind him. "How pathetic. Summon your Element if you want to stop me. If it's for the sake of the one you love, you'll have to do better than this." He knocked aside her strikes, and she burned where their skin touched, gasping with surprise. She'd never met an opponent who moved faster that she. He was mocking her.
"I don't need it," she snarled, and the demon's smile widened; he lifted his shoulder dismissing her for the nuisance she was.
"Then you should do the best at whatever you can do, if you believe you can stop me." Akira roared with frustrated ire, trying to sweep his feet out from under him, to slip her fingers into the nerve centers she knew would leave him prone, the reason behind her actions fading away into the background. He lifted an eyebrow, slipping away from her like silk, drawn between one's fingers, settling a few feet away. She was breathing hard, overwhelmed with fatigue. It was too taxing, trying to bring him down and stave off her own reactions to his presence. She glanced at Takumi, who'd wrapped himself in the sheet and huddled on the edge of the bed, watching this interchange anxiously.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to focus her senses. She could see Kanzaki for what he'd become, see the truth hidden by layers of illusion, and it terrified her. She was greater than her cowardice, grasped the moment of stillness and held it tightly, dismissing the rest for future introspection. She resumed her stance, danced around the blocks, concentrating on the position his body would take the second after he evaded her. He was untouchable, and frustration digested her resolve.
Akira wound up in his arms; he trapped her wrists behind her. He could smell her fear as she looked up into his perfect, smiling face, abhorrence couched in lust, and he laughed softly as she stood on her tiptoes, lifting her lips closer to his. The music swelled in his ears, crushed him in waves of sorrow, futility. Why are all HiMEs so unwilling to compromise? He didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to hurt any of them, so broken spirited and lamed; he'd marred the crystal, and its flaw ran deep, deeper than his compassion could bend. So. He would be cruel and heartless, divide the fault between memory and blood as she had done, his sister Mashiro, and hope there was enough left to mend.
"Reito-san!" Takumi's voice filtered through the muddy daze, confusing her. Her heart was beating rapidly, like a bird awaiting the closing blow, waiting for the cat to tire of its sport. She felt faint, lighter than she should be, whimpering unhappily as fingers loosened the fabric wrapped around her chest. Her protection slipped from his fingers unremarked, draped over her feet, tickling her as fell. She couldn't tell if Reito was looking at her breasts or her eyes.
"Why…" It was too difficult to think, too painful to breathe. She wanted to surrender to the golden-eyed god holding her in his arms. Tears slid down her face as she relaxed, letting him pull her closer; his face loomed near, sampling her breath Takumi!, raked her desire across the coals, warming her in its reddish glow. Please… don't…
The wound was bitter, laced with longing and regret. The golden-eyed god uttered a sound of dark humored displeasure, pushing her away and she staggered, trying to keep her footing. She trembled, pressing her palm against her forehead. Her head hurt.
"You think I desire you? Having your body means nothing to me; you aren't the one I want." He turned his back on her, listened to the sound of her suffering in silence. No emotion disturbed the gloom obscuring his face from view.
"Get out." Akira covered her breasts with one arm, swaying unsteadily as the force of her emotions warred between themselves – to submit, to slay, punishing herself bitterly for her prostration, and found no peace between them. She was giddy with the need to seek surcease from this ennui, one way or the other.
"No. If you want to make me leave, drive me out, or I'll bind you again – make you a puppet to do my will."
Her chest rose and fell with effort; she took a step forward, faltering and nearly collapsed to the floor. "Akira-kun!" Takumi's voice held panic. He rushed to her side, wrapping the sheet around her shoulders as she shuddered. She couldn't hear anything anymore, her eyes rolling up as she slumped in her beloved's arms, unaware of the pain on his face as he grabbed his chest with one hand, wiping away the blood slowly tricking from her nose with the other. Each drop paused, coalescing on her chin in a ponderous moment of unity before dripping between her knees.
Reito whispered softly. "You can't win, Okuzaki-kun; skill alone isn't enough. You need your birthright. The mind disapproves, but the blood – the blood always remembers."
She was too tired to fight any longer. You monster. She raised her hands in front of her face, the first fingers raised on each, cupping the lower two in the palm held above. "On." Her Element spun in the air before her face and she grasped it tightly. The effect was immediate and overwhelming. She sighed, feeling the repressive cacophony slip away from her in an almost sexual release. It was so surprising she almost dropped the blade; she stared at it wonderingly. It's gone. She turned to look at Takumi, noticing his ashen pall, but he was smiling up at her, sharing her relief. His pain was gone as well.
The ninj-ette scowled angrily at the dark figure's back as she rose, tying the bedclothes under her arms to hold it in place. "You." The tone was dark and unforgiving. The sheet whispered as she straddled his back, wrapping her arm around his throat before he could react, wrenched his chin to one side, exposing his neck to her blade, pressed it firmly to the pulse with unwavering fingers.
Reito smiled pleasantly, lifting his hands in defeat. Her body no longer reacted to tactile contact, and she marveled anew as his warm, melodic voice filled the spaces between the silence. "How wonderful. Will you help me now, Akira-kun? I place myself at the tenderness of your mercy." The congenial words were a balm to her discontent, and she couldn't tell which was more familiar – Reito of the rose, or demon who'd bathed itself in their tears. In the end, it seemed silly to stay in this position, staring down into his boyish, handsome face with a knife at his throat, and she released him, returning to her position in front of Takumi.
"Why are you here?"
"I need your help; I need all the HiME's help, those that are left." The dark haired man paused, bowing slightly to Takumi. "Forgive my intrusion, but Mai-san and Mikoto need us to free them from their torment."
"Onee-chan isn't..." Takumi glanced at Reito hopefully, and his smile reassured the unspoken question.
"I had no idea she was supposed to be dead, or I'd have come back sooner."
"What do you need our help with, Kanzaki-sempai? You haven't answered my question." She crossed her arms, unconvinced of his altruistic motives.
"I've come to finish what my sister began three hundred years ago. It's time to let hatred rest, to put an end to this ancient grudge."
Akira scoffed, frowned in thought. "Your sister." Mikoto couldn't possibly be that old.
"Ee. Mashiro, the memories my sister left behind in Fumi-san's Child when she won the last Carnival, refusing to fulfill her role as Princess Suishou. "
Takumi blinked in surprise, not really understanding what the two of them were discussing. His mate seemed as confused as he felt, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, lending her what support he could.
"Eeto, isn't Mikoto your sister? A HiME?"
Reito dropped his eyes, bemused. "Mikoto-chan's part of my bloodline, the essence Mashiro sacrificed to fragment her soul, in hopes of changing fate. Mikoto isn't a HiME. She never was."
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"Shizuru!" The apartments were dark, devoid of a sense of habitation, and panic closed her throat. She braked, kicking the stand down before the back tire finished spinning, and jogged to the front door, trying the handle. Unlocked, shit. None of the windows were broken, the grass untrampled by boots. If First had been here, they were using greater caution than she would have credited them with. Natsuki crouched on the porch, pushing her way through the entrance a bit at a time. Her heart was pounding as she eased one of her guns into her palm, peeking around the corner, into the living room.
A figure reclined on the couch, reading a book, and though Natsuki knew it was female, she couldn't tell anything beyond this. Her senses confirmed no one else was in the dorm, and she stood, thumbing the safety off as she padded closer to the couch. "Shizuru?"
The redhead sat up, debated smiling in greeting and decided against it. Not like Natsuki would appreciate the gesture anyway. She yawned and stretched. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're late. I've been waiting here for hours."
Natsuki scowled sourly. "Where is Shizuru?"
Nao lifted her shoulder as she looked at the computer screen. "As if I would know. Besides, you're the one that left. If you want to keep track of her, you shouldn't keep running away… should you."
The all-knowing smirk surfaced at last, tugging up one side of her mouth as her glance returned to Natsuki's face. The play of emotions was enjoyment without compare, though she was surprised Natsuki lowered her defenses, the emerald eyes over-bright. "I know that."
"Oh, I see."
Laughter focused her attention, and Natsuki leveled the gun at the grinning redhead, straightened her back, pulling back the hammer. "Answer. Where is Shizuru?"
"You really are too stupid to exist. I don't know what she sees in you." The bullet nicked her ear in passing, burying itself in the floor behind the couch. Her hand lifted to brush away the tickling sensation, before she once again indicated Natsuki should pay greater heed to her surroundings. "An interesting scene, but even I got bored, watching you get shot over and over again."
The dark haired girl's eyes narrowed as she watched herself topple from her motorcycle, clutch her left arm and rock from side to side, wondering where Nao had gotten this particular recording. "Glad I can entertain you."
"Oh, it gets better. It's looped, and I had the sound off." The lazy, cat-like smile deepened, her fingers pressing a button on the keyboard, and the apartment was filled with the deafening creak of leather as the woman lifted her leg across the frame, the sound of the bullet's impact as it passed through her body, her agonized scream as the figure on the screen landed on her left side, trailing off into subdued whimpers as she cradled her arm. This cycle repeated twice before Natsuki couldn't stand it any more and muted the volume.
Her ears rang as she pondered what Nao hoped to achieve by showing this to Shizuru. "Why did you do this?"
"Ah? This isn't my disk." So incredibly dense. Nao lifted the empty box and tossed it at the dark haired girl, disgusted. It was easier to lead the water to the horse. She sighed, making a game out of guessing how far along the path to understanding the idiot woman was by reading her body language and facial tics. A scowl – yes yes, it was one of the bad guys who left the disk. Eyebrows lowering – maybe it was District? A frown – no, that made no sense. Exasperation – what the hell does this have to do with where Shizuru is anyway?
Nao rolled her eyes. "I wonder what your keeper was thinking? Maybe she was picking out the best parts to share. Mmm. Probably not. I'm sure she realized you weren't coming back at all."
Natsuki glared at the Cheshire smile. I went to my apartment and didn't return. Shizuru hadn't answered the phone because she was already gone. Smith had left all the hints her friend needed to come to one possible reason for this absence. She grabbed the redhead's hand and dragged her to the motorcycle. "Get on," she ordered, stuffing her helmet over her head and started the engine. She cursed under her breath; in her mind's eye, she watched the honey-haired woman turn her back on her and walk away. Why didn't you take me with you? Shizuru hadn't been content to wait, she'd left Natsuki behind after all.
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So much red. Blood splashed the walls of the canting guard tower; the upper half of a soldier who'd manned this post dangled from the strap of his rifle, as if he'd tried to escape while the building buckled around him. The lower half was several feet below. Natsuki backed away from littered remains, trying not to put the pieces into recognizable patterns, not to match limbs with bodies by the color of their clothing. Her foot lost traction and she screamed; the world tilted, jarring her as she landed on her back in a puddle. Not daring to check, she hoped it was oil. She didn't think she could handle being covered in anything else.
This one was worse than the last; the electricity was still humming merrily away, and the sodium lights brought the substantiation of violence into sharp, unrepentant clarity. After so many bodies, I'm beginning not to care. The first base had been nothing but a smoldering ruin, the buildings reduced to glowing coals, and she and Nao had followed the winding trail of crushed, smoking vehicles to a second installation. She wasn't certain if they'd been fleeing or hunting. There was no one alive to ask.
Another explosion rippled through the air, blowing heat across her face as she crawled to her feet. Light flickered, plunging the buildings into darkness, and she sighed with relief, blinked to adjust her eyes – the carnage was easier to endure in monochrome, even if the stench continuously provoked her stomach into an uneasy roll. A sound caught her attention and she twisted her torso, belatedly realizing the attacker must be behind her. Metal flashed in the moonlight and she grabbed the man's arm as the knife buried itself in her side.
Something whizzed over her shoulder and Natsuki staggered awkwardly as the soldier slumped into her. She squinted, peering through the buildings, following the line of fire; there was a man on the hill opposite her position, cocking his sniper rifle in preparation for a second shot. She crouched, pushing the body aside as she grabbed the knife, slipped her finger through the finger-guard and flipped it snugly into her palm.
Others were running around now, or maybe they'd been running around all along, and she hadn't noticed. The sniper seemed content to bide his time; she followed his aim by the light bouncing off his scope, blackened as it was, and he was pointing his portable cannon towards the opposite end of the enclosure. Nao was nowhere in sight, having wandered off, probably about the time she realized there were real, live soldiers mixed up with the dead ones. Bitch. Clutching her wounded side, she cautiously followed the flow of excitement – maddened rats in a maze going after a common goal.
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Shizuru sidestepped the spray of metal, slipping the naginata over her shoulders as she lowered herself in a graceful ballet; she flicked her wrist, releasing the blade from its constraint, swept the haft forward swiftly, severing both man and mounted machine gun from the jeep bearing down on her. The blade retracted as she repositioned her feet, adjusting the angle to slice through the vehicle itself. Sparks rose in twin fountains on either side, friction burning her legs as she nimbly hopped away from the wreckage and ducked below another arc of bullets.
She drank the air in deep, wrenching gasps. Everything hurt, not that this was of any real concern to her. Each new discomfort, each laceration and bruise could be ignored, but they deteriorated her ability little by little, opposing her with exhaustion.
These men didn't know where Natsuki was, though they'd responded to a description of her likeness, not the pawns, but the powers behind them had, before she tore them limb from limb. It was possible District wasn't involved with the disappearance. If so, she would have wasted an evening's search, yet part of her insisted she continue reaping as they'd sown, keep working her way up the food chain. Hurt for hurts, suffer for suffering, as is my right, by duty, by privilege. These men were the enemy, they'd taken something from her, something precious – the peace her judgment bought. They'd caused Natsuki pain, driven her from the safety of Shizuru's arms, led to her absence. It was only natural to enforce retribution.
The perfection of this certainty infused her, dispelling lingering doubts anything for Natsuki. She tilted her head, smiling kindly at the soldier before she hacked him down, removing his head from his shoulders. She crushed the dismembered skull as she continued through the hangar, moving on to the next target. It was enough; she wouldn't allow herself to waver, she could rest when she was done.
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Natsuki ducked around the side of the building, firing a few warning shots to discourage the men huddled in the doorway from pursuing the advantage. Flames illuminated their frightened faces as the wall behind them topped, burying them under the beams. Something large reared up behind this newly fashioned opening, lowered a portion of its heads and the raven-haired woman retreated, overwhelmed with awe. Her glance darted between the interior of the building, taking in the figure dressed in a kimono, and the threatening visage blocking the doorway.
"Kiyohime!" Natsuki covered her mouth as soon as the words were spoken, not wanting the Child's notice, but the damage was done. A sinuous hiss filled her ears as she backpedaled, staring into her own terrified face as it reflected from the sinister yellow orbs descending towards her. "Wait…" She held up her hand and the creature paused, blinking seven pairs of eyes as they focused on her, warning her with their posture to proceed no further; a warning she heeded, watching mutely as the red robed figure whipped her blade around the rotors of the helicopter trying to escape, dragging it back to earth with an ear splitting howl of grinding metal. The helicopter shuddered, plowing deep furrows into the dirt as the propeller turned the craft in a circle, and exploded.
Shizuru retracted her Element and stood still, almost in the same position as her Child. She turned towards the door, her shoulders drooping in exhausted relief as she smiled, bathed in the corona of the fires erupting around her. "Natsuki?" She held out her arms, tentatively taking a few steps towards the door, oblivious of anything else around her. Kiyohime bared its fangs as it sank into the floor – one minute the monolith barred her way, and in the next blink was gone.
Natsuki rushed forward, wanting to embrace her, registering little details as they revealed themselves – the kimono draped loosely around her frame, falling off one shoulder, and missing large patches of fabric where gaping cuts shown through. She was battered and bleeding, hair hanging limply in front of Shizuru's face, matted with dirt and sweat and other fluids she chose not to recognize. But her friend was alive, she was here, in one piece, and nothing bad could happen now. Everything would be all right – that was Shizuru's gift. She could make anything all right.
So convincing was this image that she missed her opportunity to alter the course of events. Her peripheral vision relayed movement long after the man was already aiming. Fear was all consuming, taking control of her vocal chords before she could clamp her mouth around the word – she did the very worst possible thing she could have done. She screamed Shizuru's name, shifting the attacker's focus. Natsuki imagined each action as it would happen: the older woman would see the threat and interpose herself between Natsuki and impending injury; she would be nearly cut in half by the bullets, and fall lifeless into Natsuki's arms, her face shining with blissful abandon.
But, that's not what happened. The gun swung in her direction, the finger tightened on the trigger – she saw the man's eyes widen a moment before he fired. Natsuki reeled from the force of the metal scorching its way through her flesh, landing on her side. Natsuki was sure she'd be killed, but a reddish vine wrapped around the arm holding the gun and yanked the soldier in Shizuru's direction. The man's arm separated from his body, his finger twitching, and Natsuki watched as her dearest one absorbed the remainder of the clip. She choked on the coppery fluid flooding her mouth, reaching towards the woman in scarlet as she uttered a startled cry, crumpling.
No! No… no no no no… NO! Additional soldiers were gathering near the door, sensing their quarry's weakness, her inability to fight back. Natsuki pulled herself forward with the undamaged arm. She had to get to Shizuru, make sure she was still breathing. The men were growing bolder, interposing themselves between her and her goal. "Get away!" They had the scent in their nostrils, weren't going to be chased off. She tossed the knife, buried it in the forehead of the man closest to the limp form sprawled at his feet.
Time molded itself around Natsuki's quickened perceptions, slowed to a crawl as she growled, getting to her feet. 'Don't want to get you involved.' Lips peeled back from her teeth. 'Natsuki, I'm always thinking about you.' She ejected the clip and slammed in a replacement. 'I have no time for relationships.' The weapon lifted, bucked against her palm. 'You're not very honest, Natsuki.' The hammer descended on air, and she jammed her last clip into place. 'She realized you weren't coming back at all.' She threw the empty weapon at the closest man's head, knocking him unconscious as she tore the second gun from behind her back. 'All I want is to protect Natsuki.' Another obstacle tried to wrestle her, and she ripped the slide off the gun, burying it in his eye. 'If it's for my dearest one, I will do anything.'
Shizuru murmured weakly, opening her eyes, and in that moment, in the second their eyes met, the sleeper awakened, as it had in her apartment, ignoring the mutilation she inflicted on her own injuries by moving. Blood pattered around Natsuki's feet like rain as she brought the attack to the attackers; tore muscle and sinew, broke bones, crushed throats, snapped necks, discarded the unmoving ones for the next breathing doll. Shizuru was alive – Natsuki had to protect her, nothing else mattered. Men fell around her like wheat, and she was distantly aware of shouts to take out the sniper.
Gears froze; she couldn't move any more. The dark haired girl's knees buckled; she laced her crimson smeared fingers through those of her fallen love, her heart calling out to her missing Child. I'm sorry. I tried to catch up; I ran as fast as I could. Her breath escaped in a peaceful sigh as her face met with the earth. Don't leave me. She wondered if this was how Shizuru felt, before they died. When? Before. Take me with you.
Duran! The metallic howl followed her into the darkness and she smiled.