K: Tales of Midnight
Chapter Eleven: Midnight
A mere twenty four hours had passed since Fushimi heard those startling words uttered by Rei Kiyoka.
We're going to kill Hisui Nagare.
Like a broken record, those words ran like chills again and again through Fushimi's sleep-deprived brain. They wouldn't go away, and the more he heard their weighted echo ringing in his ears, the more unsettled he became, which was all the more shocking to him, given his utter lack of empathy for any person ever.
Of course, this is what you wanted, he would tell himself. You want him gone. He's sick. He's twisted. He needs to be stopped. Yet all the while, Fushimi failed to realize just what wanting him gone really meant. Stopping Hisui Nagare wasn't just about defeating him. There was no halfway mark that meant locking him up and hoping he'd learn his lesson. No, that wouldn't do. Only one solution would ensure that no more harm would come from Hisui's aura-ridden hands. It was simple, really, only Fushimi hadn't gotten that far mentally. Hence the growing feeling of unease he couldn't seem to shake. Plus, of course, the notion that, to kill a man – even a sadistic one like Narage – would somehow ruffle the unruffable feathers of Saruhiko Fushimi. If shame was ever something to be felt by Fushimi, it would happen over something so ridiculous and highly out-of-character as this.
Naturally, these troubling thoughts succeeded in deflecting any notion of sleep over the course of those twenty four hours since his obvious wall of naivety was shattered like a fragile piece of glass. What an idiot, he kept thinking to himself, hardly noticing the world around him. Nor did he quite comprehend the mission he was currently engaged upon, partnered with Rei Kiyoka for whatever reason. Oh yeah, he realized somewhat vaguely, recalling to his mind, a moment with the Captain several moments (or perhaps hours) before.
"I want you to find something for me," the Captain told him ominously with his insufferable air of vagueness that Fushimi couldn't stand.
Pricked as usual with annoyance, Fushimi asked, almost like he was talking to a child, "And what might that be?"
"You'll know it when you see it," came the worst possible answer that the Captain could have given.
Yes, how could I forget such a stimulating talk? Fushimi wondered with a jilt while traversing through the windy, uncrowded alleyways of Shizume, Kiyoka several paces before him. The sight of her cascading waves of jet-black hair behind her, her angled features peering into passing shops, and her roaming eyes that never once appeared to him as natural, produced once more the image from the day before, equipped with those same words remarked with such a casual air as to make even his hair stand on edge.
Kiyoka, on the other hand, appeared in brighter spirits – innocently bright, in fact. Once again, a slight glimmer of humanity reflected itself off of her, her current gaiety centered on the city that surrounded them: the scores of people strolling down the minute streets, the storefronts and their pleasantly alluring signs, the bakeries with their decadent array of scents that wafted through the air, and above it all, a shimmering gleam of yellow sunlight blanketing the scene. Kiyoka splayed her featured over every single one of them, as though the view was foreign to her, and as though her eyes had never even witnesses a display of the mundane, of ordinary life, of the utter simplicity of being present in the world. It was, every bit of it, new to her, though Fushimi couldn't imagine why.
Kiyoka had spent her fair share of time out in the world since her time at Ignatius Banks (the thought of which still made Fushimi twitch). Yet it seemed she never stopped for very long to gaze out at the scenery, to grab a cup of coffee, to shop about aimlessly, or to go on casual walks, exploring every facet of the city. She had done none of those things. Instead, she focused all her power on her mission. On me, he couldn't help but emphasize, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. Deliberately, he brushed the heat away with the cuff of his sleeve, as though he were only sweating from exertion and not from something else much hotter deep within himself.
Seeking to distract his wandering thoughts (since, clearly, the silence wasn't helping), he chose the only option he could think of.
"I have a question," he said, calling out to Kiyoka.
Maintaining her calm interest on a tea shop they were passing, Kiyoka answered mildly. "Of course you do."
Pricked nearly back into silence, yet preferring an argument over the current terror of his thoughts, he persisted. "Why won't the serum work to neutralize your powers? If that was what was in the vial you left for me to give to the Captain, why haven't you taken it?"
"That's two questions," she noted, eyeing a passing stray cat.
"Are you going to answer or what?" Fushimi challenged, and he saw in her profile, a hint of amusement, partnered with the gentlest of chuckles. Spinning around, she eyed him up and down, appraising him and drawing more amusement in his growing discomfort under her gaze.
"Would you trust something you stole from your enemy?" She asked.
It was a simple question, yet blatantly true. Of course not, was the obvious answer.
Discerning from Fushimi's sudden pause that he had understood her meaning, she flipped back round and started up again, walking with her back to him and her long hair flipping side-to-side with every skipping step.
"We still have to analyze it to see if it would even work," she continued. "The serum is meant for those who haven't already gone through the Imperium Procedure, given that it's essentially a hyper sped-up version of it in one concentrated dose, bestowing on people the same level if power that I have." She cocked her face halfway toward him. "Without the side effects, of course. There's no telling what it would do to someone who's already been through the Imperium Procedure, and frankly, I'm not keen to find out. I've been through enough experiments without my consent. I'm not about to go blindly into this one when I know I have the option to know for sure what it'll do to me." She said this so matter-of-factly, it almost didn't register in Fushimi's mind how deeply enslaved this woman was for so many years. Did she even realize it? Then he paused internally.
What are you talking about? Of course she realizes it, you moron, he degraded himself. Who wouldn't? Especially after having been freed? And yet her casual nonchalance made him wonder. If it had been him, … But you're not her, he made a point specifically to remind himself. We may be similar in some ways – a lot of ways, in fact – but it doesn't mean I can expect her to behave in the same way I do. Just look at her track record so far. She's been anything but predictable.
"What if the serum comes back clean?" He pressed her. "Would you take it then?"
At this, Kiyoka paused, all sense of her surroundings fading back into the void as she turned slowly to look at him. Her deep green eyes studied him. "No," she said, turning round to walk again.
Fushimi was too stunned to notice that he had stopped dead in his tracks and that Kiyoka had gained half the block ahead of him before he picked up in a jolt and darted after her, speeding up to walk alongside her. "You mean you won't even try it? Even if it meant getting rid of…" he motioned up and down her walking frame.
Kiyoka frowned. "Better to be flawed like this than dead." Then her voice took on a jaded undertone. "I would have thought a narcissist like you would have understood the concept of self-preservation."
"And I would have thought that someone so reckless as you, who takes risks as easily a a kid popping candy, would have gone for something as questionable as this without batting an eye. Knowing you even a little bit, I'd bank on you finding a way to cheat yourself out of something so trivial as death."
He had a point, and Kiyoka knew it. Her face, borderline appalled by his defiant comeback, showed him just how little she expected it, though far be it from her to be put out by it.
After a considerable pause, she opened her mouth to speak, either with a serious remark or with some lame comment on how precious it was that Fushimi believed enough in her to survive, as had become her natural, lewd inclination to do. But instead of saying anything, her attention shifted drastically to the side, cautious of another presence, some new force encroaching on the scene. Whatever it was, Fushimi couldn't feel it. All he sensed was Kiyoka and her unmistakable power wafting all around him.
"What is it?" He asked, peering around, attempting to catch wind of whatever it was she had picked up.
Kiyoka's eyes darted side-to-side until she locked onto the source. Her eyes squinted to a frown, probing it, deciphering it, her brow increasingly brought lower as her own confusion mounted.
Fushimi took a step toward her, his own concern growing. "Rei, what –" he began to ask, and was abruptly cut off as Kiyoka's eyes shot unexpectedly wide and she took off down the street.
"Hey, what are you doing! He called after her, but she didn't answer. "Rei, stop!" He hollered, racing after her. "Rei!"
She disappeared around a corner, forcing him to speed up, weaving in and out of the general throng of unsuspecting people as he tried to keep up with her.
When at last, he caught sight of her, paused before a storefront with an ardent gaze on something deep within, he made at once to race to her, then stopped himself in something of a recoil, his entire body bathed in apprehension and alarm, for the store that she had chosen was no other than Homra, the regular watering hole of Red King Mikoto Suoh and his clan – Fushimi's old home. Not that it ever felt like home, he couldn't help but recall. But what was she doing there? Rei Kiyoka had no connection, no reason, to go there. Is she just messing with me? He couldn't help but wonder.
It was in then when the Captain's shrouded words came back to mind. I want you to find something. You'll know when you see it. Was this what he was talking about? If so, then it's no wonder he didn't tell Fushimi openly about it. Fushimi wouldn't have gone if he knew he'd wind up there. Where he was. Creepily, those memories started surfacing, yet before they had a chance to scurry up, he clamped them down again, back into the hole that was his past, from which, as greatly as he tried, he couldn't escape. Nor could he find a way to make himself forget it.
Cast drastically into a horrid mood, Fushimi balled his fists, took a deep breath, and strode up to Kiyoka. Still, she stood there, silent, staring.
"There you are," he said, grabbing her by the arm. She flinched and turned to look at him, her eyes wide open, totally exposed.
"It's here," she breathed, hurried emotion in her eyes.
Fushimi frowned, his own urgency to get away from there obstructing his ability to comprehend her. "Rei, we have to get out of here," He said, giving her arm a tug while glancing side-to-side and hoping no one would notice them. "You have no idea what this place is."
"I'm going in," she said, ignoring him.
"What?! No! You can't —!" He tried to argue, but she slipped out of his grasp and strolled in through the door, the light 'ding' of the the bell atop it chiming as she did.
"Rei, get back here! You can't –!"
"Oi! Saru!" Came a raspy young voice behind him.
Fushimi paused mid-step, closing his eyes in a dreaded blink. "Perfect," he mumbled low beneath his breath. "Just what I need right now." Heaving out a grumbling sigh, he slid around to view Misaki Yata, the royal pain-in-the-ass that was Homra's vanguard, and also his former best friend.
"Well if it isn't Misaki," he sneered tauntingly, eyeing the young man that was quite a few inches shorter than he, yet with no shortness of aggression in his features.
"I told you not to call me that," he sneered. Mounted halfway on a skateboard with a baseball bat flung casually over his shoulder, the vanguard smiled wickedly at him. "You know, it's too late to come back. Or are you just here so I can teach you a lesson? You traitor." The word came like poison from his mouth.
Fushimi grinned, bursting into a wicked laugh that was anything but pleasant. "By all means, try," he answered. "I haven't killed anyone yet…today. And I've gotta tell you, I'm really in the mood for it." From within his sleeves, he drew his red-soaked daggers, a rakish smile present on his face as he advanced upon an equally exhilarated Misaki, the two of them neglecting what went on beyond their own immediate sphere that had, by then, completely formed itself.
Inside Homra, Rei Kiyoka had her mind on other things, of the wave of onyx power wafting through the halls, of her own power dominating fulling in this tiny, compact bar that she could not, and care not, to remember the name of. All the saw was the same void of pitch-black darkness that entwined the very essence of her being, only it wasn't coming from her. Her aura, that mystical force she loved, yet never knew the source of, was radiating out to her from somewhere else. From someone else.
The bar itself was empty, save for the bar tender, a tall man in glasses, and a woman seated at the bar with her back to Kiyoka. Her long white hair dripped past her waist in shimmery silver tendrils, and as Kiyoka entered, she turned, sending her red stare across the room to scrutinize the person, in whom, she sensed as well, a similar power.
It's her, Kiyoka thought. It's coming from her. Instinctively, she knew, standing face-to-face with a woman of so obvious a supernatural connection to her, that the person she was looking at was not just another like her who bore that same magnificent power as she, but the very source from which her own originated. At last, after so much time spent thinking she was all there was, the missing piece of her puzzle had finally been found.
"How is it possible?" She breathed, lost to understanding and entirely in awe.
The woman, likewise, shared in some surprise, for her features, though calm, seemed suddenly pleased. She rose, a regal presence standing before Kiyoka, and approached until she stood a mere few inches from Kiyoka's face.
Gently lifting one lovely hand to Kiyoka's face, she breathed a wistful chuckle of relief. "It's you," she said with such affection, Kiyoka hardly realized the emergence of emotion in her eyes. "My beautiful Midnight power," the woman said. "It belongs to you as well."
Overcome with a sudden bliss, Kiyoka nodded. "I thought I was the only one," she said, tears then streaming down her face.
"As did I," came the response. "But that was not to be, it seems." Her large red eyes squinted in a contended smile, calling forth a similar smile from Kiyoka as she wiped away her tears.
"What's your name?" The woman asked her.
Regaining her composure with a shaky breath and willing her eyes to stop shedding tears, she answered. "Kiyoka. My name is Rei Kiyoka."
"Rei Kiyoka," the woman repeated, seeming pleased with it. "I am Anna Kushina. I'm the Midnight King. And you are my clansman."
Eyes shot wide, Kiyoka's mouth dropped open, her newly dried face riddled once again with streamlined tears she didn't try to hide.
"Sit down," Anna offered her, taking her hand and leading her to sit down at the bar. "Izumo, fetch another drink, will you?" She asked, and the man behind the bar nodded.
"Mei oui, mademoiselle," he said in his slick, cool tone, and began tinkering with the bottles of alcohol stacked neatly behind him.
"Tell me," Anna said, leaning on her elbow and leveling her ardent gaze on Kiyoka. "How did you come by my power when I don't even remember giving it to you?" Her presence, imperial and beautiful, was not at all oppressive or accusatory. Instead, it was kind, soft, riddled with the same power that wove about inside Kiyoka, and a mutual understanding sprung up between them as a result. She felt free, able to speak without restraint, unbound by this new feeling of inclusion. Finally she could speak to someone who would truly understand and who would truly know her for who she was, regardless of having never known one another until that moment.
Truthfully and unabashedly, she replied. "So you had no idea that I existed?"
Anna shook her head. "I would have come for you, had I known. Because, you see, this power is special. You know it is. You can feel it." It's true, Kiyoka felt it. It was a rich, deep power, giving her a sense of everlasting will to overcome the world. It was comforting, pure. And she knew full well that if it weren't for it, she would have died long ago at Ignatius Banks.
A sudden light sprung in her mind. "Ignatius Banks!" She said excitedly. "That was where I first came by this power."
Anna's face grew stern, concerned. "You were at Ignatius Banks?" She asked, a genuine pain in her eyes. "You were also at that awful place?"
Kiyoka sat up straight, curiosity in her tone. "You were a prisoner there too?"
Anna nodded. "For a brief time. It was many years ago, and I remember little from it." She shook her head, as though attempting to be free of some invisible force that sought to erg her down. "They did many things to me," she went on, reflecting painfully with both eyes closed. "They were trying to harness my power. To this day, I still don't know why."
"I think I do," Kiyoka chimed in, prompting Anna's attention, at which, she told her story of her time at Ignatius Banks, of the Imperium Procedure, and how it was their mission to replicate supernatural power to be used on non-aura wielders. "They probably thought your rare abilities as a black aura wielder would help them," she posed.
This time, it was Anna who sat up straight with alarm, clutching Kiyoka's hand that rested on the bar next to hers. "Did they use my aura to harm you?" Her face was full of fear.
"No, no, nothing like that," Kiyoka assured her as the bartender, Izumo, placed a drink before her. "Thank you," she nodded to him. "In fact, it was your aura that saved me. I don't even think they knew I had somehow gotten it, and to be honest, I don't really know how it happened." She then recounted the day she had spent in her cell alone, how Anna's aura burst through the walls, straight into her, and how it had remained her constant companion ever since, fueling her and aiding her in her survival against the Imperium Procedure's brutality, how it had inevitably saved her time and time again when Imperium took her powers too far.
"That was no accident," Anna said to this. "Your power is greater than most auras. It can destroy all that it touches. But it has another name for it as well." At this, Kiyoka peered a question at her.
"It's called 'Restore,'" she revealed. "As I'm sure you've already discovered, it is a healing aura that can return anything it touches to an earlier stage of its existence. Therefore, just as Midnight brings death, so also can it bring about new life. And for that, I am so glad that it found you when it did, for now I can sit her with you like this and marvel at the clansman I inadvertently created. In the midst of so much darkness at Ignatius Banks, at least this one bit of goodness came from it. You are a true miracle, Rei Kiyoka." She smiled, relief and happiness flooding her features.
Kiyoka smiled back, her own sense of familiarity and relief breaking down a whole new set of barriers she didn't know she had. For once, she truly felt both heard and seen. Filled with this new sense of peace, she studied the glimmering amber-hued drink in her hand and took a sip, it's profound flavor smooth and comforting on her tongue.
She swallowed, allowing the full potency of the liquor to waft down her throat. "That's one good bartender you have," she said, only then aware that he was no longer in the room but had most likely slipped off to some side room behind the bar to give them some privacy.
"He's much more than the bartender here," Anna laughed, and Kiyoka rose an inquisitive brow.
"Oh? Are you two, uh…" she twiddled her drink in the air, furthering her emphasis, but Anna merely laughed.
"Would you like to meet my love, Kiyoka?" She asked, fondness in her voice.
Kiyoka made to answer, stopping herself curtly at the sound of her cell phone's muffled ringing coming from her pocket. With an apologetic glance to Anna, she drew it out and answered it.
"Hello?"
"What the hell are you doing!" Came the distinct, agitated tone of Fushimi.
Kiyoka paused. "Hello?" She said again.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
"Can you?" She snapped. "You're phone etiquette is appalling."
Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Do you have any idea who that is?"
Kiyoka, unperturbed, peered backward to the door, glancing out the window. "Where are you?" She asked.
"You're just now realizing I'm not with you?" Again he clicked his tongue. "Listen, that woman is with the Red King! You have to get away from her!"
Delighted, Kiyoka turned an interested expression to Anna. "Ah, so your love is also a King – and a regular bad boy, at that. Well done," she applauded her, earning a proud gleam from Anna. "But seriously, where are you?" She said, redirecting her attention to Fushimi.
"Just forget it," came his grumbling reply. "Just get out of – Ah! Hey!"
A residual boom erupted on the other end. Kiyoka frowned. "Sashimi? Hello?" But Fushimi didn't answer. Instead, another zapping boom cracked painfully through the phone, causing her to wince.
"Ow," she said into the phone. "Sashimi, what are you –?"
She paused mid-sentence, silenced by a laugh, somewhat maniacal and sounding eerily like Fushimi's (or what he would sound like if he did laugh, for she realized that she'd never heard him do so before).
"Is that all you've got?" She heard him say in the most giddily twisted voice she'd ever heard.
"Sashimi…?" she ventured in.
"I haven't even started, yet, Saru!" Came a distant, gruff response, after which another set of blasts and zapping booms commenced.
Kiyoka blinked, nearly bored. "Sashimi…" she said patiently again, to no reply. She looked to Anna, shrugging her shoulders and mouthing the words What is going on?
Anna merely grinned, seemingly knowing something she didn't.
One of the explosions on the other end made the ground beneath her rumble, and she glanced back to the window, witnessing Fushimi and another young man battling it out with conflicting red and blue auras that looked about ready to kill one another.
"Oh, there he is," she said as trivially as though commenting on the weather.
Fushimi and a young man that Kiyoka had never seen before were deeply engaged in all-out war with one another in the street.
The young man wore a white sweatshirt and a beanie, donning around his neck a set of headphones, a red shirt tied around his waist, and a baseball bat in his hand as he paraded in an aura-ridden circle on a skateboard round Fushimi. He bounced around so quickly, it was difficult to determine how tall he was. Meanwhile, Fushimi parried every red-aura blow that came by way of the baseball bat, countering with his blue sword of Reisi Munakata, partnered with his red-aura daggers in a startling display of warfare – one that Kiyoka couldn't help but think they'd had before.
"Who is that?" She asked Anna, casually observing them.
"That's Misaki Yata. He's a member of Mikoto's clan – Mikoto Suoh, I mean."
Kiyoka gave her a sultry look. "Your love," she crooned.
"Indeed," Anna answered, blushing a little.
"Misaki and Saruhiko grew up together. They were inseparable," she added, and Kiyoka nearly choked as she attempted another sip of her drink, spitting scotch into her glass and spraying it all over her nose. Sending a perplexing glance to Anna, she couldn't decide whether to be shocked at Anna's casual use of Sashimi's name, or at the prospect of him being 'inseparable' to anyone. With so many questions swirling in her mind, she chose to ignore all of them for the time being.
"So, they're fine, then?" She asked, nodding to the seemingly destructive battle beyond.
Anna shrugged. "Oh yes, they'll be alright."
Kiyoka held the phone back to her ear. "Did you hear that, Sash? I'm going to hang up now, okay?"
No answer. Instead, "Don't you think you're getting a little old to be throwing temper tantrums, Mi-sa-ki?" Fushimi taunted.
"We're the same fucking age, you moron!" Came Misaki's reply, followed by a whooshing zoom of an aura blast that boomed over the phone.
"I'll take that as a yes, then?" Kiyoka offered politely, then nodded against the non-response she received. "Brilliant." Hanging up the phone, she smiled in Anna's direction. "Right then, where were we?"
"You're not worried about him?" Anna asked, amused.
Kiyoka shrugged, studying the remainder of her drink. "He's been through far worse from me. I think he can handle this."
Anna gave her a perceptive smile as the door burst open and Fushimi barged in, Misaki trailing behind him.
"Oi! Where do you think you're going?" He hollered after a completely disinterested Fushimi. "This is Homra, idiot! You don't belong here anymore!"
Fushimi ignored him, strolling up to Kiyoka and snatching up her arm.
"What do you mean you're going to hang up?" He said deliberately, earning a blink from Kiyoka.
"You were actually listening?" She asked, a hint of a smile creeping along the edge of her mouth.
"Like I can tune out something so piercing as the sound of your voice," he answered, pulling her up out of her chair. "And you don't get to hang up on me. Let's go. We're leaving."
"But Sash," she tried to argue. "She's –"
"I don't care!" He shot back, dragging her toward the door.
"But I do!" She cried, emitting a brief tremor of her darkened power outward through the room. The reverberative thrust shook Fushimi off her and he turned to her, stunned.
Locking eyes with him, Kiyoka's own widened pleadingly. "She has my power, Sashimi" she conveyed to him. "My dark power," she clarified to Fushimi's deepening scowl, and then his brow shot tall, sudden understanding flooding in.
"You mean she's…" He peered from her to Anna and back, at an utter loss for words.
Kiyoka nodded. "It was hers to begin with. Sashimi, she's my King."
That word struck him like a dagger, and in a fumbled attempt to speak, Fushimi stumbled backward, eyeing her with what she could only assume was betrayal. Then he cocked his head emphatically to the side. "You've got to be kidding me!" He shouted, coming back to stare at her with malice. Taking a heavy step toward her, he pointed one long finger at her. "Is there no end to the havoc you can wreak!"
Kiyoka blinked again, this time unequivocally dumbfounded.
"What are you talking about?" She stumbled out, her tone soft, confused, hurt. But he wasn't looking at her. Sure, his eyes appeared to be, but somewhere deep inside, he was looking elsewhere. A darkness settled over him that Kiyoka didn't recognize.
A weighted silence took them, Kiyoka staring up at him, disarmed, Fushimi bearing down on her, holding her ensnared. Then that strenuous bond snapped as he tore his stare away from her, glancing briefly at the silent Anna still seated at the bar, then back to Kiyoka, an entirely new distance between them.
"Fine," he uttered flatly. "You do what you want," and he turned his back to her, hardly noticing Misaki's look of hatred as he slammed the door behind him, the bell above it giving a parade of irate jingles in his wake.
Kiyoka watched him go, her mouth drawn open, emptiness abounding in the room. "Sash," she nearly whispered, her steps drawn toward the door.
"Kiyoka, wait," came Anna's voice behind her, and she turned to find the Midnight King no longer seated passively but standing tall beside the bar, compassion and resolve swirling around her form. With a regal step, she strode toward Kiyoka, taking up her hand.
She heaved a little sigh, her tone assured. "You will always have a place here," she told Kiyoka. "Though I understand all too well that a person must find her own place in her own way and in her own time." She cast her red gaze over to the door, the remnants of Fushimi's presence lingering like a passing scent that wafted down the street. "Whether yours is out there or in here, or someplace entirely different," she continued, turning back to Kiyoka, her gentle features emanating warmth, "That is up to you. Go. And I promise you: we will see each other again."
Bolstered by Anna's words, emboldened to return a nod of certainty, Kiyoka clutched both hands around Anna's, giving a tight squeeze. "Thank you," she said, then raced out the door to find Fushimi.
Chapter Twelve: Traitors