Chapter 47 - Solace

The building that Kuusuke, now Kusuo, owned in London was located between the historically significant architectural marvels of the cultural and tourist traps of the city center and the quiet, posh, suburbs near Hyde Park.

The building itself was a twenty-floor high-rise of what appeared to be mixed-use commercial and institutional space. Bedecked with white stone veneer that jutted out like teeth, mirror glass like smouldering embers, enamel-coated steel, and high-strength sealed concrete, nothing was spared in the exterior that exuded the glittering exclusivity of the clean, humorless, dry, gentry class.

Upon second viewing, there were some unusual features.

For one, the gate to the multi-floor parking garage was an articulating rollup door made of thick steel slats, not unlike a shielding bulkhead. The mirror glass effectively prevented stray sights into the activities of the building itself. There were no balconies. The front entrance itself consisted of a pair of artfully laser-etched solid steel blast doors thicker than bank vaults. All entryways, from the rubber gasket seats of the parking garage to the side entry door, were hermetically sealed.

A suitable lair for the evil supervillain that was Kuusuke.

Kusuo looked out from between the open slits between the shutters slats from the penthouse level, observing the misty rain outside, the spotting of red brake lights from the cars below, the moving of umbrellas through sidewalks. Within sight were the famous landmarks like Big Ben and the London Eye.

True to stereotypical English weather, it had been overcast and rainy each time Kusuo had been in England in the recent months. Whether the weather pattern was a natural phenomenon or an unconscious influence from his psychic powers, he wasn't sure, nor did he cared if it were.

Numbly, he noted how the telepathic roar of humanity was a distant, barely noticeable murmur. X-ray vision indicated that there was a netting of some sort, likely made of germanium, embedded within the walls that dampened the telepathic assault that would have been normal in a city center.

Physical noise was also deadened by the generously thick concrete walls and interior sound-absorbing acoustic panels. Behind the windows were satin-finished steel blast shutters thick enough to withstand an exploding C-4.

Whatever activity happening on either side of the walls was not coming in or going out.

Inside, there was the dull, barely audible hum of electrical equipment and the associated cooling system. Several lower floors of the high-rise comprised of computer server farms and a workshop filled with tiny parts like gears, circuits, and other micro machines. Somewhere in the same lower elevations was an appropriately outfitted unit that Kuusuke had claimed as his personal living space, which was to say that it had slightly better accommodations than a military barrack. The rest of the floors were stripped of their interior dividing walls. All the cooling system systems, with their heat exchange towers, fans and motors quietly worked along, maintaining a steady, temperature and humidity.

This place was one of Kuusuke's earliest refuge once he escaped the clutches of the Saiki family in the guise of attending college. According to ownership history, it appeared that Kuusuke had acquired this property within a couple of years of coming to the UK.

How Kuusuke managed that was anyone's guess. Outright purchase or blackmail of the previous owner were both plausible routes. Kuusuke had always been fickle. In any case, this was one of the many fortresses scattered around the world.

Kusuo had only been here once previously, back when he was still taking stock of what he inherited. At the time, the loss had been too raw, the realization of flashover too recent for Kusuo to attempt any sort of study other than a cursory glance at the things that he now owned.

Turning his eyes away from the window and the muted city life below, Kusuo distracted himself by making mental notes of his new living arrangement.

The penthouse level itself resembled a bomb shelter. The floor was bare concrete. Building support columns interspaced throughout like exposed bones. Fluorescent lights were equally spaced overhead, along with air vents of the centralized heating and air conditioning. In the overhead were exposed corrugated steel decking and structural beams. A cleaning machine silently crawled along the floor, up the walls, even the ceiling, sucking up whatever little dirt and lint that could possibly come in from the filtered air intake system. The space itself was sterile enough to have open-heart surgery.

Somewhere in the middle of all the space was a queen-sized mattress covered with a carelessly placed gray sheet. There was a far-off area, near the elevators and the mechanical service shaft was one finished bathroom that resembled a public restroom, with a pre-fabricated polyethylene shower stall, ordinary toilet, laminate countertops, and steel sink. Spare clothes and some toiletries were haphazardly tossed on a cheap foldable plastic table in the open space in between.

The space seemed so utilitarian and spartan that even a robot would find this uncomfortable.

The only thing that seemed to give off a sense of sentimentality was a newly purchased wooden bookshelf where Kuusuke's handwritten journals were placed. Kusuo's standard-issue blue PK Academy school bag with his summer homework books was placed at the foot of the plastic table.

Such was the hazard of deciding to get away as soon as possible.

Kusuo supposed that he could teleport and bring back some of his personal belongings. He hadn't because of two things: needing to appear normal and facing his family.

Kusuo had originally planned to affect the move by plane, like a normal person. Pack and ship whatever he needed and hop on a plane, probably economy class. That way, once UK's famed security system with pervasive CCTV cameras started to notice him as he inevitably makes waves at Oxford and Psi Industries, how he came into the country would not be a question. Plus, moving normally meant not having to deal with the inconsistent rules surrounding Apport and its unexpected results. Kusuo never intended to continue the long-distance travel between Hidariwakibara and London via teleporting as he had.

He did not need another 'accident' with his limiters again.

For now, that was a problem he'd had to deal with later. Nothing that a simple hack into the government computer system to address the records at customs and immigration could not overcome.

Still, he hated being so impulsive and careless, not with the stakes being so much higher now.

Not with the fact that there isn't someone reliable to fix his mistakes.

With much chagrin, Kusuo's thoughts turned to his family.

Unlike all the academic topics that Kusuo freely noted and learned, there seemed to be a mental block, almost a fear, to analyzing the mere minutes of interaction between him and Kurumi and the ramifications of what she had revealed.

The mother in his memories was always loving. A quirky, ditzy, sometimes inappropriately easy to anger woman to those who dared to make any suggestions other than the positive of her family. To even consider the possibility that Kurumi was not naturally the gentle, sweet, kind, fiercely protective woman, who Kusuo wholeheartedly attributed to the reason why he did not turn evil, seemed preposterous.

To hear child Kuusuke's lilting voice telling her to stop hurting him was like a knife being twisted in the gut. Then to hear child Kuusuke assuage her after one of her episodes, that he kept on repeating a mundane trigger word to ultimately brain washing her into accepting and loving mom that Kusuo had always known was...

Kusuo only knew that, at this moment, he did not know how he should react to or feel about such a realization. Instead, he found himself wondering the 'what-ifs'

Would Kuusuke had turned out differently if mom never had her issues?

Would Kusuo's entire life be different if they were not cursed with psychic powers?

No. the psychic powers and their natural mental acuity were not curses. Those gifts made life peaceful, and easy, with enough time and leisure to bemoan the so-called 'disasters' of his life. It was the perpetual bad luck, the lies and eventual flashover that came with it that was the curse.

There were a couple of topics at hand that Kusuo completely refused to ruminate upon, even if his no-good insidious mind kept on replaying Kurumi's words over and over.

"You were so attached to him..."

"Restoration burns him!"

"Why did you kill him!?"

Somewhere in the back of Kusuo's mind, there was a fragment of memory that came Kuusuke's singsong child's tone -Why should you even consider her words? She's insane.-

-Because she might be right,- Kusuo unconsciously responded to that memory fragment.

-So what? Your pride and stubbornness won't let you change anything,- the tone was condescendingly indifferent.

Still the cacophony of 'what ifs' and 'what might've beens' continued.

What paths could Kusuo had taken to avoid this point?

What if they had worked together all this time?

What if Kusuo worked on the flashover problem his entire life?

Eventually, Grandmother Risa's sharp practicality to focus on the curse pierced through like a arrow through the air.

This was the time to focus on fixing the limiter problem. Kusuo must advance his study and understanding just to get to the point that Kuusuke was at mere months ago and that was not even a guarantee. Kusuo had a version of the limiter, but it was too flawed to use without daily minding. Thinking about the past was a waste of energy.

Kusuo did not need someone to tell him that he must understand and advance the science of the limiters and do so quickly. If the primary genius inventor of the limiters, who spent half of his lifetime working on the problem was not able to overcome his own flashover, then what were Kusuo's chances? Only two years and two months separated Kuusuke and Kusuo in age. Kusuo's own looming birthday only served as a reminder of a time clock.

The maddening internal questioning continued.

Did Kuusuke even know that flashover was an inherent problem? He must have.

Right?

And if Kuusuke did, then why didn't Kuusuke solicit help?

Would Kusuo, knowing how much he hated Kusuuke, believe his older brother?

Did Kuusuke miscalculate somehow?

And, could Kusuo use time leap to reset the problem? Like he did with Mount Owari? But if time leap could not bring his older brother back, what were the chances that time leap could reset the eventual oversaturation of power in his body? As experienced had reinforced, almost nothing about the utilization of time leap improved the outcome in the way that Kusuo wanted.

The more Kusuo allowed his thoughts to wander, the more he wanted to simply stop.

Kusuo had it with God, the world, whatever higher creature being so unfair to him.

More than once since the start of this living nightmare did he entertained over and over again the idea of giving up, of letting himself combust. If his calculations and experiences were correct, the pain would eventually become too much and he would fall unconscious, just like he did back in fifth grade before Kuusuke's interference and a mere couple of months ago when Kusuo simply forgot to put his limiters back on. Eventually, power would win and the ensuing flashover would flatten the surrounding area like a nuclear bomb, at a minimum. All he had to do was to remove the limiters and let nature run its course. This time, without his meddlesome family present, there would be no stopping flashover. He did not really care for humanity at the moment anyway.

But, even monsters wanted to live.

Even monsters fiercely clung to life.

Only humans found poetry in the defeat, art in the resign, and beauty in the suffering. Humans were addicted to the emotional high, artifical or not.

It was one of the many reasons that Kusuo had decided, now, to be firmly against any further revelation of his powers to his normal PK Academy friends, or anyone else. To open himself up, in pursuit of human acceptance, to chase after the emotional satisfaction that came with shared experiences, was a needless vestigial desire.

Friends or not, they were not capable. They were still high school students, still at the mercy of their parents and guardians. Their concerns mostly surrounded relationships, their feelings, their perceived injustices done to them. They were good hearted, but being good hearted could not compensate for usefulness.

Monsters fought single-mindedly for survival, their efforts never wavering from the goal, never assumed that the war could not be won. There was no rest, because just waiting for another chance, another solution, for someone to eventually reach out and help was cowardice and human.

Monsters, in their efforts to defy fate, always forged on, without hesitation, without deviation, in spite of preordained defeat.

And that was exactly what Kusuo fully intended to do.