Broken Heart Foundation (SYOC)

by LordMammon

Far into the future, for those who have had everything ripped away from them, the Broken Heart Foundation is there to put the pieces of your shattered heart back together again. For one reason, and one reason only, no one is going to fix it for you. (SYOC closed)

18. Chapter 18

Breaking Point

Once there had been morning… Now, there was only endless night. A hole in her heart that would never heal, growing larger each passing second it remained unfixed. No matter hard she fought, the strength to cry out had long been diminished over the years spent alone in this nightmarish creation of inhumanity. Each night could be spent pounding away on the walls begging for someone, anyone, to let her out of here and back into the loving arms of the one person she could truly feel at home with.

Instead, each night ended up with a hoarse whisper of a dying dream. No one was coming to rescue her… No one here would pay much heed to her cries of anguish, likely to see them as nothing more than an invitation to continue the horrible torture they had all endured at the hands of the Director. The Crimson Coliseum was not a place where an emotion such as mercy could be allowed, least of all to the cattle that populated its fighting population.

But… But the one time she had allowed herself to feel that hope… To feel it consume her body like the bright, burning, intoxicating passion it was… She was a fool for buying into those sweet words so easily. Blinded by the sight alone, she didn't notice the cracks until everything was far too late, and it made her hands twist and turn in her hair as punishment for her childish belief of a knight in shining armour.

The scars on her body would forever be a memory of that. An indelible truth was what the monster wearing her Hero's skin had told her, slicking that knife over her body like hot fire running down her flesh. Harsh mutters about how women should die gracefully came about too, punctuated each time the blade twisted that little bit more, yanking small chunks of her body out and coating the tip in sticky, green lichen. Even now, she could hear that nasally voice mutter to himself about things far beyond her understanding, dismissing her yells and screams like a trained Roman doctor.

Kohana shook her head, slapping on her cheeks in the process, the slight stinging sensation much more welcome than the blistering agony she had been in moments prior. Thinking about… that wasn't going to be very helpful, it would only drag her further into those devastating thoughts and prevent that hole in her heart from ever being fixed.

Overreacting was also going to end up going poorly too, no matter how much it tore her up inside. Kohana felt the urge welling up inside of her during those moments when the monster had gotten too close, too liberal with what he had sought after in his pursuit of carnal pleasure. Repeated claims of "Relax, Pig. I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last bitch on the planet!" might have worked to cease some of the more unsavoury thoughts, but the shivers that went down her spine every time it was spoken remained very much as a cold, hard reality.

The urge never went away, though. It remained strong, thrumming under her skin and growing stronger with each chunk of rotting flesh that she could see scattered across her room. Kohana clenched her fits and her green eyes, complete the mould that slashed down to the top of her lips from the left one, narrowed in determination. Next time… Next time she was going to be ready to do the deed, all she needed was one touch and the whole story would be over. The hideous monster that inhabited that beautiful body would be nothing more than a pile of bones and mush.

A swish of seaweed green hair swiped into her vision, stopping her thoughts dead in their tracks and making her breath hitch in the process as she swiftly brushed it back into place. She… She couldn't go off thinking about it like that. No matter how much her body wanted it, no matter how much her brain screamed at her to rid the world of the Monster, the hole in her heart would step in to mediate.

If she offed someone that was clearly an associate of the Director, what was going to happen to the rest of them? Were they going to be made a specific example? The… The last time she could remember a punishment… The Director had… God, Kohana knew she must've looked so pathetic at the moment. She was stuck in this dark room, possibly forever at the mercy of every depraved mind that ran through this hellhole like water through a river.

The teen girl rolled over onto her side, the one place of her body that wasn't giving her its best scream queen impression. Simply laying on her back, with all of the scars that the Monster wearing human skin had imbued in, had become far too much to tolerate. The ebony-haired male, whom she never learned the name of, gladly used it with the childish glee one would get from a connect the dots picture book.

Like most days, all she had the ability to do was rest. These dilapidated walls, filled with moss, bugs, and lichen, were her tomb. Kohana knew that better than maybe anyone else here. The green-haired girl had long been pulled from active combat, regardless of the fact she could hear every spray of blood, bone-crunching attack, and sadistic cheer that came from the nearby battle arena. Whilst some might have considered her position advantageous, she knew better. This was her punishment.

She wouldn't be given the glory of dying in combat as one of the Coliseum's gladiators. No, she was bad product ever since that golden-armed freak had managed to weasel his way into her head, corrupting what should've been a main event-worthy talent into another prissy crybaby. When said freak escaped with another, the Crimson Coliseum had gone on lockdown and into hiding, with Kohana dealing with the brunt of the blowback.

But… It was okay… She was okay with this. If it meant that those others, even if one of them was the one she longed for to return, could live on and have happy lives, then so be it. Call her foolish for spitting in the face of the small chance of escape she had, but it was all necessary… Her hands went up to cover her eyes, not wanting the image on the back of the retinas to burn themselves so deeply.

…It was so cold. The heat hadn't been turned up in ages, the pipes far too rickety and damaged to make a serious attempt even if someone sincerely cared about their wellbeing. The humidity of her room wasn't helping in the slightest either, her shivering body breaking out into numerous mountains of goosebumps. Every puff of air that escaped her mouth quickly condensed, fogging up the place even more.

Sharp pangs of hunger stabbed into her gut. When had it been since the Director last allowed her to eat? She had long stopped keeping track of her days spent in the Coliseum, knowing there was no chance for her to feel and see the sun had made that heart-breaking decision all the easier. Had it been ten, twenty days since she had last felt the wonderful, delicious sensation of food in her stomach? Kohana honestly couldn't tell anymore. At least this was helping to offset her mind from the rest of the dull pain conquering the rest of her body.

Just then, a knock came at her door. The sickening thud smashed through the quiet room with ease, conquering and claiming every soundwave until it was the only thing Kohana could hear bouncing around her head, her own thoughts being shoved out. Whoever was on the other side, they were pissed.

Another few seconds passed in silence, and Kohana's breath hitched at every single one of them. Realistically, it could be anyone. Without a window to see out of the door, or even out of the room in general, drowning her in eternal darkness, it left the world of possibilities out there as one with every possible worst-case scenario likely. Her hands dropped from her eyes and balled into fists, remembering the one time she did in fact have hope, only for it to be ripped away from her with a cruel laugh.

"Dearest Bitch-chan… I have some sad news for you." Osprey's nasally voice very much heralded one of those worst-case scenarios. From the day she had first seen him, to the first time she heard his true voice once he dropped the façade that had first lulled her into security, Kohana hadn't been able to escape him. It felt like every time the ebony-haired male arrived, spoke, or even breathed, he inflicted more and more torment on her.

With a quiet tone, barely above a whisper, Kohana spoke back. Her voice shook all the while, the young girl taking multiple gulps to get through one simple question. "W-What…?" She could scarcely believe her ears, what was Osprey planning? Only an idiot wouldn't notice how annoyed he sounded.

Once more, Kohana was trapped in the hell that was Osprey's seconds-long silence. With no sightline to the Inner Circle's assassin, her mind worked to fill in any blanks it could. What form had he taken this time? He still sounded like himself, so was he walking around like he was the other day? Did he still smell like absolute shit? Had he just come off of a fight in the Coliseum like last time? All those questions and more assaulted her mind, all in the few tiny seconds where her world hung in the balance.

Osprey's answer was measured, disturbingly so. The serenity in his voice didn't match his furious bang on her door moments prior, which made Kohana's stomach drop even deeper than it had done before. "I have to go away for a while. A friend and I are having a… dispute." He said, stating it like he was listing it down on a job application

Kohana wasn't going to let herself fall for false hope, not anymore. Her fists curled across the ground and trembled as she bit her bottom lip and tried to steel her gaze. Osprey couldn't see her, she couldn't see him, but this act of rebellion was more than enough to light a few more flickering embers within her body. If this was all a trap, another way to trick her to lower her guard and let him in again, she wasn't going to fall for it.

The scary amount of silence that Osprey had been lapsing into, though, set Kohana's whole edge off-kilter. Usually, she was stuck with him rattling and prattling on about everything that frustrated him, how he needed to use her as a human stress ball. "Are you glad to see me go?" Yet, as she heard him here, the anger seemed more brooding than frustration laden. It held a dangerous, methodical edge to it, his voice seemed deeper than it had been a few moments ago.

"N-N-No, of course-e-e not!" Kohana replied before she could fabricate a more rebellious reply, the words tumbling out of her lips without a dam to block them. So many years of subservience had turned her natural reaction into one of kissing the ground the abuser walked on, lest she face the wrath of the Director for any meagre act against him.

The sharp, sudden bang against her door made her skin jump right off her bones, a small drop of lichen falling from her eye as she scuttled back. Osprey had punched the door so hard that a tiny hole was now present, courtesy of the blue and yellow bladed gauntlets the assassin was wearing on his arms. "You're lying to me; I can always tell when you lie to me." His voice was a deep, rumbling growl that sounded more like the hum of a jackhammer against her skull.

The seaweed-haired girl's breathing hitched the second she saw one of those lurid blue eyes peer through the hole in her door. The pupils were dilated beyond all meaning, the black pinpricks barely noticeable in the all-conquering ocean that submerged them under a raging madness. Only one other time in her life had she seen such insanity present in another human's eyes, and that was a time she wanted to bury so deep in the Earth that it wouldn't ever return.

"God help you if you're not here for me when I return." Osprey's voice carried on further now that the hole in the door destroyed its muffling qualities. Only now did Kohana realise how deranged the assassin sounded, almost primal in his gait and verbiage, acting like she was the shiny toy he owned that wasn't allowed to be shared by the other children at the school.

All prior thoughts she might have had of rebellion, of finally taking matters into her own hands no matter the consequences, were snuffed out. Not even watching the eye fade away from the door and hearing Osprey's footsteps thunder down the hallway allowed Kohana to rest, her breathing was still at the same fever pitch as before. Her one good eye was even compelled to look out of the tiny hole to make sure his departure wasn't just another trick, that he wasn't standing to the side to make her open the door and let him in.

She must've checked for upwards of ten minutes before everything finally settled in her mind, and Kohana once more began to roll herself onto her side. Withstanding the aching pain in her arms, she wrapped them around her legs and locked her hands under her knees. The lingering stabbing in her gut refused to go away, having made its nest in her stomach.

Without even knowing about it, tears began to drip from her eyes. Ugly ones at that, corrupted by the fungus growing out of her body that few ever saw as more than a curse. The putrid, green mess, though, had never seemed so tender and soft. Whilst they corroded the already rustic flooring, creating steaming holes wherever they fell, they refused to fall out of anger.

More so, they fell because despite every dream she might have had of morning, only endless night existed for Kohana since Ikariko left her.

---

To move past the everyday, one must constantly evolve at a rapid pace. There was nothing worse in this world than being trapped in a malaise, unable to do anything but sit and watch everything sail by because one lacked the ability to seize the moment when it came. Living one's whole life just to waste it all away and dying somewhere all alone were one and the same, no matter the supposed potential both lives possessed. Having the ability to produce a miracle cure was not the same as producing it for mass consumption, to put it rather crudely.

As a puff of smoke emerged from the edge of a gilded Kiseru, pretty embers lighting up a dreary night sky, it brought back memories from many moons ago. Of a man who had spoken about opportunities being there for those that chose to attack, and how he and his partner were more ready to seize their moment. A wry chuckle slipped its way up his throat, an errant thought about where that kind of thinking had led those two was dismissed as soon as it had arrived.

Alas, reminiscing was a time not spent living in the moment. It was a time that was lost and never allowed to be recovered, not even the advent of Quirks had created someone with the ability to fully rewrite their own past. As terrifying as that power would be in the natural order, though, it was a mere inevitability if the evolution carried on at the current pace. The whole balance was one random mutation away from being thrown to the wayside for a new order, All For One, One For All, Decay, and Rewind were all examples he could name off the top of his head.

But once more, his thoughts were wandering too much. Now was not the time and place to think of such things, not when his illustrious compatriots were finally going to be taking the time to visit him. A wild smile broke out on his face at the many wonders and discoveries he'd be able to hand over to them, ready to lap up their praise as he was always partial to.

Idly, he began to rim his finger around the empty Champagne flute he had spent the last half hour sipping from. Messy locks of blond and black hair fell in between his eyes, the free hand brushing them back into their somewhat natural resting place. Getting it cut had been on his to-do list for a while, it was always… irritating during important moments and had caused nothing short of frustration at the best of times. However, that oaf of a man never gave him so much as a break, a growl breading in his throat as he thought back to those hideous eyes hidden by an equally hideous mask.

Running a hand through those irritating locks, the man shook his head. It wasn't something that couldn't be dealt with, far worse had happened to him in the past, and it wasn't as if he was going to spend much longer having to dance to the tune of the deranged piper. The oaf had never once evolved in any meaningful way, despite the whole bust-up that had left two of the finer specimens he owned on the run. Instead, he elected to double down, and that was going to cost him dearly.

His amber eyes shifted from the empty flute over to the desk proper which was just one of many that littered his laboratory deep in the belly of the beast. Any average man would be at a loss for what many of the diagrams dotted across the wall, held up by flimsy safety pins, meant. However, blaming peons for being peons would be just as redundant as blaming a duck for being a duck. Instead, their attention was often drawn to the many vials and beakers that coated one of the tables off to the side. They had enough bubbles there to keep even a toddler entertained and were very useful to use as a distraction whenever need be.

Glimmering lights hung above him, twinkling like diamonds down in a coal mine with their soft purple lighting bathing his body in an ethereal glow. The reflection of them off the red diamonds attached to the elbows of his heavy, black-furred, white overcoat was like a kaleidoscope of colour, his two favourites in the world no less.

As much as he could appreciate the confines of his laboratory, hunched over work until the early morning where he would nap for two hours at most before resuming his quest, would it have killed the Oaf to have purchased a heater? Even wearing his heaviest clothes, including an extra layer of protection under the overcoat with his furry, red dress shirt didn't prevent him from catching chill after chill. It was borderline barbarism to keep him living in these conditions!

Then again, what was there to expect from a place that housed those hideous hogs with fewer brain cells than teeth? Status and wealth were dirty words to those that could never achieve them. If people wished to look at him like some bourgeois parasite, they were more than entitled to do so. Just like how he was also entitled to regard the dirty, low-brow Hogs the way he did, equal rights meant equal fights at the end of the day. The Mind of the Century barely needed to break out of first gear to eviscerate them verbally quicker than a NEET buying the next hot character they saw in their favourite Gacha game.

His teeth chattered as he rubbed his hands together, trying to generate a small speck of heat as he cupped them and blew what little hot air he had left onto his waiting palms. In doing so, his right eye caught glimpse of his right ring finger and he smirked at what had remained ever-present on it since the day he received it. A small, ebony black ring dotted with a small red diamond, not unlike the ones that hung from his coat. Seeing the piece of jewellery served as a reminder of whom he belonged to for the rest of his time alive, till either's death did them part.

Every time he thought of Lord Monsoon, it brought a smile to his face. It didn't matter if he looked like a lovestruck fool in the middle of an important meeting of the Oaf, nor did it matter if he was yelled at like a toddler for letting his mind wander away from whatever the blithering idiot was on about. If Lord Monsoon could be brought to the forefront of his mind, then he, Morax, the Delayer, would never hesitate to accept its precedent.

Men and women were no more than machines with a certain level of complexity. If you pushed the right buttons, you could make them do whatever you want, and they would still believe they made the choice. That was perhaps the greatest discovery Morax had made over the past thirty-eight years of his life. Machines, once their usefulness was fulfilled, were no better than scrap material. Anything that even suggested a smidge of a different opinion was wrong, the thoughts of foolish male and female Hogs that were the fools who lived to die. Sentimental memories could only last for so long because just like garbage, they began to stink when they got old. His mind needed not to be sullied by such things.

People could call him heartless all they wanted; it mattered not. Morax had no time left to spend it moving in any other direction but forward. As he reached across his desk, a tightness built up in his chest and throat. Without warning, he was suddenly hacking his lungs up with a vicious coughing fit, the third one this day. A large spittle of blood projected itself out his mouth and onto the table, a few extra drops towards the end also had the misfortune of staining the front of his overcoat, which was just wonderful.

It took Morax a good ten seconds until he was able to get his bearings back, to bring his mind back to what he wanted to do before the terrible reminder of his mortality reared its ugly head. Across the table lay the one thing that could solve all of the problems Lord Monsoon had assigned him to fix, sitting there with its elixir secured in a large, cylindrical, gilded vile.

Under the lights, the vial shimmered in a glimmering red, like crimson bloodshed. Sparkling against the backdrop like the red diamonds that heralded the arrival of Lord Monsoon's people. With his coughing episode over, Morax's wild, manic smile grew wider as he shook the bottom, watching the liquid swish as if it were as deep as an ocean. Without another thought, he snatched the vial from its resting place and got up from his chair. Time alone would prove if this was the right antidote to Katsuyori's plight, helping to pull their one respected member out of the darkness his whole life had been.

But if not? Well, that wasn't going to be an issue. After all, what was evolution without being able to adapt to the situations thrown at you? Morax's footsteps echoed down the hallway as he marched away from his lab, Lord Monsoon would need to hear about these advancements, and the giddy servant in him couldn't get enough of the pleased grin that crossed those cracked lips.

"Twenty millilitres of formula KH-120 successfully synthesised, current worthiness unknown." The blond noted down in his journal as he walked, muttering to himself in the process. Rigorous note-taking was the only record of someone's existence, and Morax wasn't as foolish as to leave his experiments lost to the sands of time. "Previous subjects report a salty, bitter taste. Said it stung the tongue, should be ideal of Katsuyori's palate then."

Time alone would prove his theories, his life's work, true. They would show the world how wrong it was to take anything off the table of scientific discovery, how wrong they were for thinking that the introduction of Quirks was the last evolution in human pathology. How it took one man, a great man no less, to push the boundaries for true progress to be made. How one man could become the Prometheus of a new age.

This whole world of Heroes and Villains… It was unneeded, unwarranted, and unwilling to change with the times. Morax had seen the lot. The towering figures that would attend his birthdays when he was just a small child had morphed into the same ones that snivelled and begged for mercy on his operating table. The Villains that proclaimed new eras screamed to the Heavens about society's ills, ranting and raving with all the philosophical subtly of a fifteen-year-old that found out about swearing. Both sides, though, remained equal in death and their rebirth.

Errant concepts like good and evil were meaningless when placed outside of the vacuum people shoved them in. What's good is good, what's wrong is wrong, right? Morax had no other choice but to laugh out loud at fools that thought like that, so clouded by the propaganda shoved into their minds from a young age. In the end, the clear divide of morality wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

Morax had both done unspeakable evil and unquestionable good, that's all there was to it at the end of the day, and the world was going to have to live with that knowledge until the day he passed the torch. "Experiments, though, have proven it effective on unrelated subjects, however, they required an additional booster to remain docile during the reaction process. More work may be required, dependent on the initial injection into Katsuyori's bloodstream." The mad doctor continued to mutter to himself, reaching the end of the hallway without once lifting his head from the notebook.

Not that there was much to see here, the scenery was about as lively as your average funeral. The humidity was not much of a help either, all that moss and fungi that grew made the coliseum feel like it was the middle of the Amazon Rainforest, turning so many useful chemicals into mush before Morax could get his hands on them for proper use. One day, he was going to tear it to shreds, but for now, he would have to wait. They were under contract, after all.

Lord Monsoon had made it explicit to all three of them when they were called from their living quarters in Russia once he had landed in Japan. If they so much as made a single speck of noise without good reason, then they may as well head their asses back there. When dealing with hard and fast contracts, discretion was the better part of valour. Bringing attention to their work was something that had always been unneeded. The Schism needed to be free and hope from place to place, to wherever the wind would blow them. Wanton destruction and rot would simply shine the spotlight where they wouldn't want it.

Morax refused to lie and say it was a simple task to keep up with. Everything about this ratty place once he left his lab felt like it purposefully got on his nerves, exposing the utter lack of class and sophistication that was so commonplace outside of his actual home. Half the time, the blond thought if he so much as breathed the wrong way, the whole rotten structure would come crumbling down on top of him.

The corners of his lips curled back into a snarl when he heard a wet squelch. His left boot, black leather with golden laces that matched the same gilded nature of his Kiseru and vial, had just managed to tread on a particularly sickly patch of freshly grown lichen. Ugh, it was so disgusting. For the first time, he was starting to see why his Vietnamese Lord was so fervently against travelling back to Japan whenever Morax had first tossed the idea out to him.

What was even causing this hideous spawn to appear? Morax hadn't been here long, maybe a little under three weeks, but every time he walked past this exact area of the Coliseum, it always appeared to get worse and more overgrown. His amber eyes analysed each area of the mossy overgrowth he could find, starting with the freshly grown patch that had stained his boot.

Soon, though, his eyes trailed from the patch he was standing in, to another area right above his hand. Morax was a man of decent height, standing at 6'1, which only looked short thanks to the great height of Lord Monsoon. It made it rather simple to dust his withered, blueing fingers across what he had found.

The cut was fresh, very. Morax was no botanist, choosing to avoid things of that type for most of his life, but just like Painmaker before him, it would take a monumental idiot to think it had grown like this naturally. A single, precise slash had sliced it in two, cutting into the brick behind it too. The utter furry that would take was a level the blond was incapable of generating, even if he had carried the sharpest blade in the world.

With his curiosity piqued, Morax traced the cut with his left hand and began to follow it down the corridor. The distance wasn't long at all, a small canter forward was the sum of his effort as the blond took careful steps to make sure his boots wouldn't befall the same fate as before. It took all the willpower he had not to roll his eyes at the cost it would incur to get them cleaned, what a pain.

Morax's short journey landed him in front of a door absolutely coated in the stuff, it was positively disgusting from each and every aspect of its existence. Bile battered down the hatches in his throat as he approached the foot of the cell door, a hesitant hand reached out to knock and see if there was anyone behind it. The cold, logical part of his brain assumed it was very much inhabited, the fresh growth he had stepped in earlier simply wouldn't have been possible if all who were present were mere skeletons. However, the disgusted side of Morax refused to believe anyone could live in such squalor.

"Wh-Who's there-e-e!" Morax took about three steps back at the sound of Kohana's voice from behind the door, only now taking notice of the hall Osprey had punctured in it not even half an hour prior. For once, the mad doctor didn't know how to react right away, the only thing on his mind was how it was even possible for him to be heard, and how she was able to live like this.

Clutching the vial in his hand and staring down at the small patch of blood on his overcoat, Morax stood his ground. "That's for me to know and you to find out, I don't give out my name to just anyone, Little Songbird." His voice always held something of a mocking, haughty quality to it. Lord Monsoon often quipped that he could make even sunshine out to be a way the Gods were mocking them.

Behind the door, Kohana crawled up to the light. She had thought everything would be over for today! She had finally been able to see Osprey leave, and the Director was never going to bring her out of her tomb, it should have been all clear for the immediate future! Before she could think through the consequences or register who this mysterious, Dutch-sounding man was, Kohana found herself crawling up to the peephole that had been created for her by Osprey.

Morax stood in wait for a reply, looking down at the perpetually growing lichen and moss. "Are you the one behind this… growth, girl?" He already knew the answer to his question, in theory, he knew everything already about this situation. However, he wouldn't be much of a scientist if he simply continued assuming his theory was correct.

Kohana remained far too busy studying the man who stood at her door. Her gammy eye was the one that took in every feature she could. Right from the fingerless red gloves he wore, the overabundance of fur on his person, the expensive jewels, and the shimmering vial he hid in his hand. A brief lapse and flash of light illuminated the hideous scar that was struck across his left cheek, compared with a real hatchet job of stitching. In other words, she had never seen this man before in her life. "Yes…" Yet, she answered him all the same, it was all she could do.

"Do you… Can you control it?" Morax then asked, lapsing into the more inquisitive nature he possessed. Passing the vial onto Katsuyori could wait, that devil had all the time in the world in comparison to the mad doctor. This Quirk was unlike one he had ever seen before and the biochemist within his body jumped for joy at the possibilities, even now he saw the moss and lichen that had been destroyed already regrowing at a rapid pace.

There was silence from behind the door once more, Morax's ears picked up the slight sound of shuffling like someone was moving along on their knees as opposed to their feet. No doubt remained in his mind, the Oaf in charge of this sordid operation had something to do with this. Abusing this specimen in such a way that they were scarcely able to walk, what a tragedy.

Then, the blond noticed something shift within the moss and lichen. If he wasn't paying such close attention, he would've missed it, but there was a slow trickle backwards of the green blob towards the general vicinity of the door. Its inexorable growth had been slowed down, almost reverting now that he eyed it under a closer microscope. All of which seemed to prove his suspicions of the girl's control true, it was all under her command to some degree, although the true extent remained unknown at this moment in time.

"Little Songbird, you're incredible." Morax found himself saying before he could catch himself. Over the years, he had stolen for himself a King's ransom in Quirks to use in one way or another. Grafting them and crafting them into something knew had always been a wonderous experience for him, but this… Oh, Lord Monsoon forgive him for what he might do to get his hands on this one…

"…Do you mean that…?" Came her shivering voice, undercut by a sceptical, jaded edge to it. Behind the door, Kohana was waiting with her hand pressed against the side of the wall. Her gaze on Morax never faulted, the man might have been keeping his distance for the time being, but she knew… Kohana knew that any kind of trust was misplaced in this horrid world she lived in.

Morax nodded, a smirk creeping up to his lips. For the first time since he had discovered her, the blond took a step into the retreating moss. "Why wouldn't I? Quirks like yours deserved to be praised and studied for what they will be able to do for humanity's evolution. People tend to forget the world's first antibiotic was created from a mould most would be repulsed by, and as a scientist, it's my job to probe into the unknown." He answered, not missing a chance to float his status over her head.

With a glance downwards, Morax caught sight of the lichen-infested eye that poked through the hole, the girl's voice, growing in confidence, replied not long after. "…I always wanted to be a doctor, regardless of what my Quirk can do… It was a childish dream, I suppose, but one I could truly believe in before I found myself here…" The weight behind those words felt heavy on her tongue, Ikariko was the only other person in the world she had proclaimed that dream towards, hoping he wouldn't be like the others that laughed her off.

Moving with a careful, measured gait towards the door, Morax squatted down and pursed his lips. "You know something, Little Songbird? It might be a very childish dream, but it's achievable regardless of the natural order of the world. Would you believe that I have a very childish belief of my own that also goes against the natural order of things?"

Oh, couldn't she have imagined that? Kohana's paranoia prevented her from rolling her eyes, but it seemed like every assorted psychopath that wandered these halls proclaimed that. Osprey certainly did, knowing his dream was for his name to live on forever and become immortal in the process as was divulged to her through the rants.

But… Another foolish sliver of hope ran through her body. Whenever she had first unintentionally thrown herself at the feet of Osprey, she knew something was off from the start, but her overwhelming joy to see some form of Ikariko at her door was too much for her rational brain to handle. Right here, she could see exactly what was coming her way, and no matter how much her hand trembled on the wall, it seemed different this time.

No! What was she thinking?! Hadn't she gone through the same tap dance earlier in the day?! This was fucking mad of her to even consider speaking to this man! She knew nothing about him except he seemed to be charismatic enough to coax responses from her, on top of that, he also sounded like he wasn't from Japan yet spoke the language with impeccable grace. For all she knew, this was another slaver coming to take her away… Maybe the Director had finally gotten tired of her? Ugh, now her stomach wasn't the only thing spinning.

"It's all right, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Morax's voice interrupted her brooding, suave and sophisticated at the same time, the type of person that just sounded rich. "I'll trust in fate to parcel out the answer whenever it is most apt, but we have so much more to talk about in such little time. Truly, it's such a shame that you have to hide away behind that door, preventing me from seeing your potential for myself."

Okay, the ominous feeling that had settled within Kohana's gut was getting stronger by the second. However, she was incapable of acting upon it as the stabbing pain that had taken up her gut earlier now grew harsher. It was… It was a mistake to use her Quirk at Morax's discretion, knowing full well it was already stretching her thin. She could barely hold her hand on the wall now, let alone manage to open her mouth, which proved to be a herculean task. "…The Director… Doesn't want anyone to harm product…" The seaweed-haired girl etched out in between pained breaths.

Morax gritted his teeth the second the Director's title slipped into the conversation. Of course, he was right again about the Oaf messing with potential he knew nothing about. The absolute peon was so dense that light bent around him! The next time the blond saw that man, he was going to slap that ugly mask off his equally ugly face, and then maybe he could run a few experiments later on about how much oil the human body contained…

However, his mood instantly shifted once he heard Kohana's sharp intake of breath. It was a tell-tale sign that he knew like the back of his hand, racking him during his coughing fits like the one he had earlier. This Quirk… This incredible Quirk caused her intense pain to use at the bare minimum, and what seemed to be intense sickness at the other extreme. Were her lungs the factor then? Did she have some kind of spores in there?

So many questions, and such little time for Morax. The vial in his hand had almost been forgotten until his lax grip caused it to roll to the edge of his fingertips, reminding him of his true purpose at this hellhole. It wouldn't be long until both Lord Monsoon and Katsuyori would turn up to meet him, which caused him to clutch on tight to the one gift he could pass on to them. His notebook lay in the corner of his overcoat, amber eyes darting over it and the vial one more time before they settled on the door.

What was the saying again? 'Fortune favours the bold?'

The Modern Prometheus waited for no man.

Morax tapped on the door with his empty hand, finding no resistance as he then started to place his palm on it. He saw that Kohana's eye was still very much present at the door, but the little girl being outmuscled by a man as lithe as he was a sure sign that something was affecting her performance. "Little Songbird, I'm going to come in now, and you're going to let me, you understand?" He said as he pushed the door in, facing minimal challenge back.

The room was about as run-down as he expected, but that wasn't what Morax was interested in. Instead, his gaze went right to the small girl that was curled up in the corner directly to his left. She was shivering something fierce, the lichen in her eye seemed to be squirming too, which was frankly an image that made Morax throw up a little in his mind.

But all of that didn't matter. Morax now had what he wanted since he first settled eyes on the lichen's incredible growth. "You're going to be the spearhead... The first of your kind... The fruits of my labour, little songbird. You won't need flowers on your grave, and you won't need to live in this dilapidated tomb for much longer. I'm sure that you, just as I am, are thrilled by this news."

A maddening gleam coated his eyes, turning them from a soft amber into a hideous warning light of dark red. His steps were more wide strides, cutting the room in half with his size and taking up every corner that Kohana looked at. Not even a second later, his hand was placed upon her face, blue fingers cupping her chin and cheeks.

"Oh, yes... You'll do... You'll do more than enough." Morax murmured as he twisted and turned her head, examining it like she was a doll with a removable head. Because that's all she was, a doll with a certain level of complexity. A pure, sweet, little Miss Robot. "Throwing around the word 'Perfect' with such reckless abandon isn't my forte, but you make that word dance on the tip of my tongue like a ballroom dancer. You have such power at your fingertips... Such wide-ranging potential..."

Tears soon began to hit Morax's hand, normally the stinging sensation of the acidic mess would be enough to cause anyone to pull away. Not Morax, though. Not when the mad doctor had found what he was looking for after all of these years, and the Oaf thought he could hide Kohana from him… Oh dear, it was going to go triple overdrive when the bad times hit this place once more.

Already, he could feel every pulse in her body and his fingers trembled in excitement, knowing exactly where to make his first incision already. He could feel his digits shifting already, turning into the sharp tools of destruction they truly were. However, it wasn't the time just yet for the experiment to begin, not when his Lord was going to be waiting for him.

Morax had always hated the colour green, even as he threaded his increasingly sharp fingers through the moss messy Kohana called her hair. The flashes of similarly coloured hair invaded his memories now and again, calling back to a time when his sloppiness had ripped him from the top of the mountain of omnipotence he stood upon. Even now, it pained him much more than those cough fits to think back to what could've been had he not lost the first spearhead all those years ago.

As he twisted one lock around his index finger, a coy smirk came to his lips as he regarded the absolute terror with which Kohana stared back at him. "This isn't a funeral; this is a christening! So, laugh! Laugh! Enjoy yourself, dear sweet Miss!" He said, smirk turning into a wild smile that was reserved for only the greatest discoveries he had ever made. A finger traced itself down the young girl's flesh, soft and supple despite the many years of abuse it had taken.

The pained groans he heard remained as further confirmation that he wasn't going to face any kind of resistance. So much so that the thought of physically carrying the girl out of the room to meet with the rest of his compatriots floated about in his mind, but the sensible side of Morax was able to shut it down before it could get any legs. Right now, it was the examination period. There were far too many hypothesises to test, far too many tests he had to run before true worthiness was ascertained.

However, if all Morax knew was that he knew nothing at all, then what harm could be done in taking his prize right now? The Oaf was required, by contract no less, to give him payment for the work he undertook. Money alone was no issue for the mad doctor, and as he poked at the growth that slithered around Kohana's eye, there was no doubt in his mind about what the next move would be. "Little songbird, I want to hear your lovely voice one last time, it reminds me of someone I used to know, and I've always wondered what it sounded like when they screamed my name in pain..."

Oh, Katsuyori was correct. The feeling of having Satan himself by your side was an incredible one, Morax truly felt like he could live on forever.

"You asked me who I was? Who am I? Little songbird, I am the modern Prometheus!"

---

Forty years… Or was it forty-one? Monsoon couldn't quite remember. The longer he lived, the less he was certain he knew all there was to know. The more the thought came and went if he knew anything at all. The more certain the assertion that the sum of his knowledge amounted to nothing more than a pinprick in the endless void became.

For all the sunsets he had seen in his life… He'd give them all for one more night. It didn't matter what would happen that night, whether he would truly be able to apologise for his actions or whether his possible apology was even going to be heard by waiting ears. All that Monsoon needed was the opportunity. The longer he lived, the more it became clear that it was simply down to the curse of mankind.

But it didn't have to be a curse… It didn't have to be a funeral. Flowers didn't need to be left on graves, Heroes didn't need medals for saving the same civilian countless times, and villains didn't need to warp the world in their image or destroy it. No, it was more of a christening, as Morax would always tell him. A chance to evolve past the everyday into something strong than before.

People came and went, changing their allegiances as often as the seasons shifted, but the individual was always immortal. Their image could live on forever if they played their cards right, carving their name into history by conquering all of mankind and plundering the heavens blind. A little devil had told him that was the feeling of being alive, even if Monsoon never quite saw eye to eye on the exact details.

For it was those lost in the darkness, silence surrounding them in their endless night, who could never know the true meaning of what it was to feel alive. Wisemen who had taken leave of their senses, Heroes that had become consumed by the pressure of their work, and villains who never had much of anything in the first place. They were all victims of the tortured minds of man, forever cursed to stumble around in the black with no guiding light.

However, there was a light out there for the lost and the meek, a light that tried to burn with all the majesty of the sun. All it took was one moment for the path towards it to be laid bare. What lay beyond was half up to the person in question, twice as much by the overall sway of Fortuna's omnipotence. Fate had a habit of choosing its favourites at the end of the day.

Monsoon's light would bring all those wayward souls to him, showing them the true glory that came from recognising the limitless emptiness before them was a void of opportunity. Wandering through the darkness was tough, many would fall, but those that would be able to join his side earned it more than anything.

The lantern in his hands swayed, the blinding white flame within still going strong, illuminating purely his face and nothing else. Pitch black surrounded him else-wise, though, the dark ocean provided nothing but a backdrop he could easily ignore. His dull red eyes focused only on the fire that raged within, his mind relaying what was said the day it became his to carry.

"Sa nul atengeti! V-am dat un ordin! Nati vrut sal teniti!"

The man that had once held this lantern before him knew nothing of the power behind it, nor the majesty of the light it possessed. Sure, it lit up his dark world, allowing him the moment of clarity needed to see where his personal helicon existed. However, Monsoon still remembered those clouded red eyes and how lost they looked, even as the Wind of Destruction ripped it away just as that man had done with his protégé.

Kagekatsu Nakamura, a whole year of his life had been spent training that belligerent fox. Trying to show the shadow-bending teen the light was a great irony that made Monsoon laugh softly to himself whenever he thought about it. As much of a stink he might have put up about being in Japan, the blue-haired man had enjoyed imparting his wisdom on the other, teaching his protégé everything he knew about combat despite the admittedly lacklustre physical qualities that were possessed.

The Sai he had used to train Kagekatsu rested on his belt, hidden from the world by his jacket. In most ways, it was the perfect weapon to train the foxboy in, both defensive and offensive depending on the situation he would find himself in. They required perfect technique over brute strength, perfect for the lanky, lithe, and weak protégé he had taken on at the request of the self-proclaimed Hero of the New Era.

Placing the lantern on the ground, Monsoon sighed. One of his hands began to run down the hem of his jacket, dusting just over the top of his Sai, until it rested on the centre of his shirt. Fishing underneath it, he pulled out a small, golden chain that was complete with a single red diamond hanging on like a pendant in the middle. The last of its kind that he possessed after his whole collection was spurned connecting his compatriots to him no matter how far apart they were.

His other hand went up to tug at his ears, slipping softly over the tiny holes that were still punctured in the lobes. The red diamonds that used to hang from his ears found their new home on Kagekatsu as a final parting gift he had given his protégé, even if it had been a bit of a struggle to pass them on in the first place and fit them to the mutant ears they were never made for.

He had given everything he could to that kid… Time was relative, but Monsoon remembered three years ago like it was yesterday. A year was much too short for his liking, he had only drilled Kagekatsu with the fundamental basics before he was rudely snatched away from his care. Back into the dark, criminal underworld that both of their lives consisted of, as was the punishment for their transgressions.

Monsoon's hand around the pendant tightened, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. Whenever he had heard what occurred not long after he left Japan, he wanted to race right back over and show the Inner Circle exactly what the Wind of Destruction did best. But alas, he found himself unable to leave the comfort of the Russian hinterland, not when he had another progeny waiting on him there.

But now… Now, he had the chance he had been waiting for. Kyte Niijima… Monsoon frowned as that name crossed his mind once more, his hand dropping back to his side as he puffed out a short, yet deep breath. The Vampire Lord had become useful once more to him, hoarding his protégé in that ramshackle Foundation of his. Doing a little reconnaissance work with a few of his remaining platoon was a small price to pay for his ultimate reward.

When they finally, finally reunited with each other… He was going to make sure that all of those years of darkness were expunged from Kagekatsu by the bright, shining light that lay at his feet. For now, though, he would have to be patient, abide by the terms Kyte had given him, and wait to pick out the right moment to strike and reclaim what was his.

"Lord Monsoon, you called me?" A familiar voice broke Monsoon out of his internal monologue, the blue-haired man wheeling around on his heel to face them. A slight smirk came to the corner of his lips when he spotted the typical mop of windswept brown hair and tell-tale horns. It would be so nice to talk to someone with their head screwed on correctly, made a change from his usual company.

"Katsuyori, wonderful timing as always," Monsoon said, placing his hands in his pockets and electing to ignore the lantern on the ground for the time being. A slightly crooked door afforded enough light for him to see his subordinate proper. "I take it that you've been keeping up with Renfield?"

"Yes. I spoke to him the other day before I continued contact with Osprey, he's been rambling on about his newest creation, though, so I haven't gotten a lot out of him." Katsuyori responded with a sigh, knowing the pain of trying to get Morax to talk whenever he was in a "scientific" mood. The horned male had many conversations with people in his non-native language, and yet Morax turned out to be the most unintelligible person he had ever spoken to.

Monsoon had to sympathise with him as well, it could be hell on earth to figure out whatever Morax prattled on about whenever obsession got a hold of him. "That's good, should at least keep him on the straight and narrow for the first place. What of his current batch then, is it still working to the same level?" Monsoon said, brushing back some hair that had been blowing into his eyes by the slight breeze now coming from the door and carefully watching for the reaction he would receive.

When Katsuyori looked to the ground, Monsoon already knew the answer and sighed. He didn't need to have Morax's scientific acumen to understand what the thoroughly human emotion of helplessness was, he could see it deep within the jade eyes that looked already halfway to tears.

"He needs to give me the next solution, I think the current one has been compromised. I told Osprey the same." Katsuyori eventually said, dashing his hand across his body and then his face. The hand that had gone into the wall the previous day was now bandaged up, although the slight marks of blood on the bandage suggested the wound was still a niggling pain.

The elder male of the pair closed the distance between them, leaving the lantern behind in the process. "Understood, I'll make sure the next time I call him to me, he comes without having to be threatened with his dick caught in a blender. However, he did tell me that he successfully was able to run trials on his most recent concoction." Monsoon sneered, turning to the side and placing his pendant back underneath his shirt. This was the one line of hope he would be able to give Katsuyori for the time being.

"There is only work, nothing more," Katsuyori replied with a solemn undertone. Crushing reality had never felt more like its namesake than it did every time he still felt that devil's voice call in the back of his mind, the increasing propensity of its lips to drip with vile and unspeakable evil only further made the brunette aware of his ticking clock. "But this isn't what you wanted to see me for, is it?"

Monsoon nodded, returning now for the lantern, and taking it within the cracked skin of his right hand. "Ilya should be joining us here soon, and he'll be needing a place to stay whilst I sort some accommodation out for the long hole. Renfield said he would take him, but I doubt that he'd have the patience to deal with all the trouble that would come." He said, fixing his glare upon Katsuyori and shining the bright white light over equally pale and pallid features.

The Wind of Destruction, though, was not expecting the long he received from Katsuyori. Following orders was a relatively simple thing, even a belligerent, cantankerous fuckwit like Kagekatsu understood just how easy they were to go along with. The brunette was normally so good at marching behind Monsoon in lockstep.

However, for once, Monsoon's order was not met with the immediate affirmation of one of his men. Katsuyori's eyes, the real window to the twisted soul which lay underneath his polite surface, swirled with hesitation. Under the bright, guiding light of the lantern, they moved from remorseful, to petrified, to utterly reluctant, all in the space of a few short seconds. "If I may ask, why me then, Lord Monsoon?" The brunette asked, his voice almost wilting.

Monsoon tilted his head up, cupping his right ear with his free hand. The Wind of Destruction's voice took on a dangerous lilt to it like he had a loaded gun pressed against Katsuyori's head. "Huh? Sorry, Katsuyori, I must've gotten gunshot in my ears again, but it sounded like you were suggesting there, and I apologise if I'm acting out here, that you were going to be incapable of housing Ilya. Am I hearing things right?"

"No. No, you're not." Katsuyori quickly moved to correct the situation, leaving any kind of loose end around Monsoon was asking for it to hang you at a later date. But… But Jin… The brunette didn't know what would happen if Ilya ended up coming around to his place when the young Dragonborn was currently taking up residence there. Simply thinking about the scenario was nightmare-ish enough, actually living it would be an extra layer of hell. "Doesn't he have anyone else to go to?" He tacked on at the end, studying every quirk of his Lord's face.

The blue-haired male tapped his finger against his cheek, throwing his mind back to any possible alternative as the lantern continued to sway by his side, bathing him in intermittent bursts of light and dark. "Renfield is out of the picture, I'm busy setting up the accommodation, and he can't live by himself just yet. Not to mention, there seems to be a little bit of trouble in paradise."

The last part of the sentence made Katsuyori's eyes widen just slightly, his tense hands going slack and loose for a split second before then returning to their clenched state. "Ah… That would explain… That explains a lot about yesterday." Despite their supposed friendship with one another, Osprey was rarely the one to communicate first with him, making it especially weird that he booked the night for just the two of them without any warning. Monsoon's implication finally slotted that crooked branch in his memory into the right position.

"So, you see, you're the only one that's capable of receiving him without the whole city having to be turned upside down as a compromise." Monsoon huffed. Bringing his other progeny over shouldn't have been this whole big song and dance, yet fate had been laughing at him ever since he left Japan that first time. It made him want to pull his hair out or put the lantern on the ground and punt it halfway to South Korea.

On the other end of things, Katsuyori gritted his buzz-saw-like teeth. With every other available avenue out of the picture, it became clearer to him that there was going to be no way out of this. Not that Monsoon was likely to give him one in the first place. All orders given by the Wind of Destruction were to be followed to the letter, without any looking back. "I… I understand, Lord Monsoon." He finally said, bowing his head.

"Good. Nice of you to finally come back to your senses." Monsoon replied, a smirk crossing his features. Although, as he rummaged around in his jacket for a cigarette and lighter, his suspicions from earlier were not abated. There had to be some kind of reason for Katsuyori deflecting him at first, unrelated to the usual bullshit that clung to the most recent addition to his platoon. Something strong enough to cause rebellion…

Katsuyori felt the harsh glare of the dull red eyes upon him, covering up his nose to avoid the noxious fumes that were pouring from the end of the sin stick in Monsoon's mouth. Trying to keep secrets from his Lord was next to impossible, but if there was one thing that the brunette could hang his hat on, he could look like the innocent flower whilst being the serpent underneath it. He'd hidden one secret from the world at large for close to nineteen years at this point, smothering the rumour of Jin would be simple enough whenever he found the kid's sister.

Whenever that would be… Well, Katsuyori didn't know at this point. Scouring the record books would only turn up a blank address for where the sister could have been, it wasn't nearly enough to give the required information he needed on his search. For all Katsuyori knew, the goddamn sister might have died by the time he first heard about her. If Jin's state was any kind of indication, abject squalor was one term that fit their conditions. Although, the young one had mentioned to him that she was "taken" away and that the ones who had done so were nice…

Hands twisted within windswept brown hair, tugging at any loose strands that were yet to get caught on his horns. This whole endeavour was fucking impossible by itself! Now, he had gone and gotten his work mixed up in it! Katsuyori's breaths turned heavier as a snarl crossed his purple lips, turning his buzzsaw teeth into deadly fangs, ready to strike like a predator that stalked its prey for far too long and was getting so hungryyyyyyyyy…

Why was he even following along at this point? Why the fuck was he even bothering?! The Delayer had nothing to give him, which was part of the reason he was dragged along here in the first place! What was stopping him from ending this demon's dream right here and now? Forever casting his name into the history books, making sure it would never be separated from the true power he was capable of!

That little runt… He was the cause of all of this… The brunette's hands dropped from his head and moved down to his side. His shoulders were hunched over, and his whole body posture followed soon afterwards like he was waiting for something to burst out of his back. Everything about him seemed calmer, yet carried about the air of a ferocious predator that was one snapped twig away from pouncing…

It would be so… easy… To rip the head from the shoulders. To ram his fist through that gut and watch in glee as it burst through the other end, coating his hand in the shame he had attached to his side during his moment of weakness. He had been given the blessing of a power so great he could cleansethe slate and wipe it clean with one big splash of crimson red.

The horned male flexed his non-injured hand, already feeling his power return back to this weak vessel that dared to dream that he was more than the sum of his parts. Did Katsuyori not see? Fighting what lay within the darkness with no light shining was like trying to speak Swahili, a fruitless endeavour that ended in nothing but pain. He flexed his fingers, rolling each one over and over again to make sure they were in proper working order.

It had been so long since he was last allowed even a brief moment in control, and he would savour the sensation of the body he knew soon would be his now and forever. All it came down to was time, and he had all of the time in the world to plunder the heavens blind and steal from all the gods.

However, what he was no expecting, was the addition of a new lump right to the side of his body, burying a tiny face right into the side of his overcoat. "K-Katsu… I… What is… I'm scared…" Came the voice of the runt that attached himself like a harsh addition of superglue, making him impossible to shake off.

"Oh, who's this?" The addition of Monsoon's voice was another unwelcome addition to the scene. The eldest in the room had been rolling his cigarette between his teeth for the last minute and change, simply watching the progressive degradation and corruption of the man in front of him. However, the Wind of Destruction felt the air change on a dime the second Jin turned up.

The arrival of Jin and the return of Monsoon's voice seemed to be noticed by Katsuyori. The second Monsoon had spoken, the hunched, predatory stance was taken up and replaced with a ramrod straight body that was allowing Jin to sink his face into the side of it. Bewildered purple eyes stared out at the room around the brunette, scanning the area like it was the first time he had ever seen it.

However, Katsuyori was not the one to reply. Instead, that honour was given to Jin. Hearing the foreign-sounding voice, the young child had titled his head up to get a good look at who was questioning him and immediately regretted it. It was a miracle he hadn't received whiplash when he slammed his face back into Katsuyori. "Wh-Who… What's going on?!" He whisper-shouted into the overcoat, voice reaching a high, quivering pitch.

It was a question Katsuyori very much would like answered as well, even if he knew exactly why he had suddenly found himself spinning on his feet. However, his first instinct was to huddle that head of terrified white hair into his hands and whisper into those waiting eyes to quell the terror the child felt. "It's okay, Jin… Jin, it won't be much longer, then we can go back home, all right?"

Once more, Katsuyori's world closed off to him. However, this time, he was in full control of it as he noticed Jin's face come into view. Snot ran at the bottom of his nose and his eyes were a deep, puffy red which stood out on his icy features that much more. Without another thought, he pressed his handkerchief against them, trying to pick up the residue as he smiled softly. All in the hope that it would calm down the kid he had chosen to help.

"Jin, huh? I think I understand things a little more now." Unfortunately, whenever Monsoon was involved, nothing was ever as simple as it could be. The Wind of Destruction hadn't moved from his place, but it felt like he had grown an extra ten feet as he watched Jin dry his eyes on the edge of the handkerchief.

A shiver ran down Katsuyori's spine. Well, so much for being able to smother Jin as a secret and possibly figure out the plight before Ilya came. How was he going to explain this to Lord Monsoon? And what was the reaction he was going to get? "…I found him the ot-"

Much to Katsuyori's shock, Monsoon held his hands up and closed his eyes. "I don't need to hear the sob story, so save your words. Quite the find you have there, quite the hold you have as well." The blue-haired male muttered, tossing his cigarette to the ground without so much as having taken more than one drag on it. New additions were… troublesome, however, a glance at the lantern reminded Monsoon of the job he had assigned to himself.

"If you tell Ilya his limits, I'll allow him at my house." Seeing the opportunity in front of him, Katsuyori swung for the fences. He ignored the curious stare he was feeling from Jin at the mention of his compatriot's name, focusing solely on making sure said child would be kept out of the business that would need to be undertaken.

Monsoon nodded, now walking past Katsuyori in the process, making the brunette crane his head backwards to see. "Your terms are acceptable, although I can make no promises on what might happen should you break Ilya's terms." A slight crack open of his eyes towards Jin was enough to send the staring Dragonborn shivering, Katsuyori's arms coming around the kid's shoulders to hold them in place.

"Thank you, Lord Monsoon." Katsuyori bowed, holding on tightly to Jin. If this was the only concession he was able to extract, it would be more than enough. When the lover's quarrel was over, he could easily dump his volatile teammate back with his asshole friend so they could kiss and make up. Then, he would be able to make sure Jin was finally in a safe and secure environment, ready for his sister's return.

However, Monsoon had one last thing to say, gesturing for Katsuyori to turn around. Then, the Wind of Destruction cracked open his eyes fully, baring down on the brunette's ones as the distance between them became so thin that a sheet of paper could be slid into the space. "Your eyes have changed again. The next time I see Renfield, he's going to give you exactly what you need." His voice was a low, threatening hum.

Those words, though, struck a deep chord within Katsuyori. His eyes first widened, then shuttered downwards with incredible speed. Hands that had been guarding Jin with his life slammed over his eyelids with an ungodly amount of force, enough to injure a grown man's skull if used in anger. "I… I see…" The brunette sounded positively devastated, and he wished for nothing more than the ground swallowing him whole and away from this nightmare.

Meanwhile, Monsoon stood silently at the doorway and watched Jin's head slowly tilt upwards and to the side, curious as to the meaning of Katsuyori's plight. Young children were always inquisitive like that, wanting to probe the darkness and the edge of sanity for the sake of notions like 'Helping others' and 'because it was the right thing to do.' A noble dream, yes, but an incredibly foolish one at the same time.

"Remember, Katsuyori." The Wind of Destruction began again, lantern by his side once more as he shined it in the aforementioned male's direction. "The whole world can curse or praise us, just as it pleases. Wherever we go the way is always forward, and it matters not if the Devil laughs at us in doing so."

Monsoon had once been a dreamer. Now, though, it was time for him to take his rightful place as man's redeemer.

As the leader and the commander of the group that would bring it all together.

The Schism.

---

Like all the nights before it, this one remained black and cold. The harsh winter weather grew more powerful with each day that passed them by, making Japan feel so much more like the back ass of Siberia than normal. It made the hot, desert-like heat that settled on Kyte's face only a few short months ago feel like a distant memory. Not as if he could enjoy that heatwave though, always trapped and confined whenever it came to daybreak.

As a creature of the night, it was his eternal curse to never feel the sun across his skin. His Quirk had made sure that it was near enough impossible to live a normal life under the light, although it had never exactly stopped him from trying it in the past. However, it never did save him from braving the endless cold that clung to him like a vengeful spirit.

At least today, there was little to no wind present to scratch at his face like a vicious cat. The Vampire Lord had taken the unusual step for him of buttoning up the coat that always hung around his shoulders, wearing it properly for the first time in God knows how long. The fur provided a nice buffer zone of warmth as it wrapped around his neck and the bottom half of his face, heating the frosty surfaces it touched.

His journey wouldn't be a long one either. This wasn't Monsoon asking him out to a bar that was halfway across the fucking city, nor was it Subaru imploring him to check out some kind of travelling circus that had come to town without telling anyone of their location prior. No, it would be borderline impossible for Kyte to miss where his destination was short of going blind in a freak accident.

Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel-laden ground, his brown, leather shows earning their battle scars as the small stones constantly assaulted their surface, leaving tiny scratch marks behind as signs of conquest. The sound was even more prevalent thanks to his enhanced hearing, the tiny clicking sound driving him more insane by the second.

Luckily, his short walk was coming to an end. His crimson eyes drafted upwards, following the top of spires that struck open the sky with reckless abandon and would look more at home being one of Subaru's drunken designs with their grand size and jagged edges. The splashes of white brick melding with the green paint that had flaked away over the years stuck out like a piece of hay in a needlestack.

Of course, it was no shock that no expense had been spared in its construction. For a denomination that preached the virtue of charity and frugal living, they were more than willing to empty the coffers to build opulent buildings that compensated for other lacking areas. To Kyte, it made him feel somewhat better about the money he had to cough out hand over fist for the Foundation, his whole life savings up to that point were gone in a flash.

Before Kyte could register his body's movements, he had already rapped on the door. A gloved hand banged against the fine timber that had been harvested from specially imported trees, making his lip curl in disgust. No doubt another display of frivolous spending from a man that took retail therapy a little too far. The gold-plated rings that dotted the frame didn't help matters either, making Kyte roll his eyes once more at the tacky display of wealth.

Still, as his pointed ears picked up the sound of footsteps emanating from the other side, Kyte had to remember the position he was in. Beggars could never be choosers and there was little else he had available to turn to should he screw up this opportunity, as much as he enjoyed Shion in his employ no such scenario of him saying anything about this to her was on the cards. Lest he found himself lapsing into temporary, Subaru-style insanity, of course.

"Father Kimura…" Never in a million years did Kyte think he would have to call out to this man again. The past few days had left him clinging onto his past more than he found tasteful if he was perfectly honest with himself. First, it was the return of Monsoon. Now, he was figuratively on his hands and knees in front of the doorway to this opulent room that made him feel smaller than ever before.

The man in question stood across from him, taller than Kyte remembered. Dressed to the nines in a white robe, complete with golden trim, the man's blue eyes gazed down at the Vampire Lord without so much as a single ounce of sympathy. "So, you've returned to me after all, Night Creature."

Kyte bowed his head, then his body, almost genuflecting as if he were standing before an emperor. Given the circumstances he might have well been in, very few men could meet his gaze without the need to lower their heads. Even fewer were allowed to speak to him. Only two could make the blue-haired adult prostrate himself at their feet. "I must… I must confess, through my most grievous fault."

Father Kimura placed an open hand in front of Kyte's face, beckoning him deeper into the depths of the cathedral. His neat bangs of snow-white hair flicked into his face as he waited for the other to do what was needed. "I understand. I will assist you in your confession, Night Creature." In the background, a fire behind the pair crackled. The soft embers of the golden flames spat out, dying on the floor whenever Father Kimura's foot stepped across them.

Guided by the silk-gloved hand, Kyte kept his posture reclined and reverent as they positioned themselves in front of the fireplace. The heat was not welcome, his sweat glands acting up and the fur on his coat not helping, yet he was in no position to complain as he began to speak. "Confiteor Deo omnipotenti…" His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

"Quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo, opere et omission…" Compared to Kyte's voice, Father Kimura's was as powerful as one would come to expect from a priest. Each word was punctuated with the inclusion of the fireplace cackling in the background like the Devil was laughing at them both.

"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem…" It had been half a decade since he had done this. Since he last bowed at the feet of any man, let alone Father Kimura. The heat was wreaking havoc on his throat, all moisture being evaporated the second he opened his mouth under the extreme heat, it felt like he was walking through the middle eastern deserts all over again.

Lucky, then, that the start of it all was ending with Father Kimura's final declaration. "Orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum." The Latin had been fluid throughout, not a single crack under the intense heat the pair had been subjected to. A heat that only seemed to die down the second the initial confession was done away with. "Rise." Came the command, the white-haired man motioning for the Vampire Lord to follow him.

Just as before, Kyte did as he was told without question, no matter how stony and bitchy his expression may have module itself into. Although not before he removed his coat, the years spent away from this place had perhaps made him severely underestimate how hot it was, especially compared to the sub-zero temperatures he had found himself in minutes prior. His crimson eyes scanned the surrounding area to see if anything else had changed since he had last arrived at the doorstep of Father Kimura.

The smooth marble floors were still present, polished to perfection and smooth enough that one could eat dinner off it if they wanted. The walls were still the same grey brick as well, though not nearly as flawless as the marble floors, the years of wear and tear weathering storm after storm had left their mark without a shadow of a doubt.

The one place that had changed, and made Kyte give a slight smirk, was the area he was being led to right now. Behind the opulent altar, which was always as tacky as he remembered, his hand running down the golden pillars as he passed them by, was the place in question. Previously, it had been a little rinky-dink, shitty seating area with two plastic chairs and a plastic table, complete with a smattering of pictures and handwritten letters to Father Kimura. Perfect, modest living for a man of the cloth.

Now, it was the furthest thing from that. The second Kyte's feet had to the ground, he could feel the soft velvet that warmed them up and allowed him to glide with grace over to a leather chair that had been positioned off to the side of the room. A place where the open window above could provide a beautiful breeze to cool the Vampire Lord off, the only time he would praise the winter weather with no sense of irony.

Reclining into the chair and releasing a sigh of relief, a quick scan around the room revealed a few key omissions as well. The pictures and letters that had once plastered the walls were gone, likely reduced to nothing by the great power of the fire that burned eternal under Father Kimura's watch. Right now, it was just the chairs, table, and the two men that sat across from each other.

"I see that you've taken to some redecorating, Father Kimura." Kyte mused, trying to make it sound as natural and organic as possible. His eyes locked onto the man across from him, looking for any small movements that might tell him how the other was thinking. Dealing with delicate diplomatic situations had always been something of a forte of Kyte's, except for whenever Monsoon was involved…

Father Kimura's face remained stony, stoic to the point of madding calmness. In all the years that Kyte had known him, there was never a time where the priest was anything other than a pilar of serenity in the face of a howling storm. "I renewed my vow of charity, Night Creature. Certain objects I once possessed have been passed onto another more needful victim, others have been repossessed permanently and have been disposed of properly." The snowy-haired man said, stout and dour in his tone.

Extracting the exact answer was never going to be on the table for Kyte, trust a man of the cloth to speak in metaphors rather than cold, hard facts. However, it would take a fool not to notice the derision with which Father Kimura spoke. It reminded the vampire of all those times when he was a young fledgling and of the scoldings he would receive from his parents about going into the light too often. "I see. Such a shame, I can imagine there were a lot of memories you had to dispose of with them. Must've been dreadfully hard for you." The blue-haired man spoke, a very Monsoon-like grin crossing his lips.

His words earned him a vicious, side-eyed glare from Father Kimura's end, the priest quickly rising to his feet and walking over into the far-right corner of the room. With his back turned to Kyte, any action he took would be obscured from view, but the increased crackling of the massive fireplace that tingled at the vampire's ears was all the emotional information he needed to know. "What purpose do you have in staying with me? If you came simply for a confession, you would've left as soon as I finished the process."

Throwing one leg over the other, Kyte replied swiftly. "Whoever said I was finished with all that I wanted to talk about, what I wanted to confess about?" The Monsoon-like grin on his face remained steady and strong. No matter what he might have thought of the Wind of Destruction, one thing that remained true was the flair the Vietnamese mercenary had for conservation. Plus, a few tips from Subaru had been going well so far. Kyte remained more than confident about getting what he wanted.

Silence loomed for the next few seconds, the only real sounds coming from the momentary shuffling of Father Kimura's gloved hands against whatever he was sorting. The soft rubbing of his robe up against the corner of the couch on his end filled the small area with quiet comfort, or it would have if it had been any other person sitting there but Kyte. "Then stop holding in your sin. Tell me, and I can ask our lord up above what he deems worthy to repeat to you, Night creature." Came the grim voice of the priest.

'Night Creature.' There was that term again. Kyte couldn't help but shake his head, running one of his own gloved hands down his face. Maybe Sateriasis was right all those years ago after all. People truly never budged from their first impressions of others, especially if their surroundings enforced that impression onto their soul like some kind of metaphysical branding iron. Then again, a vampire and a priest were never the most traditionally warm and friendly with each other, secondly only in fire and brimstone rhetoric to the latter's relationship with demons.

Still, Kyte had been the one to seek out Father Kimura, and unlike the man he had been copying so far, his motives were far more benign. Whilst the other man's back was still turned, the vampire lord began to remove the glove on his right hand, the sharp, pitch-black nails pointed looked like they could slash someone's throat clean in less than a second. However, that was not the most critical part of what was present.

Compared to his other hand, which carried the birthmark that had come to define his life, this one carried with it one other odious mark he would never be able to get rid of. Resting right on his middle finger was a small, ebony black ring that barely looked like it belonged on the pale, bony hand. On the centrepiece was an equally tiny, but still priceless red diamond that felt as if it cackled at him every single time he looked at it.

"Tell me, Father, if we were judged by our very sins alone, why does the world still wind up the way it does?" Kyte recited, once more invoking the Wind of Destruction that never seemed to stop harassing him no matter which direction he turned. "Why do madmen continue to rule the roost, ruthlessly conquering the heavens? Why does that mean that those who need a hand to guide them, through no fault of their own end up in the gutter?"

Kyte's words had an instant impact, Father Kimura's body instantly shot up to ramrod straight. With all the pace of a snail that had been frozen during nuclear winter, the priest's head craned around and stared the other dead in his crimson eyes. "Do wish to ask that question again? I'm not quite sure I heard you correctly, surely, you're not implying that our creator or the universe would make mistakes?" The deadly snapping of Kimura's jaw sent an ominous crunch through the small room, the temperature dropping to sub-zero levels.

Not one to back down from any kind of challenge, Kyte kept the pressure on. "You heard me very well, Father. I need not reply again for the sake of you having an excuse to kick me out or avoid answering my question. When I ask you something, I expect an answer out of it." His tone had dipped into the frosty lake forming between them, the air around them turning positively toxic as the smoke fumes from the fire began to seep into the vicinity.

Father Kimura didn't reply instantly. Instead, he craned his head back towards what he was seeking to retrieve before that blasphemy was brought into his church. He too could smell the influx of smoke that was now pouring in with alarming speed, and he knew more than anyone that calm was needed in a situation such as this. Whenever he had it in his hands once more, he would be able to give the correct answer to the Night Creature's foolish questions.

Meanwhile, whilst he awaited whatever fire and brimstone-laden reply he would receive, Kyte cast his attention back to the ring. Even now, not having paid attention to it since he revealed it, he heard the infernal piece of jewellery cackling in the back of his head in an all too familiar voice. A contract with him was a contract for life, at the end of the day. If the vampire could get his hands on that man's head without any consequences for his actions, Lord only knows the savagery he would unleash.

It wouldn't be the only head he'd like to have seen splattered against the ground, though. He had already left his mark on the one that had stained his body for all eternity, ripping the ear clean from that odious bastard's head and watching him bleed like a geyser from it as he writhed on the floor. On that day, he had been merciful, believing what he had inflicted had been enough. However, with the recent movements forcing him to even consider calling Monsoon back, Kyte knew he had made a mistake that was never to be repeated.

Kyte's reverie was broken up by the feeling of something being dropped onto his lap, a glance down revealed it to be a family polaroid taken by one of those rickety old cameras that took forever and a day to do anything. The scene was meant to be a happy one, a young couple stood in front of the church he found himself sitting in. The taller of the pair was being subsumed by the affection of the slightly shorter of the pair, although both were of a great height regardless. Had he not known what was going on beneath the surface, Kyte would've thought Father Kimura mad to use this as an example.

"The head may err, but never the blood." Father Kimura's reply was short and to the point, his arms folded against his chest and his head tilted high up towards the window. The fireplace raged on but had cooled down from spewing the noxious fumes that threatened to poison them both. "You want to know what I think? I believe, for the sin of desire, Heaven must punish me. For allowing Yoshihito to walk the path he did, it is the only recourse."

Painmaker and Flashfire… Kyte considered himself lucky to have only met the former once in his life, totally avoiding the latter except for brief glimpses of his person in portraits Father Kimura had once displayed with pride. "That's a half-truth, isn't it? Do you not think that other factors might have driven him into Painmaker's hands?" Kyte questioned, accepting, and understanding only part of what the priest had relayed to him as his eyes remained on the photograph.

The snowy-haired priest ran a gloveless hand through his hair, smoothing back some of the tangles that were falling to his shoulders. "If I understand what you're implying, then no. He was not corrupted. He was not turned. He always had that about him, the Devil that followed him about simply tempted him to indulge in it." Father Kimura said, his eyes narrowing down on the one photo he still kept of his son and how the singed edges still carried faint dustings of ash and other assorted fire residues. Even now, acknowledging its existence was proving to be a step too far.

Kyte had been told exactly what he had expected to hear, so much so that it took effort for him not to smirk like a triumphant conqueror. Assumedly, the picture had been taken before Father Kimura was aware of Painmaker's true nature, although the clothing should've been a dead giveaway from the very beginning. "I regret not having the foresight to allow him a place at my Foundation, if you would take that to be a confession of sorts, Father." He said, unable to stop the small hint of the mocking undertone that cut through his words.

"Bah, if it were that simple, I would've dumped him on your doorstep long ago," Kimura replied, now seating himself and attempting to maintain some degree of poise about his character. Somehow, this had turned from Kyte bowing on his hands and knees to the vampire lord now having complete control over his supposed 'confession'. The priest should've known it wouldn't be simple… "Hellfire turned his heart black, staining it in eternal sin. His is a path that is now irreversible, and it has been that way ever since that devil first spoke to him."

Irreversible… Forever… For life… Kyte had heard an awful lot of phrases like that thrown around lately, throughout his whole life too if he was being honest with himself. Every yesterday and every tomorrow were filled with these vows to eternity, constant reminders of the promises he had made and the contracts he had signed popped up seemingly daily now. Some of them were beneficial, and some of them were ones he wished he could drown his past self over.

The Foundation was built to make sure none of those vows would ever supersede him, or those of the others that had populated its walls during the twenty years the vampire had spent within them himself. Six intakes had come and gone, bringing their own bevvy of issues, traumas, and vows, that would have to be mended through the work of him and his staff. The methods taken might have been both liberal and heavy-handed, but the stick was required before you could dangle the carrot in front of their faces.

Noticing the heavy stare of Father Kimura's piercing blue eyes on him, Kyte chuckled. Placing the photo on the table between the pair of them, and picking up his coat with his free hand, he spoke once more. "Aren't they supposed to teach the idea of forgiveness in the church, or have I just been thinking that for over fifty years without knowing the true story, Father?" Once more, he failed to stop the mocking tone that fell out of his lips like running water from a tap.

"There's forgiveness, and then there's retribution, Night Creature." Father Kimura replied without missing a beat, swiping the photo into his hands mere milliseconds after Kyte had relinquished his control over it. The way he had snatched at his words, too, suggested an agitation about the snowy-haired man. "When the time comes for Yoshihito to learn his lesson, he will be taught it. Then, the cleansing flame will be watching over him and giving him the correct punishment for all the suffering he has caused."

Kyte's stare back at Father Kimura came weighted at the same level as the latter's one moment prior. Crimson eyes spied usually poised and pristine hands littered with scars and clutching the edges of the photo like they were ready to rip it up, there was no need for them to see their opposite number's eyes to know the hell that was reflected in them. The unflinching fire felt as if there was an extra can of petrol that had just been thrown on, now raging with a heat that caused Kyte to sweat from all corners of his body.

However, Kyte refused to crack under the heat. "What part of that suggests that it is an inevitability?" The vampire quirked an eyebrow up, tossing the question out there to the widening of Father Kimura's eyes. "Forgive me for suggesting that you took the wrong steps, Father, but I have met many people in my time since I began my work that one could easily consider too far gone. A man who had run away from his family without the ability to form meaningful bonds came first, followed soon after by a man who preached open violence against the most well-off in our world. Both of them were caked in all manner of sin, set on their path to their damnation, easily trapped on a one-way track, no?"

"If you think that isolated anecdotes are going to change my mind, you're more foolish than that devil asking to marry my son." Father Kimura shot back, not once entertaining or allowing Kyte's words into his ears. This night creature knew nothing! Nothing! Yet, here he was, trying to suggest that he had some solution to a punishment that was ordained by the almighty on the priest? He didn't know whether to tremble out of rage for the blasphemy or his own sinful pride.

However, Kyte continued. Acting as if the man across from him was engaged in the conversation. "Then, would you believe it, one of those men brought another one towards me. A man stuck on the dark side of the sun, no idea who he really is but still fighting to make sure that whatever the case may be he will be remembered for the right reasons." It was a confessional, at the end of the day. Under any other scenario, Kyte would've never entertained the idea of giving out information on his staff to a stranger.

"Nothing you've said has changed reality, Night Creature." Father Kimura said, the fireplace cooling down in the background as his posture became more relaxed but still tense, although it was nowhere close to the hellish precipice it had reached minutes prior. "All of those men undertook their actions through their own accord, one's nature does not simply leap."

Kyte placed the ringed finger to his lips, smirking underneath it. "Indeed, that's a very true statement. However, breathe with me for a second, and I'm sure you'll understand how it's maybe a little overplayed." Standing up without a moment's notice, swinging his coat over his shoulder, Kyte walked out of the area and beckoned for Father Kimura to follow him. "Won't you join me in front of your own fireplace? Walk with me."

The blue-haired vampire made no effort to check and see if the priest followed behind him, putting enough faith that his actions would compel the priest to follow. Like a moth to an open flame, he heard those leather-booted footsteps soon fall in lockstep behind him. The constant smirk on his face only started to dissipate whenever both of them soon found one another in front of the scorching flames proper, the perpetual spitting of embers not helping the situation.

Holding out his ringed hand in front of the fire, Kyte's jet black nails shone with a brightness only matched by the wonderous reflection of the red diamond on the ring. "You say nature doesn't leap, is that correct? I find that prospect rather intriguing, rather in line with 'the head may err, but never the blood'. Yet, it always subsumes the idea that we all retain that fire within us that was gifted to us by the first Prometheus of our race. Surely then, you're also aware of the second fire that was bestowed unto us?"

"Correct." Father Kimura replied simply. The advent of Quirks was a story as old as time at this point, and how they had morphed over the years had allowed people like himself as well as the creature standing in front of him to exist. New fields of study had been created, new worlds had been opened, and the new fire that burned within everyone fortunate to receive it was the brightest ever seen in human history. One that only seemed to get stronger as well.

However, call Father Kimura a paranoid man, but he knew that wasn't the point Kyte was trying to put across.

"Then the suggestion that nature doesn't leap is a flawed one, no? Nature took one giant step forward with the birth of a single child in China. That makes me think, is it truly impossible to suggest that someone's nature is unchangeable?" Kyte continued, clenching his outstretched hand, and pulling it back from the fire. "That they have to live through the curse of mankind because they have no other option, no one to turn to?"

"You're repeating yourself." Once more, Father Kimura's chime-in was simple and to the point. He had heard a similar point minutes prior, right before he was professionally guided into speaking ill of his son If there was one thing that could aggravate a man that had to listen to people for his career, it was hearing the same thing over and over again without any noticeable progression.

Kyte responded physically first, shoving his still-gloved hand backwards and right before the face of the priest with incredible speed. "Patience, Father. The march of a thousand miles starts with a single step, we mustn't be too hasty when talking about a person's livelihood. This is no game of chess we can simply start over again from checkmate." He said, the fire before him matching the intensity in his voice tenfold.

The snowy-haired priest took a step back and away from the Vampire Lord's hand, the flames retreating alongside him. "Tch, fine." He clicked his tongue in annoyance. The fact he had to bow to a creature of the night in his church… The penance he would pay would be legendary in the heavens by the time he was finished.

With the moody priest subdued, for the time being, Kyte turned his attention back to the searing blaze that raged on before him. Each lick of fire was as strong as the last, perpetually building on the foundation it was given by the one that came before it, working in perfect tandem across the whole board to make it as powerful as it could be. "The answer is clear to see. No man is ever truly good; however, no man is ever truly evil. That's why I do the things that no one else ever could. It is truly the curse of mankind that these two polar twins have to be housed in the same place, only with the right guidance can the good triumph over the evil."

Father Kimura grunted in the background, huffing at what was being said. Was that not what he had suggested prior as well? Did Kyte not pay attention to what he was saying about Flashfire? That his fall from grace began the second that devilish Painmaker sunk his claws into his son's heart? Was he talking to a goddamn brick wall for the past few minutes?

"Oh, come now, Father. If you were correct, I would've said as much." Kyte said, picking up on the disdainful aura that was rolling off of the priest like a thick fog. Maybe Subaru had rubbed off on him too much with the joyful feeling that raced through his body. "Rather, you were half right. Maybe your son was destined to walk the road he is currently on, but there once existed a branching path where either could have become his destiny. It is my job to stand at that crossroads and make sure the correct path is chosen."

For once, Father Kimura remained silent. The confessional hadn't been a normal one from the start, and it wasn't ever going to have been so from the moment their eyes met. However, now, he could see what the Vampire Lord was here to talk about. Especially as his eyes once more caught the glimmering red diamond ring, flashing like a warning light. It was clear to him now that Kyte was very much off in his own world.

"All it ever takes is one moment, one second to turn an entire life around, one swing of a sledgehammer through sugar glass to change everything." Kyte proclaimed, now positioning his back to the fire, and staring Father Kimura dead in the eyes. "In one moment in my life, I was at the top of the mountain of omnipotence. The next, I was following alongside the roaring power of the Wind of Destruction. In the now, I am here before you, unbroken and unwavering. I know exactly what I need to do."

Father Kimura didn't wilt under the intense gaze, a pillar such as himself refused to kneel to the slightest form of corrosion. Predators lived by the prey they pursued, and the priest would be damned to hell and back if he let himself be anything close to a defenceless rabbit. The fire spool once more as he planted his feet square on the ground. "So, you came for me to ask for forgiveness and to confess to your end goal, am I correct?" He asked, his voice steady and ready to probe into the true depths of their conversation.

Kyte gave a short, sharp nod. "I will never forget the vow of eternity I made to him. Until that day comes, I will never die!" For once, the fire spooled without the need for Father Kimura's emotions or Quirk to control it. So great was the intensity that it seemed to bend to Kyte's will, and Kyte's will alone.

With one final glance at the ring on his finger, Kyte stared back into the fire. His eyes firm his body poised, his breath measured, yet the feverish crescendo his voice had reached threatened to reveal the true emotions he had held back for nigh on twenty-one years. Clasping freehand over the ring, the Vampire Lord made one final declaration for the night.

"The war has begun, Kyousuke… Are you ready for the dark side of the sun?"

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A/N: Bit of a change of pace for once, huh? I thought it would be interesting, for a change, to look at the world outside of the Foundation for a short period of time. I also got this chapter finished much faster than I thought I would, especially after debating for a long time what I actually wanted to include in it. So, for the first time in roughly three years, I've uploaded two chapters for one of my stories in the same month. Appreciate it, because it ain't going to happen again.

Either way, I hope those of you still reading enjoyed the chapter, and I'd love to hear if you had anything to say about it. Until next time, see ya.