For Want of Sanity, Pt. 2
If Tsukune had been apprehensive about returning to the cold, blue-lit stone cell that Gyokuro called an office, he was soon granted a temporary reprieve. The gates had been thrown open upon their arrival, great things of gilded iron; patchy in places, and exposing some bits of rusted metal beneath, but still catching and throwing some last, faint specks from the sinking sun. Past these Akuha strode, her wary-eyed, weary-limbed cargo clinging to her back, once again the focal point of numerous bemused stares and quick glances from guards at their stations. Before long, he insisted that he could walk, at least until they encountered any more stairs. He took his crutch back from her and returned the package. Soon, they had once again reached the open garden near the center of the complex, trees imported from myriad parts decorating the scene, puffs of white-flowered myrtles, dogwoods laden with new red fruit, sweeping fern leaves bowing in the fading light. Tranquil and inviting, it soothed Tsukune's troubled nerves, and he realized he would be quite content if their meeting with Gyokuro were to remain outside in this spot. It was here, beside the marble columns lining the portico that enclosed the fragrant green, that Akuha stopped abruptly. Over her shoulder Tsukune saw Gyokuro herself coming forth from the door at the opposite end of the colonnade.
To his surprise, she was unescorted; he had half expected that someone with her importance within the ayashi world and this organization would not walk alone and exposed. He quickly retracted the idea, reminding himself of the power she must possess. Surely, her solitude was a potent sign of how little she feared any attempt on her life.
And we'll have to fight this person someday, most likely, he rued silently. His knuckles were white on the crutch.
Her eyes fell on them, and the pretty smile dimpling her mouth gave way to a look of furrowed worry. She called out to them, stepping forward where the sun's ebbing light broke through the columns. Her every step was graceful, to Tsukune's eyes. Pure, swanlike elegance. A cream-colored dress hugged her lithe form, matched by the silken sleeves she seemed so fond of which ran up to her elbows; her collar sparkled with a necklace of yellow and brown diamonds, set in a web of glimmering gold and framed by a single row of radiant white stones. She was beautiful, he would give her that; easy to see where Kahlua and Kokoa got their good looks from. A sudden gust spiraled through the garden, whistling in harmony with the bristling chatter of the thrushes, the low, gentle murmur of a lone mourning dove; the woman's heeled footsteps tapped along through the music, then stopped as she bent down and embraced her step-daughter in a light hug.
"My men on the docks told me what happened," she exhaled, pulling away from a very stiff-looking Akuha. Smooth as she was, her features were drawn and tense. "Are you alright, dear?"
"We're fine. It was nothing I couldn't handle."
"I'm relieved. What a blessing we built our vessels so sturdy! I would have assumed the worst, but…Well, what matters now is that you're safe. Still, to imagine your dragons would go off like that. It is a cause for high concern. What could have possibly possessed them?"
"Not sure yet. Needless to say, I'll be foregoing a replacement, if you don't mind."
Gyokuro pursed her lips for a moment, but then nodded. She just then seemed to notice Tsukune standing behind Akuha, propped up on his crutch, and spared him a glance. "And I see you got the worst of it, poor thing." She tisked ruefully. "Humans really are such fragile, tender creatures."
Tsukune said nothing, but glowered at the indignity. Before he could say anything, however, Akuha spoke up. "True. But he did manage to save my servant's life. I'm grateful he was there."
This time, he really had no response. He felt his face go hot, and subtly tried to play it off with a cough.
Gyokuro merely spread her pale lips in a smile, and fiddled with the silver rosary that adorned her hair. "Oh? Perhaps it is fortunate you kept him, then. I thought it a questionable decision at the time, but you can't argue with results." She moved closer to Tsukune; her approach brought with it the intoxicating, honey-sweet scents that gave the boy a heady rush. Even more so when she brought her hand to his face and traced a cool finger along his cheek, over a small cut he hadn't even noticed. He winced, and brought his own hand up to the spot in her wake. Gyokuro observed the finger with great interest, then smiled again and lighted a hand on his good shoulder. "Yes, very fortunate."
He could not suppress his throat constricting in a gulp. Akuha said something, then, but he did not heed it, too occupied with a fierce self-reprimand. He should have prepared for this, should have remembered the effect the Fairy Tale leader had on him the last time. Merely being in her presence was to be drunk on sweet, potent ambrosia, one he could fast feel clouding his mind and better judgment. Even the deep, roiling darkness beneath his feet seemed to wash away. And…there was something else he needed to ensure, wasn't there? He tried to swat through the fog in his addled brain. He calmed his breathing, and gathered himself, silently locked in battle. Even so…he allowed himself a quick glance at their host. The blood in the wound on his cheek blazed hotter as he noticed her gaze was still fixed on him, even as Akuha continued to speak. Focus on Akuha's voice, he told himself, seeking safe harbor in the turbulent tempest.
"Hayate told you we were coming, right?" she was saying. "I know you're finicky about proper scheduling."
"Yes, he did," Gyokuro said, now turning away from Tsukune. "Though I must confess that in this instance, you could have barged right into my office unannounced, even had I been in the middle of a meeting. Which, I do have my next one in a couple of hours, but this…Oh, this comes before all! My wonderful dears, that you've brought this to me….Come, come! Give it here." Her eyes were trained on the package they had brought, like a child eyeing a gift on her birthday, and she held out her hand.
Without pause Akuha held up the case, but Tsukune, suddenly snapping to himself, cried out "Wait!" just as Gyokuro was about to take it. Both women halted, and looked at him with curiosity, and, in Akuha's case, mild warning. He could practically feel her willing her thoughts towards him: Don't. Fuck. This. Up.
He frowned, meeting her glare. He wanted Moka back, too. She should know that. But he wouldn't be able to live with himself—and Moka wouldn't, either—if he simply gift-wrapped and handed the enemy a weapon that could be used to wipe out their world….Still, what would happen to Moka if he didn't comply? And even if he did, it still left him with Miyabi's troubling words. What would Akuha do if he tried to preserve Omote? An ache in his teeth alerted him to his clenched jaw, his will mired in conflict.
"I promise you, it's nothing dangerous." Gyokuro's voice soothed, as if she sensed his doubt. "Not to you, at least."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Rather than answer, Gyokuro paused, pursing the inviting lips and scanning the enclosure. The darkness continued to settle comfortably, and around the peacefully humming lamps that lined the walls, gnats and moths swarmed with avid curiosity. The first stars were just beginning to flicker on in the dark void above them. Amidst this tranquil slice of dusk, Gyokuro's voice, even in dismissal, rang sweetly to Tsukune's ears. "Never mind that. You will have to take me at my word."
"And what about my friends?" Ah, yes, that was it. "I want to see them, as well."
"All in good time. They are safe here, out of harm's way. We've been taking care of them. But, where are my manners? It is late, and I'm keeping you here in the dark without offering any food or comforts. Come. You both have had a trying day, and I'm sure you're eager to get off your feet. Especially you, dear." This to the bandaged boy. "There is a chapel close by where we can retire. Akuha knows the one. Can you endure a few minutes' walk?"
"Yes," Tsukune said quickly, not wanting Akuha to offer to carry him again in front of Gyokuro.
It was clear, however, that the young woman was hardly even concerned with this. "Food is nice. Moka would be better. We made a deal, Gyokuro."
"Yes, and I have honored it. Don't worry, you will soon be far from this place. But she is not on the island yet, and it will be a couple of hours before my soldiers have safely secured her. In the meantime, relax, and replenish yourselves."
His stomach voicing approval of the idea, Tsukune couldn't disagree. And his body did continue to ache….Akuha acquiesced as well, narrowing her eyes at her step-mother and saying: "Alright. We could use a bite. Plus, there are some questions I have for you, Gyokuro. Certain obscurities we need to clear up."
With that, they were on their way, leaving through the other end of the colonnade, following the fortress' paved-stone corridors inside, one after the next. The transition from the subdued, quiet beauty of the secluded garden to the cold, confined passageways made Tsukune uneasy. Here, there was even less light than had been in the garden, with fewer lanterns blazing on the walls, and he found himself longing to return to the lush outdoors.
True to Gyokuro's word, however, they arrived at the chapel in relatively little time. This lay behind a simple wooden door set almost innocuously along the wall, except for a couple of small, distinct features: climbing around the frame, in relief along the stone, was an intricate pattern of thick, tangled vines, tiny buds and leaves fanning out from the shoots, as well as some peculiar globular shapes. Part of the stone these clearly were, yet they almost seemed to pulse with a sickly animation all their own. It was beautiful work, thought Tsukune…but viscerally revolting, as well. He did not recognize this motif, but there was something stirred in memory, a whiff of a once sampled morsel, a vague, almost extrasensory perception of familiarity whose origin he could not locate….The relief crawled up the wall, converging above the apex of the door, where it formed a wreath-like crest, bronzed but faded, wherein were inscribed three large letters.
"ALV," Tsukune read aloud. "What's 'Alv?'"
Akuha moved to his side, craning her neck. "Not 'Alv', dummy. 'Alu'. It's Latin. Short for Alucard."
"A chapel dedicated to a demon, huh? Can't say I'm totally shocked."
Gyokuro gently brushed past the two and swept through the door. "He is the forerunner," she said simply. "Alucard has been revered by vampires for countless ages. Even more devotedly, perhaps, since his untimely demise two hundred years ago."
That said, for all that he knew of Alucard's terrible scale and power, the chapel was a relatively humble affair. Beyond the threshold rested a small, cozily-lit nave, a dull red carpeting that held a half dozen or so rows of pews; past the seats, doors led off beyond the transepts, one of them slightly ajar; at the end of the chapel was the simple chancel, where stood a mahogany lectern and a high, stone altar. This was carved with engravings half covered by a satin-lined wool frontlet, the rest not quite large enough to see from the boy's distance. Aside from a pair of servants, there was no one else here. Gyokuro gave them a quick order to retrieve some nourishment for her guests, before leading the pair to the half-open door in the chapel's side, through which Tsukune could now glimpse another short hallway. As he followed the woman past the chancel, Tsukune noticed a quick glare from under Akuha's dark brows, aimed at her back. He watched from his peripherals as she followed, stopping in front of the obscured altar and bowing her head slightly. A peculiar gesture followed: her hand rose and her fingers softly pressed against her forehead. Tsukune wondered if this was some sort of sign of respect; he had never taken Akuha to be the reverent, religious type. But he said nothing.
The adjacent hallway led to their ultimate destination, a cozily lit dining room, equally modest as the rest outside, with a table, bed, and other normal accoutrements. This room also seemed more modern, having actual lamps on the walls as opposed to blazing braziers; a crimson carpet matched the one outside.
"We hold weddings for our members here, on occasion," she told him upon inquiry. "We also passed a room where the bride might decide to stay the night before the big day, and also several small guest chambers, as you might have noticed. Certain diplomats sometimes lodge there, so they're arranged for a good level of comfort. I must confess I don't have much to do with the normal goings-on here, though. Our chamberlain oversees all such events." Tsukune was listening, but he was also focusing his efforts on hobbling to the nearest chair and finally sitting down with a groan loud enough to irritate any guests who might currently be neighboring. "Yes, please, make yourself comfortable. Relax, stretch out—well, not too much, perhaps. Wouldn't want to strain those injuries, love. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must leave you for a brief time. I won't be long, and your dinner should be here momentarily. Ah, ah," she said, shaking her head to intercept Akuha's objection, "There will be plenty of time to talk when I get back. Patience, sweetheart." Then, to Tsukune: "I've tried teaching it to her, but hard skulls repel words of wisdom, I'm afraid."
Expecting a biting retort to this, Tsukune was surprised when Akuha sat across from him, calmly folded her arms, inhaled sharply, and threw on a pleasant smile. "Very well. We'll wait. I bet you think I can't."
"I shall eagerly await the venture's results," Gyokuro replied, and with that, she left them, leaving the door open behind her.
Tsukune glanced again at his companion; she maintained her pose, one which he now noticed drew her shoulders tense, to the point where she was almost shaking. Not the first time he had observed Gyokuro instill this reaction in Akuha. Despite her cool words, he could tell it was taking all her discipline to sit quietly and wait to see Moka. She was really on edge, like a cat with its hairs bristling. His own grip on the crutch tightened, glancing quickly at the door. He felt he should say something, offer some soothing words of comfort, but before he could, a pair of servants shuffled into the guest room, ceremoniously slid two large covered platters onto the table between the pair, then bowed and made a quiet exit.
Famished though he was, after the past month of returning to mercifully normal food, Tsukune couldn't help but eye his lid with suspicion. Prepared for revulsion, he leaned forward and delicately removed the lid with two fingers, as if handling a hazardous substance, and was relieved to find a decidedly edible assortment before him, with roast duck on rice, small chocolate tarts, and a bit of hot bread next to a glass of red wine. He exhaled and looked up at Akuha, who was staring at him curiously. "What's wrong with you? Did you think it was raw human entrails or something?" she asked, and laughed. "Jeez, you acted like it was gonna explode as soon as you touched it!"
"Well…shut up," he said sheepishly, deciding not to inform her that 'raw' was an unnecessary qualifier to describe his aversion to human entrails. "I didn't know what to expect, honestly."
"Believe me, if we were going to kill you, don't you think I would have done it by now?"
He met her gaze; her eyes held no deceit, shining mirthfully like twin flames, before hurriedly being doused as she blinked and looked back down. "You have a point," he said. "And I'm thankful for it. But still…That's just you. It's not like I suddenly trust Gyokuro. We don't know what she's planning, and for all I know, that plan might involve getting me out of the way."
"Suit yourself. But I'm telling you it's safe. Not poisoned, drugged, or whatever." With that, she dug in. Tsukune, after watching her only a moment more, relented, and did the same. He approached the wine with hesitation, but found it hit just the right spot in his nerves; though still technically underage, it was hardly as if he hadn't tried any before, his father having slipped him a sip on his sixteenth birthday. He mirrored Akuha as she sopped some of the bread in the drink before eating it, and soon decided Fairy Tale, for what it was worth, had excellent culinary taste. He wondered with slight envy if Akuha ate this well on the airship, having been confined to the common mess hall for the duration of his stay.
They ate quickly, and not a moment went by after they were done before the servants swept in once more and wordlessly removed the dishes, then left the pair to themselves, muffled footsteps dwindling in the hall outside.
Tsukune's stomach felt fit to burst, but he was thoroughly content; he half felt like slinking down lazily in his chair. But Gyokuro would surely be returning shortly—she said she wouldn't be long, right? "Should we just wait here?" he asked Akuha. She frowned, fiddling with the dual strands of white hair as she leaned an elbow on the table. When she spoke, her voice was hushed, but stern, and not in answer to his question.
"Listen. Keep your guard up around Gyokuro."
"Huh, my guard?"
"Yes, just…be alert. I'm not certain, but…Well, at any rate, I'm warning you for your own good."
"What are you talking about? Before you were just telling me how everything was perfectly safe! What's going on!?"
"Quiet, idiot!" she hissed, eyes darting furtively to the door which the servants had closed in their wake; even so, the walls in the chapel were thin. She seized Tsukune's gaze and held it. "That's not what I meant. Calm the fuck down. It's more…I mean, come on, didn't you feel it? No, I know you did, the way you reacted like an eager werewolf pup when we ran into her. Don't try to deny it. I'm not blaming you, either. I'm trying to tell you—ugh, do you remember her power to sense auras, the one I told you about last time?" He nodded. "It's called Enemy Zero, and she can sort of…reverse its polarity, you could say, and project her own aura and will outward."
It was news to him, but not a total shock. "I think I understand. Do you think she activated it before?"
"I do, but not to its maximum extent. Really, I just think she always has it 'switched on', like she's constantly humming with that energy, and anyone who gets close is automatically affected. Of course, I've been around her long enough that I've built up a resistance, but you…Like I said, just be cautious."
Tsukune remained silent after she was finished. In truth, it made perfect sense, and went a ways toward explaining the…above average heat and headiness he felt swelter through his mind and body, both times now, in her presence. Had Gyokuro really been the source of that energy? He made a mental note to steel his own will when she returned.
The test for which was soon at hand; the door was gently opened, and Gyokuro returned, looking primly at her guests. She clapped her hands together. "I hope the meal was to your liking? We had only a little time to prepare once we heard you were coming, but I think we managed nicely. Don't ever let it be said I don't keep my daughter and her friends' bellies full!" Her eyes, glinting in the light, fell upon the case once more, sitting at Akuha's feet. "Now, shall we get to business? I believe that belongs to me."
Warily eyeing her superior, Akuha slowly handed it over. Gyokuro grasped it delicately, like it was a chest of rare, priceless gems; nimble fingers went to work on the touchpad lock, and the case clicked open, allowing her to peek inside, while keeping the contents hidden. Her eyes danced, and the slight tension that had taken residence in her countenance was quickly eroded by a wash of relief.
Already Tsukune was on edge, actively alert now for any hint of the power seeping from Gyokuro's shapely form into his mind. All he could feel, however, aside from the dull throbbing in his limbs, was a sense of warm contentment, which he attributed to their generous dinner. The woman seemed to have lost interest in them, anyway, once she had her hands on the package. Keeping it in her lap, she took a seat on the bed, smoothing out her dress beneath her with an elegance that reminded him of Kahlua. He briefly wondered if the other Shuzen assassin was currently with Moka.
"No doubt you have questions about my request." Her voice was perfectly relaxed, as calming as that cozy, if stuffy, little chamber. "But, I am not at liberty to discuss specifics. No, not even with you, Akuha. Tsukune, it is as I said before. You will have to take my word that this has nothing to do with our strife with humans."
"But what else could be so important?" Akuha demanded.
"Nice try, dear. That information is beyond your clearance level."
"That's odd. What position is higher than a division leader, other than your own?" Tsukune inquired.
"There are none," Akuha answered. "Or, if there are, I doubt we would know about them. But, generally, if something's above one captain's paygrade, it could just mean that only other select captains are in the know. That what this is, Gyokuro?"
"It's true, certain of my subordinates will sometimes have priority on information concerning them…Whether that is the case here, I cannot confirm or deny."
"That's not fair! You ask me to take you at your word, when I already don't trust you," Tsukune objected. He grew silent as Akuha placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
"Don't bother. Once she's decided something is classified, there's no prying it out of her."
"He's right, of course," Gyokuro said airily, lazily rubbing a thumb along her arm. "There's no way for him to be certain I'm telling the truth. I could very well be lying. He has no reason to suspect otherwise, and every reason to dislike me. Fortunately, it's not really my concern whether you believe me or not, Tsukune. You have no other options."
The boy scowled, absently nipping at his lip hard enough to sting. It was true, he couldn't do anything about it even if she was lying…for the moment. Even now potential plans stormed in his head, as they had since before their arrival, and he dearly wished Gyokuro had been later in coming, so that he might at least gauge Akuha's inclination towards any endeavor he might make, even as far as escape. He could still feel her touch on him. Perhaps he could use her distaste of humans to his advantage? If she truly believed her step-mother's assurance that the item was unrelated to the war effort, even if it turned out to be a lie, would she stand in the way of him nabbing it? Don't be ridiculous. Of course he would have to do it in secret. What was he thinking?—if at all, for clear deliberation was once again proving a challenge. Was this Gyokuro's doing after all? Looking at her, she hardly seemed as if she were exerting any energy at all. Indeed she was fully engrossed in the case she now tapped and stroked, almost lovingly, as if eager to vacate this place and put to immediate use whatever they had delivered.
Or perhaps it wasjust the wine.
She faced them again, and placed the case aside. "What is my concern is that ugly business you endured on your flight here. Honestly, I can't help but feel responsible. It was my policy that put my Akuha in danger. I thought it was a good idea for each ship to have smaller units of firepower that were more maneuverable and tactical. I never imagined they would turn on their masters."
"Imagine that. Something didn't go as you planned," Akuha retorted. At Gyokuro's frown of worry, she sighed and sidled back to her chair to pick at the remains on her plate. "You should have known better from the start. Dragons can be unpredictable creatures."
"Oh, but I didn't think so! The ones I've had dealings with over the years have been nothing but well-mannered. Well, I guess that's what I get for settling for lesser stock."
"You probably couldn't get any Qiulong, am I right? Our country's dragons have too much respect to serve as your lackeys," Akuha said, and Tsukune couldn't help being struck by the pride she seemed to take in a creature other than vampires. "Not like those Graoullian Wyverns you saddled me with. Those European types have long ago lost the capacity for intelligence or speech. They're nothing but mindless animals now. Good riddance, I say. Although their scales did make excellent body armor…"
Hearing this triggered a reminder for Tsukune. "That's right!" he piped up, then sheepishly blinking as the two women stared curiously. "I just remembered I wanted to ask you guys, why aren't normal members of Fairy Tale allowed to transform out of their human forms unless ordered?"
"And what prompts such a question?" said Gyokuro.
"Back there, when we were fighting the dragons, it seemed like Akuha's soldiers were having trouble holding their own, since all they had were firearms. Wouldn't it have been more efficient if they could use their ayashi powers? For that matter, why didn't you order them to transform?" This last part, to Akuha.
Gyokuro spoke first, crossing one statuesque leg over the other, providing Tsukune with a revealing glimpse from which he had the presence of mind to quickly avert his eyes. "As to the policy, my dear, think of our members' human forms as a uniform. I've found enforcing such a 'dress code' to be a great way of instilling at least a modicum of decorum and discipline among our ranks. It gives our members context, reminds them of their position and their responsibilities. Even if we are a fairly loosely knit bunch, this is a professional enterprise, and when you have any group of ayashi transforming at their own whims, why, it's practically an invitation to chaos."
Tsukune thought back to some of his battles at school, incidents where other students would morph en masse to attack him and his friends. 'Chaos' was an apt word, he conceded.
"After all," she went on, "don't warriors in your law enforcements, your militaries, also commonly wear uniforms?"
"Yes, but that's different. They don't usually inhibit their combat ability."
"Ergo, the exception you mentioned comes into play. The decision when to allow it is entirely at Akuha's discretion, though. I try to avoid micromanaging. I'll rely on my division leaders, but there's enough on my plate as it is."
"So, why didn't you give the order?" he repeated, turning to the smaller woman.
"I guess I just didn't think of it," she said quickly, with a detachment Tsukune found almost affected, but resolved not to dwell upon it. "In any case, like she said, my ship, my decisions. It's nobody else's business."
"What is my business, however, is when I almost lose an entire division in the blink of an eye, and to the devices meant to protect them, at that. Have you uncovered any leads to what triggered their behavior?" Gyokuro asked sharply,
"My people are looking into it, but I didn't have time to wait for results. Wanted to come straight away and get this over with."
Tsukune could hear the irritated strain in Akuha's reply; he knew her well enough by now to know that she didn't like not having answers. It was the same way he felt regarding the contents of the case, which now rested by the glamorously shoed feet of Gyokuro, cold and impenetrable. He mused what would happen if he threw all caution to the wind, snatched it from under her nose, and fled, even finding a way to free his friends and retrieve Moka. He swallowed, tasting acrid fear, and fortunately for him, the idea was short-lived. There was no way off this floating prison other than the airship, and even if he could commandeer it, he had no knowledge how to even get it off the ground.
"I understand"—Gyokuro was still speaking—"Well, if you need any additional support with your investigation, I am more than happy to offer it. This…This is a troubling matter. Whatever you do find, be sure to keep me in the loop. Any creatures in my service acting against us is not something I plan to let become routine. Especially not when it puts my own, dear family in danger."
"Ugh, give me diabetes, why don't you," scoffed the girl. "I'll let you know if I find anything, you don't have to insist. Like I said earlier, as long you don't try to give me another bunch, we'll be fine. You know it wouldn't kill you to invest in more reliable defense mechanisms for the ships. I don't want to have to go topside to fend off every attacker in the future. Maybe mounted turrets?"
"Perhaps. Your suggestion is noted," Gyokuro replied smoothly. Her voice died down, and no one else spoke; it was, in fact, quite silent, now that he listened. Across the table, Akuha still picked at her leftovers, and on the bed, Gyokuro sat unmoving. There were no sounds from the corridor, or the main chapel beyond; if there were any guests, their sounds could not penetrate the walls. But there were none, was the thought that drifted unconsciously through his mind. The lamps flickered in his periphery, and looking at their glow filled him with a surging heat, almost as if their energy was entering his body through his eyes. The lights and shadows danced a show for him, waxing and waning, the room brightening and dimming in turns, steadily, pulsating, like a heartbeat.
Was this truly the power Akuha had warned him about? So smooth and calming and sensual. Though his experience was limited, he could tell this was a sensation beyond alcohol. Beyond the charm of the succubus, too, in its intensity. Once again his hearing was muffled, and he vaguely heard her demanding tone regarding Moka's return, and something from Gyokuro about her soldiers being close to arriving on the island. He was aflame with excitement, his palms already damp in anticipation at the long-waited reunion.
"There is one more thing I would ask of you."
Gyokuro's voice strummed through his reverie like dulcet strings. He looked at her again, and found the gaze returned; under the shadowed lashes sparked a flash in her eyes he had not seen before, and he felt like a rabbit trapped in a lynx's sights. The glow of the lights seemed to envelop him, and comfortable warmth hummed throughout his body and limbs. Try as he might, his mind would not cease its unbidden wanderings into corners best left untouched.
"Hold on," Akuha said. "What's this 'one more'? There is no 'one more', Gyokuro. Whatever it is, you can forget it. We made our deal, and we've fulfilled our end. You don't get extra toppings. We'll just wait here until Moka arrives, and once she does, I don't want her taking a single step that doesn't bring her closer to me. Is that going to be a problem?"
"Not at all," Gyokuro replied sweetly, leaning back on the bed to prop herself on an elbow. If Akuha noticed how her eyes remained on her companion, she gave no indication. "However, you should have no problem with this final stipulation, either, as it does not concern you, dear."
Akuha, her attention not previously on her commander, now turned sharply in her chair, the red eyes narrowing and fingers unconsciously rapping on the back of the seat. "I don't follow."
"It's really quite simple. All I require is something I have gone without longer than I'd care to admit," she said with a chuckle. "Something our young friend here can give to me, if he'd be so kind." Her lips spread in a teasing grin, and the fangs descended sharp and deadly.
"You can't mean…the Shinso blood!"
"Not quite. Don't alarm yourself so; I have no plans to sip from your precious supply. Besides, the blood is from her veins. The stomach churns at the thought of putting such a substance in my body." She grimaced, then recalled her purpose and made her features pleasant again. Rising quickly, she seemed to glide over to the boy's chair, slinked behind him, and placed her hands on his shoulders where Akuha's had been just minutes before. "No. You see, it has been far too many ages since I've felt a man's touch; I've forgotten what it tastes like, and all I desire is to remember. Would you assist me, dear boy?"
The admission hung in the silent air, swirling around the seated pair, rendering them dumb. At that particular moment, Tsukune's head had been completely free of fog, and as such, he had heard clearly what the woman requested. A knot formed in his gut, and felt as if invisible hands suddenly yanked violently on the cords.
She wanted…what? That word was the only one that managed to scrape past his throat.
Akuha's voice found escape much more easily, dripping with disgust. "What the—Did you seriously just say what I think you did, Gyokuro? Wow, are you fucking kidding me?!"
"Language, sweetheart. To think, that my parenting would engender such a tongue."
"Well, you can forget it! No way in hell is Tsukune doing—that—with you! Use your own fingers if you're that desperate."
"This does not concern you," Gyokuro repeated sternly, dropping her head next to Tsukune's. A few loose locks feathered against his cheek, her fragrance clouding his senses once more. "How about it, sweetheart? I'm sure it's been ages since you felt release, and at your age that is especially unhealthy. What, with all the stress that's been plaguing your life as of late, I wouldn't want you to keep that bottled up. Allow me to soothe your body and spirit." Her very tone bespoke irresistible temptation and unimagined delights. This had to be it, he realized with clarity: for sure it was not merely the woman's natural charms he had felt. Her powerful will was choking the room, probing and teasing his resolve, his willingness. She pressed closer, and he felt her curves grace his back, the swell meeting firm muscle with tender, forbidden promises. Warmth ignited into flame, sizzling and crackling to every extremity, pure intoxication; despite Akuha's warning, and his mighty effort to heed it, the struggle was boding ill for him, with every touch of her fingers, every gentle and inviting word that dripped from those tempting lips, delicately unraveling and stripping away the fabric of resistance.
After all, what would be the harm? He had already engaged in such pleasures with Moka, and even her sisters; surely this woman, with her exceeding loveliness and experience, could surpass all others and make him forget, at least for a time, the pressures and anxieties with which this conflict had ravaged his spirit.
Such were the coaxing whispers between his ears – A tempting voice – Her voice.
This realization, seemingly through its mere existence, unexpectedly gave him a kernel of strength to regain a portion of his own will. "No," he scratched, finding words amidst the swarming haze, trying to waft it back. "Sorry, but I won't do it. I don't know if you're trying to get me on your side or something, but whatever it is, I can fight your influence."
"You refuse like I'm offering you a poisoned cloak," she rejoined, feigning hurt, focusing on the boy and ignoring the frozen shock of her stepdaughter, who, for the moment, seemed to have taken her turn at being void of words. "Surely you can't find me that gruesome, even at my age?"
"That's not—" he stopped, recalling that he need not bother trying to spare her feelings. "I'm with Moka, and—" Again he paused, unable to continue the thought. And I would never betray her like that. Ah, but did he dare to insist upon this, after all that had passed?
Gyokuro, watching, seemed to glean insight from the shadows flitting about his expression. She echoed his thoughts aloud: "Hm? What were you going to say? Can you really use that girl as an excuse, considering to what use you've already put this wayward cock?" At the word, a suddenly aggressive hand found its way to the organ, grasping it firmly through his pants. At that moment, the flames of heady fever that had been raging through his body died with a gasp, the haze vanishing without a trace, revealing nothing but the dark, stuffy room, naked and silent and cold as his clammy flesh. Her arms caressed him, her fingers stroked him: her flesh the soft strands of silken web that entrapped his body, and he felt afraid once more.
The clear vision watered that seed of strength, however, bolstering his resistance further. He would not fall prey to this demon's spell. He could not deny his previous dalliances, but Moka…well, she was Moka. Kahlua…she had been forced. And Akuha…that was a special case, the nature of which he wasn't entirely sure. One thing was certain, however: whatever he had done with Akuha, the thought of repeating it with Gyokuro made him morbidly ill.
"Enough," he said loudly, finding her wrist and removing it from unwanted anchor. His face was strained with the effort of his will; hers, with only a slight, smooth surprise. "I don't know what you thought was going to happen here, but I'm really not interested. We're here for Moka; like Akuha said, that was the deal."
It was a moment before she spoke. She moved back around to the bed, tapping her chin thoughtfully, her mouth folding into a gentle line. "I understand. Your sense of loyalty is admirable, and rather surprising in a man. Well, if that is your decision…I can't make it for you, of course. Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?" He shook his head. "That is disappointing. Oh, when I tell them you refused, what will they think?"
"What will who think?"
"I'm glad you asked." She smiled, then, looking past him, called out clearly: "We're ready for you now."
The words flew by and out the open door, and Tsukune's head turned at the sound of shuffling feet, muffled voices and clanking. These grew louder by the moment, until at last the sound reached him in full, and, though still incoherent and wordless, plucked at the strings of recognition. A moment more and two officers entered, in full garb, parading in behind them the small group of prisoners, chained in single file, still shuffling awkwardly into the room.
"Kurumu!"
Tsukune shouted out his friend's name as he spotted her first. At her heels, Mizore then trudged into view, followed by Fong Fong, bringing up the rear. His face went deathly pale at the sight, bitter cold nipping at his cheeks.
They were naked, the three of them—almost naked, at least. Each was clad only in underwear, leaving very little room for imagination or attempts at modesty. Their bare feet trudged forward, quietly, over the carpet. They were gagged, as well, thus the garbled sounds of protest and fear. Kurumu's eyes were wide, darting around the room with wild fright; Mizore looked at the floor, hair curtaining her eyes, more ghostly white than usual; the Wong heir stared dead ahead, brows knotted tensely, indignation in his eyes. Yukari, he noted, was not present. Chains, indeed, bound them, at neck and wrists and ankles, the end held by the officer in charge of this display of humiliating subjugation.
Tsukune was on his feet in a flash, snarling, unabashed by their state of undress. "Gyokuro! What the fuck is this?!" He seized hold of the links binding Mizore's wrists and shook them, as if trying to wrench them free—shatter them—anything. They clinked and jingled and cruelly jeered but would not surrender their prey. He glared at the woman, seeing clearly now the rot beneath the skin, the crack in the portrait, the wretched cruelty unmasked. "Have you completely lost your mind?!" he bellowed.
"Not to my knowledge," she replied innocuously, showing little reaction to the boy's outburst. "How else did you expect us to keep our prisoners? In silk robes and opulent thrones? Besides, I merely thought you might like a nice reminder as to your position."
"My position?"
"Indeed. While I did retrieve Moka as promised, what I decide is in store for the prisoners is still an open question. Bring them to me." This last part, to the officer in charge, who turned his leering eye away from the captives, yanked them forward in a stumble towards the bed, out of the human's reach, and made a slight bow to his superior.
"Don't you dare threaten them," Tsukune growled. "I swear to God you'll regret it. And where's Yukari?"
"Who?"
"The little witch." The answer came, softly, not from Tsukune, and he turned to see Akuha staring blankly, distantly, at the scene before her. She had not spoken for a few minutes, and even now seemed lost in thought. He felt an additional surge of anger. Was that all she was going to say?
"Ah, yes, her. Don't worry. She is back in the cell where I left her."
"Then why did you bring them at all?" he demanded, motioning towards the trio. Kurumu was glancing anxiously between the people in the room, fear only in her obscured expression when she looked at Gyokuro. Her eyes shot open at the sudden contact on her exposed rear, the woman's cold hand clenching the warm, rounded flesh, her little finger creeping deep between her smooth thighs. She gasped, an almost silent sound behind her gag, and Gyokuro smiled.
"Because they, unlike her, can provide me the distraction I seek. The witch girl is far too young for my tastes."
Her meaning quickly dawned, and his teeth ached for grinding. "Your tastes….Then you mean—"
"If not with you, then I'll simply have to indulge with them. The choice is yours. I must say, I've never experienced another female before, but I'm not averse to the idea. Especially this one, what with the succubi's reputation." Then, to Kurumu, hand still on its resting place: "Tell me, dear, is it true what they say? I would be utterly shocked if you're not as divine a lover as the rumors go. Well, let's check what you're working with, at any rate." With that, her hand moved again, snaking inside the girl's undergarment, and, before anyone could blink, she had slipped a digit inside Kurumu. The girl squeaked sharply at the intrusion, and her cheeks blazed with flame. "Hmm. Cunt seems to be in good order—Oh? What's this? You are untouched, I see? How delightful," Gyokuro assessed cheerfully. "I might just have to let my men have a taste, as well. They have seemed so anxious lately, what with the dawn of war nigh. They could use the diversion."
Tsukune, for his part, stood frozen to the spot. At Kurumu's cry he had almost charged forward, uncontrollably, to swing at Gyokuro with all his might, and to hell with the leering guards still at her side. At least, such was how he felt. But the pain in his leg and arm, absent these past few minutes while the vampire's will soothed his neural receptors, had sauntered its way back into his body, and the lightest press of toe upon ground nearly brought him down in a heap. He could only watch in a boiling rage. His gaze drifted to Mizore: she had snapped to attention at Kurumu's distress, and now looked on with a wild worry uncommon to her frosty features, the wintry blue eyes a frantic, frigid storm, trying to communicate something silently to her friend. He thought to himself that he had not seen that expression since her ordeal with Miyabi.
"This…This was your intention all along, wasn't it?" he hissed. "Your reason for taking them prisoner, keeping them here. You were planning on putting me in this position."
Gyokuro withdrew her glistening hand and glanced at the sickened boy, amused. "Not specifically, no. This desire is one born of the moment. But, I will admit that their residence here was prompted by the usefulness I suspected they would have in managing your actions. And look! Fine opportunity has been presented to test my theory. And in a safe, noncritical context. So, then? What's it going to be?"
Not in all of his wildest imaginings of what Fairy Tale would do, of the new, twisted world they were trying to create, could he have conjured this possibility. Strange, too, now that it presented itself, for it was such a thing that had jumpstarted his captivity and the bizarre, ambiguous occurrences and relationships he had weathered these last couple of months. Now that the choice had arrived, what to do? Every ounce of his blood screamed at him to seize Gyokuro by the throat and tighten grip – the building rage even had him considering making the effort to draw upon any Shinso power he had – but his muscles still kept the reins on his will. Gyokuro wouldn't even need to lift a finger; those officers could finish him as easily as hunters stalking a wounded beast. His range of options was severely limited.
And yet…did he dare actually consider that? Did he dare offer this total surrender? The alternative meant subjecting the others to similar, and worse, fates. To allow that would be unconscionable. Which left only….But how could he betray Moka like that?
He could see it now. This was a game of power, and domination, just as much as it was about lust, which evidently was a burning passion within her. It was, he realized, about Moka, about striking at the heart of the detested girl, the daughter of her bitter rival. What more potent wound than inserting herself, the girl's enemy, between her and him, taking a blade to their hearts, carving out more misery for them? He grimaced, and tasted rich copper on his tongue. But he made no sound, and his heart convulsed and heaved as it stumbled along towards its decision.
In the end, there was but one. He silently begged Moka's forgiveness, and braced his nerves. If he had to make this sacrifice to ensure his friends' safety and dignity, then it must be done. As he began to speak, Kurumu's vocal protests paused. "Let them go. They have nothing to do with this. I'll…do what you ask. As long as you promise that no harm comes to them—And I mean of any kind, from you, or anyone under your command!"
Gyokuro smiled, and removed her hand from Kurumu as she reclined on the bed; for a moment, Tsukune had the briefest notion that she would reject his terms and take what she wanted, regardless. But it was not the case. "Your wishes are acceptable. I'm glad we've been able to come to this understanding." Then, turning to her men: "Return them to their cells. Remove their muzzles if you wish, but make sure no hands are laid upon them."
"Y-Yes, ma'am," the lead guard stuttered, resolute but obviously disappointed that he would not get to quench his desires with the two female prisoners. Seizing the chain once more, he motioned to his companion and led the trio from the chamber, all three twisting their necks to look at their friend. Words were not needed for him to know what they wanted to say, but he had to do this for them.
In a few seconds, they were out of sight; a few more, and their voices and footsteps vanished in the wake. He stood still as stone, uncertain what to do, now confronted with the situation. Gyokuro had not moved from her spot. He swallowed: was she expecting him to initiate?
An awkward shuffle forward, tepid, unwilling even in the face of necessity. The woman shifted and made to unclasp the gems hanging from her throat, setting the piece gingerly aside. Her eyes met his, warm candles flickering in the light, set above pink, gleaming lips, and he felt the full force of her power snake over his flesh, penetrate his core. The stabbing pains in his muscles once more receded under the wash of the waves. Another foot forward.
"Wait!"
The cry rang sharply, halting his step on a dime. Both he and Gyokuro turned to see Akuha, risen from her seat, standing and staring. At their attention, her mouth dropped open again, but nothing came forth. She gaped, aghast, eyes wide and arms stuck to her sides as if bound there by tight ropes. She seemed embarrassed by her outburst, and could find no more words.
"Akuha, darling, I had just about forgotten you were there," Gyokuro said. Though her expression and tone betrayed none of it, Tsukune felt the twinge of her irritation at the delay pulse through the snare in which she held him. But, indeed, she merely smiled and let her legs part as she reclined further, giving Tsukune a glimpse from which he could not turn away this time. Her fingers lighted on a smooth, tan thigh and lingered, tracing the flesh delicately. "If you want to stay and watch, I suppose that's alright. But really, I didn't expect you to be such a voyeur! What would your sisters think?"
"You can't!" She was looking wildly between them, before settling on him. Her pitch rose, her voice cutting. "What are you doing? Are you actually agreeing to this? You can't possibly—And you! You dare to take—!" She cut herself off as she realized, she wasn't sure what she actually wanted to say, as a vicious desperation coursed beneath her breast. Her eyes fogged, and she blinked it away, suddenly dizzy as her midnight tresses curtained the wan face. What was this sensation? Not since Moka's abduction had she felt so completely lost and helpless, so stricken with a sudden emptiness in the face of something she could not prevent.
"What choice do I have?" Tsukune interrupted softly. "You saw my friends. They may not mean much to you—I know, I won't hold it against you—but I can't let that be their fate." The way he looked at her, then…No, no, this tightness in her chest was most unacceptable! Whatever it may be, she would not allow this to proceed!
"You look ill, Akuha," Gyokuro said, and she realized she was clutching the back of her chair with white knuckles, as if struggling to remain standing. "Perhaps you should go to your own chambers and lie down while you wait for us. I don't see what your objection is here. What does it matter to you if I indulge myself with this human?"
"It doesn't!" The words flew from her mouth like birds freed from a cage, yet as soon as they had gone, she wished she had not sprung the latch. Her mind darted back and forth, at war with itself; sweat misted cold on her brow, in her palms. She sputtered out: "Th-The mere thought that you would profane this place—in the house of Alucard. That's blasphemy, Gyokuro! I won't allow it."
"Alright, now you are being silly. Blasphemy? That's your story? What is your issue, girl? I am beginning to grow weary of your outbursts. You should still your tongue before careless words leak between your teeth. Or, perhaps you simply don't want anyone else to sip from what you've come to believe is your own glass?"
"N-no, it's nothing like that. He is not— We haven't in a—It's just—You can't!" she repeated. Tsukune, equally flustered by Gyokuro's suggestion, remained silent.
"Yet you cannot give me a convincing reason why. Instead, you bluster like a spoiled brat, absent any regard for my authority. You may leave, and wait outside, if you cannot control yourself. I'll summon you once we are finished here; whether that comes sooner or later…well, I think you might have a better idea of that than I." She laughed, and her eyes flickered to the boy's waist.
Akuha seemed like she was about to explode, but, Tsukune, not wanting her to throw herself onto the pyre after he had already resigned himself to its flames, spoke to her, voice hollow. "Akuha, please. It's alright. I'm thankful for your concern, but you don't have to get caught up in this for my sake. I'll survive this. Whatever it takes to protect those guys, to get Moka back….They've always looked after me, and there's been little I could do to help them when they needed it. But, if I can do this much…."
He did not finish, for Akuha had turned away from him, eyes hidden beneath black and strips of white. "Unacceptable," she muttered, repeating the word softly, almost as if not meaning to be heard, before abruptly dashing to the door; Tsukune caught a trace of her light perfume as she whisked by, and was gone before he could say another word.
"Don't worry about her," came Gyokuro's reassurance from the bed. "She doesn't like her toys being played with. Never was fond of sharing."
"As I told you the last time, I am not her toy." His teeth were clenched as his gaze lingered on the door.
"Very well. But it is no matter, for right now, you are mine."
She was beside him, suddenly, and he felt the smooth caress of her words along the back of his neck. He turned sharply, heart seizing in his chest as her eyes captured his. There were no words; she only smiled, a predatory grin of lust and triumph. Her hand drifted to her shoulders and slowly, teasingly, brushed aside the straps of her dress, letting it cascade down her legs and bundle at her feet. Only undergarments remained, along with the thin white gloves that hugged up to her elbows, hiding ever so little from the boy's trapped eyes, which were unwillingly lured to outline her curves and dips, her swells and contours.
She clasped his wrist, and without warning, her grip tightened. With inhuman strength she dragged and tossed him onto the bed. He turned on his back, muscles once more cringing in immense pain, and faced her, as she followed him and crawled up the foot of the bed. "Are you nervous?" she crooned. Her red eyes had darkened, filled with a vacant, consuming blackness. Absently, she sighed, and murmured: "Oh, if she could only see this."
Then she was above him, legs swinging to the side to take her mount. Her hand reached to his crotch. "So let's see"—fumbling, undoing—"just what skill"—tearing away fabric, grasping hold of timid member and pumping it to attention—"you have with this."
Tsukune was frozen still beneath her, and despite the shame and the horror that wrenched his gut, his body's ultimate betrayal was now imminent. He could do nothing to stop it, only make attempt to fix Moka's face behind his eyes. The images of Omote and Ura danced about, a balm and a twist of the knife all at once. He tried to imagine it was they who were about to slip him inside; one face, looking at him with pensive sympathy, the other, a cool, yet not unkind countenance. The third…Wait, third?
The familiar youthful visage drifted in to mix with the others, then it was Akuha staring at him, eyes wild with red flame, whirling infernos, hair streaming and darkened further by the light of the hall as she….Wait, this was no illusion!
His head had tilted to one side on the pillow, giving him a view past Gyokuro through half-lidded eyes. He had been watching, distracted by the hazy images, when the door swung open, casting Gyokuro's form in utter darkness, and through which stormed Akuha. In a mad dash she crossed the room. Yet before he could even make a sound, she was on them, seizing Gyokuro by the shoulder and tearing her away from her perch. Gyokuro let out a startled yelp as she tumbled to the floor. Recovering, she rose shakily, jerking her gaze between the shocked boy on the bed, naked and jutting firmly up in the air, and her step-daughter, the sight of whom gave her clarity as to what had happened. Her expression hardened into a frightfully vicious glare, and the ice in her voice froze his veins, smothering the cursed fires that had been on the verge of singeing him.
"What is the meaning of this? Akuha! Explain yourself!" She did not even bother to cover up.
Akuha, however, suddenly seemed to be completely confounded, as if just now waking up from a dream and discovering she had sleep-walked; she stood there with a blank expression, mouth hanging open but absent words in her defense. "I…You…I was…."
"Well? Speak!"
But nothing more than continued babble was forthcoming.
"At last, I think the truth begins to take form," Gyokuro said after a moment, ignoring her, now snatching a sheet from the bed and wrapping it around herself. "You wretched child. I knew you must have formed some special attachment to him, but I never would have guessed it would make you would throw everything away over some juvenile sense of envy. At least, not over someone other than your precious Moka."
"W-what?!" Akuha threw a glance over to the boy, who was still too dazed to move. "No. No! He's got nothing to….I—He is still my prisoner, damn it! I decide his fate. Besides, staining Alucard's chapel like that, it could not be allowed."
"Ha! Again with that nonsense? Well, whatever you must tell yourself, this is inexcusable. A blatant assault on your commander, the very idea…I did not raise you like this!" she said shrilly. This time, Akuha was silent. She had been furious enough to prevent Gyokuro from having her way with Tsukune, but looked cowed at the mention of what would easily be construed as insubordination.
"Out! I want you out, both of you! Yes, you too, boy. My officer's behavior has sullied my mood. I have no idea what about you has inspired such mad possessiveness in her, but it matters not. It is not worth my troubles. If she doesn't want to share her toys like a greedy girl, she can keep them and sulk."
Tsukune was on his feet in a moment, gathering his clothes from around the bed and hobbling his way next to Akuha, a place that suddenly appeared as the safest harbor on this whole island. He felt more physically depleted than he could ever recall, even stopping so short of completing the heinous coupling taking its toll.
"Not until we have Moka," Akuha said firmly as he joined her.
"Moka!?" Gyokuro sounded as incredulous as though she just seen Akasha herself.
"You have your trinket, which was to be exchanged for Moka's return to my ship. No matter what else has happened, that deal remains intact. I insist, Gyokuro. I'm already displeased that you decided to flip the switch on the next stage without me"—there was no point in hiding her suspicions from Tsukune anymore, and indeed it barely seemed to register—"I thought we agreed I'd be the one to oversee her role in the operation. I made absolutely sure that I was the one to hold her rather than any of the other captains. That was the only reason I agreed to let her be used for the process, so I could ensure she passed through it as harmlessly as possible! Then, his blood starts flaring up into burning fevers, and it's all because you recovered her right away and sent her to the stations early, isn't it? What the hell is that about?"
Gyokuro appeared confused by the accusation, her rage momentarily stilled, until Akuha gave her reasoning. Then it made sense. She said dismissively: "A preemptive measure born of nagging suspicion. Concern over where your priorities lay, and whether your attachments would tip the scales out of balance. As I can now see they have. Though not, as I imagined, for your darling sister…That much is an unexpected twist." She tried to slow her breathing, to calm the violent flames stoked by lust and the interruption of its fulfillment. "No, perhaps it was you yourself who should have guarded against whatever influence he seems to exert—Oh, he most certainly does, if I know a thing or two about that subject. What else would ignite you so? I can see it plainly on your face. And there you were, worried about Moka being 'corrupted' by his presence."
"You're insane," Akuha choked out, throwing out every denial she could conjure, feeling all at once like she had been plunged into a frigid pool, the water scorching her flesh.
"Perhaps I was…Yes, but it seems I made the right decisions after all." She flashed a steely glance at Akuha's puzzled look. By now she had gone to fetch her own discarded garments, and, slipping them on, gathered herself regally. "Your actions have convinced me. Moka will not be delivered back into your care."
A stunned silence swept through the chamber; the lamps on the wall burned and tossed their dim light across the still figures in that charged, heated room. Glancing at Akuha, Tsukune sensed a sudden spike in her energy, and her heart dropping like a brick into her stomach in rhythm with his own.
"Come again? I don't think I heard you correctly," was all she said.
"Your ears are working just fine. What? After all that you have shown me, do you honestly expect me to reach any other conclusion than that you are unfit for this task? That you are swayed and ruled by your emotions, and will act on them before anything else when you are so moved?" At this, she slipped her covered arms through the heavy sleeves of her overcoat, leaving Tsukune as the sole unclothed person in the room, though he was still too absent to pay it much mind. "I have been patient. Heaven knows I have honestly tried to give you a number of chances. I had my misgivings when you demanded retention of Moka on your ship, knowing your history with the girl. And what do I get for finally relenting? You allow her to be snatched right from under your nose, and you fall to utter pieces as a result, powerless as a naked, newborn bat. Then you tell me you're passing the time among humans, which would be acceptable given the circumstances, if I didn't have to hear from Miyabi how you're growing soft in their company. Complacent. Even more at the mercy of your emotions."
"Miyabi?" Akuha interjected sharply. "What does he have to do with this?"
"A great deal, as a matter of fact. As Fairy Tale has grown, managing all the individual squads and captains by myself has become…difficult. I find it helpful to occasionally focus on select leaders, to have them act as the enforcers of my will. Miyabi has proven himself particularly useful, in this regard. When I doubted your resolve, your commitment to our cause above all else, he brought Moka under his care, so I could observe what actions you would take, how you would handle yourself. You've done nothing to assuage my concerns."
This lashed the reins back on Tsukune's attention. "He brought…" he croaked, "Are you saying it was you? You were the ones who kidnapped her?!"
"Kahlua found it an unhappy burden. She's nearly as infatuated with Moka as this one is. Fortunately, she is a good girl, and knew to carry out her objective as commanded."
So it was that Tsukune learned the full truth. Moka had not been abducted by outside forces, nor had Kahlua been abducted at all. As it stood, they had both been aboard Miyabi's submersible base—And still remained there, in fact. They were never going to be brought to the island. Upon their arrival, Gyokuro had been considering a final evaluation of Akuha's qualification for overseeing Moka and her part in their project. Yet this was merely a nicety; her intuition had helped make up her mind long before now, and she did not expect it to be wrong, nor for Akuha to prove herself otherwise worthy and tractable for what would need to be done, not after all that had transpired. Still, perhaps there was no harm in one last close examination of Akuha's mind. Such had been her reasoning.
Akuha, for her part, looked to Tsukune far calmer over the revelation of Fairy Tale's complicity in Moka's disappearance than she did at the news of their postponed reunion—A knife equally embedded in his own breast, fear mingled with wrath dripping from the open wound into his gut.
She seethed, voice trembling and livid. "So you lied…about everything. I thought there might be some sort of deranged test you had cooked up, but….And now you're trying to screw me out of what is rightfully mine? We made a fucking deal," she repeated. "Moka for whatever…thing you had us bring you!"
"Did I not 'retrieve' the little Akasha-dropping?" the woman sneered. "Those were the terms, yes? You ought to word your conditions more carefully in future. Besides, even if you had, do not make the mistake of reaching beyond your station and making demands of me. I could have very easily given you that mission as a direct order, and you can take it that way, if it helps snap your mouth back together."
"Oh, I'm thinking of snapping something," the girl hissed. Her eyes burned with anger, and for a moment Tsukune thought he saw a flicker of fear cross Gyokuro's own fury-laced visage. The next words out of Akuha's mouth were a simple "Who, then?"
"Who? Who what? Use your words, girl."
"Who's in charge? What incapable shit did you decide on granting my position to, hm?"
"Hardly incapable," she replied primly, "but, as he and the captains of divisions five and seven have already initiated the synchronization, Miyabi will maintain possession of Moka and see this task through to completion, as originally intended."
At last, this was the final straw for Akuha. That her beloved sister, already absent her presence so long, and already having spent an inexcusable length of time under that man's slimy wing, should there remain, snatched from her protection by her own conniving stepmother and trusted sister…It was a flint that threatened to ignite all the wrath of the ancient and terrible blood that now coursed molten.
"This will not happen!" she shrieked. "She is not yours to take and give away, least of all to that grinning fuck! I do not accept this, Gyokuro!"
"Maybe you should have thought of that before placing the worthless girl on a pedestal above all else."
The words were barely out of her mouth before Akuha shot forward like a bullet, arm raised and fingers spread as if to strike. To Tsukune, it was a familiar sight; but Gyokuro was not Akasha, and he wondered if she would have less compunction about striking down her adopted daughter if attacked. He wanted to shout, to stop the lunging girl, but of course there was no time for words. His lips were hardly parted, when Akuha's arm swung home, only to be stopped short, blocked, caught at the elbow by the iron grip of Fairy Tale's leader. The fingers around the limb clenched, and Akuha winced and gave a small cry to the sound of a faint crack, before the arm was roughly released and shoved back.
"So be it," came the bellow in reply. "You want to push me one step further, fine: then you will be stripped of position entirely!" In the silence that followed she continued: "Enough is enough! My leniency is at an end. Your insubordination now extends to treason, does it? Attacking your commander and directly defying my expressed orders. No, my decision is final! You are unsuited for further command, and I hereby rescind your status as captain of Fairy Tale."
"What…did you just say?" came the whispered words. "I'm…I am a captain. You cannot simply steal from me on a sudden whim a position I've earned from years of work and dedication to the cause."
"Whim? After what you've done? I have every right to reassign or replace you as I see fit, difficult task though it may be. You should be grateful that's all I'm doing. Remove yourself back to your ship—I will permit you to remain docked there for the night, as a mercy, but come the first light of sun, you are to be far from this island."
Forearm in hand, Akuha wiggled her fingers experimentally, trying to clench them into a fist. "Alright," she hissed, "you want to play it like that? Well, I hope you guys have hidden Moka well, because I won't rest until I've found her and wrenched her away from that swine. If I have to raid and plunder every single division base in every corner of the globe, so be it. And then, I'll carry out the eradication of the human world myself, with or without you. She is mine, Gyokuro! Not you, not the entirety of Fairy Tale is allowed to keep her from me."
These words brought about a momentary stillness, and Gyokuro's piercing gaze took a scornful turn upon the stricken pair. Her brow was troubled, and her nostrils flared, but she betrayed no other emotion. Her fingers clasped at her waist, and she said, in a measured tone: "I see. If that is your intent"—With that, she cut her words short, and swept by them towards the door, her coat catching one of the empty dishes on the table and casting it to the floor with a violent shatter. Pausing there, startled, she gathered herself, turned, and said: "One other thing. I would consider boosting my opinion of Miyabi, if I were you. He is very soon to become a member of this family, and I would not have more discord from you clouding an otherwise celebratory occasion."
This seemed enough to shake Akuha out of her wrath. "Fam…family…" she echoed, confused, still clutching her arm. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I have promised him Kahlua's hand, a subject he broached with me recently. His service to our cause swayed my mind from its initial misgivings."
"So it was true," Tsukune murmured, just loud enough to be heard. Akuha looked at him in horror. Then, louder he said: "Why would Kahlua ever agree to that?"
"What business is it of yours, boy? As I said before, Kahlua is an obedient daughter. Proper training mixed with good breeding shaped her as our hands desired when she was a child. Unlike certain others whom I could speak of…."
For Moka, and now Akuha and Kahlua, Tsukune felt the pangs of anger once more, but this time felt powerless to redress them. "You put Kahlua through the same hell the Miao did to Akuha in China, didn't you? What kind of sick things did you and Issa subject her to? Never in a million years could I imagine her kidnapping Moka or marrying Miyabi, even if she was ordered to. You must have done some number on her."
Her eyes seemed to dance at the question, and her smile spread to her ears. "Akuha might be able to give you some idea, if you ask her. Personally, I am not about to give away our secrets, but I will leave you with one little morsel. Let's just say that a child's imagination can be a wonderful tool. But enough of this. Akuha, you have one night. Wait…no, I'll even throw in the next day, too. Go back to the ship; it will take you tomorrow evening at latest wherever you choose to go, and then be brought back here by a pilot of my selection. Oh, and you can do with this boy what you will, too. I do not care. Farewell, then. If you seek comfort, take it in the fact that all your wishes for the world of humans will be accomplished regardless of your treachery." Then she was quiet again, though it appeared she was about to say something more; but she refrained and quickly left the room, slamming the door behind her.
To be continued…