Part Four


Chapter Forty

I'll spare you Akechi's actual words seeing as the paragraphs needed would take up whole pages of space, and you don't need that extra strain on your eyes.

Here's the gist:

Even before Kaidoh, Nendou, Kuboyasu, Hairo, and I were holed up in Demons Door Cave for a week, Akechi had managed to annoy all four of his mentors enough that they denounced him within a single day and sent him off to gather as much intelligence as he could. This led him, first, to a spare copy of the Ghost Files—which he finished faster than we did because he was allowed to skip the opening and closing credits (seriously, why?)—and second, to my brother.

I had thought that Kusuke isolated himself these last weeks as some sort of aggressive denial: if he pretended the outside world didn't exist, he could pretend Dad wasn't dead. I should have known better; Kusuke is a borderline sociopath. He would rather find impossible solutions than waste even a second dwelling on an emotional past he can't change.

Together with Teruhashi Makoto—yes, the perv survived to be a thorn in my side another day—the three came up with the most ludicrous plan with the highest possible success rate I have ever encountered.

Basically, we're going to lure Dark Reunion into an altercation. And the only way to do that within the time limit we have is by making the biggest, most elaborate, most ridiculous spectacle Tokyo has ever seen.

Yare, yare.

How did this become my life?


Limbo

A gray, somber mood hovered over the compound the next morning; Kusuo felt it the moment he woke up in Kokomi's arms. It seeped through the walls in a miasma of anger, fear, and uncertainty that settled heavily in the air and made it difficult to breathe or think or even move. Kusuo laid there taking deep, deliberate breaths as he pressed a hand to Kokomi's bare back beneath his pale pink button down that she had permanently confiscated.

He felt her back rise and fall beneath his fingertips and traced along the delicate ridges of her spine. She shivered and stirred beneath his touch, her eyelids fluttering open as her tired blue eyes searched for the cause of her rousing and a smile touched the corners of her lips when her gaze locked with his.

"Good morning," she said, her eyes closing again with lingering sleep. Kusuo pressed his forehead to hers and breathed her in. No matter what time of day or night, she always smelled lightly of lilies and summer sunshine.

A wry smile came unbidden to Kusuo's lips when he realized just how ridiculous that thought was; sunshine didn't have a smell no matter the season. And yet, his Chiyo-addled emotions couldn't help but insist that not only did both summer and sunshine have a smell, they smelled like Kokomi.

"What?" There was a smile in her voice, as if she could feel his unexpressed amusement through their touching skin.

Actually, Kusuo realized, considering our soul bond, that's probably not too far off.

"Nothing." Kusuo released her waist and rolled away to dress. They had bathed the night before—it was the only thing Kokomi could think to do to calm Kusuo's fraying nerves as he'd worked his sanity to tatters over finding Yuuta and saving him before it was too late.

He'd been willing to admit that Akechi's plan was a good one—on paper, anyway—but there was no guarantee it would work.

Especially considering it was ludicrous.

Even Nendou had thought so.

Kusuo dressed and washed his face even though the sun had barely risen enough to slip sliver fingers of light through the open window to paint shadows on the floor. Kokomi sighed as she sat up to stretch, and he couldn't help looking her way. She looked poorly rested—they had woken each other up with nightmares throughout the night—with dark shadows forming under her eyes and the start of worry lines on her forehead. Her indigo hair glowed with heath, as always, but it floated around her head in haphazard tufts because she'd fallen asleep before drying in properly.

But even though the world might consider them as imperfections, Kusuo knew those small flaws only made her more perfect. Those tiny imperfections were a statement that she was real and that, however perfect she may be, she was still human enough to exist on earth. She may smooth away the tufts and worry for others, but with Kusuo, she didn't have to hide behind her perfect pretty girl façade. He loved her just as she was. Just as he always had.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this." Kokomi crawled to the edge of the futon to put her feet on the bare floor. She shivered—the wood had grown cold in the cool mountain air—and she hurried to the sink where she'd left her slippers the night before. Chucking Kusuo aside with her hip, she splashed warm water on her face—and of course her skin glistened in the early morning light as if sprinkled by diamond dust—before combing her damp fingers through her sleep mussed hair. The strands instantly tamed beneath her touch, and Kusuo had to resist the urge to ruffle her hair back into its prior state of adorable chaos.

"Which part?" Kusuo tried to hide his irritated frown, realizing the scale of his emotional control must have tipped back toward Chiyo-esque while he slept. Fortunately, reigning himself in was easier today than it had been the day before. Probably because he had already gotten over the worst of it. Most likely, though, it would be several days more before he stopped waking up emoting more like Chiyo than himself.

"All of it." Kokomi scrubbed her teeth with the toothbrush Yukina had given her their first night at the compound before spitting toothpaste foam daintily into the sink.

She's probably the only person on the planet capable of spitting perfectly. Right on cue, that ridiculous thought almost made Kusuo smile.

Damn it, Chiyo. Get out of my heart already.

Of course, she probably felt the same way about him if the steady pulse of annoyance coming from her soul shard was anything to go by.

Which it was.

"There are worse plans," Kusuo said as he grabbed his own toothbrush.

"Yes," Kokomi conceded. "You could have run off on your own yesterday. But am I the only one who sees this grand plan as barely a step down from that?"

"No." Kusuo spat into the sink. "I agree with you."

"But you're going to do it anyway."

It wasn't a question, but Kusuo still felt pushed to answer.

"Akechi is probably the most analytically minded person I've ever met, my brother is definitely the smartest person I know, and your brother…" Kusuo's lip quirked in disgust. "Has his uses, I guess. If they think this is our best option, I'm willing to trust that. Besides," he rinsed his mouth, "no one else had anything better. Not even Koenma-sama or Kurama-sensei."

"Or Yamato-san, which really surprised me." Kokomi frowned and crossed her arms, which caused Kusuo's pink shirt to conform becomingly to her perfect form. "Did you notice how sick she looked yesterday? I haven't seen her for a few days because I've been training with Rinku and she's been with Aiura, but she definitely wasn't that…stringy and pale at the start of the week."

Kusuo pulled one of his perfectly coordinated stacks of folded clothes from the dresser and shrugged. "She's doing something with her energy, though I couldn't tell you what. All I know is that I can feel her draining herself almost dry."

"She is?" Kokomi tapped her fingers against her folded arm with a frown. "Why would she do that? Especially if it's making her sick. We need her at the top of her game if we're going to save Yuu-chan."

Fortunately, Kusuo was pulling his black polo over his head, so Kokomi couldn't see the irritated scowl that flashed over his face before he regained control. Like Kokomi, he hated the idea of Yamato not being at 100% when the time came. While she wasn't the warrior her younger cousins were, her ability to see the future with a startling degree of accuracy could make all the difference in a critical moment.

When the shirt came down, Kusuo was back to his usual stoic expression, which he'd long known gave Kokomi a sense of comfort and security in times of distress. She'd thought about how reliably calm he was many times over the last six years, and now was the worst possible time to break her sense of confidence in him, no matter how inwardly riled he was.

"I'm sure she has her reasons," Kusuo said. "Yamato is a lot of things, but she doesn't strike me as unreliable. She already said she would help us; I don't think she would renege on that promise, if only because of her pride."

"I guess that's true enough." Kokomi sighed and pressed her fingers just-so against the gentle swell of her cheek. "I guess I'll just have to trust her, if only because you do."

Yare, yare.

Kusuo snagged Kokomi by her waist and drew her in for a kiss that nearly lifted her off her feet. She clung to him with a surprising grip, and he took his time exploring her mouth before finally pulling back to press his forehead to hers as they both gasped.

"W-what was that for?"

Unable and unwilling to put his chaotic emotions into words, Kusuo took a moment to school his breathing before responding with, "Chiyo."

Kokomi snorted a laugh. "You know, any other girl would take that to mean you kissed me because you couldn't kiss her."

Kusuo smirked as he let her go to slide his feet into his borrowed slippers. "I need to talk to my brother."

Kokomi nodded. "I need to talk to mine too."

Yare, yare, Kusuo suppressed a grumble. Why couldn't that perverted moron die of blood loss or something?

"Aa," Kusuo said instead before tapping his chest twice with two fingers. "Let me know if you need me."

Blushing at the reminder of their bond—something they both had become intensely aware of the night before—Kokomi nodded and tapped her own chest. "You too."

Unable to stop himself, Kusuo reached out to tuck a strand of indigo hair behind Kokomi's ear. He almost gave into the temptation to kiss the lock but instead let the silken threads slide through his fingers to rest against her shoulder.

Blush intensifying, Kokomi stuttered out, "I'll see you at lunch."

"Aa." Kusuo strode from the room without a backward glance. Anything less, and he would never have left.

#

The section of the compound Kusuke had claimed as his own was a cluster of tiny rooms in the Main House annex building. Previously an open and cheery space—or so Natsuko had said as she had led Kusuo there the first time—Kusuke had asked for help setting the storm doors on the engawa tracks before shifting around the inner shoji screens to create a claustrophobic maze of the building's interior. Each room had a purpose, Kusuo could see that well enough as he moved from one to another in search of his reclusive brother, but what specifically any given purpose was, he couldn't say.

Finding Kusuke wasn't difficult; Kusuo had learned early that he could recognize the spirit energy of those closest to him because spirit energy was very closely aligned with aura. Door after door was opened but not closed; Kusuo wouldn't be long.

"So, you finally came back." Kusuke didn't look up as Kusuo opened the final door. He was too engrossed in his current project. It was small enough to be concealed by hand and hunched back, and Kusuke's long bangs hid his expression.

Has he ever been this guarded? If he had, Kusuo couldn't remember. Kusuke was clever, canny, and cunning, but he was also an open book. His only real character trait was his driving need to beat Kusuo at something—anything—even just once, and his smarmy smirks were a constant outward manifestation of that inward motivation. Even after inventing his mind-shielding device—which, for some reason, he still wore—Kusuke's intentions were obvious even if his methods were a mystery.

"I've been training."

"I know." Kusuke twisted a spindly-necked screwdriver against the object in his palm. "Have you seen Mom?"

"Aa."

"She's still not talking?"

"…Aa."

"Hm." Kusuke sniffed and set his screwdriver aside. He folded up the object in his hand and set it in a hinged velvet jewelry box.

A watch?

He palmed the overhead shelf for a plastic packet of assorted parts and hunched back over the desk to work on them.

"Akechi said last night that you all agreed to the plan."

"It's a stupid plan," Kusuo couldn't help saying, "but that's probably why it will work."

"I'll have the drones in place before you all arrive at the building, we'll need some establishing shots if we're going to sell this." Passing the mini screwdriver to his off hand, Kusuke pulled a manila folder out of the drawer in his metal desk and passed it over his shoulder to Kusuo before going back to his work. "That's the demolition permit. I have my contacts from the Tokyo Police Department setting up a perimeter, but it's only fifty kilometers, so don't get carried away."

Kusuo flipped through the folder to make sure everything was in place. "I'll do my best."

Silence settled between the brothers, and Kusuo couldn't decide if he should stay or go. His everyday reaction would be clockwork—say something sarcastic and leave before Kusuke could try to best him in another stupid contest—but Chiyo's emotions kept him rooted in place. Because as impossible as it seemed, Kusuo would swear that Kusuke was…hurting.

"Kusuke."

Kusuke paused, his head turning ever-so-slightly to the left. His face was still hidden behind his blond hair, but he was listening. Kusuo's turning stomach almost made him back out with a hand-wave and a 'never mind,' but his clenching heart made him push forward.

"I should have been home." He almost spat the words out, even knowing they were deserved, because however roundabout, an apology was something he'd genuinely never thought he would ever offer his psycho brother. "If I was, I could have—"

"If you were home, you would have been killed." Kusuke didn't look up from his tinkering as he spoke. He didn't even pause. "Or are you forgetting that you didn't know anything about spirit energy when it happened."

"I had my first lesson with Yusuke right before Kokomi and I left for USJ with Yuuta. I even used the spirit gun on the train." Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, Kusuo forced out the damning truth, "So yes, if I'd been there, I could have done something."

More silence stretched between the brothers as Kusuke continued his work and Kusuo tried to calm his trembling limbs.

"…If I had been there, I could have done something." Kusuke didn't look up as he spoke, but he'd stopped fiddling with whatever he was making. "If I had been there last year, I could have stopped Mom and Dad from fighting for all that time. If I had been there five years ago, I could have spared you the pain of needing to transfer schools again. If I had been there—"

"This isn't one of your stupid competitions, Kusuke."

"You think I don't know that?" Kusuke's hands fisted atop the desk, his whole-body trembling. "I've spent my whole life trying to beat you at something, anything, and do you really think I didn't know there were others like you? That giving up your psychic powers could mean trouble for you?"

Kusuo's blood ran cold, and he staggered half-a-step back. "You…you knew?"

"Not all of it." Kusuke shook his head. "No, not most of it. I thought I did." He chuckled dryly. "Turns out, I've never really known anything, have I? Because I thought you might get into a little trouble here or there, like with that meteor set to strike earth in a couple weeks—"

"What?!"

"—and you would come running to me to ask, maybe even beg, for my help, and I would finally, finally win."

"Kusuke…" Kusuo sputtered, unable to form a coherent thought. "Just…what the fu—?"

Kusuke turned in his chair, and Kusuo hissed a surprised gasp between his teeth. Salt tracks, old and new, scarred his brother's pale, wet cheeks.

"Kusuo…" Kusuke took a long, deep breath through his nose before he gathered the strength to look Kusuo in the eyes. "I've never been a good brother to you."

As far as apologies went, that was about as vague as it got, but Kusuo understood. In fact, Kusuo had probably never understood his brother better than he did right now in their shared misery.

"No." Kusuo shrugged. "But there are definitely worse."

A certain blue-haired mega-pervert came instantly to mind.

Kusuke's lips quirked into an almost smile. "I'll make it up to you."

Kusuo shook his head. "Let's call it even."

"Oh?"

"If this is about anything besides saving Yuuta, let's make it about Dad."

Kusuke's expression hardened, and he nodded once. "Give them hell, little brother."

"…Aa."

"Speaking of." Kusuke reached over his head for one of the three hinged jewelry boxes. "Try this on, will you? I need to make sure it works."

Kusuo caught the box and flipped it open to find a watch-like device with a blue face sporting a red 2 and band of alternating blue and black links. He turned it over to see it from every angle. The quality was impressive, considering Kusuke made it himself.

Of course, this is Kusuke. Kusuo unhooked the latch. "Does it matter which hand?"

"The left."

Kusuo clipped the not-a-watch onto his left wrist. "Now what?"

"Push the side buttons simultaneously. Twice for on, three times for off."

Kusuo set his right thumb and forefinger on the indicated buttons but hesitated on reflex.

After all, this is Kusuke.

"Hey," Kusuke said, and Kusuo glanced up. "This is for Dad."

Resolve and trust strengthening, Kusuo nodded. "Right."

He clicked the buttons.

The suit almost slithered up Kusuo's arm in an undulating digital wave of blacks, blues, and whites. The creeping suit swallowed his clothes; every wrinkle and swell of his shirt disappeared beneath the chinking links that grew and grew until his whole arm then shoulders then chest, hips, legs, and feet were covered by skin-tight black and blue. It wasn't the instant transformation seen in the anime, but it was pretty damn close.

Kusuo flexed his white-gloved fingers before bending his elbows and knees, rolling his hips and shoulders, and just generally getting the feel of the skin-tight uniform.

"It's heavy." Kusuo reached beneath the red neckerchief to unbuckle his helmet. He was surprised when it actually came off, taking the square lensed, blue-tinted visor with it.

"What were you expecting? Spandex?" Kusuke lounged in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk and waved a finger. "Tch, tch, tch. What you have on is a nanobot-mail of titanium-aluminum alloy. And because the nanobots are designed to integrate non-organic materials, your original clothes become part of the new suit, making the whole thing as flexible as spandex but still strong as steal and more resilient than Kevlar."

Kusuo frowned. "I'm not going to be naked when I turn this thing off?"

"No, of course not." Kusuke put a finger to his chin, his eyes on the ceiling. "Well, probably not."

Kusuo's brow twitched. "Kusuke—"

Kusuke laughed with a dismissive wave. "I kid, of course. I kid." His forced levity turned somber as he laced his fingers together beneath his nose. "But in all seriousness, I didn't have time to adjust for aquatic environments. I know it's a bit of a long shot, but we are in Tokyo; make sure you stay out of the water."

"Noted." Kusuo clicked the buttons on his not-a-watch three times and the nanobot suit disappeared back inside, leaving his clothes behind and seemingly unaltered.

Huh. Not bad.

"Don't take it just yet," Kusuke said before Kusuo could leave. "I still need to put in the communicators."

"Sure." Putting the not-a-watch back in its box, Kusuo handed it back over. "They'll all be done tomorrow morning?"

Kusuke raised three fingers to his head in salute. "Scout's honor."

Kusuo rolled his eyes. Idiot. "I'll let the others know."

"Don't forget to go over the surveillance footage."

"Fortuna eruditis favet."

Kusuke nodded. "Exactly."

It was probably the most civil and familial conversation the two brothers had ever had in their lives. Who would have guessed all it would take to bring them together was the death of their father?

I'd rather spend the rest of our lives fighting.

Unfortunately, one rarely got what they wanted, and Kusuo even less often than most.

Without a goodbye, Kusuo left Kusuke to finish his work. He wished he had something more to do with his time than just brood. It wasn't even noon yet, and they wouldn't be ready to move until sunrise tomorrow at the very earliest.

Reaching out with his spirit energy, Kusuo searched for the familiar signatures of his friends. Kokomi (with her brother) and Chiyo (with Shun on the main house engawa) were, of course, the easiest to find, but Mera, Kuboyasu, Nendou, and Hairo were an easy second. Aiura was in her usual meditation room with Yamato, which made Kusuo frown. They better not be talking about him and Kokomi again.

Akechi and Toritsuka were harder to pinpoint since he was least attached to them, but he stumbled across their yellow and purple auras eventually. Everyone was preparing for battle the next day, knowing there was no going back once the attack started. Kusuo and Shun had argued for the girls to stay behind since they were still new to combat, but Kokomi and Chiyo would hear none of it, and Kuboyasu had actually laughed out loud when reminding everyone that Mera was a national championship judoka in middle school before she had to quit to take care of her family.

Stopping in on Mera and Kuboyasu first, as they were the closest, Kusuo peeked through the dojo window because he didn't want to intrude or, worse, get pulled in. Mera had Kuboyasu pinned, his face smushed against the wood floor with his arm locked between her knees and elbows.

"Now, the best way to get out of this hold is to grab the cloth on the inside of your attacker's knee with your left hand—"

"Yer wearin' shorts."

"My hakama were too hot."

"Well, how'm'I s'posed t'grab yer clothes if ya ain't wearin' clothes?"

"You want me to take it all off?" Mera sounded more contemplative than upset. Her voice brightened. "You know, that's a great idea! I've never done skin to skin before, so it will be an excellent learning experience."

"…yer messin' wit' me again."

Mera giggled and patted Kuboyasu's hair. "Yes, Kuboyasu-san."

Before he could take advantage of her loosened grip, she renewed her hold hard enough that Kuboyasu grunted.

"Now," Mera continued, "the best way to get out of this hold is to grab the cloth on the inside of your attacker's knee with your left hand."

Kusuo left the pair with a bewildered shake of his head. He honestly couldn't tell if they were best friends or worst enemies, complete strangers or borderline lovers.

Whatever, Kusuo decided as he followed the pulse of spirit energy to his next destination. It's not my problem in any case.

"Are you sure it'll be okay if I just wrap it?" Chiyo's sweetly feminine voice still had a faint undertone of apathy, but she sounded more like herself than she had just yesterday. "It looks pretty bad."

"I-it's fine." Shun was doing his best to suppress the embarrassed squeak that came whenever he was within a foot of a girl. "Hiei-sensei says the damage is only on the surface. My spirit energy heals it from the inside out, so the muscle and bones take priority."

Curious, Kusuo leaned around the corner of the house to catch a glimpse of Chiyo and Shun where they sat on the engawa. Shun's legs were drawn up in butterfly position, his right arm held out for Chiyo to wrap. Kusuo winced at the blackened lines edged by raised blisters that were starkly visible against Shun's pale skin. Chiyo was on her knees with a medical kit open at her hip as she gently massaged a thick yellow-white paste on Shun's arm from elbow to fingertips.

"I hate that you got hurt like this," Chiyo said, and Kusuo's heart did an empathetic leap. Was this the moment? Would she finally confess?

Shun shook his head, his neon blush would probably glow in the dark. "It's nothing. I can barely feel it anyway."

"You…you can barely feel it?" Chiyo asked. "You mean your arm?" She straightened in alarm. "Are you saying you can barely feel your arm?!"

She jabbed his inner wrist with the pad of her finger hard enough that Shun yelped. "Ow! Hey, Yumehara-san, what was that—"

"Thank goodness…" Chiyo bent over so her hair hid her face, tears choking her voice. "I'm so…glad…"

"Uh…Yumehara-san?"

"Oh!" Chiyo sat up with a sniffled laugh. She wiped away her clinging tears with the fingers not holding Shun's wrist. "I don't mean I'm glad I hurt you, I just mean I'm glad you can still feel pain."

"Uh…?"

Chiyo giggled. "Because if you couldn't, that would mean you had nerve damage, Kaidoh-kun. You might never be able to use your arm again."

"O-oh." Shun looked away with a deepening blush. "I didn't mean I couldn't feel my arm, Yumehara-san. I just meant the pain wasn't that bad."

Chiyo stroked her fingers over a particularly bad burn on his inner wrist, and Shun flinched. "You don't have to be strong with me, Kaidoh-kun."

"I-I'm not. I just…" He rested his hand atop Chiyo's, her fingers still pressed against his wrist. She looked up in surprise, and he met her gaze. "I don't want you to think that you can't rely on me, Yumehara-san."

Chiyo's heart fluttered so hard, Kusuo felt her soul ripple. "Kaidoh-kun…"

"Yumehara-san." His fingers tightened on hers. "I—"

The engawa shoji slammed open to reveal Toritsuka, aura blazing. "About time I found somebody! What were you all thinking, leaving me to fend for myself like that? I thought the compound had been evacuated without me!"

Shun and Chiyo leaped apart with nonsensically stammered excuses.

Damn it, Toritsuka!

"I-I-I should go." Shun shoved the first aid supplies into their white plastic box, bowed awkwardly with his left arm full and his right arm pressed against his stomach to avoid jostling it, and hurried away into the depths of the house.

"Eh?" Toritsuka stepped aside so Shun could rush by. "What's with him?"

"…Toritsuka Reita." Dark energy coalesced around her palm before exploding into a red-edged black kusarigama. She glared up through her bangs and raised the scythe over her head. "You stupid jerk!"

Atta girl, Chiyo.

Not wanting to interfere with justice, Kusuo left Chiyo to chase a shrieking Toritsuka around the ruined courtyard.

Nendou and Hairo were out of Kusuo's way, so he didn't bother to stop in on them. Besides, they were in a dojo with their spirit energy flared; it was pretty obvious what they were up to.

Kusuo stepped into the hall at the same moment Makoto stepped out of the room Kusuo shared with Kokomi. He had a strained smile on his face that Kokomi likely didn't even notice (she never did) as he backed into the hall.

"You just get some rest, okay? I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"Thanks, Nii-san. You're the best."

"Ahahaha, of course! I'm your big brother, after all." He slid the door closed with a snap and pressed his forehead against the seam with a groan. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Kusuo was inclined to agree. Usually, Makoto was loathe to leave his sister alone for even a microsecond, and yet right now, he looked ready to bolt like a hounded bunny and hide quivering beneath the engawa.

Chiyo influenced curiosity pushed Kusuo to ask, but that would mean showing the perv vulnerability; he would never be that desperate. Instead, Kusuo hid behind the corner until Makoto gathered himself enough to trudge away in the opposite direction. Once his spirit energy was well and truly gone, Kusuo left his hiding place—I wasn't hiding; I was unobtrusive—with his energy outstretched. It hadn't even been an hour since they separated, but Kusuo already ached to be with her again.

Yare, yare. How much longer until Chiyo stops messing with my emotions? My head can't take much more of th

Kusuo froze with his hand on the door. There were three people in the room. One was Kokomi—obviously—but who were the other two? The felt oddly familiar, and yet Kusuo was sure he'd never met them before.

Are they Dark Reunion? Kusuo had to force himself not to throw open the door, though the door's handle splintering beneath his fingers wasn't that much less of a giveaway.

Think, idiot. If they were hostile, there's no way that perv would wander off so benignly. Because as much as Kusuo hated to admit it, the person in the world most willing to lay down his life for Kokomi (Kusuo exempted) was her freak of a brother.

With a steeling breath, Kusuo eased the door open. Kokomi smiled up at him, entirely unsurprised by his entrance.

"I wondered what you were waiting for." She wilted a bit, surprised by the way his eyes barely lingered on her before jumping around the room. "Is something wrong?"

"Who else is here?" Kusuo demanded before mentally punching himself in the head. Way to ruin the element of surprise, moron.

"Who else?" Kokomi looked around, befuddled. "No one else is here. My brother just left, but you were in the hall long enough to see him go."

Kusuo stretched out with his spirit energy again. Three brilliant presences winked back at him. He shook his head. "Someone is here."

Stepping into the room, Kusuo slid the door closed and locked it with a snap. Whoever was stupid enough to stalk this room, they had to know they weren't getting out without a fight.

His eyes still darting from shadowed corner to shadowed corner, Kusuo sharpened the range on his spirit energy for better accuracy. The unknown energies narrowed down to pinpricks of light, pinpointing their exact location…

"Oh, shit."

"Kusuo?"

…right behind Kokomi's belly button.


Kaliea: Okay, be honest: who didn't see that coming? :P