Some tiny, but mild-medium(ish) sexual content in this chapter (I don't know how to write from a man's perspective, forgive me).

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Next chapter, the 9th chapter, starts the Second Nonary Game.

Chapter 8

With the way he is feeling queasy, Keiichi isn't sure if that awful, overpriced salmon hasn't settled into his stomach right, or if he's just anxious.

He recalls that after Keiko informed him of their father's disappearance, he promised her that he would go to the police to file a report for a missing person. It wasn't a lie this time, surprisingly enough. Aoi had suggested he do it to avoid suspicion. A frantic Keiko was stubborn, though, insisting to come with him.

So they headed down to the station to talk to an officer and file the paperwork.

Keiko was surprised by the lack of imminent response from the officer assigned to the case, but was even more so by the fact that Keiichi's intentions to go to the United States the next day had not wavered.

"Our father's missing, and you're still going away!" she screamed hoarsely, beginning to lose her voice from sobbing and yelling all day. Her outburst caught the attention of everyone in the station and, after a sharp glare in their direction from an officer, Keiichi scurried to take a fuming Keiko out of the building. When he brought to the parking lot, she cried and punched his arm many times. She called him a horrible son, which had him biting his tongue from retorting that he's a horrible father – he has a terrible habit of never keeping his feelings in control, and he has learned the hard way that it affects Keiko negatively, especially when it comes to their father – and that he didn't care what happened to him.

"Keiko," he finally started softly, after she had calmed and resorted to simply sobbing into his chest, with his t-shirt now soaked with her tears. He placed an arm around her. "I know that this is a serious situation. I don't want to go at a time like this, but the police are doing their job, and will do their best to find him. We can't do anything but hope they will find him as of now."

She looked up from his shirt, her face blotchy and tear-stained, her sad eyes filled with unanswered questions. He looked at the same chocolate eyes that they both have inherited from their father – he hated his own eyes, but they looked prettier on Keiko's cherub face.

"Do you trust me?" he finally asked, after a few moments passed.

She sniffled, but nodded.

"I don't want to have to leave you alone like this while Papa's missing, but I don't have a choice. I can't tell you why it's so important for me to go and why I can't skip out on this, yet. But it concerns you, me, and Papa, and it is for our own good."

"Keiichi," she choked out in a sob, "you aren't looking into moving there, are you? You aren't going to leave me like Mama did. And I don't want to leave Japan either."

Keiichi's heart broke at the innocence and sadness in her voice and immediately moved to tighten his arms around her. "We are not going anywhere, Keiko, I promise."

"Okay, I trust you."

Keiichi's heart broke a little more in that moment – now, he wasn't sure what was worse: having been lying to his sister and breaking her trust in him (especially considering some of the inhumane things he's about to do tomorrow), or having to soon reveal his father's true intentions and actions to her and breaking her trust in their father.

Shaking the memory and thought out of his head, he sets down the napkin in his hand, and stares at the young woman across from him.

"Rikona," he begins, beginning to feel the bile rise in his throat, but swallowing it back, "all those years ago . . . when we were playing the Nonary Game, you saved me from getting caught when you stayed behind. Everyone would have realized that I was grouping people off in a specific way." Though Keiichi doesn't clarify in what way, he knows that Rikona probably realized it during the game.

"You were Number 9. You could join whichever door you wanted to. It was only fair that I help you, seeing that you could have been of great help to me, as my father had advised me at the start of the game." She grimaces. "I've been thinking about it for a years, actually . . . in numerology, the 9 is a number that understands all connections and is most tolerant and conscious. It's a number of global consciousness."

He blinks, confused. "What?" What does that have to do with anything?

Rikona simply closes her eyes and leans her head back against the booth. "Fumio and Ryota weren't espers," she admits in a whisper.

His eyes widen. "What?" he repeats again, this time in shock. "Why were they with us then?"

Rikona sighs, as she tucks a lock of pin-straight, black hair behind her ear. "Ryota was part of another faction of the experiment – his cousin was an esper, while he was not. How would that affect the transmission of information between the two? Your father had determined that there are two conditions that must be met to form a link to tap into the morphic fieldset: first, one must be subjected to a life-threatening situation, and, second, must be surrounded by others who have tapped into the field, so that morphogenetic resonance will allow for the link to form."

Rikona opens her eyes and lowers her head to look at Keiichi with piercing eyes. "Would the situations be dire enough to unlock Ryota's abilities to receive the transmitted info, granted that he was surrounded by other espers? That was something our fathers wanted to explore and experiment with." She grins wryly. "And, of course, no experiment can have valid results without a control . . . which Fumio and his sister served as, since neither of them were espers."

Keiichi, both in awe of the mechanics of morphogenetic resonance and in disgust of how their fathers so easily could think to experiment with children, opens his mouth to respond, but struggles to find his voice. He clears his throat a few times and sips his water, as Rikona waits patiently, her hands folded in front of her on the table.

"A-And you?" he finally manages to choke out, setting his glass down softly and then running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. He really must get a hold of himself – he cannot allow anxiety to get in the way and cloud his mind, especially not tonight.

She exhales lightly. "I was the opposite of Ryota: I was – am – an esper, while Shika is not." Her voice is solemn. "We were all different experiments of a whole investigation. Though we all had an overarching purpose, each of us served different functions in this sick test."

Keiichi swallows, feeling the urge to puke once more. "The bracelet, then . . . my number 9 bracelet . . . was that their experiment on me? "Did Keiko have the same functions on her bracelet, too?"

Her finger traces the rim of her wine glass. "It appears to be that way. You were Number 9. You were the global consciousness. Your bracelet value wasn't really 9, in this way, but was arbitrary, adapting to create a specific digital root with the other numbers presented. Both mathematical and philosophical." Her grave, chocolate brown eyes look up to meet his.

The solemn, mechanical way she speaks makes a tremor run down Keiichi's spine. "My dad isn't much of a philosopher, and hates math." It is a weak excuse for an objection. "It doesn't sound like he would be behind something like this, even if he did want to give us an advantage . . . and why would it be something as obvious as this? Anyone could figure out I was lying about my bracelet value being 9 if I had tried to use it anytime during the game to work my way around the digital root requirements.

It would cause jealously, resentment, and arguments over the bracelet. Everyone would have asked why I had to be the one with the bracelet. They might have realized that it was a case of favoritism, or I was being targeted by the people that put us in here. Doubt would have clouded their minds and ruined the experiment. Gentarou Hongou is subtle and sly as a fox. This is too obvious to be his work."

"That's what he may have realized you would think, though," Rikona objects, the perfectly manicured nail of her index finger pointed at him. "It could be a trick. You said he was sly and subtle – exactly what you would expect from a cunning, big businessman."

Keiichi isn't convinced though. He shakes his head at her. "What if . . . what if it was something else, though?"

She raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He feels anxiety bubble in his chest, but swallows, opening his mouth to speak. After all, he hasn't thought about this for years, only to falter now, when he finally has the chance to explain it to someone. "We had determined, because of my bracelet, that either my bracelet value changed to 1 to adapt to the digital root requirement, or that my father tricked us into thinking that the final door would only open to a digital root of 9."

Rikona nods in recollection, and answers, "Yes, I remember."

"What if it were the latter?"

"What?"

"What if the door didn't open to 9? Or, what if it didn't open just to 9? That's why it opened to 8."

She stops playing with the straw in her hands to consider his words, but after a few minutes, resumes. "I don't know, Keiichi," she finally answers, looking skeptical. "Your bracelet did keep changing the display when I pressed all of those buttons."

"It could be a trick," he counters, in the same tone she had before when suggesting the same to him.

She shakes her head ruefully. "I don't know, Keiichi. Whatever I told you here tonight, I was only able to discover by reading through my father's journals."

Frustrated by her answer, Keiichi lets out a groan, before jumping into calculations. "Light was 2, Akane was 5, Aoi was 4, and Nona was 8. 2 plus 5 plu – "

"Oh, my god!" Rikona exclaims with now-widened eyes, lightly slapping a hand to the table in surprise. "How can you actually remember everyone's numbers? I've done my best to block out everything from memory as best as I could!"

"It's branded into my memory," Keiichi responds back sourly, his mouth twisting in distaste. "I can't forget even if I tried."

He had to remember. The Second Nonary Game was reliant on the past events that they were forced to experience.

But, even regardless of that, he could never forget.

.

Rikona is such an aggressive, controlling person that Keiichi would have thought that she would have been the one to lead in the sex. To his surprise, though, he dominates her, his body over hers, while she cries and moans under him.

Before he knows it, his sweaty back hits the soft, plush mattress. They've made a mess of Rikona's expensive, silk sheets, but she doesn't seem to care too much.

It's been a while since he's had sex and, damn, does it feel more relieving than a cold shower. He feels much lighter, as though all of the tension and stress of the upcoming Nonary Game has melted away.

Keiichi turns his head to see Rikona close her eyes, a serene smile gracing her face.

Her blissful state puzzles Keiichi, though. "You didn't come," he accuses, narrowing her eyes at her.

"It's okay." She looks at him through half-lidded eyes and gives him an assuring smile. "I almost did." Her voice is soft.

God, I'm such an idiot. He should have at least rubbed at her clit a bit, or try not to blow his load too soon. A blush rises to his cheeks as he realizes that he feels like a teenager all over again. And why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she touch herself? Rikona is by no means a blushing virgin, and knows what she is doing when it comes to sex.

Whatever the case, it doesn't matter now. It won't be fair to Rikona if Keiichi doesn't get her off, especially since he's been leading her on the entire night.

"That's hardly fair," he murmurs, as he leans down to slowly, deeply kiss Rikona, who hesitantly kisses him back, most likely confused. "I'll take care of this."

She looks away shyly, an action that stuns Keiichi, because he has never seen her like this before. "That's not necessary, Keiichi."

He shakes his head and gives her a quick peck, before stifling his yawn. You can't fall asleep, Keiichi. Not now.

He then scrambles out of the bed, and kneels near the edge of the bed. He pulls Rikona close, and then his face disappears between the apex of her thighs.

- - November 5th, 2027; 2:33AM - -

He strolls over to her en suite bathroom, stretching lazily as he does. He quickly pops into the shower to clean himself up. It takes no longer than 5 minutes to finish washing up and pick up his clothes from the bedroom floor to dress into.

As he puts on his pants, he feels his phone vibrate through the front pocket. He quickly answers a text message and then rushes to wear his socks and shoes.

Before Keiichi walks out of the room, though, Rikona murmurs softly in her sleep that she loves him. It makes his heart sink into his chest, since he knows he might never be able to be with her, and has been completely unfair to make her believe that he can.

.

"Took you long enough to get here," Keiichi mutters scornfully to Aoi, as they lug Nijisaki's body down the grand staircase.

The white-haired man scowls in the darkness. "It took you long enough to call us. I was beginning to think you were too into fucking that brat that you forgot about the fucking mission." He stops speaking for a moment and chuckles. "Heh, no pun intended."

Feeling frustrated, Keiichi snaps, "What pun?!" Keiichi feels so under pressure right now, not only from the weight of the mission, but from carrying this surprisingly heavy man, but here Aoi is, making puns as if it's not a grave situation they've put themselves in – if they're caught or exposed in any way . . .

"You know . . . 'the fucking mission.' The fucking mission," Aoi insists, causing Keiichi huff at him, annoyed, and roll his eyes at him.

Some people go on a date with to get into another's pants, which calls for getting into their home.

But in Keiichi's case, he went on a date to get into Rikona's home, which called for getting into her pants.

"Stop with the crudeness and move quickly!" Akane hisses, from in front of them, as she carries the three gas masks in her hand. "We don't know how much longer Nona will be able to feed the security cameras with looping footage."

"Fuck. Uh, okay, then. Akane," Aoi whispers, "go bring the van up front. We'll be out of here by then."

A surprised Keiichi can make out Akane's eyes widening in the darkness. "M-Me? You know that I don't have a driver's license!" she protests, her voice tinted with horror.

Aoi shakes his head. "Don't worry, it's only a tiny drive. We can't afford to stay here much longer and need to get out of here – who knows how much longer Nona will be able to bypass the security system for? And I trust you."

"You can do it, Akane," Keiichi encourages in a murmur. "Remember that the left pedal is to accelerate, and the right is to brake. Also, use your right foot to push against the brake when you want to shift gears."

Akane pauses for a moment, processing the information, before nodding. "Alright. Come to the front gate, you two, quickly." She scurries away, the pitter-patter sound of her tiny feet reverberating throughout the large foyer.

A few minutes later, Aoi and Keiichi have finally gotten Nijisaki's body down the stairs. They both prepare to head near the front entrance, but a soft voice interrupts them.

"Keiichi?" Rikona croaks.

Aoi and Keiichi freeze as their eyes meet each other's and widen.

"Fuck," Keiichi mutters. "Rikona woke up."

"You idiot!" Aoi hisses. "You were supposed to spray the brat's room with Soporil before you left!"

Rikona's shadowy figure begins to slowly move down the stairs. "Keiichi . . . is that you?"

He doesn't want to admit to Aoi that he didn't have the heart to knock Rikona out with the anesthetic, and though he scrambles to find an excuse, he comes up with nothing. "I'm sorry!"

"Keiichi, where are you?" She stops and stays on the staircase. "Come back up."

He nods at Aoi, who signals him to go. They quietly place Rikona's father's body down on the marble floor. Keiichi quickly climbs up the stairs, and grasps her shoulders. "Shh, Rikona, go back to bed." He slowly begins leading her up to her room, crooning softly at her that nothing's wrong and go to sleep.

Rikona's body stiffens beneath his hands. "You're leaving now?" she whispers, but doesn't look at him.

He sighs. "Rikona, I have to go. I'm sorry."

Her shoulders slump. "I understand." She turns around to face him, and reaches up to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Keiichi."

He smiles softly, as his palm cups her cheek. "Sweet dreams, Rikona."

She goes into her room, leaving the door slightly open, almost as if she's offering him to come back in. But Keiichi waits until the sound of footsteps cease before pulling up his sweater to cover his nose and mouth, and retrieving out the small can of Soporil, that he had used to knock her father out with earlier tonight, from his pocket.

I can't allow my feelings to get in the way of the mission anymore, he thinks to himself, as he sprays the anesthetic inside the doorway.