Chapter 9: A Way Forward
The anger was a living thing inside me, a raging inferno threatening to consume all reason. Every muscle in my body was coiled tight, ready to spring, but with no target, no direction, it just churned. My breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the oppressive heat that seemed to radiate from my very core. I didn't even know where my feet were taking me; I was just moving, a puppet dancing to the furious rhythm of my emotions.
"Takumi-sama…" Tohru's voice, soft and hesitant, barely penetrated the roaring in my ears. It was a distant whisper in the echoing cavern of my fury. My chest felt tight, as if a clenched fist were squeezing my heart, and the air around me crackled with the barely suppressed energy that threatened to erupt from my pores.
"Takumi-sama?" Her voice was louder this time, more insistent, her hand reaching out to gently tug on my sleeve. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her fingers digging into my flesh as she tried to physically drag me back to the present. Her golden eyes, usually bright with amusement, were now clouded with a deep concern, searching my face with a desperate affection that sought any way to comfort me, to soothe the tempest raging within me. That pity, however well-intentioned, sparked a brief, ugly flare of resentment, like a dying ember catching a stray gust of wind. The thought, 'Don't you dare look at me like that,' flashed through my mind, sharp and hot. But it quickly sputtered out, choked by the sheer exhaustion that weighed me down. I wasn't willing to lash out at her. I hadn't fallen that far, not yet.
I forced myself to inhale slowly, to drag the air through my constricted lungs, and then to exhale with equal deliberation, trying to release some of the pent-up tension that threatened to tear me apart. The effort was like trying to hold back a tsunami with a dam made of sand.
"Haah," I sighed, the sound ragged and unsteady, forcing the words out with a strained smile, even if it felt weak and brittle. "I'm fine, Tohru… I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp and assessing, as if scanning for any cracks in my facade, any tremor in my voice that would betray the turmoil I was trying to suppress. A stray lock of her long blonde hair fell across her cheek, framing her face in a halo of golden light, and for a fleeting moment, I was struck by her beauty, a brief respite from the storm within me. But the storm quickly returned.
I nodded, the movement jerky and unconvincing. "Yeah… yeah, I'm good." I managed, forcing the best smile I could muster, even if it felt weak and tired. She'd been working too hard for my benefit since we met for me to not at least try to show her my appreciation.
I slid the door open, the wood groaning in protest, feeling a little less volatile, only to be met with another unexpected scene that threatened to reignite the embers of my anger.
Musashi was sprawled on the futon, one arm flung carelessly over her head, the other holding a battered paperback, her brow furrowed in concentration as she devoured the words. Sunlight streamed through the paper screens, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and casting long shadows across the room. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, utterly at odds with the lingering tension of the recent confrontation. The only jarring note was the gaping hole in the floor where her head had been forcefully introduced to the tatami by Tohru's fist, a stark reminder of the recent chaos.
She noticed our entrance, her head snapping up, her silver hair swaying around her shoulders like a curtain of moonlight. Her sharp, angular features, usually composed and fierce, softened with surprise, then twisted into a pout of wounded indignation that was almost comical.
"I can't believe you guys just knocked me out and left me in the hole! What the hell is wrong with you people? Some friends!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch, cracking slightly with dramatic offense. She even added a petulant "Humph!" at the end, folding her arms across her chest and turning her face away from us, as if we had personally wronged her. The always calm, sometimes trash-talking bro of a swordswoman was now acting like… a teenager our age.
"You okay, Musashi?" I asked, stepping into the room, at least trying to make up for my earlier abrupt departure and the general weirdness of the situation. "Although you did kinda assault Tohru and then were going for me," I added, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my voice.
"Yeah! Yeah, you tell her!" came a cheerful, if somewhat delayed, echo from my supporting cast member, her golden eyes flashing with a predatory glint that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
"And?" Musashi challenged, her pout deepening, her silver eyes narrowing as if she was trying to find a flaw in my logic. "You think a little tussle is worth all that drama?"
I blinked, taken aback by her unwavering self-justification. "Well, yeah! I mean, you were kinda trying to… you know…" I trailed off, gesturing vaguely with my hand, my face flushing slightly.
"You would have enjoyed it anyway, ya little perv. I've seen the way your eyes track my legs when we're working out! Not to mention how your face melts a little whenever Tohru hugs your arm!" She punctuated her words with an accusing finger jabbed in my direction, her expression a mix of triumph and playful disgust.
I, caught completely off guard and with no remotely dignified way to defend myself, decided to go for broke and embrace brutal honesty. "Let's be real though… they are great legs, and if Tohru's gonna do it anyway, might as well enjoy it." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, a reckless confession fueled by a strange mix of bravado and resignation.
What I said seemed to break the very fabric of reality. The air in the room thickened, the sunlight seemed to dim, and even the dust motes hung suspended in disbelief.
"Huh?" Musashi blinked, her pout vanishing, replaced by an expression of utter bewilderment. Her jaw dropped slightly, her silver eyes wide and unblinking. She seemed to be buffering, her brain struggling to process my admission and recalibrate her understanding of the universe.
"If you like them so much, then go for it already, Takumi-sama," Tohru said, stepping forward, her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down my spine. With a dramatic flourish that seemed entirely too practiced for the occasion, she placed her hands on her own… assets, her fingers tracing their curves, and pushed herself in my direction, her golden eyes gleaming with a challenge. Part of me, the more… impulsive part, was sorely tempted to double down on my earlier statement, to reach out and accept her… invitation. But the other, larger, part of me was still mostly me, and I wasn't quite degenerate enough to start groping my maid in front of my female friends.
"Hard pass," I declared firmly, turning away from the… offer, my cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, unfamiliar heat.
"Why?" Tohru's heartbroken question was swiftly ignored by myself and Musashi as she quickly changed the topic, her earlier fluster apparently forgotten in her eagerness to move on.
"Sooo. How did the meeting go? Any plans?" she asked, the earlier drama seemingly forgotten, but my mood instantly soured again at the thought of the meeting and Azazel in particular. The memory of his smug face, his dismissive tone, and the casual way he dropped the bombshell about my parentage sent a fresh wave of anger through me.
"No," I spat out in response to her innocent question, the word laced with a bitterness I couldn't quite contain. "No plans yet… but I did find out I'm probably the bastard son of the leader of the Fallen Angels."
"HA!" Musashi barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet room. She threw her head back, her silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, finding my non-existent joke uproariously funny. Until she registered the grim expressions on Tohru's and my faces. Then her laughter died in her throat, her eyes widening with a dawning horror. "No… Kami-damn it! Why is everyone I get involved with the child of a freaking faction leader? What now, Tohru, is gonna tell us that she's a Dragon Princess?"
For some reason, that particular turn of phrase was the one that finally snapped Tohru out of her pensive silence. She'd been unusually quiet since we'd entered the room, her gaze distant and thoughtful, as if she were wrestling with some internal dilemma. Now, her golden eyes flashed with outrage, and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Her outrage seemed to momentarily eclipse my own.
"I mean… aren't you the sole inheritor of one of the most famous warriors in history? Aren't you a little greedy wanting to be a Princess?" I countered, a teasing smirk tugging at my lips, enjoying the way her indignation had momentarily distracted me from my own brooding.
"Hell no!" was her immediate and vehement reply. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the tatami, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "You think some old dude's funky sword magic pays the bills? NO! I need to work as a freaking bodyguard. I want to at least serve a great lord, one that will shower me with riches and affection. At least then fighting wouldn't just be a fun hobby, and I could live a good life!" She finished her rant, all of it coming out in one breathless torrent, her chest heaving with the force of her conviction. Then she deflated, her shoulders slumping, and she huffed, trying to get her breathing back to normal.
"You uhh… you good now?" I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice, wondering if she just needed to vent her frustrations.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm good," she said, still a little short of breath, but her earlier intensity fading, replaced by a sheepish grin.
I realized Tohru hadn't said anything for a while and turned to see her staring at Musashi with that same thoughtful, almost calculating look she'd had a few times before. It was a look that made me slightly uneasy, as if she were trying to solve a complex equation or dissect a particularly interesting insect. I had seen her look that way at us a few times, but I never really got a straight answer whenever I asked her about it.
"Tohru?" I prompted, my voice laced with a question mark.
She blinked a few times, snapping herself out of her thoughts before looking at me, her expression carefully neutral, almost blank, clearly unwilling to share whatever was going on in her head at the moment. "Yes? You need anything?" she asked, her voice devoid of any emotion.
I just sighed and decided to let it go. I was too tired, too emotionally drained to push her. "No. Just making sure you're still with us. Anyway, no, there is no current plan, and honestly, I don't really want to think about it right now. So I'm gonna get some more sleep since I still feel like crap."
I turned and walked back towards the futon, my steps heavy, my shoulders slumped, passing right next to Musashi, who raised an eyebrow at my abrupt action and the sudden return of my gloomy demeanor. With a flourish that was probably more dramatic than necessary, I yanked the blanket up and tossed it over my head, effectively dismissing the world and its problems. She let out a girlish "Eep!" as the blanket enveloped her, the sudden darkness and the scent of old tatami and her own faint perfume momentarily disorienting her.
"Hey, what the hell?" I heard Musashi protest from beneath the covers, her voice muffled and indignant, but I ignored her, burrowing into the futon, pulling my knees to my chest, and willing myself to drift back into oblivion.
This time as I slept, instead of the dream of oblivion where I meet Bahamut, I found myself dreaming of my younger days. Before I was sick and locked out of almost everything that made life fun. Before Ren died and shattered everything I thought was steady. Those good times, of running around in the streets of Kuoh with my friends when I thought nothing could take them from me, surged through my mind with a vibrancy that almost hurt. It was before I ever had to worry about what anything meant, before I cared about anything supernatural, when I didn't even know I was weak. An easier time, a better time, one I had somehow lost without even realizing it.
When I woke up from my rest, the transition was jarring. My brain had to take a moment to reset and remember where I was, what had happened, and who these people were. I felt something kick me lightly from the side and looked over to my right to see Musashi right where she was earlier when I moved the blankets, but now she was drooling softly on her pillow, her silver hair splayed around her face, her leg twitching rhythmically as she kicked my own. "Haaa," I sighed, the sound heavy with a weariness that went beyond mere physical exhaustion, before looking to my left to see Tohru's wide golden eyes, like molten orange globes, peering intently into mine while she lay with her face mere inches from mine, her breath warm and sweet on my skin.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice rough with sleep, trying to keep my own face still, not wanting to disturb the close proximity.
"Hoping close proximity will draw about the beast deep within you?" She answered, her voice a low murmur, unsure, but from the unnerving intensity in her eyes, I didn't think she was lying.
A sharp knock rapped against the sliding door, the sound startling in the quiet room. "Nice timing. Go answer that, please," I told my horny maid, my tone dry, while I tried to stretch and wake the drooling samurai.
"Whaat? stooop..." Musashi complained, her voice slurred and petulant, as I shook her shoulder gently. She swatted my hand away, burying her face deeper into the pillow, her drool spreading into a small wet patch.
The door slid open, revealing the group from the meeting, apparently having finished their discussion and now wanting to talk to me about something. I saw Yasaka, her expression serene but with a hint of concern in her golden eyes, my mother, her face pale and drawn, Azazel, the arrogant and flirty look from earlier completely gone, replaced by a strange mix of curiosity and something akin to… awe?, and the two maids, Kumiko and Amori, their expressions carefully neutral but with a flicker of something unreadable in their sharp gazes.
I held off my immediate surge of frustration and anger at just being in the same room as the man who had fathered me and then abandoned me, focusing on Musashi. "If you don't wake up, Yasaka is gonna fire you!" I said, my voice sharp and clear.
Like magic, the struggling-to-wake young woman was up and about, her silver eyes wide and alert, her posture ramrod straight, looking just as serious and professional as when I first met her and Kunou. "I wasn't asleep! I'm always at the ready!" she announced to the entire room of powerful supernatural beings who had just witnessed her drooling on a pillow and fighting with me for sleeping space.
I noticed Lady Yasaka slap her forehead with a delicate hand, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. I'm not gonna lie… I never expected to see that crude body language from a woman as graceful as her. Musashi really is… impressive in her ability to draw that out.
Most of us ignored her, though, in favor of hearing the Governor-General of the Grigori speak. He cleared his throat, his voice surprisingly soft and hesitant. "Okay, so hear me out. I know you probably don't want anything to do with me."
"Yeah," I interrupted, my voice flat, my gaze unwavering, just so he was aware that he was absolutely correct.
He winced slightly, a flicker of pain in his eyes, but he took it and moved on, his tone becoming more businesslike. "That's fair. Listen, I understand what you are going through. Your mother explained the issues, and while I don't have an immediate solution, it is my power that you inherited, so I can at least try to figure something out for you. Can you summon your Sacred Gear? It will help me get a read on you and your body right now."
I looked him in the eyes, searching for any sign of deception, any hint of manipulation, but found only honest concern, albeit tinged with a strange curiosity. "Haa. Alright," I conceded, a reluctant sigh escaping my lips. As the thought formed in my mind, the obsidian black belt with the vibrant pink gem as the buckle materialized around my waist.
He looked at it for a second, his gaze intense, almost predatory, before his eyes widened in surprise. "Well, I'll be… To think you have a dragon gear as well. Calamity Collapse though… interesting." He kept mumbling to himself, his voice low and indistinct, words I didn't really catch, while his eyes scanned over my body, his gaze lingering on the faint glow beneath my skin.
He then took out something that looked like a remote control, but with only a couple of buttons, its surface smooth and cold to the touch. "This is just gonna run a scan on your light, nothing more," he said, his voice reassuring but with an undercurrent of excitement.
"MY light?" I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion.
"Angelic light. The light of God. All angels have it, fallen or not, it is part of us. The source of our life and power…. And from this scan, you have quite a bit for a human-fallen hybrid." He showed me the device, the screen displaying a single word in glowing pink letters: "Virtue."
"What does that mean?" I asked, confused as to what being virtuous had to do with anything.
"It's a rank of angel. A relatively high-ranked one in the grand scheme of things. There are 9 ranks of angels. I was a Seraph, the highest order of Angels. While right now your light's volume and power is hovering around what is normal for a powerful Virtue rank, 5th and dead in the middle of the pack in the Hierarchy. It's no wonder your light is affecting you negatively if it's this potent. You basically have a V8 engine inside of a Tonka truck. Your sacred gear is the only reason you haven't been turned to ash. It's been keeping itself as a buffer to protect you from your own power." His voice was laced with a strange mixture of awe and concern.
I looked down at my belt, no realizing the full extent of the protection Bahamut had probably provided me over the years, the silent guardian against my own destructive potential. Everyone else in the room was silently watching us interact, their breath held as if I was just gonna suddenly take a swing at my long lost father, but they didn't say a word, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
"What should I do then?" I asked, the only question on everyone's mind, my voice barely a whisper.
"Get stronger… far, stronger. Right now, you are strong for a human, surpassing what most could ever do, but that is nothing compared to the light of a Virtue meant for combat. You need to become physically strong enough to house your birthright. Or you will die." His words hung heavy in the air, a stark and brutal truth.
After I heard his words, I looked to Tohru, who hadn't moved from the door area after letting everyone in. I realized that she had already put me on track to become much stronger, but "You said I'm stronger than what most humans could hope for? But how, I'm sick."
This time he looked at me oddly, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Kid… if you punched a human your age right now… your fist would come out the other side. You are definitely not normal. You're sickly from your weird genes, and a freaking draconic sacred gear makes your "sickly" stronger still than most people's normal."