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esonikofanfiction · 5 years ago

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K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER VI: IMPERIUM

The alarm bell sounded loudly through the halls of Scepter 4. Fushimi lay asleep within his quarters, yet against the blatant siren call, he squinted his eyes open with a twitching click of his tongue.

"So loud. What now?"

Sleepily, he rolled onto his stomach, fingering his PDA. The glow was painfully bright, and while he didn't have his glasses on, he vaguely caught the blurry numerics that made up the three o'clock hour.

He slapped the PDA back on the desk and groaned his face against the pillow. "Shit."

Outside, a rhythmic tromping rumbled down the hall. Eyeing through the pillow, he could see the blacked-out streaks of passing footsteps flashing past the crack beneath his door. Then, to his surprise, the door itself swung open, pouring in a blinding beam of light and with it, a mere instant of perception that allowed him to detect the bleary outline of a figure swooping in. Then all was swept away, reduced to utter darkness as the door was shut again.

Fushimi bat his eyes against the sudden change and glimpsed the figure's pitch-black form approaching dangerously fast.

An urgent breath, a burning grip inside his stomach urged him into consciousness. All sense of sleep and restfulness abated and a desperate, innate motion sent his fingers in a clutch along a hidden dagger resting on the floor.

He lunged an outstretched hand and caught the figure by the arm, giving it a sturdy yank.

The figure hurled over him and landed in a bouncing plop beside him on the bed.

He flew himself on top of it, his giant flourish whisking bed sheets well above their heads as he produced the dagger – lit with Suoh’s fiery red – and hovered it atop the figure’s neck.

Then he paused.

His eyes shot open wide.

His breath caught in a stammer as he witnessed Rei Kiyoka staring frantic emerald eyes at him while shushing him to silence.

Fushimi's upper lip involuntary twitched. "You!" He howled in something of a whisper, though she only hissed above him to be quiet. "Of all the idiotic — !”

" — Reisi!" She said over him, gripping slender fingers on his arm.

Fushimi cocked his head, startled to confusion. "How do you — ?"

" — Get Reisi!" She called urgently. "I have to — ah!" She winced into a painful cry, which he suppressed by clamping a palm across her mouth, feeling (though he knew not why) an equal urge for secrecy against another passing party charging down the hall.

As he did, a subtle deviation caught his eye.

He followed it, scaling downward just below the reddish glow emitted from his dagger to the bare space near the collar of Rei’s coat.

Kiyoka's ordinarily porcelain skin was tainted black with branching veins that seemed to be alive. Even as he looked at them, they crawled beneath her skin, inching their way upward to her throat.

Mortified, he snatched his hand away. "The hell is wrong with you?!”

“There isn’t time," she stuttered out, another painful twinge producing further stifling from her captor.

“Damn it, woman, be quiet!” He found himself scolding her, and then he stopped himself. “Wait, why am I hiding you? I’m arresting you. Geez, what is wrong with me? And you for that matter?”

“Reisi…” she repeated through his fingers, and something in her voice commanded him to look at her.

Slowly, he released his hand.

“I have to tell him. I have to tell Reisi. I have...” She kept repeating over and over, oscillated in and out of consciousness. Fushimi felt her limbs contract, then relax. Her words turned to mumbling as her fluttered eyelids dimmed with the final disappearance of her strength. “Reisi,” she called out again, then laid back still and silent as a doll.

Fushimi's eyes flashed.

Checking her pulse, he found that she was only unconscious. Then he, too, relaxed – long enough for him to venture back to his former query. Staring down, he looked at her in silence. The noise inside his head grew louder.

This woman...knows the Captain?

Sounds like she more than knows him. She said his name so casually, as if...

His scowl increased while inwardly, his mind began to race across some hidden past between the two, some way — any way — to explain how someone sinister like her, a member of Hisui Nagare's clan, would ever be on such informal terms with Blue King Reisi Munakata. It made no sense, and yet the fact that he knew close to nothing about her gave him cause to doubt himself.

Everything regarding her was so damned contradictory. And then it came: the bold-lettered question, the one that ever lingered in the back of every thought he ever had of her. It spun in circles round and round, flashing through his mind with all the things she'd done, the way she’d proven time and time again to be the enemy, and he times she almost wasn’t; overall, the blur that was the one thing he could never understand: Just who is this person? More importantly, who does the Captain think she is?

It consumed him, domineering every thought, shutting all else out until a sudden interruption made him jerk his head up, instantly made conscious by a pounding on his door.

Sitting fully upright, the sheet slid off his shoulder. He peered down to Kiyoka sprawled across the mattress. Her eyes, mere slivers looking up at him, held just enough intention, just the right amount of familiarity, to make him angry.

His hand holding the dagger came up and his face glowed red as he held a finger to his lips. "Not a word," he ordered, and tossed the sheet back over her, shielding her completely as he stood and sauntered quietly to the door.

"What?" He said abruptly upon opening it.

Akiyama and Benzai stood outside.

“Er- sorry to wake you, Fushimi, but there's been a breach of headquarters," Benzai announced, much to Fushimi's evident shrug.

“Someone broke in. Maybe a thief,” Akiyama added. “We’re not sure what his motive was, but we managed to trace his movements to this area of the building before the trail went cold.”

"You haven't seen anything, have you?" Benzai asked.

Annoyed, Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Does it look like I have?"

The two men straightened stiffly in their places. Benzai choked a cough. "Uh, no. We were just — "

Stepping in, Akiyama interrupted. "The Captain’s looking for you, Sir."

Fushimi glared at them. "Fine. Just let me get dressed,” he said, turning back into the doorway. "Unless you've got a problem with that…”

“Uh, n-no, of course not — “ Benzai started as Fushimi slammed the door.

A cautious pause ensued until he heard the footsteps die away, at which, he turned and scanned a witting eye across the room. "You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to guess?"

Kiyoka peeled the sheet away, her pale expression vaguely lit by rays of moonlight streaming through the window on the far side of the room. She didn't say a word, nor could he identify the silent look she bore; however, it conveyed the answer plainly and he shrugged. “Guess you’d have to have a pretty good reason for coming here half-dead, wouldn’t you?”

He took a step into the room. "You're twisted, that’s for sure, and I’m never going to trust you. But for all that, I can't exactly accuse you of being tactless."

"I'm touched," she whispered, drawing in a shallow, quaky breath. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"That's depends on why you're really here."

"I told you — "

" — Yeah, I heard you,” he waved, cutting her off. “Look, either way, it's not going to be easy. What with all your noise, I'm surprised you made it this far."

Kiyoka let her breath out in a laugh. "There you go, complimenting me again. You better be careful."

"Don't kid yourself," he shot back. "You were insane to break into Scepter 4 in the first place. If you really needed the Captain, since you seem to know him so well, there were ways you could have called; but no. You had to come to me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Is it really so hard for you to stay away? Why risk your life? And for what? The ‘fun’ of it? And how'd you even know this was my room?” He added as an angry afterthought, yet even as he spoke, he stopped himself, holding up a palm against her. “You know what? I don't want to know." He turned back to the door, cautious of another passing party, and then his voice descended to a whisper wreathed in bitterness. “No doubt, just another reason why you're so damn twisted."

"Please, Sashimi," he heard her whisper quietly behind him, and he twitched, shifting her a narrow glance. His eyes had since adjusted to the dark and he could see her staring fixedly at him.

A small eternity passed and he could feel himself grow angrier and angrier until at last, he grit his teeth. Damn it, he thought. “Put the sheet back on. I don't want you looking at me while I change."

Several minutes later, he finished strapping on his saber and mumbled the words, "Don't move,” as he left her in a grumbling search for Captain Munakata.

Scepter 4 was booming with officers, all in a rage to cramp up every aspect of security. Strolling through the commotion, Fushimi slid his glasses into place. Idiots, he thought with satisfaction.

He followed the trail of officers to the initial scene of the crime along the southeast corner of the building, where a side door stood ajar, hanging loosely on its hinges with the lock blown off. Its blasted remains lay scattered in a heap of charred black metal on the floor. Captain Munakata stood before it. Beside him was Lieutenant Awashima. Meanwhile Akiyama, Benzai, and Dōmyōji ran a sweep of the area with a slew of lower-ranking officers at their heels.

With one hand on his hilt, Fushimi eyed the mess before him. “So this is where he entered, huh? Not exactly subtle.”

The Captain, arms crossed, turned a casual eye to him, instantly perceiving some small discord in the regular passivity of his subordinate's features.

“Indeed, it was a rather sloppy performance," the Lieutenant answered. “Clearly this was the work of a single intruder. What's odd, though, is that, given the level of power manipulation involved, this intruder appears to be highly skilled and could have easily managed a more refined operation; yet, judging from the blast marks, he was in too much of a hurry to plan out a strategic approach."

"You're saying he was desperate?" Fushimi asked.

"It appears that way, yes. It would explain why he acted so carelessly. However, until we have him in our custody, we have no way of knowing his true objective. As it is, this is the only location we've managed to obtain any evidence thus far. We're now in the process of conducting a more thorough investigation in search of further clues. In the meantime, all the exits have been sealed. If he's still inside the building, we'll find him."

Fushimi turned his head, scanning the door. ”Why the fuss for just one person? What's so special about him?"

"What's 'special,'” the Lieutenant retorted, "is that the amount of power he has exceeds the regular boundaries of supernatural users. To put it more distinctly: this person possesses abilities of both supernatural and genetic significance."

Fushimi eyed the Captain, who didn't move an inch. "Genetic powers, huh?”

Awashima crossed her arms. "If you observe the intruder's point of entry," she nodded toward the door, "you'll notice subtle traces of his aura (which, in and of itself, is rather strange. I can't seem to pinpoint its origin). However, if you gather a sample of the residue and break it down more thoroughly under a microscope, you'll find the essence of a powerful stimulant not yet widely known among the scientific community. Its primary use is to enhance and ultimately harness a person's supernatural capabilities — more specifically, the abilities of natural-born users."

"Strains," Fushimi supplied.

The Lieutenant nodded.

“So that’s the intruder’s main power source? It really is just a Strain? And with the help of this…drug,” he waved, “she’s able to cause this level of destruction?”

“Not exactly. The aura doesn’t emanate from his powers as a Strain. He’s developed a completely separate aura from his natural-born powers, though whether from the Slate or through artificial means, that remains to be discovered. I believe several other factors may be involved. However, the influence of the stimulant is apparent and has worked to amplify his powers as both a Strain and an aura-wielder."

Fushimi hummed, thinking back on Kiyoka’s use of power up to date. Slowly, things were starting to make sense. “This stimulant have a name, Lieutenant?”

"Applying the correct medical terminology, it's known as Desoxy — "

"Just give me the simplified version," he stopped her.

"We refer to it as Imperium."

Fushimi knelt down, examining the scorch marks on the floor. "So, in other words, through a process of genetic mutation using this Imperium drug, scientists have found a way to replicate a person's supernatural abilities, is that it?"

“That’s it exactly."

At this, Fushimi's lips curled with disgust. "Sick," he mumbled, rising once again.

"And given how thoroughly the stimulant was scattered all throughout the aura's blast range," Awashima added, "it seems the intruder was subjected to a great deal of human/Strain testing in order to achieve the appropriate DNA level required for replication."

"How can you tell they were actually able to achieve it?" He asked.

Beside him, the Captain shifted him a glance as the Lieutenant pulled up a schematic on her PDA.

"The results are off the charts," she said, holding it before him. "His aura has completely synced itself with the stimulant. Whatever the procedure entailed, I imagine it was long, and no doubt, he endured a substantial amount of pain; but the outcome is clear."

"So, then: the lab rat has since become a super rat," he proposed, and the Lieutenant noticeably blanched.

"To put it crudely, yes; however, it's not that simple. You see, the Imperium Procedure is an illegal practice that Scepter 4 has been attempting to irradiate for some time. As it does not comply with the laws set forth to safeguard supernatural wielders, the grand majority (if not all) of Imperium's test subjects undergo the procedure against their will under the exploitation of modern scientists who have neither the knowledge nor the understanding of the power once originated from the Slate. As a result, many Strains perish before ever reaching the point of replication, while of those few who manage to survive the process to completion, a vast percentage experience damaging (and ultimately life-threatening) side-effects."

This piqued Fushimi's interest and he frowned. "What kind of side-effects?"

"Once the drug has sufficiently aligned itself with a Strain's DNA, it has the ability to enhance that individual's capabilities derived from the Slate, but to a dangerous degree. While the powers designated to each person — either by a King or as a Strain — are specific to his or her DNA, Imperium works to genetically mutate that DNA in order to extend the natural limitations of the body's tolerance. The reason why a Strain works more coherently with this idea is because — "

" — a Strain is born with its powers," Fushimi chimed in, "therefore, its body, which has already accepted the Strain capabilities into its DNA, is more susceptible to further alteration. Then going one step further, possessing an aura unlike any other may just serve to sweeten the deal.”

Again, the Lieutenant nodded. "Correspondingly, the individual (or, in this case, the Strain) will become infinitely more powerful; meanwhile scientists may then extract the blood in order to create a serum, thus enabling ordinary humans to wield a similar power. However, as the drug was initially created outside the influence of the Slate, it wouldn't matter if the test subject survived the procedure. It would slowly start to consume him if too much of his Imperium-induced power is used." Staring back out at the scene, her expression became stern. "It would appear that whomever this intruder is has just exhumed a substantial amount of power — much more than his body should produce — and is now running on empty. Even if he's managed to succeed in whatever his reason was in coming here, I imagine he won't get much further."

A sudden sinking feeling caught Fushimi in the gut. "You mean she could die?"

The Lieutenant turned a flashing eye to him, awakened to his differed use of pronouns. ”If she isn't dead already, then yes, I'm afraid it's very likely, which is why I'd like her to be found as quickly as possible."

An instant shadow blanketed Fushimi. He stared out at the aftermath of Kiyoka’s toxic power, feeling oddly guilty. Guess it really was important if she was prepared to die just so she could see the Captain, he realized. Even now, she may already be... A sudden sense of urgency invaded him, though he quickly caught himself. Get it together, he swore inwardly.

"Captain," Awashima went on. "I recommend we take this Strain in for questioning and, if possible, implement the necessary protective measures that will ensure no further harm can come to him…or her," she said, shifting Fushimi a glance. "Despite the evident danger involved, this person may well need our help."

While she spoke, Fushimi stole apart from her, stepping past the Captain with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his stature slumped in boredom. Casually he peered around his shoulder, a mopish glare shot squarely through the Captain’s metal rims. The Captain didn't strain himself to meet it. Rather, he assumed the innate courtesy indicative of his nature and addressed his second-in-command. "I wholeheartedly agree, Ms. Awashima," he declared. “You may rest assured, I have every confidence in your judgement regarding this matter," at which, he turned to leave.

"Captain," returned the Lieutenant in somewhat of a question, watching with a twinge of speculation as the Captain, followed by Fushimi, exited the scene.

Not a word was spoken as they made their way across the crowded halls of Scepter 4 to the men's dormitory and into Fushimi's room with a silent turn of the knob. Adhering to a mild force of habit, Fushimi sought to flip the light switch, but the Captain held a hand to stop him. Then, without so much as a scan about the room, Munakata entered, making headlong for the bed.

A brisk and orderly flick of his coattails set him down upon the mattress as he scooped up Kiyoka neatly into his arms.

Witnessing this sudden, rather blatant act, Fushimi cocked his features to the side. He stared on with a fixed look, unsure of what he saw, though feeling somewhat strange, as though he shouldn’t look at all. Guess they really do know each other — and well, too, he couldn’t help but notice with a twitch.

He forced himself to look away and slunk into the doorway, sending out a side-to-side glance, making sure the coast was clear, then turned and shut the door.

"Brother," he heard in muffled tones behind him. Once again, he tightened with surprise, peeling his eyes back to view the scene. Brother? The air about him felt absurdly tight all of a sudden.

"You overexerted yourself again, Kiyo," the Captain answered, pulling a small vial from his pocket — the same vial, Fushimi realized, as the one that Kiyoka gave to him on the roof of the Susanoo Trade Building a mere four days before (though it felt like an eternity ago).

"If you continue in this manner," Munakata lightly warned her, "not even I will be able to save you." He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and spit the lid out on the floor, taking up a small mouthful of its contents.

"I...I had to see you. I had to tell you," she began, though her voice trailed off to subtle words mouthed quietly to the Captain, words that only he knelt down to hear, at which, her shoulders drifted back; her arms, once draped around his own, fell limply in his lap.

The Captain drew her head up in his hand, thumbed her lips apart, and set his own upon them, feeding her the liquid.

From the corner of her mouth, a narrow stream leaked out, trickling down her chin. She gasped a trembling cough as Munakata ran his finger down the spill, stroking her with genuine affection.

The tenderness with which he cared was daunting to Fushimi – not to mention it was wildly uncomfortable; and in a strange turn of events, he then felt himself to be the intruder as opposed to the actual one.

"I regret that I must place you in this rather awkward position, Mr. Fushimi," the Captain announced, still focused on Kiyoka. Gently, he deposited her sleeping form atop the bed and rose, adjusting his glasses. "It is of the upmost importance to me that Ms. Rei Kiyoka remain undetected for the time being. Particularly after our Lieutenant's overly acute explanation on the subject, I think you can understand why."

Striding up beside him, Munakata placed a hand along his shoulder, moving onward to the door. "Administer another dose if her condition hasn't changed within the hour. I'll return just as soon as I can."

The door creaked open and the yellow light poured inward as before, yet as the Captain passed, Fushimi turned to him. "You don't have a sister," he declared point-blank.

Munakata paused, toying with his glasses and so shielding his expression. "That is correct," he replied, and without another word, he was gone.

"Damn it," Fushimi mumbled once the door was shut. Glancing back at Kiyoka, he drooped his head and sighed, clicking his tongue. "Not worth it," he said, and strode back to the bed, sitting on the floor beside it. He leaned his head against the edge and, peering up, he saw more clearly, Kiyoka's blackened fingertips mere inches from his face. He sighed again. "Neither was that, was it?”

A passing thought raced through him and he eyed the place along his hand where, only yesterday, a shard of glass had severed it clean open – a wound that would have surely needed stitches. Fushimi then caressed the smooth, untainted skin. No trace of any cut appeared; not even a scar. It was all so very strange to him. Never in his mind would he have thought that in the moment Kiyoka’s aura struck, he’d witness something other than that same life-sucking void that it appeared to be. He pictured pain, abundant pain, enveloping his core; he pictured living lifelessness and torment that resulted in oblivion. Little did he wonder that an aura such as hers would offer comfort over pain, life instead of death; and yet the words of Awashima, telling him that Kiyoka’s healing power was, in fact, a poison slowly killing her, weighed deeply on his mind. Which of them was true? Or perhaps not one but both of them were true?

When he had woken some time later the day before, having seen that he was healed, he found that all the damage at the Crosswalk had been wholly swept away. The city and its people had returned to what they were an hour before. Not even a memory lingered to attest that any danger had befallen, but for in the minds of those of Scepter 4, left gawking in amazement at the turning of events.

Given the absurdity of it all, Fushimi deemed it wiser not to mention the connection that he made: that Kiyoka’s strange ability was undoubtedly to blame/thank for all that had occurred. But after what he just saw, he figured the Captain already knew.

Fushimi groaned uncomfortably at the thought. “What a load of crap you pull,” he whispered, staring up at her. "First you go and break the world, then mess it up by fixing it. You’re working for the Green King, yet you’re friendly with the Captain. Can’t you just be awful all around? Why do you have to confuse everyone by pulling something like this – something halfway decent?” He closed his eyes, running his healed palm across his brow and through his hair. “It’s no wonder I never know what to think of you.”

He leaned back once again, eyeing Kiyoka’s blackened hands, and felt a haze sweep over him, weighing on his eyes. He remembered it was still the middle of the night, but that was all his mind had time to think about.

The next thing he recalled, he was waking to the grey/blue dim of darkness, perceiving with a start that he had fallen fast asleep.

He uttered a small curse, pulling out his PDA. More than an hour had passed since the Captain had departed. He nudged up onto the covers and examined, somewhat frantically, the still motionless Kiyoka.

It didn't look as though she'd worsened (thank goodness), though she didn't look at all well either. The gnarled veins encompassing her body hadn't budged; and yet, they still appeared to be at work. Vaguely, he could spot their crystal movements just beneath the skin. For the moment, however, Kiyoka didn't seem to be in pain — none that he could tell, anyway. She was, in all, at some small element of peace. But not for long, he surmised. With that in mind, he wasted little time. Hunching down, he pinched her chin between his fingers, giving it a shake. "Wake up." She didn't move. Patience having never been a virtue of his, he proceeded with a set of semi-forceful taps on either cheek. "Wake up!" he emphasized.

This time, Kiyoka stirred, squinting groggily awake. “Don't...shout."

"I'm not shouting."

"Yes you a — ah – !” Her words were interrupted as Fushimi dove in, whisked her up, and grabbed the little vial from the table.

"Shut up and drink this," he snapped, and took a sudden swig, withdrawing the remainder of its contents. He reigned her head up nimbly by the neck and shoved their lips together.

Kiyoka drew a startled breath and snatched him by the sleeve. Her eyes began to water, though he made her force it down. She swallowed, then flinched herself away in an involuntary cough. "Bastard," she choked, and slumped her dizzy head against his chest, gasping several shaky breaths and trembling all over. ”I didn't think they paid you enough for this."

"They don't," he answered flatly, and he felt her muffled chuckle vibrate lightly on his chest.

Then, in a not-so-delicate manner, he grasped the outer collar of her coat, yanking it away to view the Imperium-filled poison crawling on her skin. Then he froze, blinking with surprise. Holding her so near to him, pressing her against him as he did, he hadn’t thought to notice that the blackened skin he looked upon extended further downward, past the open neckline of her dress, all the way down to… Oh shit, he realized, reddening instantly. Hurriedly, he tore his eyes away from her, only to be caught within her vivid emerald stare.

Unbeknownst to him, Kiyoka had been watching him the length of his discovery, though to his surprise, she didn’t seem to care enough to stop him; on the contrary. The look she bore produced a minor glimmer of amusement. No doubt she was savoring the awkwardness he felt.

Fushimi hid behind his glasses, staring past her features to the wall. “So, what is this stuff, anyway? An antidote?"

In the corner of his eye, he saw Kiyoka shake her head.

Instantly, the realization struck him and he flashed his face to hers, then her chest — Nope, not there. Squinting his eyes firmly to a close, he frisked his fingers quickly from her collar, then bore on her a potent look. "You mean that's the drug? The Imperium bullshit?!” Grumbling bitterly under his breath, he added, "What a stupid name."

"Reisi," she breathed, swallowing painfully. "He knows I can't survive without it. Not yet."

“So you're an addict," he accused her.

Kiyoka hummed a chuckle, though it turned into a cough. "Easy for you to say," she rasped out, "but I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

Fushimi only stared at her, confused.

"Tell me, Sashimi, can your worth be measured in a test tube?"

A shiver ran the length of him. He wasn’t expecting that. Unconsciously, his lower lip twitched open. “W-what?” He asked.

Therein her face, he saw a certain hollowness, something warped and broken like a fragment of computer code that missed its key component.

“Well, mine can,” she declared.

That’s when he realized. I can't judge her for this; and I judge everyone. Only difference is, they deserve it; but with her, with this… He paused, staring at the floor with a begrudging thought. I can't claim that right.

He quelled the urge to sigh. “I take it the Captain was the one who rescued you?” He asked. Kiyoka didn't answer, and, turning back to look at her, he found her fast asleep. Annoyed, he slumped his shoulders with a curse.

Faintly, from beyond his room, a steady thumping sounded, growing louder. A moment later, the door opened. “My apologies for taking so long," came the Captain’s voice. He shut the door. "Any improvement?"

"She hasn't gotten any worse," Fushimi noted, scanning her. "She hasn't gotten any better either.”

The Captain hummed a rumble of concern, which Fushimi heard and felt as though awakened from a daze. Suddenly the presence of the Captain made him conscious of his own, and he realized just how deeply he’d been staring down at Kiyoka. More than that, his arms discerned how closely he was latching on to her, just as Munakata had before. It pricked him with frustration and self-consciously, he meant to set her down, but Munakata intervened.

"Allow me," he offered, and knelt along his knee, picking Kiyoka out of Fushimi's arms. Fushimi twitched uncomfortably at the proximity and found himself annoyed. "It appears another dosage is required,” the Captain surmised.

Fushimi frowned. "I just gave her the last of it. You’re saying she needs more?"

"I good deal more, I'm afraid,” he uttered gravely. “More than neither she nor I anticipated."

"You mean you knew this would happen?"

The Captain cupped a palm around Kiyoka’s face and brought her sleeping features in alignment with his own. He studied her with something of a twinkle in his eye. “Why else do you suppose she would have left the vial in your care so as to place it into mine?” He asked.

“Yeah, I got that I was just the middle man,” Fushimi shrugged defensively. “But are you seriously telling me that she left it as some sort of a signal to warn you that she was going to die?”

"Sadly yes," he replied, and Fushimi drew a silent gasp. "Much to my dismay, I received her message — both of them, in fact – all thanks to you. I confess that I have waited for this day; though what I greatly feared has not yet come to pass, nor will I allow it to, not now while she is safely in my grasp, not when I may utilize my power to sustain this thirst of hers.” He dipped his forehead gently onto hers. “The thirst I drove her to.”

Fushimi’s mouth hung open. “The thirst you drove her to?”

Munakata sighed. “My greatest torment lies in forcing her to bear the countless terrors she so recently escaped. Yes, it was I who drove her back to them. My only consolation lies in Kiyoka herself. I maintain that this thirst is one I would not have placed upon her if I did not possess the means with which to quench it, nor she the will to face it and survive.”

“This is insane!” Fushimi fumed. “The more you give her, the more it'll consume her. Isn’t that what the Lieutenant said?" There was no answer and he realized he was clenching both his fists into the creases of the sheets, wrinkling the cotton to the point of nearly tearing it apart.

Munakata hardly seemed to notice him. With Kiyoka in his arms, he rose, heading for the door. "I am grateful for your assistance, Mr. Fushimi, along with your concern for Ms. Rei's well-being. However," he said, his tone deepening, "I must now ask that you relinquish that concern.”

Fushimi chucked his hold. "What are you talking about?"

Munakata paused, his back to Fushimi. "I doubt I need remind you of the secrecy surrounding all you have witnessed, and yet for that, I must selfishly demand your silence in this matter.” He turned once more to gaze upon Rei Kiyoka’s face, his voice that of a whisper. "She, above all else, must be protected."

The scowl across Fushimi’s brow relaxed itself, and then a wholly different frown grew heavy on his face, one single thought emerging and suppressing every other. Just who is she to you?

He felt the weighted silence of the moment as he focused on the back of Munakata, on Kiyoka in his arms, the pair of them before him and yet somehow far away. Then the Captain drew a step apart from him and broke him from the thought.

"For now, as it so happens, Mr. Fushimi," he declared, "you hold Ms. Rei’s life in your hands.” He turned a sidelong glance at him. “I trust you'll keep it safe." Then, just as before, he was gone.

Fushimi watched the door close, shutting him in darkness yet again.

An empty feeling settled in his chest, a darkness on his brow. Falling back, he laid across the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “The hell was that?”

He still recalled the feeling of her body, weak and fragile, in his arms. He cast an arm across his face, feeling hot, and knocked his glasses off, blanketing his eyes as though to shake away the thought. Stop it, he said to himself. I know what you’re doing, but stop.

He couldn’t seem to calm himself, so he took a deep breath, then another. A moment passed, then several more, the memory of Kiyoka, of the Captain, the entire episode, lodged firmly in his mind, yet somehow flitting by him in a whirl that wasn't firm at all, but fleeting, on the cusp of disappearing altogether. Somehow that frightened him.

Hours trickled by this way, though somewhere in the midst of time, it felt like but an instant passed; and on waking to the light of day, feeling the warmth of sunlight on his face, he rolled into a sitting pose, rubbing at his tired eyes and wondering if everything that happened was a dream.

He found his glasses strewn beside him, slid them on, and saw at once, the empty vial sitting on the floor. His shoulders caved instinctively, every sinking feeling from the night before pervading him again. Damn, it really did happen.

(Chapter V: Allegiance // Chapter VII: Underworld)

(K:Tales of Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)

#esonikofanfiction #saruhiko fushimi #reisi munakata #kproject #kprojectfanfiction #kprojectanime #k project #anime #manga #anime fan fiction #fanfic #writing

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