Mending The Disconnect [Hi-to|Closed]

The rain had stopped.

Hi-to’s eyes followed the lingering trails of tears against the glass panes, watching as they ran further down the frosted window only to pool like blood around the panes. The silence of the Annex was a small paradise when compared to their other more covert facilities, only interrupted by the occasional crack of embers from the aged lamp by his desk side. Amber, hawk like eyes watched as the flame died and swayed with each breath he took, his very elemental nature flinching away from him the closer he got. Its shadows lingered across the documents, giving the illusion that even the kanji were weeping, a desolate picture for anybody but the man sitting there.

But the subdued atmosphere was anything but depressing. The Second Division’s presence had always wrapped around him like a security blanket, Kiriko’s presence warm and familiar like some kind of soothing, inner hollow. All those years of shared intel, covert missions and times of war had brought them to a place neither of them could have imagined when they were just lowly foot soldiers, before the politics and games had ever bothered their determined minds. Once upon a time they had been puppet masters.

Now they were the ones who cut the strings.

Their initial meeting of mind games and violence had been the snowball effect that had slowly but surely turned into an avalanche, never stopping, never slowing down. Even at a time when they’d been at the bottom of the food chain there’d been a gleam to their eyes only they could read, something fundamentally twisted and dark. It was a side he could never openly display in public, and yet she’d never seemed to mind it, only ever accepting it for what it was.

Their lives had always been godforsaken, their world full of fools and jokers, but Kiriko had never been either of those things. Her power over those around her wasn’t on a gauge that most people could measure, and whatever it was it was something she’d carried since they were young, so much so that his loyalty had always been given freely to her before even his own Captain. Her malevolence had always been an odd comfort, raw and pure in a world where everybody tried to be the better man, always trying to justify the things they did.

The annex that housed them both was like returning to a home long forgotten, the lingering presence of her Lieutenancy clinging to the occasional corner and shelf, her mark forever staining. Sitting here in this very chair, comfortable in his own decaying skin, was the closest he’d gotten to her for some time. Now the largest of all Divisions, the implementation of the Sixth was going as smoothly as could be expected, Umi’s reign as Captain having cracked a few of their blood borne soldier’s stubborn loyalty to their old cause. A few strays here and there was only a small blip on his radar, nagging flies to be swatted in between his other duties. But their dynamic as a duo worked as fluidly as it had in the past, and even without Kiriko’s physical presence life carried on like a well-oiled machine.

And yet he couldn’t control it; this anger at the world, simmering slowly under the surface like a cancer. The façade of a man who interrogated for a living was serving him well, the human mind a playground he’d been navigating since he was young. It was a lie, one he was quickly growing tired of bearing, Hyperion the only one he knew to have his back no matter what. Somewhere along the way he’d become strong enough to be the one hurting instead of being hurt, and the old bloodstains that seeped into his pores were beginning to leave a stench that could never leave him. They all deserved to die, mostly likely, but sins were all relative to the beholder. To finally have his bearings in this palace of sin was the first breath of fresh air he’d had in years, no longer tied down with the naïve ideals of Jemukatashi, Noaruji or even Umi. Off the record was something he’d been doing for years, and now here he was, in a Division where such things were praised instead of shunned.

A large, mutating shadow slipped across his hands as something slipped into the room, fragile but carrying so much more weight than its carbon colored wings could carry. It was a large surprise in a small package, interrupting his reverie and paperwork with weak flutters of wings as it came to rest on an outstretched finger. Simple and to the point, communicating with her was as simple and rudimentary in nature as it had always been, their meeting long overdue.

Paperwork was restacked neatly, the flickering flame hissing as it was stubbed out between a calloused thumb and forefinger. They’d been waiting long enough, and the click of the office door closing behind him was loud in the otherwise secluded hallway, the smell of smoke lingering behind as he made his way across the hall.

The resounding knock wasn’t one he’d placed on this door for some time, the last being when Umi was still at large and he’d come here out of pure necessity. He’d always done whatever Kiriko asked, his loyalty to her the only thing consistent throughout his days, the only thing he knew to be real anymore, no matter how broken and fractured. They’d worn out the storm by throwing themselves into the eye of it, the only means of survival they knew.

But they’d survived together, no matter how far apart they’d been at the time. The current men who carried the reins were new faces in an old game, forever blind to the fundamentals of what they were playing. He’d end it one day if she didn’t do it first, become her living legacy for the day when she ordered him to do so.

She needed only ask.

******

1004 words: 20 GP

For all the previous thoughts, she didn't want to see him. Or perhaps it was that the want was so sharp and keen that it cut like an undeniable need. Far too keen to be acceptable, far too deep to be safe. Kohara was Kohara, and that scared her. The very sameness that she had relied on since the beginnings of her time as a Shinigami. They were a pair, twin reflections of hard people. He was the only one who could understand it all, the only one who she could imagine grasping the complexities and the necessities of what she had done.

And yet that very fact was fearsome. It was easier to imagine herself an island, to place rocks at her shores and ignore the battering waves. So much less terrifying to be alone in the void. To reach out as only a monster, strewing danger and pain in her wake. There was something wholly human about her thoughts when it came to Kohara, something young and small and personal. He was a blade in her arsenal, as fierce as all the rest and twice as skilled, but it did not end there. It never ended there. For the two had grown together in ways that no one else had ever been around for.

He was no friend. Because she had had those before and they had failed her.

He was no opponent. Because she had killed all of her enemies already and their bones were nothing but regret under her nails.

He was no grant teacher, throwing open the doors to human understanding. Because deep under that fascimile of humanity Kohara was just as dark as she, just as twisted and burned, the jagged edges of his personality clattering and sliding in perfect accompaniment to her own.

He was nothing good. Nothing benevolent or graceful, not a gift from the gods, not someone who could save her. There was nothing about morality that could describe their bond, nothing gleaming or innocent that would have shown to the world just how acceptable the two were. Just how human.

Because they weren't. And that was that. Kohara Hi-to and Chinda Kiriko had met as soldiers. They had struggled and learned as soldiers. And they had come together again and again as soldiers. He was nothing more than that, and nothing less. Her only true comrade in this world of dust and sin. And no matter the distance or the time that understanding could not be broken.

Which made her fears all the more foolish, but stronger still, seated below her breastbone like hard rubies. Her last chance at human connection, seething and grim though it might be. Last chance at reaching out to those below her, at tightening the distance that kept her so abstract.

The murmurs of her nightmares settled in, tiny pins piercing flesh as they drew in and out, slowly tracing cursive embroidery across the mantle of her skin. And there was nothing for it but the confrontation, the inevitable as Kohara responded to her need with the same loyalty as there had always been.

They might use one another, but only in the open. Using but never discarding, loving the game itself while cherishing the piece that was the other. As she stared into his face, seeing the new lines and the old stresses, she realized that the desire to play now, to obfuscate and run, the fear that puffed up like seeds in a gust of wind was to trample over that very trust that had brought Kohara to her door after so long spent in silence. She might be a monster, willing and otherwise, but she was not one who could turn away the broken burning of her soldier.

The words rushed and swirled inside her head, neither neat nor orderly, and she waved mutely for Kohara to step in close before the pressure overwhelmed even her legendary control and words came spewing forth, “There is much we need to speak about, Kohara.”

Her eyes were direct, chips of ice that glittered queerly in the fading light. A spell of dizziness caught up her gaze and she swept onward heedless of the repercussions, heedless of the fear of rejection that dogged her heels, “There is much I need to tell you. I have been ignoring you, as I'm sure you've noticed, these last few months. I chose you for my side for obvious reasons. I wanted you as my second, as my Lieutenant. I chose you, and yet I was unwilling to face our past together.”

“I am sure you have heard rumors, you have always had your ear to the ground. And no one is ever silent around here. Things went wrong somewhere, I went wrong, Kohara. And I am trying to replace the pieces, but I find myself overwhelmed at times. The emotions... Do you know, Kohara-kun? Do you know what it is like to be mastered by emotions when you have worked so hard to master them all your life? It is a fear I cannot put into words, and yet to you and I it is the worst, is it not? I am ashamed of my weaknesses, I am ashamed of my crimes. I was afraid to look you in the eye, to see myself looking back. And for that I will offer my regrets.”

She was not speaking from anger nor from the coolness of her icy heart, instead there was a steady push to come clean. To speak freely to just one person. To open up the crevasses of her soul, totally and wholly, to another. She had so many secrets, so much darkness, and she had never spoken truly to another ever since her first meeting with Kohara. It was time though. This was no longer a need she could ignore or brush away. For her own sanity, and for their relationship, she needed to breach the silence.

It would be like cracking open a stone. But inevitability would place her humble at someone's feet, if she had to choose she would pick Kohara above all the rest.

“It is time to talk, Kohara-kun.” 

WC: 1028 | GP: 20 | Total GP: 48

At first she wanted to correct him. To smooth out those lines of tension, to press on in ignorance of the truth that filtered through his pain. She hadn't felt this way in a while. Not since her last meeting with Takasugi, the pearl in the Second. The small seed of hope that kept the her memories restless and her dreams bloody. It was in looking at that innocence that Kiriko felt both the most soiled and the strongest, for she knew exactly what she had done that had damned her soul and knew just as well that she would do it all again to protect people like Takasugi.

But Kohara was not an innocent. He didn't need her protection. Though she might wish to lie to him, to wipe away the agony of his choices, to enfold him in the blissful ignorance of hierarchy, she knew it was not in his nature. Nor was it in hers. She was no swooping protector, she had never been able to deal with her own heart-wounds let alone anyone else's. Kiriko had to lead by example, had to inspire dedication and finesse, because she would never be the sort of person who could stand as a moral figure or a leader of the soul.

No. Never that. Only the shimmers cobwebbed shadows that surrounded her like a cloak, spider silk and dungeon gloom. She would lead you down to hell, the only consolation being that she would be there right alongside you. And that was all she had ever had to offer. But for Kohara it had been enough. He had sucked up her lessons like an eager sponge, accepting her world view as if he had held it inside himself all that time but was too afraid to admit it to the Sixth. They were alike in so many ways, but she was a leader of men and so she would take the responsibility for these shadows. This sea of blood. And she would not try to save Kohara, when she knew that if their places were reversed Kiriko would not wish to be saved herself. Not when she had done this to herself for the very freedom it gave her.

They were damned, but in the cradle of death they could finally be free of life's restrictions. She might hate weakness, might hate naivety, might hate kindness, but it was a hatred fueled by jealousy. Those were the very things she wanted most to protect in Soul Society. The inner hearts of her comrades. To be pure you had to open yourself to many follies, but together, with the bonds of humanity, it could make a society strong.

She knew that, just as she knew it was an impossible dream even now for such a thing to occur. Just as she knew that the reality was just as heady and dark as her worst thoughts. That it was so much easier to cut away, to pare at the souls of her men and to mold Soul Society into a thing of rigid and hulking strength. She could open the pathway to happiness, or she could ensure they were powerful. And now that Ine had laid his dream at her feet she knew which had to happen. She knew just how much she was carving herself into bloody history by imagining this new world.

Kohara wanted to know where they went wrong though, and she had to answer him in a way that she was beholden to no other. For it was her actions, her lessons, her words, that had in some way paved his descent into hell. Leaning forward, hands harsh against the edge of her desk, white lines of pressure bleeding through the skin, Kiriko let her stare grow frank, “It is not where we went wrong or where we went right, Kohara. I thought... once, maybe... that things could have changed. That it was all about perspective and that there would be a possibility of weeding out the threads of evil in the world. The things that hurt and enjoyed the hurting. That was idiocy, hopefulness maybe at its best. The truth is we were set on this path from the beginning, you and I. And perhaps it is all for some greater sacrifice, I need to think that it is, or perhaps it is simply because we are the types of people who will go to that length to achieve our duties. Perhaps if we were like all the rest, these things would not have happened. We would not have done such crimes to our own beliefs. But that is wishful thinking, and it matters little now.”

“All that we have now is our hands already covered in blood. All that we have now is our souls already shrouded by death. And so we must move forward, having committed such crimes as cannot be forgiven. What we have is the ability to go to any length, because there is no further to fall for me. And soon you might find the same for yourself. There is nothing worse I can add to my list of transgressions, and thus I am free to continue committing the wrongs that this world needs. For it is not as children hope that love and friendship can save what is rotten about the world. What we need now is strength, and it might bring pain, it might bring darkness, but it will serve its purpose of protecting that which is precious. That which need not become tarnished like you and I.”

“If we want to dream for the future, we need to first save the present. And only then can we hope for something better. I know now that I won't be around to see this dream of a better world, but I can still use my shame and my mistakes to be the one who does whatever it takes to save what we have now.”

The ache of this unveiling was like ice in her lungs, it hurt to have nerves and hopes exposed all together. She knew the idealism of wanting, and yet she also understood the temperance of realism. Somewhere in between was reality. It was time to find it.

“That is what I have struggled for. That is what I will struggle for. The dream that was passed down to me, that I have furnished in my own way for the Second. But that is not why I asked you here, Kohara. It is not the future that I need to talk to you about, because I know that you will understand that. It is the past that I have hidden from you. You are right in that we have both done wrongdoings but I have done my best to hide from it, to hide it from you and all the rest, and I can no longer keep these secrets.”

“The truth is I lost a piece of myself. I was a fool and I cast it away. Maybe I would do the same thing again, even now, maybe I am meant to be a fool over and over again, cast like some puppet in a never ending loop of mistakes. But whatever else, I made the decision and I broke myself into pieces in doing so. I thought... I thought power was all that mattered. And it is, it is all that matters. But with power one must also have control, one must temper the edge of a blade or else it will shatter. And I lost some aspect of myself in my rise to power, I don't know where or how, but I no longer have that same control. That same filter. I know what needs to be done, and I have the ability to do it now, I am certain of that after Kirishi's attack. I have my dream for Soul Society, for the world, but this thing that is wrong with me will not give me peace.”

She could not simply speak as if to herself, couldn't let this truth drop from the air without giving it the full honesty that it deserved. Nails digging into the wood of her desk, Kiriko felt her shoulders hitch up just slightly, but knew immediately that Kohara would perceive it. He was not her best interrogator for nothing, and so she knew too that he would realize the truth in her words. The bald reflection. Eyes lifting from the gouges in her desk, from the anger of her mistake even now, she felt that flame of emotion harden her insides to stone. Such pressure to make something so very very fragile inside.

“You might have heard the term Sovereign? We are beings that have ascended the natural containment of the soul. We are no longer what we once were, for whatever reason. Some of us go right, those lucky few go on in ephemeral ways, smugly perfect in their ascension. The rest, well, something went wrong along the way. Maybe we were never meant to be perfect all along, but for Sovereign’s like myself we end up vastly more powerful but with something missing. I gained all of this strength, all the strength I ever dreamed of, and yet I lost something equally as vital. My professionalism... It's... I am angry now, so angry, all the time, at everyone. I can't seem to keep my thoughts straight under all this rage. It weighs me down, makes me move too quickly, think too hard, ache too much. And I need, I need so much to act on this anger in a way that I never needed to before. So when I tell you that I am unparalleled in the Seireitei, that I am the strongest here, and yet that I am fatally flawed in a way that you yourself are not... that is what it means to be a Sovereign.” The bitterness returned, chipping away at her coolly detached persona. She hated herself then with all the fires that she so easily turned on the world around her. Hated everything in a maelstrom of bitter weakness.

“But I can't just accept that. I won't! I refuse to let my bad decisions, my fear, cripple me when I have finally reached such pinnacles of power. This is an ability I received because I need it. I have things to do. I have things to do. And no emotion will master me!” her rage rose up, voice hitting hard and sharp as her reiatsu turned cold as a blade.

The pressure cut out only a second later, her eyes soft for the first time. “Some call us the Broken. And rightfully so, I believe. You were intimately acquainted with Jomyaku-taichou, I believe enough to see what he was missing. But I am not broken entirely. I will not allow life to break me... no, not ever. Because I am not so weak as to shatter under the weight of all the people in my life who make my blood boil. All of these hurts, all of these mistakes, they are mine. Mine and I will own them. I will take them with me to the grave for sure, but never without implicitly accepting them.”

“I am a Sovereign, but I am not Broken. Unlike all the rest, I will not fail to do what I ascended in order to achieve. And yet it cannot be said that I am whole either, for I know now that I'm not. That is why... That is why I am telling you this, Kohara-kun. I need someone, who understands, who understands the necessity of all of this. It might not be right, it might not be moral, but it is needed. If we are to change the world, if we are to recreate Soul Society into strength, then people such as me are needed. Damaged though I might be, with your help I can control the broken bits of me. I am capable of it, I am determined to win, but... I need you Kohara. I never wanted to burden you with this, and I know it will only drag us down further, but this is beyond you or I and yet you deserve the truth...”

“I wanted to look you in the eye for the last time as a liar.”

WC: 2057 | GP: 41 | Total GP: 89

It was hard to tell if coming clean with his turbulent thoughts was a relief or another added stress, Kiriko's presence the only anchor in the room keeping his untamed musings from consuming him. How could he look her in the eye, somebody so perfect to him, when he couldn’t even risk glancing at his own reflection every morning? It was the first time in many years that he’d ever felt the inklings of shame crawl up his spine like spider legs, wrapping around his throat like the ghostly hands of all the people he’d ever wronged.

It was all in his head, and the notion of putting up that cool façade once more was one he had to squash down like bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t want to think of all the things they had done, were doing, or were about to do. Surviving in the world they were helping to shape was nowhere near as paramount as surviving with themselves, and once more Kiriko was a kindred spirit, close enough to touch but too far away to feel.

Letting the remains of his heart go brought with it the natural fear of rejection; it was beating far too fast for his liking, and the instinctual reaction to calm it with kaido was pushed down with a violence he only reserved for his worst enemies. Kiriko Chinda was very likely the most capable woman in the world, able to crush the souls of millions with only a simple whim if she so desired. How many men and women had come before those cold, dead eyes and had their insides flood with dread, acutely aware that she was ripping them apart from the inside out? Hi-to had never experienced it first hand, but the ensuing nerves were merciless; the least he deserved when faced with his past.

“I don’t know why I’m so angry all the time.” The irony that he was a medical specialist and was unloading on her wasn’t lost on him, but he felt no ounce of humor. “Things weren’t supposed to be this way, but I have nobody to blame but myself. If you hadn’t met me when you did, taught me how to control it, I wouldn’t be nearly as useful a tool as I am now.”

The mental wellbeing of others wasn’t something he often indulged in, his hands no longer capable of soothing and offering comfort. The weight of their sins had shifted that intent a long time ago into something darker, more grotesque. And yet somehow there was still something there, carrying nothing but unwavering loyalty and dedication for this woman. Even as her fingers bled into the contours of her desk and her eyes bled resolve, he could only gaze back at her with his own as sharp as his blade, lethal and unyielding. She was right, of course, as she so often was.

Kiriko Chinda was a lot of things, but she was not, and never would be, at peace. It simply wasn’t in her nature to do so, and there was something so macabre in the way she demanded nothing less. Even as the tension rose with her voice and her pulse fluttered to life beneath her throat, Hi-to could only stare, unable to blink as he let all of her rage, her hatred wash over him like a maelstrom. Words that had at first appeared so metaphorical proved to be purely factual, and as fiction as it sounded, not once did it occur to Hi-to that she told anything but the cold, brutal truth.

It hurt. Physically, like a bloodlust and killer intent had infested the small space between them, pressing down on his lesser being with a weight he could barely perceive. This was the will that could shatter worlds with nothing less than a single thought, the resolve that had somewhere along the way, saved him from himself.

He found solace in it, all this raw, unadulterated power. He didn’t ever want her to hide from him, and for once, not for his own personal gain. If she needed somebody to feel her rage then he would bask in the blood of her victims until everything was right again. If she needed somebody to feel her resolve then he would persevere at times where she could not.

No; she wasn’t broken. Umi had been broken, and it was if a blindfold was being pulled away from his eyes, and everything seemed to make so much more sense. How a hollow could infiltrate their ranks and ruin them so thoroughly, to insist his will upon them even more forcefully than their Captain Commander. He’d hated Umi right along with the rest of their godforsaken world, and the satisfaction that had come from seeing Kiriko have her way with him was the only thing that allowed him to sleep at night.

He’d already started his descent into hell a long time ago. It was comforting, knowing that he would never walk it alone, that she would always be there, sovereign or not. Right until the bitter end they would fight, claw their way out until their cuticles snapped and their hands lost all feeling.

“I was never a man of peace.” Sometimes he wished he could have been, saw the faces of the souls he’d purified and wondered what it felt like to be free of all the pain. The freedom that came with madness was liberating, dangerous if not handled just so, and a height that Kiriko was in danger of falling from. ”I realized that the moment I tortured and brutalized Takasugi Ayumi and threw her to the dogs.” The words left him in a whisper, burning with intent and only a lingering presence of regret. She’d ruined him by showing him what it was like, washed his hands in blood until the addiction was rooted far too deep to overcome.

Golden eyes sought out those darker than the deepest pits of the Maggots Nest, a fluid mix of twisted adoration and bare necessity. “I’m in too deep, Shishou. From the moment we met and I was knee deep in sin I knew we were in this together. It takes a special breed or beast to tame the others, and I…can only dream of the day we make it all mean something. I hate them, Kiriko. I hate all of them and I can’t stop it, only tame it.”

But that was all she wanted from him, wasn’t it? Control. Subjugation. Even if it tore him apart and the last remnants of sanity they had ceased to exist, they’d get there in the end. Together, as they always would.

“I want to be there controlling the hand that rips them to shreds for being so wrong.” And once more, it was the most honest thing he’d said since their initial meeting all those years ago, his eyes burning with adrenaline and newfound resolve.

******

1161 words: 23 GP
Total GP: 60 GP

She smiled, even though the truth burned inside, even though there were blades of blood ripping at her guts and screaming violently into the folds of her spine. Oh, oh how she knew the very crimes they committed even now. For when confronted with your wrongness, it was only human nature to wish to repent. To claw and cry and grapple with your base nature in some holy search for forgiveness, for purity. But Kohara and her were not like that. The opposite side of the human coin, for instead of wishing for better they could only sink down into their hatreds, looking out upon the world that had done this to them even while knowing deep inside it was they themselves who cast the first and last punch.

That hatred though, full blown and raging, the shine of molten gold in his gaze, the feverish glint of his too-tightly compacted mouth. She knew it all as if she was staring into her own face, into her own past. They would cling to this pain, to this damnation, because above all else it gave them freedom. She had given that freedom a name, had carved and molded it into intent and use and somehow morphed such an ugly spectacle into something useful if not good. But that didn't make up for the reality of it all, that they were too horrid little souls unable to rise above the darkness of the world.

She told herself she didn't need to. She told herself it was their fault. She told herself it was for the betterment of the world.

And often it was. Often it could be. Often that left her with a strange floating sense of peace, roiling happily in her own rage and pain.

But it was exactly what it was, and she would never try again to tell herself that she was good. That she was whole. That she was not a selfish and arrogant monster.

To embrace these facts about herself, to see Kohara embracing them about himself. To see him drink up her words and turn them right around in his own mind, making her out to be necessary, making her out to be something holy and good and required... It was just what she needed to remind her that maybe her earlier thoughts about perception had a sliver of truth to them.

Perception did matter. If it became truth to you, it was truth in so far as you could remain convinced. And whatever you decided to do with the truths of life, those were not as impermutable as one might first conceive of them. Her wretched history in the hands of Kohara became something to give him faith, a sense of solace. She could see it there, in the very lines of his soul. She might flounder and writhe in the bed she had made for herself, but in doing so she could reach out to at least him. She could cradle at least him in the wake of her newfound power and resolve.

And that was the true power herein. To allow another to take your greatest weakness and turn it into that which gave them their greatest strength. Two shattered angry beings they might be, but together they were closer to a whole than ever before. And together only they could accept the very denigrate and darkest pits of each other's souls.

She reached across the table, long slender fingers curling around Hi-to's calloused palms like a snake slithering home. Pulling without allowing for any resistance, she held his gaze in her flat stare, looking long and deep at all of the things that made up Kohara Hi-to. Staring into the face of his monsters, his weaknesses, his demons, and slowly smiling as her fingers tightened to an iron grip.

“This hate won't leave us, but the least we can do is make something of it. We all slip, and us worst of all, that will never be forgiven. We will never be forgiven. But that's alright, because I don't want some insipid absolution from idiots who don't know what it means to sacrifice. I don't want to prance around in some foolish idealistic future and pretend that I care. This,” her grip was bruising, “This is what matters to me. There here and now, the importance of us. Of the Second. Of duty and sacrifice and pain. I will forever be remembered as a villain, at best as the lurking shadow in the background. But that's alright, because in that position I am free to do whatever needs to be done. This rage will sustain us when everything else had been bled free. This rage will buoy us up, keep us afloat, and together we can make all the rest worth it. Nothing less will be acceptable. Nothing less, or else all those crimes, all those mistakes, they will sink us.”

“It means something because I say it does. Because I refuse to let it not. And believe me when I say that that is enough. You can become strong enough to make that be all that matters.”

WC: 856 | GP: 17 | Total GP: 106

Not once had Hi-to ever seen such a smile light up Kiriko’s face, and certainly not with enough lust for life that it reached her eyes. She truly was a pure catharsis to him, and he loved her dearly for it. It wasn’t the love that could be found between siblings or lovers, parents or students. It was a force entirely its own, as if her will was an extension of his own, blended together through years of corrosion. His own smile matched her own, sincere, the purest thing to come out of their discussion thus far, the seal to the contract of their continued partnership. She knew his intentions and never would he dare hide them from her; he would become her living legacy.

He would join her in her rise to the top of the food chain if that is what it took, if it was what she wanted. Any good mentor would hope that their apprentice could learn from their mistakes, urge them down the right path they only wished they could have taken with hindsight. But that wasn’t their way, and every mistake that Kiriko had ever made would one day fall to him to bear, and bear it he would. Her imprint on the world would last well into the next ice age, her will scarring the earth as the craters did the moon.

Somebody had to be the bad guy. It was a job the majority were loath to take part in, but for Hi-to there was nothing more reassuring than such an uncomplicated emotion. Love was too fragile and fleeting in nature, the energy required to keep it lit more than most could conjure. But hatred was overwhelming and grudges would last longer than crushes, its power potent enough to fuel your spirit for centuries. It was an emotion that he could trust in the place of all those that had let him down before.

He knew Kiriko understood the passion with which he felt those things well. In a way he’d always known, from the moment they began their little tryst until the day he had finally walked into her office as her official subordinate. But it had always been a hidden look here, a generous, twisted smile there, and never anything solid or concrete. Words could only have done harm to them back then. When had it all changed?

Finally hearing the verbal confirmation of everything that they were and were about to be was like hearing a child’s first words; it instilled a sense of pride and joy that couldn’t be compared. He wanted to be bold, but he wanted to be bold with her. They’d both come from recruits abandoned by their Captains to a position of power, and not a day to squander it.

The hand that reached out to take his own was cold and calloused, rough from years of fighting their way through the darkest recesses of the society. And it was in the darkness of her office that they sat, fingers as linked as their intentions, malevolent gazes filling in the spaces that words could not. It brought a warmth to their bones and a fire to their eyes that couldn’t be extinguished, and seeing her after all this time, the embodiment of perseverance…it gave him closure of the past, hope for the present, and a lust for the future.

“…Forgiven.” The word was ridiculous, had always been ridiculous. Hi-to continued to hold her gaze, unblinking, eyes glittering like dirty money through the shadows. “Who exists to forgive, or force people to repent for their sins? There is nobody out there with the weight to judge us, not until we take that vacant seat.” And in this Hi-to was absolutely certain.

“I don’t ever want to stop feeling it. Without it I’m nothing of worth.” He’d always frigidly rejected it, could never accept that there was an ugly beast inside of him more blasphemous than any Vaizard. Yet it was what defined him, made him strike back, made him stronger. “But I refuse to use it the way that fool Umi did. All things in the process of metamorphosis are ugly.” And sometimes they weren’t a damn sight better when they came out the other side, either.

Her hand was squeezing his to the point of almost breaking his bones, kaido kissing the distressed digits as he returned her grip with just as much vigour. The contract was all but written in blood, the start of a revolution and the end neigh. He promised, with everything that he had, that they would make it work, through sheer force if necessary. The masters of their past had long since gone and left them with nothing of value, but it mattered not. They were the ones of value now.

“We’ll no longer be the puppet masters. It’s time we cut the strings.”

******

815 words: 16 GP
Total GP: 76 GP

She felt it in the empty cavity where her heart had been. A sluggish stirring, a weak twinge of what in any other person might be labeled guilt. To look into that familiar face and see that it was lit from within by hate was something she took a perverse delight in. Innocence had always been scalding. A horrible reminder of her mistakes, a piercing fog of regret that was forced upon her at the most inconvenient of times. She hated purity in the same way that she used to yearn for it. And it left her feeling soiled, that deadly need to smash and break and twist and ruin those around her who still tried to cling to the light. Yet with Kohara, with the shared depths of their darkness, there was no desire to destroy. She saw nothing that needed to be crushed into the ground, nothing that called up her blood or drew out the war drums.

He was the first. The first to dwell at the same level as she, in their own little world of wretchedness. And for the first time neither of them wanted to escape. For the first time, seeing each other like this, they could appreciate where they were. They could look at themselves without the burn of regret, letting it all drip away like melted candle wax. She knew that she was some sort of ingredient here, that today was the breaking point in a long line of events for Kohara, and yet the healthy regret that should be rising in her heart was only a soft ripple.

She couldn't truly regret something this beautiful. Something this honest. She needed Kohara just as he needed her. And if they were damning each other in their acceptance, well that was an unfortunate side effect of necessity. She would do anything that was needed for a new world. Anything that was needed. After ravishing her history, ruining her life, tarnishing her dreams, to do anything less, to give anything less, it would make all that had come before meaningless. Ash in her veins. And that was unforgivable in a way that her sins were not.

Kiriko could recognize that same desperate need in Kohara. That same deadly necessity. They had two choices in their current state. Struggle for the shreds of goodness still in them, push and claw and try their best to be better knowing that it would never be enough. That the world would never accept their repentance. That they could never slide into innocence in the same way that had fallen into darkness. Or, they could give up the fight. They could let go of the controls and fall as far and as fast as needed to be effective. No worries, no distractions, no guilt. Just work. And getting that work done.

It was horrible. But it was also so right. Perfectly right. Something inside of her settled neatly at the open acceptance given by her Lieutenant, something that had always craved acceptance. She might not ever be what the world wanted, what the world liked, what the world loved. But for this one soul she was enough. For this one soul she was wanted. And that was worth all the damnation in the world.

“Forgiveness can never be concrete. What one will forgive another will never allow to be wiped clean. What does it matter what individuals think when it can never be fully forgiven? Truly, in this world there are no gods. We have to realize that now. If there were, nothing like me would ever have been allowed to happen. Nothing like your suffering would ever have been allowed to pass.”

“But just because there are no gods doesn't mean we can't surpass what there is. We can become godlike. We can change the world. We've already made the sacrifices, now we just need to accept that they happened. It's over, it's over and we're ready to reap the deathly benefits. For ill, for good, we're just what is needed to change things.”

“God's don't need puppets. We're beyond that. We will become a true force. Good, bad, those things no longer apply to people such as us. We will move beyond these stupidly rigid worlds, these rules, these laws. And in doing so we will achieve greatness.”

“Kohara, I am glad you have returned to my side.” And for once, she meant it.

WC: 737 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 120