Chapter Twenty-Seven

My Enemy Is Drowning

 

The door of the vault slid almost entirely closed -- not to let anyone peek inside. Even the light that glowed so brightly within barely spilled out.

Nekohiko had a hard time reacting, so stunned he felt.

There weren't many things called "Neko" in the world, were there? Unless he kept a real cat in there -- it had to be a person's name, right? And yet, how many people in the world could have such a name?

Did Abihiko mean Nekohiko himself? But... how... wh--

A horrendous thought snapped through him.

It couldn't be that Nekohiko's physical body was inside that vault, could it?! That body had been dead for five years!

Not like there wasn't a way to preserve a corpse for that long if a strong Spirit Binder really put his mind to it, but... No, this was simply too macabre to even imagine. It couldn't be it. Shouldn't be! There had to be some other explanation for this?

A pained hiss escaped the vault.

"Tsk, that hurts," Abihiko said barely audibly. "You never really change, do you?"

Nekohiko strained his ears to catch any response to all these little mumbles from Abihiko but heard nothing. Only the Bound servants shuffled on the background and the water dripped in the pool room. Every sound that came from the vault was Abihiko's clothing rustling when he walked and his occasional comments directed at... someone? Something?

"Good night," Abihiko said after a long while of silence. He was coming out of the vault and as he did, he waved his hand dismissively, and the source of all the luminous glow in the vault snuffed out. "Sleep well."

The murk of the room settled in after such brilliant light spilling, and once again Nekohiko missed his chance to take a good look at this hateful, oblivious person before him. All he perceived was Abihiko setting the now-empty teapot on the side table and the fact that Abihiko had taken off his crown while he'd been inside the vault. His hair was no longer hoisted up in sections and flowed down freely in long dark rivulets over his shoulders and back.

Casually, Abihiko strolled to the door of the bath room. He was licking the tip of his thumb as though swiping a bead of blood off it while his other hand was busy unfastening the ties and clasps on his outer Imperial robes. The moment he disappeared behind the doorway, that robe slid off and flopped gracelessly to the floor like some kind of garbage Abihiko didn't care for.

Nekohiko could only grit his nonexistent teeth.

The utter indignity of treating Imperial items like that! He hoped Abihiko at least hadn't thrown his crown aside in the vault minutes prior! Although, he imagined he shouldn't lift his hopes too high up.

More clothes were dumped on the floor; Nekohiko heard every one of them. Then, slow footsteps submerging in the pool. Wavy, contemplative strokes through the water, and more rare dripping once Abihiko stopped moving. Aaagh, it would take so long for him to come back from there, wouldn't it?

His thoughts once again darted to the shut vault and the macabre connotations of something in that vault being called with his name. By his murderer.

So -- a cat? Unlikely. An animal that was simply called "Neko" for some reason? Also unlikely. The thing that was inside the vault didn't seem to be alive or responsive. Then what?

A dummy or a picture of a human whose name was also Neko and to which Abihiko would pour tea and talk and wish good night? Aaaaaa. Please, no. That made his skin crawl in horror even though he had no skin!

And last and most disturbingly. It could be Nekohiko's own preserved corpse, couldn't it?

Then again... why tea? Abihiko hadn't spent too much time in there for him and the "Corpse Neko" to have a proper tea-drinking session (if that was meant to be the point). And why Bind sunlight into the vault? And how come had Abihiko received a small scratch from a motionless corpse and even claimed it was a common occurrence?

It simply made no sense! None of it. Either way, it was too bizarre to unravel in one go. And vaguely terrifying.

Since there was nothing to do around for a while, Nekohiko almost decided to go back to the Line and see that Kataji and Aomi were still safely asleep, but...

"Kakari said there's a lot of mail today? Bring it," Abihiko said with a sigh. "And bring the Voicer, too."

The Voicer? Nekohiko squirmed with the knowledge that somewhere in Abihiko's rooms, there was a dummy with the Bound aspect of the human voice. Who had that voice come from? He didn't want to find that out...

All his thoughts fled shortly. Because the Servant dummy that came out of the pool room came straight to the letterbox on the lid of which Nekohiko's seashell body hanged. The dummy carefully lifted the box in its four arms, then pattered back through the doorway of the bathing area.

The rising steam came off the still water, clouding the spacious room in a gentle mist. Glazed tiles and crystallic surfaces gleamed in the mild glows of the lanterns in the corners, leaving the rest of the room in a dim, swaddling murk. Nekohiko's eyes roved through the room greedily, wishing to find Abihiko here and see what the hell he even looked like but... the bastard simply wasn't here!

The dummy stopped at the edge of the great rectangle pool, lowering its body almost over the water surface, all of its arms forming a steady shelf for the letterbox to sit on. The oncoming clinks of two more dummies echoed down the hall -- the Servant and the Voicer. But the master of all these dolls wasn't really waiting for them.

With a hollow feeling, Nekohiko's gaze dropped to the water where a dark cloud of what looked like seaweed was drifting. Hair -- long black hair. Like a drowned person's.

A long stretch of heartbeats passed. But Abihiko still wasn't coming up.

Nekohiko felt very, very conflicted about that. He didn't actually drown in there, did he? Because while Nekohiko didn't despise the concept (it was a pretty great idea about what he wanted to do to Abihiko himself one day!) -- he also didn't want him to drown now, of all times!

It was still too early for that! Abihiko had to know he existed and had come back from the dead singly to return the favor for Abihiko's betrayal! Then -- let him drown all he wanted. But not before that!

Luckily, after a long while, the water surface broke.

To Nekohiko's barely suppressed relief, Abihiko came back.

The young man's color was almost unhealthily wan in the gloomy darkness. His arm rose to wipe the wet hair off his face, and everything about that arm made Nekohiko stiffen in discomfort.

Abihiko had always been a healthy, athletic person. Maintaining a well-toned body had been a prominent point in his vainglorious appreciation of his own attractiveness. Now, he obviously looked more mature than the last time Nekohiko had seen him -- his shoulders wider than his fifteen-year-old self's, his arms longer, the lines of his face sharper and more pronounced. But his muscle mass had taken a hit. The outlines of muscles were still clearly defined under the skin but more so because there was zero fat in between, not because the muscle tone was so high. The sculpted body looked... underfed. Or maybe just sick. And those bizarre darkening veins running up and down his arms...

These didn't look natural at all.

Binder's Corruption?

How come? Weren't those incredibly rare and only happening to Binders who almost completely depleted their powers due to not having enough to begin with? That would never make sense with someone like Abihiko. He had always been an incredibly powerful Binder. Who could ever deplete such a powerhouse?

Moreover, the Emperor's title itself commanded another boost of Binding power that had to push Abihiko's already-high level beyond that of the most gifted Binders.

So, what was this?

Baffled, Nekohiko nearly forgot to gloat. His enemy was ill. Gravely, it seemed. Should that not make him happy, even a little bit? But the. he remembered. Very quickly.

Because as soon as his eyes rose to Abihiko's face, nothing could distract him from the blossoming feeling of hatred inside. 

Big dark eyes bore a heavy, unsmiling look that contrasted so hard with what Nekohiko had learned to expect from Abihiko's expressions. They were a bit sunken as were Abihiko's cheeks, every other line on his face sharper due to his thinness. Gods, this face...

The last thing Nekohiko had remembered seeing before dying.

Please, Neko. Don't be mad.

The emotion on this face was different now but not by much. Abihiko had merely looked disinterested when he'd murdered him. Now he looked numb and tired.

Same thing. Either summoned a wave of loathing in Nekohiko. He had to shut his eyes to stop himself from roaring or trying to jump right this second into this pool and strangle Abihiko with his own bare hands... of which he had none, he reminded himself. Yes, he was only a seashell here and only a cat and a snake elsewhere. What could he even do to Abihiko with bodies like that?

Oh, he wanted to do so many things. He would, he promised himself bitterly. One day, he would do all that, and more. Now, just focus. And keep gathering information. Keep learning about him and what drives him, and why.

His lips, he realized late and opened his eyes to check. How come there were so pale, so alien-looking on Abihiko's face?

As he watched Abihiko slowly wipe the faint layer of paint off his mouth, he remembered all those times someone had made fun of Abihiko's lip color even when they were children. The problem had always been that bright red looked incredibly girly on him and most other boys never let Abihiko forget that.

How pathetic that even now, as the Emperor, Abihiko still held this disadvantage so close to his heart? Enough to want to cover it with make-up?

Because no, that absolutely didn't make it seem even girlier, Abihiko, not at all.

It was good that the seashell didn't have a mouth drawn on it because Nekohiko could almost feel the urge to smile in scorn.

The Voicer dummy clanked to a stop beside the letter box. Abihiko flicked eyes to it as if only now noticing that he wasn't alone in the room.

"Read," he said as he walked to the edge of the pool and leaned his back against it. His eyes closed, waiting.

His head was now so close to Nekohiko that -- had he had an arm, he would be able to brush his fingers through Abihiko's hair. Or to wrap them around Abihiko's throat and--

The Voicer dummy had a humanoid form but only marginally. Two arms, two legs, a disfigured head with no eyes. Only a mouth in a round hole in its center. It dipped its grabbing claws into the letter box and went through the envelopes, reading the script off through its hands -- a manta magnetic perception Bound together with the ink-sensing aspect. No eyes necessary.

"The plea and suggestion for the educational reform in the Island of Happiness area," the Voicer began reading the fattest document it encountered.

But Abihiko cut it off. He sounded resigned. "I heard there were letters from my family. Read them first."

The dummy started searching. No fawning, no ceremonial "yes, Your Majesty", no over-the-top bowing and kowtowing a human servant would do for guessing their master's wishes wrong. In a way, Nekohiko understood why most Emperors surrounded themselves with dummies instead of people. Humans could be so exhausting sometimes.

Nonetheless, the Voicer adhered to the human order of choosing which letter to read: age seniority. First, came the letter from the Aunt and Uncle, excited about giving Abihiko a gift for his study or his bedroom, and only slightly concerned about his health. The letters had been sent before Kataji decided to leave Red Stone, so the letter was mostly small talk and backwater town gossip nobody would be interested in.

But Abihiko was smiling, Nekohiko saw. Hearing all those small landlord and town merchant anecdotes seemed to put him in good moods as did the Auntie's descriptions of how wild Aomi was getting, or how reclusive -- Kataji.

It was only when the Voicer took a turn to read Kataji's letter that the smile faded from Abihiko's lips.

"Dear Eldest Brother," the blank, neither male nor explicitly female voice of the dummy read. "I hope you are well. Please receive this small and probably insufficient gift to you as a token of my sincerest admiration and undying respect. Your care about us all dwarfs any of my actions toward you; I am painfully aware I would never compare even if I try with all my might. So instead, I can only admire you from afar and maybe hope to lighten up your mood every once in a while with that thought. Here is the relief painting of Red Stone Estate for you to look at. And perhaps sometimes remember all the people who live there and how much they owe you.

"Kataji," the Voicer ended the reading and turned to deposit the letter back into the box.

Abihiko followed its movements with his eyes. If it were possible, his gaze became even heavier while Kataji's letter had been read. If Nekohiko didn't know all the ranges of his emotions so well, he would have missed the hue of aggravation that passed through his features.

But it had been there. He was pissed but was hiding that fact even from himself.

Interesting, Nekohiko thought. The brothers didn't like each other that much.

How could he use that?

"Hey, moron," the Voicer suddenly announced in the stark silence of the room. "How's it going? Here's a pendant charm I paid some crook on the street to carve out for you. Put it on. It'll make you look less like you don't have any style at all.

"Kisses, your amazing sister Aomi."

Good thing Abihiko didn't have human servants to read that out loud! Most would probably have a heart attack if they had to read something like this to the Supreme Divine Majesty's face. The Voicer's nonchalant tone only made it more insulting.

Yet Abihiko finally cracked one of those grins Nekohiko had been so used to in their childhood together.

"There is a doodle at the end of the letter, too," the Voicer told him impassively, and Abihiko leaned onto the edge of the pool to lift himself.

"Let me see it," he said and came out of the water.

And then he let Nekohiko see it.

Wait, no!

Nekohiko didn't see anything. He snapped his attention elsewhere the moment he understood where this was going to. How inappropriate! To take a peek at the Supreme Divine Emp--

Which wasn't even his earned title, was it? It was Nekohiko's title. He was the Emperor, and never in his life would he dare to show off his royal regions to anyone just like that! Not even to the dummies!

The insolence and disrespect of this person knew no bounds. Nekohiko could only seethe as he willfully stared at the far corner of the room as Abihiko crouched low beside the letterbox and reached to Aomi's letter in the Voicer's claw.

From the barest glimpse he'd gotten, though, Nekohiko could tell that Abihiko's long, slender legs also had the marbling pattern of corrupted Spirit Binder veins across them. The ribs that showed from beneath the see-through skin also left no doubt about Abihiko's health condition.

It was dire.

...well, you get what you deserve, murderer, Nekohiko told himself, refusing to feel even slightly unnerved.

If anything, he should be very happy to see him suffering. Whether it was the Emperor's responsibilities, or his health, or Abihiko's seeming depression -- but all these things were drowning him. That should feel so nice to Nekohiko.

Yet knowing he should feel a certain way and actually feeling it were vastly different things. Nekohiko kept looking away, conflicting emotions clashing within him.

Abihiko let out a chuckle as he scanned Aomi's letter with his eyes. Even before taking a good look at it, he extended his hand to Nekohiko's seashell and grabbed it. So rudely and inappropriately, squeezing Nekohiko in between his fingers. A clothing-carrier brought him a ramie robe to wrap himself into. Abihiko shrugged it on. His wet hair was still partly stuck to his chest and neck, and he had to unglue it to fit the robe on properly. As he did, Nekohiko spotted a thin black string on his neck from which a small pendant hanged suspended. Yet Abihiko covered it with his other hand the moment it caught his attention.

Thoughtfully, Abihiko held that other pendant in his fingers as though unsure of why he had it on. Then his eyes trailed to Nekohiko's seashell.

He saw.

The Kitten's Paw.

His pupils froze on the shell. A slight frown descended on his brow. A flicker of Spirit Binding sparked from within him -- and the lanterns in the bath room flared up to give him more light to see.

In this light, Abihiko's face so close and so open before Nekohiko paled even more if it were possible.

His lips thinned. Roughly, he turned Nekohiko around and around as though to examine him on all sides. Then his eyes swept away in deep displeasure.

Abihiko's fist closed around the seashell like a grave.

"Aomi," he gritted out. "What the hell."

Nekohiko knew only that he was being carried somewhere with a clear purpose. He had received his small shot of satisfaction when Abihiko recognized the shape of the Kitten's Paw on him, but now he was getting worried.

Abihiko wouldn't just throw him in the fire, would he? He looked even more pissed now than when he'd listened to Kataji letter... His fist around him was trembling; Nekohiko felt it with his whole body.

A cabinet's door creaked open, and Abihiko finally opened his palm again. Only to dump Nekohiko into a small box with what felt like jewelry and trinkets. A gaze full of hatred stamped him down as Abihiko glanced at him one last time. Then, with a decisive slam, he put a lid over the box. He stuffed the box back into the cabinet. Then he clanged the cabinet's doors shut.

He added what sounded like a punch to the closed cabinet on top of all that, too.

Nekohiko was dizzy with being thrown around and shaken up so much, so he could only keep himself completely still. Trying to absorb the utter mess that had just happened to him.

He listened with rising frustration to Abihiko's footsteps fading further and further away. Then switched his consciousness back to his lived-in, cozy cat body to shake off the freakishness of the Palace and of Abihiko and of everything he'd seen and heard there.

His spooked heart eased down only after a few breaths. Still shocked, he whispered into the dark, sleepy compartment inside the gently swaying Line,

"Damn, what a freak."

Would Nekohiko even need to come up with any specific plan of enacting his revenge on him? It looked as though Abihiko would wither down and die on his own any moment now. Or that, instead, he might have a complete mental break down very, very soon.

In both these cases, of course, Nekohiko could gladly help him get there faster.