Chapter Ninety-Four

Doll-like

 

Nekohiko shut his eyes for a moment to process what he had just seen.

When he opened them, nothing changed. And nothing would, obviously. This room was truly the embodiment of every person's nightmare when they thought about aspect separation.

The small cell had dreamt in darkness, but the walls glowed up once Mikawa and Nekohiko stumbled inside. Mikawa drew his breath in and froze by the door, unable to move or squeeze out a word.

Nekohiko took it upon himself to act. Thoughtful, he pulled the door closed behind them so as not to alert those outside to what they would be doing.

He breathed through his mouth even though there was no need.

The room didn't reek. In fact, it had a pleasant medicinal smell, and an overall atmosphere of cleanness and competence about it. But he still couldn't handle what was inside it, so he had to push through his revulsion and rigidity to move at all.

He turned back to the rows of shelves upon which stood the glasslike cubes -- neither ice nor water but some sort of condensed fog. And inside these cubes, was... the person previously known as Arata.

The cubes were assembled in long rows from which his body emerged like a constructor from puzzle pieces. Here, a leg, there -- parts of his spine, there -- an eye. But everything was in parts. Dissected into the smallest components of what formed an eye, as though on an anatomic schema Kataji had used while carving Nekohiko.

The worst part of it all was that the eye moved when Nekohiko's gaze fell onto it.

Arata was still alive, even in so many Split parts. He could still see Nekohiko. He could feel fear at seeing him.

"...what... no..." Mikawa gasped, squeezing himself away into the door as though wanting to flee but forgetting how opening the doors worked. "What is t-that?"

Nekohiko glanced up at where Mikawa's gaze was pinned.

His heart lurched, like falling into a well.

If Arata's physical dissection of his body parts was horrifying, then seeing his First-rate and Second-rate aspects removed from him -- could make one faint just from one glance.

Nekohiko had never seen what the human Resign looked like, removed from their body.

He could hardly stomach the animal one he had glimpsed several times through his life. It wasn't much. A grey kind of blob sitting inside the vacuum glass. But knowing this was the part of a living thing that responded to orders, could be coerced, could be pushed into surrendering its will to whoever Bound it... it had always made Nekohiko queasy.

No animal should know what it feels like to give up on one's own will. And definitely -- no human.

Yet here it was, Arata's Resign, floating in a tight glass cube like an irrelevant piece of a puzzle for future use. Next to it, Arata's awareness, Arata's sense of shame and guilt, Arata's perception of right and wrong, Arata's tastes and preferences, Arata's drives and ambitions.

All such minuscule aspects of what made one human, most wouldn't be able to tell the difference. But Nekohiko could. Just one glance, and even though he'd never seen these aspects before, he recognized them. Their Binder auras were too strong and too present for him not to respond.

And their auras showed that Arata was aware and that he was scared. But not in pain. Splitting techniques could allow its victim to not feel pain, especially if one separated the pain-pleasure aspect from the others.

Still. That Arata wasn't in pain didn't mean this was... sane.

Human.

Nekohiko swallowed bile as he stepped up to the shelves full of neat rows of Arata body parts and aspects. He regarded them numbly. Not fully accepting what he was seeing.

Which helped.

"Mikawa, help me," he rasped, lifting his hands to cast.

He didn't know what he wanted to say.

Help me kill this poor wretch?

Help me free this soul out of its misery?

Help me... pull him back together?

Oh gods, that was impossible, though. From what Nekohiko was seeing on the upper shelves, the Cognition and the memory aspects were missing. It made sense, of course. Cognition was one of the most important First-rate aspects in the doll-making business, so likely, Hibiki had taken it away to somewhere fancier than here...

But the memories being gone was far more painful for Nekohiko.

Damn it!

Damn it, this was so useless to have even hoped that Nekohiko could have gotten anything out of Arata!

Of course Morokata and Hibiki had been here first and taken everything already!

...

Suddenly, the overwhelming guilt crushed him.

What was he thinking about? About how Arata could be useful to him? Seriously?

Standing in front of a mutilated body and soul -- he still had time to think of why he had come here in the first place?

Nekohiko loathed that part of himself that wanted to know things from his past at the expense of everything else. Why was he like this?

He had truly become selfish with time, hadn't he?

He trembled, assembling his fingers into an offensive Nagare spell blast.

From behind him, Mikawa made a small bubble of wind around Arata parts to protect himself and Nekohiko from the explosion that would follow. Nekohiko felt the bubble expand to enfold every last bit of Arata in the room -- a shaken, unsure spell Mikawa was casting through intense horror. But Nekohiko was grateful for the boy's tacit understanding of what he needed to do.

Mikawa's spell would not only protect him and Nekohiko from the blast. It would also muffle all the noise from the explosion and keep it all contained within the small bubble of air.

This is it.

A powerful Nagare implosion roared out of Nekohiko's fingers as he struck. Glass chimed, misty essence burst out from the broken cubes like liquid. He cast it to reverberate and multiply, and the spell immediately went out of his hands, shattering all the glass cubes without regard.

All he could do was turn away to not see how body parts and aspects tore through the small cell in the unstoppable chain of destruction.

It didn't take long before he and Mikawa found themselves outside, shuddering. Nekohiko slammed the door of the cell behind them, leaving the room in the darkness with all the crushed and melted glass shards littering the floor amidst the flesh and body parts of Arata.

The corpse of him.

Nekohiko would want to give the man a more dignified death and gather him back together instead of leaving him like a pile of goo that he was now. But he couldn't.

That thing inside hadn't been Arata anyway. Ever since the time Hibiki had taken his cognition and memory away. But whatever that leftover thing was, it had to die, too. No creature in the world deserved a fate like that.

Nekohiko crushed Mikawa's shoulder in his hand as he led the boy back to the entrance of the stairwell and past the guards standing vigil. Mikawa had trouble walking. As if he didn't really see where he went. But other than that, the boy was surprisingly sane and mature about it all.

He didn't break down and didn't demand explanations or apologies from Nekohiko for the fate Arata had been submitted to. All Mikawa did once they went down a flight of stairs and away from the earshot of the Hisome guards above, was to turn to him.

The boy's eyes were clear if a bit dazed.

"What was that man's name again?" he whispered, tinny.

"Umino Arata."

"Mn." Mikawa mouthed the name as if trying to remember it.

With pain, Nekohiko recalled that Mikawa had worn Arata's Mirror Image disguise for half a day during the wedding. However little Mikawa knew of this man or cared for him, this had to count for something.

Some strange respect Mikawa held for him.

"We cannot dawdle," Nekohiko slipped to him in agitation. "Sakami. Where is she?"

If Arata's fate awaited someone like her...

No, that wouldn't be possible. Morokata might be mad at Sakami for losing to Nekohiko in a fight, but he wasn't a monster to actually Split Sakami's aspects for doll body parts as he'd done to Arata!

Sakami was a Hisome. People could say whatever they wanted about Morokata's character, but he wasn't the type of person who hurt his family members like that--

Suminoe, the thought sparked in Nekohiko's mind like a lightning strike.

Morokata had hurt Suminoe by turning his body into a Puppet, hadn't he? And if he'd done that to his own uncle -- then what if--?

Mikawa was concentrating again, searching with his wind powers. He allowed Nekohiko to guide him down the stairs as if Mikawa was a child while all he did was search the premises for any traces of Sakami he could find.

And he did find her. Further up the underground tunnel, and in one of the main Doll Palace wings where guests and customers were allowed to come in.

Which was good news. But at the same time -- not so good, if it implied going into the main hallways of the Doll Palace, and with Kataji in tow if the young man would once again pester Nekohiko with wanting to come.

Because of course Kataji would call everyone's attention to him there, seeing as most Doll Palace employees knew that he was Hibiki's most valued new apprentice.

Yet it turned out... to be a non-issue.

Kataji hadn't lied when he said he wouldn't be a burden to them. That he wouldn't ruin their chances of getting around the place as smoothly and unnoticeably as possible. Because when Nekohiko and Mikawa descended the staircase what met them down below was...

Another Hisome girl, waiting for them.

So subtle and unassuming she was, Nekohiko didn't even pay heed to her at first. But then she stepped up close behind him, her bright red lips smiling at him from the low edge of her facial veil -- and Nekohiko knew.

"Kataji," he mouthed, taken aback.

After the room with Arata, he was not very ready to shift his mind or mood to something so sweet and earnest as what Kataji wanted to do for him.

Dressing up as a Hisome girl!

Kataji merely thought this was one of those Nekohiko's adventures and quests he was constantly having behind Kataji's back with others. Kataji must have imagined this was a fun romp and not one of the most horrifying nightmares a human could engage with in the world of Binding.

"I told you I can be fun, too," Kataji whispered at him, beaming.

It was clear he did not actually feel comfortable wearing such girly robes. His manly dignity was under assault, straining to try and appease Nekohiko whatever it took him.

This wasn't even the first time, was it? Kataji had dressed up as Abihiko earlier, and then tried to mimic Morokata's looks to fit other people's ideas of what was good and pleasing.

And now this...

Kataji, Nekohiko thought. You are the sculptor.

Why are you allowing almost every person you meet to sculpt you instead?

"Come on, let's go and continue your stupid adventure," Kataji said, frowning at Nekohiko's prolonged stare.

Then severely and without reason, Kataji blushed under his veil, looking as vulnerable and haughty about it as ever.

It all made Nekohiko's heart ache. 

Kataji's eagerness, his sincerity and trust in Nekohiko. His fragility...

And his naivety about what was going on around here and why.

"Did you find the man you were looking for or not? You two look very unhappy," Kataji observed as Mikawa assumed the lead down the hallway.

The young boy didn't react to Kataji's Hisome-girl disguise either, too shaken after Arata's cell. But if anything, that only seemed to fill Kataji with relief.

From what Nekohiko knew about Kataji's persona, dressing up as a woman would take a great toll on his dignity. Nekohiko shooed away the last bits of dread from his encounter with Arata and tried to sound gentler, as if nothing bad had happened -- for Kataji's sake.

"No, we did not. We'll find someone else instead. Someone who needs our help, all right?"

Kataji watched him out of the corner of his eye. "Help? For what?"

Not for. From what, Kataji.

"You don't have to worry," Nekohiko told him right before they exited the underground tunnels and made their way up to the main wings of the Doll Palace. Once they did, the susurrus of the distant conversations and the shuffle of many footsteps as Hisome girls and Hibiki's doll assistants came into view in the side corridors. The Doll Palace, open for customers, was a frenetic place. "Mikawa and I will handle it. You just have to be on the lookout while we do. Can you?"

Kataji's forehead creased in slight displeasure. "Lookout? I can do something more useful than that, can't I?"

...

"Binder issues, Kataji," Nekohiko whispered. "We need a lookout outside where we're going, and I need myself and Mikawa on the inside. Sorry. But we depend on your help in keeping watch."

"Oh."

Kataji still sounded upset, but he didn't push it. "You will tell me everything about it later, yes? Itsuki, I sometimes feel like you are such an... interesting and mysterious person. It, frankly, intimidates me. I wish I were as interesting as you, but I'm not."

"..." Nekohiko slumped, hiding beneath his veil and the Hisome girl robes because he suddenly felt in the spotlight, and he wanted none of that. Ever. "I am the direct opposite of interesting, trust me," he mumbled.

Kataji's knowledge of The Doll Palace maze of hallways helped. Mikawa could only tell the direction, but he couldn't always define how to access it -- so Kataji was crucial in finding the correct way up the stairs and through the throngs of The Doll Palace employees.

The three of them bowed and minced feet, trying to walk as slowly and casually as all the other occasional Hisome girls swooping around in the premises. If they stayed in the background of the lively bustle that went inside The Doll Palace, nobody would notice they were even there. The place was just that busy this time of day!

So many customers needed guidance, so many doll-makers hurried from room to room to consult their advisors, so many secretaries puttered about with their bureaucratic chores. In no time, Kataji led them through all of this, and Mikawa craned his neck in one particular direction. Then he stopped.

"There," he said.

Nekohiko glanced back to see if they were followed by anyone and gestured at Kataji to stay where he was and be the lookout.

Kataji nodded, even though he seemed concerned when Nekohiko and Mikawa stepped forward -- and to one of the many lounging rooms in the hallway. Unlike the dungeon cells where Arata had been, this place was very fancy -- well-lit, atmospheric, nature-inspired, like a sophisticated guest house.

But while all the other doors in this corridor had the names of the customers who rested inside them, and no visible locks on those doors -- the room into which Mikawa pointed was locked and untagged.

Incredibly suspicious. And hard to do anything about it other than--

"Shatter," Nekohiko whispered, assembling the spell of a clean Utsuro Split over the lock on the door.

The spidery cracks consumed the lock and crumbled it into myriads of parts. Mikawa canceled out the majority of the spell's aura with his forceful wind shield. Too bad his own mark was left very apparent in its place. But he didn't seem to care. He pushed the door open and walked inside first -- as though only focused on getting to Sakami as soon as possible.

Nekohiko understood the sentiment. However nice this place was, one should not expect true niceness out of the monster that was Hibiki. There had to be some catch to everything beneath his kindness.

They weren't wrong about that.

Because the rooms where Sakami was kept were a whole different way of tortuous. Not as obvious as Arata's had been, but much more painful in comparison.

 

 

---

***

 

 

The rooms were so nicely-furnished and in such tender, sweet colors, Nekohiko at first thought he had walked into a young girl's bedroom. Everything was filled with blossoms -- on the room screens, on the curtains, on the wall paintings... The aroma of the flowery incense wafted in the air, hazing one's mind with tranquil thoughts. The diffuse sunlight streamed through the papery window screens, obfuscating the room even further into a misty patch of heaven amidst the chaos of the city outside.

There were porcelain figurines and glazed moldings on the ceiling that evoked the idea of pastries and cakes in one's mind. Nekohiko cast his glance through the room but found nothing but soft cushions in the lounging area and a tea table brimming with tea sets and tiny, decorative cakes in filigree baskets. Everything looked like people had sat here mere moments ago but had left...

The aura of abandonment clouded the place, only exacerbated by the fact that the corners of the room were filled with...

Dolls.

Small, toy dolls like the ones little girls play with. Their ivory and porcelain faces watched Nekohiko blankly the way any toy dolls would, but his skin still crawled with the sensation of menace coming from them.

He was a doll, himself.

Of course he knew how dangerous dolls could be even if they seemed harmless at first.

"Nekohiko..." Mikawa had made a few more steps into the room, his boots muffled by the gorgeous fluffy carpet on the floor. The boy peeked behind the ostentatious room separator screen, then erupted into motion. "She's here!"

Nekohiko shook off the uncanny feeling of being watched by so many blind doll eyes and rushed after the boy. No time to worry about dolls. Sakami was the priority.

In the next room, there she was, sitting on the low bed, hugging her knees to her chest and covering her face with her hands.

As though crying.

But she wasn't. She was merely trying to shut out everything that went on around her.

She didn't even react to Mikawa's exclamation because there were too many voices beside her, drowning anything in their incessant chatter.

...

Nekohiko's hair at the back of his scalp tingled.

Around Sakami sat... dolls. Human-sized dolls.

Her parents and some of Sakami's Hisome girl friends whom Nekohiko didn't even see at first. All of his attention went to a dummy doll of Abihiko that was hugging Sakami from the side, tenderly yet without any change in its expression.

Ugh.

No mistake about that. It was Abihiko. Like those were Sakami's mother and father next to her, trying to console her with their doll-like repetitive mumbling.

They looked very realistic. One obviously ought to expect that from Hibiki's doll-makery. But at the same time...

These dolls projected such an utter atmosphere of creepiness...

Brrr.

Nekohiko felt goosebumps rise on his skin and his heart swoop down in panic when he realized what these dolls were telling her while she tried to shut them out.

"...we love you, everyone loves you. Dear Sakami, can't you see that everyone cares about you so, so much?"

"Sakami, you are the most important person in the world..."

The doll Abihiko's face had such a serene, blank mien, it jolted Nekohiko. Everything about it looked wrong, but especially the way the doll Abihiko lay his chin on top of Sakami's head as he pressed her to his chest and whispered,

"Sakami, my love. Tell me what I can do for you and I will..."

It was somewhat similar to Abihiko's real voice, but it had a tinny, artificial quality to it. Twisted, warped.

Wrong.

"Leave me alone, please go away... please don't torture me..." Sakami sobbed into her hands, meek.

"But we love you, darling! Love is not torture," Sakami's doll mom told her soothingly and reached out to hug her, too. A rickety, mechanistic motion, so utterly disturbing.

That was when Mikawa lost it.

"Get away from her!" he cried.

A powerful gust of wind sliced through the room and slammed into the dummies surrounding Sakami. Fabrics and hair flapped, flying up, and the hazy lighting in the room instantly cleared up. Like a breath of fresh air, Mikawa's winds brought the room into contrasts, highlighting just how unnaturally and haggardly all the dolls were looming around Sakami as though wishing to trap her.

Ah, this room also had myriads of smaller dolls in all the corners and on the shelves and tables. The unsettling sensation of being watched only intensified once Mikawa had shoved all of the dummies away from Sakami and darted to her to help her stand.

Nekohiko stilled as if preparing for something. But his attention still scattered over to Sakami.

The poor girl only cowered down harder after the Nagare winds had slashed around her. She trembled, and Mikawa's hands trying to pull her up -- didn't aid at all.

Sakami was only curling in deeper.

"Don't touch me, don't torment me... stop," she pleaded, shaking her head.

"We're here to save you!" Mikawa told her. His voice went up a notch just to get through to her. "Come on, let's go -- we need to flee this place!"

For the first time, Sakami raised her tear-streaked face to Mikawa. Then, dazedly, to Nekohiko a few steps away. Her face was ashen, eyes red, lips bitten and chaffed. Her eyelashes clumped together from constant crying, quivering with her unsure gaze.

She showed recognition of who Nekohiko and Mikawa were, but not relief. Neither happiness at seeing them here.

All she exposed was fear.

New tears flowed down her cheeks, and she once again curled inward. "Please stop," she murmured. "Please enough..."

"We'll save you!" Mikawa yelled at her, then turned to Nekohiko helplessly. "Help me carry her out--"

Without another word, Nekohiko stepped up to Sakami to lift her in his arms. He had no doubt the girl did not want to see him now -- or ever again in her life. Which was the primary reason he hadn't tried to console her. He knew she wouldn't accept anything from him.

But now that Mikawa took the lead, Nekohiko had no choice but to come near. However, the second he stepped up--

Something grabbed him from below.

Who--?

Abihiko.

The doll.

"Dear Sakami, where are you going?" Abihiko doll asked him blindly as if not even aware he wasn't Sakami.

The doll straightened up to its full height from the floor, folding up from its limbs like something quite spidery and fluid at the same time. Frightening speed and such uncanny motion...

Another doll was holding Nekohiko down from below. Sakami's mom -- and she was not rising to her feet but instead slowly forming a snake-like shackle around Nekohiko's legs, coiling around him sinuously.

"Ahhh!" Mikawa whelped. The boy tried to bolt aside, but the hard grip of doll Kiyoko clasped around him and pinned him down as well.

"Where are you going, my love. Where you going, my love. Where are you going--"

The fake Abihiko's voice was torture all in itself. Nekohiko cringed, recoiling in shock.

Just then, a mean kick flew at Nekohiko from the side as Abihiko's doll went into the full-attack mode. Nekohiko barely dodged the strike and tripped because Sakami's mom still held down his legs on the floor.

Argh!

"You damn toys!" Nekohiko snapped, shifting his arms into a spell-casting formation.

But the dolls were faster. Abihiko's doll simply flicked its wrists, and a few sets of fine silk threads sprayed out from within its fingers, cutting into Nekohiko's skin and disturbing his spell formation

Shit!

He had almost miscast a spell because of it! Nekohiko lurched back to throw the threads off his fingers, but this was when it hit him.

The other dolls in the room had already amassed close around him and Mikawa. Not just Abihiko and Sakami's mom who fought like most human-sized dummies would. But there were smaller dolls, too. And though Nekohiko didn't know how those would attack him if they needed to, he was quite sure they could.

He did not want to see them fight, or their methods.

At all.

Mikawa was also suppressed by the doll assault while Sakami didn't bother to fight or resist. She must have tried to escape on her own several times by now but clearly hadn't been able to.

No wonder she had broken down in futility.

These dolls and their steady yet menacing ability to fix themselves and keep on attacking no matter what was genuinely scary. Nekohiko kicked and punched and wrestled their grabby porcelain and wooden hands away, but regardless of how much he hit, newer ones weren't that far behind.

Punching. Kicking. Dashing down to avoid their attacks.

Growling in anger at all the foiled strikes.

"Damnitttttt!"

No way to defeat these piles of dolls, was there? His Emperor's powers it was, then. He wasn't one to hold back when his patience ran over.

He shoved aside as many dolls as he could. After a particularly mean kick at the Abihiko doll that sent it flying backward and into the wardrobe, Nekohiko slammed his hands together, casting. He managed to form one of the simplest Imperial Fusion spells in existence. One that couldn't even be distracted, so easy it was. 

"Mikawa, Sakami -- brace yourselves!" he yelled in the middle of the casting.

And --

...

Nothing happened.

...

Nekohiko stared at his own fingers, sure he had just cast a spell to mold all the other dolls in the room into one single layer of matter. And yet...

Nothing.

He hadn't cast it. And as he tried to move his fingers, he realized he could not.

How... why...?

Suddenly, he caught the eyes of most of the small dolls inside the room. The direction in which they looked as though drawn solely to one point in existence.

Nekohiko's body strained to move, but couldn't. He felt with his sixth sense that somebody was standing behind him in the doorway to this room, observing what was going on inside.

No malice coming from that person, no surprise.

Only vast, playful curiosity.

Like a puppet-master's when he saw how tangled the strings of his puppets had become.

"Well-well," Hibiki's slithery, rough voice said from over the doors. "I definitely remembered leaving behind here only eighty-three dolls last time I was here."

He strolled into the room, his footsteps soft and slow over the thick carpet.

Nekohiko couldn't even turn his head to glare at him. All he could see was Sakami on the bed before him, several body parts of larger dolls and tons of cracked and smashed smaller ones on the floor. Mikawa, pushed down by Sakami's dad doll. The boy's face was awash with dread as he watched Hibiki approach him, and Nekohiko could almost hear how fast and frenzied Mikawa's heart must be in his chest.

Hibiki stopped beside Nekohiko. And Nekohiko could see him, just at the edge of his eye.

Leaning forward, he peeked at Nekohiko from the low angle. His long black hair fell over his cadaverously-pale face in a curtain, covering most of his features save for the eyes, gleefully amused.

"Hello, Emerald Fir."

You... bastard! What did you do to me! Nekohiko wanted to scream back, but his lips could only squeeze out a --

"Mnnnhfg!"

Hibiki's eyes devoured him as he sized Nekohiko up and down. His smile crept wider at seeing how much Nekohiko struggled against whatever was keeping him paralyzed.

 "Do you really believe any of the dolls I personally Bound together would be able to harm me or act against me?" Hibiki said, sounding oddly distraught. "You underestimate me so, Emerald Fir. That is disappointing..."

Suddenly, he drew in a gasp when his eyes fell to the floor and Mikawa desperately wriggling against the dolls there.

"A Nagare, a real authentic Nagare!" Hibiki said, choked, and crept a few steps closer. His pose was that of awe as he inclined his head toward Mikawa, hands folded before his face like a cat's in the gesture of shy joy. "I haven't had Nagare dolls in my collection yet! What a marvelous find--"

"N-no! Let me go---aaaaaaaaah!" Mikawa squealed when Hibiki grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head up. Hibiki admired the delicate throat and Mikawa's exposed jawline in this position, thoroughly disregarding any of Mikawa's pained cries.

"So young, too. I love younger dolls. The material is more supple," Hibiki mumbled under his own nose as his long, spidery fingers groped around Mikawa's throat, pinching his skin and digging his nails in as though savoring the sensation. "More malleable. More easily molded."

Nekohiko could not move an inch.

In desperation, he watched the scene before him, unable to help.

 

 

 

---

***

 

 

Do not you dare touch him! he roared in his mind, only to groan and sputter through his stiffly clenched teeth.

Before him, Sakami sat on the bed, covering her ears with her hands and squeezing her eyes shut. She kept mumbling under her breath, begging to be left alone, but she could not help them either.

Another of Mikawa's agonized yelps split the room, wrenching Nekohiko's back in a cold sweat.

And then--

Nekohiko heard behind him the muffled footsteps. Then sensed the air dislodging as something heavy and fast swooshed past him -- and at Hibiki's head.

A chair.

Somebody had flung a chair at Hibiki, just missing it by a hairbreadth.

Hibiki lurched aside, instantly rolling to the floor away from the strike. The chair smashed into the wall behind Mikawa, wood splintering into parts.

But Hibiki didn't get away in time.

Kataji was already flinging his boot into Hibiki's face on the floor.

Kataji! Nekohiko wanted to scream. Please do not lose! Please save us!

"Monster!" Kataji growled. "You ruined Itsuki! You hurt Mikawa! You... doll-fucker!"

His boot aimed at Hibiki's head again, but he was too slow.

Of course he was.

He was a non-Binder, after all. Hibiki took a strike from him -- one glancing punch to his face. Hibiki's head jerked backward from the hit and blood spattered his broken lip and nose, but he didn't sway and didn't try to dodge the next hit.

He didn't need to.

As a Binder, he could overpower a non-Binder easily. With just a few swift spells.

Kataji didn't even know what got him.

Hibiki quickened his own movements and swooped around Kataji in a blink of an eye. And already -- he was behind Kataji, clutching Kataji's arm in his fingers.

Then, with a sickening squelch, he yanked that arm upward.

Something cracked, loudly and disturbingly, in the quiet room.

With a shocked delay, Kataji shrieked in pain. His knees hit the floor as he fell down, but Hibiki didn't let his arm out of his grasp. Silently, Hibiki held Kataji over, as though wanting to prolong the moment of twisting Kataji's arm out of its socket. As though wanting to punish.

"Did you just call me a doll-fucker, my Doll-Fucking apprentice? Is this you? Is this your arm? Can I rip it the fuck off for striking me with it?" Hibiki mumbled fast into Kataji's ear. He lisped a bit, from the punch Kataji had given him, but he smiled through the blood nonetheless.

Nekohiko could hear it -- his smile -- in his quiet, hissing voice.

"I'll give you a better arm, Doll-fucker, I promise," Hibiki added. "I'll give you an arm that can never ever do something as stupid as hit me. All right?"

"Gods, please, just-- NO!" Kataji wailed on the floor, struggling to get away from the madman.

"Nonono. Maybe you want to keep this arm? Then we can just change your stupid cum-for-brains instead, what do you think? I think something has to go, or you will just keep doing stupid shit again, and I -- can -- not -- allow -- that!" Hibiki snarled low in his throat as he kept wrenching Kataji's arm after every word as though punctuating his speech with Kataji's cries.

Nekohiko was at a loss of what to do.

Everything was going down. All at once. No way to run except for...

His other bodies.

But they were too far away to help him or even call for help! The only one that might have the flimsiest chance to help them was the seashell -- but it didn't even have a mouth to speak with or cry for help!

Agh!

To hells with it all!

He switched off to the seashell, finding it bizarre how hard it was to abandon the dummy. As if Hibiki's paralysis of his physical body could spread over to his soul?

But no matter -- he shifted his mind to the seashell and couldn't help his pained yelp as soon as he freed himself from the petrified dummy's body.

"Aaaaaaah," he moaned in agony and stilled when he realized.

The seashell could speak.

H-how? Since when?

"Neko?" Abihiko's voice was cool and heavenly gentle to Nekohiko's ears. Like a commiserating hug after the horrors he'd just seen.

Nekohiko wanted to lean into this voice and forget his pain and fears... but he had no time to do that.

"Abihiko, Kataji is being tortured by Hibiki--" he began listlessly. "Please--"

"I'm onto it," Abihiko said.

His tone was firm. Brutal, even.

With a belated shock, Nekohiko cast his gaze around Abihiko and saw that...

Indeed. Abihiko was already in the vicinity of The Doll Palace. The Imperial sigil with Nekohiko's brand on it blazing hot and fiery in Abihiko's fingers like his very own personal compass of finding Nekohiko whenever he was.

But if before, Nekohiko had felt annoyed at being tracked so easily by him, now he only felt relief.

In one giant leap off the ground, powered by a Binding spell to give him velocity, Abihiko launched himself toward one of the beautiful elegant towers of The Doll Palace. And even before he landed, his fingers already assembled one of the most potent Hira explosive spells.

...

...!

Nekohiko could only shift his mind back to the dummy body -- just in time to see the entirety of the wall of Sakami's doll room be blasted off with a searing tide of fire.

...

Abihiko was here.