Chapter Hundred Twenty-Eight

Temporary

 

 

 

Nara boiled in all kinds of crazy rumors and bets and gasps and curses and predictions. Everyone was a bit too obsessed with the budding split between the Great Lords and the Emperor or the Spiritway or King Morokata...

Ah, it was unclear. The Spiritway priests, after all, had to do their job as well -- confirming the Spiritual imprints of the auras of everyone involved. Rumors went about, even though Nekohiko couldn't tell which and why. All he got were snippets of many conversations during a simple half hour walk through the city to get to the Palace.

Trails of gossip wafted from the doors of the humid restaurants, from the market stalls, from the prostitution district alleys and backstreets. Crowd lines before gambling parlors and citizens riding the Bound carriages through the traffic were the biggest offenders with how idle their talks were.

Apparently, the Spiritway priests had needed to gather Spiritual imprints of everyone on the Trial to gauge the stench of corruption from misdeeds that clouded their auras. And... yeah. Abihiko's Spiritual Imprint was horrendous.

Vile. Nasty. Disgusting.

People spat curses just mentioning his name now -- and Nekohiko found it harder and harder to shrug all these despicable words off.

It was one thing to know this for a fact. When he had witnessed Abihiko's aura in the Ise environment... it hadn't been pleasant. But Nekohiko had been able to accept it and only wanted to move on, to help Abihiko purify it, however slowly or minimally.

But to hear just how disturbing it was for everyone else to find out... and how inexplicably Abihiko's aura was connected to him as a person...

Now everyone thought that his Binding Imprint somehow reflected upon him as a human being. That because the aura was so corrupted, Abihiko himself must be. That because of how his actions were seen by the Spirits, it meant that Abihiko was filth -- impure, disgusting... unforgivable.

And that hurt. Nekohiko's heart twisted into knots just hearing such cruel things said about someone he held so dearly to himself. His only friend. His lover.

What added to it was the absence of the Emerald Fir Tree at the center of the Palace. Now that everyone had checked Abihiko's aura and where his magic went, they had discovered that some part of it was still connected to the glamor illusion of the Emerald Fir. The Spiritual center of the Empire.

And when they saw what had happened to the tree itself...

Torn down, corrupted, ruined. A mere small tree stump where before, a beautiful Spirit Tree had stood.

Many of the insults toward Abihiko on the streets were about him having defiled that Spirit Tree and him having lied about it for so many years. The scandal it had caused!

There was simply no way to treat Abihiko as anything other than a heathen and a sinner now. Somebody that even the scummiest of people looked down upon...

Nekohiko braved through it all, eyes only on the distant glow of the eerie emerald glimmer emanating from the Palace at the heart of the city. A few of the passersby were attracted to Nekohiko's Imperial Bodyguard uniform. Even under a cloak, it was flashy and caught the eye. Some even dared to come onto him, demanding more elaborations about the Trial and what the hell was going on in the Imperial family.

Nekohiko didn't spare them a glance, walking steadily through the packed streets and toward the central districts with sparser buildings and greater expanses. At some point, he had to jog to get across the stupidly-huge squares in front of the Emerald Palace gardens. He missed Binding, in that moment.

He hated that he couldn't use it now -- because he'd come too close to the center and the great swarm of Binders that the Palace was full of. Even a single spell now would summon attention to him. He had to be cautious.

The nightly clouds loomed heavily above the Palace's jagged, intricate roofs, summoning an image of an oncoming storm. What better to symbolize the incendiary, uncertain mood that had taken over the capital? The absence of the Spirit Tree in the center made the Palace appear somewhat... eerie. Hollow, like a shelled-out husk. Surreal.

The sinister mood only grew from there.

Because, really -- apart from waiting gleefully for the development of the Imperial drama with the Great Lords, the people in the streets were also... picking fights. Picking sides. Evoking the first fires of unrest and displeasure with the civilized state of things.

People thirsted for blood and flames and something far more than what the Grand Imperial Tribunal could offer them now. They wanted answers and to see everyone they hated -- punished. In as entertaining ways as possible.

...

Nekohiko let out a tremulous breath, eyes trained on the perimeters of the Palace. He located the nearest spell barriers protecting the premises and the possible network of Binders that would act as soon as any of the identification spells were engaged with. About twenty-to-thirty people, just on this small corner of the back porch of the Palace...

Oooof.

Not that Nekohiko expected the doll-repelling spells to work on him now. He had done everything in his power to cancel out any of the dummy doll's aspects that such a generic barrier spell could pick up. Of course, if a professional Binder took a closer look at Nekohiko, they would be able to tell he was a doll. But the spell barrier working on a huge perimeter could not do that.

It would only react to the most obvious signs of a doll body.

Nekohiko lifted his chin up, maintaining the proud stature of the Imperial Bodyguards as he waited out behind a gazebo's corner for another group of Imperial Bodyguards to pass him. Then he simply joined in -- matter-of-fact and unnoticeably average in all of his behaviors.

A dozen of them marched on, brisk in their checking the posts. Nekohiko was just one of them, utterly dismissible.

He didn't need to follow this group for longer than a few hundred steps. They were only useful to him as far as he could get through the scrutiny of the other guards who would ignore packs of people, but not individuals.

And with that... The group successfully traversed the doll-detecting barrier. A spread of magical signs peppered the outline of the Palace garden, and just like in Iokirihime's dressing salon -- once Nekohiko stepped through it, the spell would notify everyone in the vicinity about his Bound dummy status.

But not tonight.

He knew how the spell worked now, and he had prepared his body for its subtle touch.

He didn't even feel it as he marched on along with the guards in his small group. Some guards exchanged words and curt commands, but not anything that he needed to participate in. His gaze down, he walked past the other servants and soldiers he met. Then -- once he had a chance, he lingered behind a column at the back porch.

And waited, his breath held.

The last of the guards went by him. Even their footsteps receded into the quiet echoes of the Palace life. In a few moments, a generic small server dummy pattered through the hallway, and Nekohiko ran toward it. Just a tiny walking tray, nothing important. With a brief kick, Nekohiko dislodged the stack of manuscripts the dummy carried, then gathered them in his hands.

It was easier to sneak into the Palace if he looked like he had chores to do. What if any other Imperial guard asked him who he was and what he was doing?

A stack of scrolls to carry might deter even the most suspicious ones.

He stalked through the familiar corridors, listening in to the conversations that plagued the Palace halls. The buzz and agitation here were no less than what he had witnessed outside. People talked. A lot.

"The Tree stump has to be locked! Locked! Do not allow anyone to see that travesty in there!"

"Yes, it will demoralize everyone if they knew what that heathen has done to it. We need to do something about it--"

"But the Spiritual essence of the Tree is so pure," somebody else tried to wedge in. "Just the physical form of it is corrupted. Perhaps, this is not as bad as it sounds. The true Emperor is clearly connected to it, which is why the Tree is so healthy, Spiritually-speaking!"

"Lock it! Lock it now so that only the Izumo and Ise priests can see it!"

"Speaking of the true Emperor. Do you think we can track him through the stump of the Spirit Tree?"

"...ugh, should we? Judging by the regicide against him... perhaps he is not such an agreeable person, after all? The Temporary Emperor Kataji seems so much more convenient..."

Inconvenient.

Tch. Do not you dare use that word in regards to me.

The councilors and advisors were so tense and ready to erupt in arguments with each other, they couldn't even see clearly where they walked. A few councilors ran into Nekohiko, too aggravated by the rumors and the developments to care. Overall, the atmosphere in the Palace horrified him.

Was this really what he would have to deal with, being an ascended Emperor?

People talking nonsense about him? Paying much too close attention to his every move? Arguing, debating, spewing dirt all over him? Having a swarm of fuming people at the Palace at all times?

"Heavens, no," he breathed, edging away from the doors of every hall he passed.

Too many painful memories. Too much drama. He wanted nothing more than to curl in and hide somewhere far away, but he knew what he had come here for.

For quite a painful conversation. And quite a bit of drama.

Kataji.

He turned the last corner toward the private wing of the Palace where the inhabitants lived. And breathed in relief when he saw that there were no guards in here. At least not where he had expected them to be.

 

 

---

***

 

 

Slowly, he advanced toward the Imperial chambers where he and Abihiko had been contained just a month ago. On their wedding night and their brief honeymoon inside, laced with sadness and pent-up anger.

What astounded him was that there was nobody here. The place was wide-open -- as he had last seen it.

He still remembered how he had smashed these very doors, heavy, gilded, ornamental -- before exiting. He had remembered the dents this attack had made in the opposite wall of the hallway. His gloved hand touched the small rough indentation in the stone wall, and Nekohiko frowned.

Nothing had been touched in here since that time? Huh. Only a few new elements had been added.

Mainly, the scorched marks over the threshold and a bit inside the ante-chambers leading to the inner rooms. Nekohiko was sure he hadn't been the one who had made them. But then again... Abihiko had exited these rooms a month ago, too. If Nekohiko with his reserved temper had made a mess, no doubt Abihiko and his explosiveness had made an even bigger mess.

The thought made him want to smile, but he refused to. He was still angry at Abihiko for today, so he was not swooning over his cute little quirks.

He didn't step up to the entrance of the Imperial chambers, though. The reason why nothing here had been touched upon was obvious to him. And why there were no guards here. Nobody could enter the chambers, even a whole month after the wedding. The Ritual protection spells must be still working. It was useless for anyone to even come close until the ritual arrays had faded.

Indeed. He glimpsed the softly glowing runes and markings on the floor just beyond the entrance, and didn't feel like coming closer.

This was not the place he was looking for. If the Imperial chambers were a no-go zone, then where did the new, Temporary, Emperor reside?

He followed his instincts, navigating through the corridors he had learned so well while spying on Abihiko through the seashell for months. Only one other person of such great importance was housed next to the Emperor. That would be his wife. Or his future wife. In other words -- Sakami -- when people had still expected her to be the one he married. Her quarters just as luxurious as the Emperor's rooms, and just as well-served.

All her things had been carried over to the Imperial chambers before the wedding, so her previous rooms should be empty.

It didn't take him long to come to the actually guarded and monitored part of the private wing.

Which... yep, meant he was exactly where he needed to be.

And exactly on time, too.

"--impossible to reason with. But he had always been the same," Kataji was saying, coming in through the other side of the hall. "Even Mother said he was a hassle to deal with."

His voice was tinged with barely restrained anger, and he was biting his lips as he strode on. Behind him, a small entourage of Imperial Guards walked in a perfect formation. And at the head of their party -- Hibiki.

His legs were a bit stiff as he trod on, but nothing that he couldn't deal with. Much harsher looked the gash in his porcelain face. A black hole with cracks in the pristine white surface spidering out from within -- as though from a very precise punch.

When Hibiki spoke, the hole in his cheek let the air out as much as his mouth, creating an uncanny, displacing resonance.

"Let him enjoy it while it lasts. Soon he won't able to touch me even if wants to."

"I am sorry for his behavior," Kataji replied, still annoyed. Then, stopping briefly just before walking into the doors of his room, dutifully held open for him by his guards, he added, "What do you mean -- he won't be able even if he wants? I thought we were very clear no harm will come to him."

Hibiki didn't respond, only raising his face sideways to peer at Kataji from within his stringy black hair. Kataji stared back, giving Nekohiko a bizarre feeling of defiance where he, himself, might not have been able to show any.

Hibiki's unsettling stares had always made him uncomfortable. That Kataji could handle them was, on its own, quite impressive.

"He is my brother," Kataji hissed at Hibiki.

"I am aware," Hibiki said. He lifted his porcelain hand, pointing Kataji at the doors of his rooms as though ordering him to go in. "Time to go to bed. It is late, Doll-fucker."

"I am the Emperor--! How dareyou--"

"Temporary Emperor. Night-night," Hibiki drawled, leaning in to Kataji's face and forcing him to back away.

Even with how close he had grown with Hibiki, he still couldn't take his proximity. Nobody would.

"Morokata will hear all about how you talk to me," Kataji said before snapping toward the doors. "And he will hear about you threatening my family members. You creep."

Rather than acknowledge him, Hibiki nodded on to the Bodyguards and servants to follow Kataji into his rooms. But before the first one of them could, Kataji slammed the doors shut.

Only one Bodyguard's foot got stuck in the doorway, prohibiting the door from closing.

"I said keep all your freaky dolls away from me!" Kataji roared, desperate to push it to close regardless.

And with how emotionless the bodyguard's reaction was to the heavy door crushing his foot... yes, Nekohiko did not doubt the guard was a dummy doll, however believably human he looked from the outside.

Which was rather concerning.

Dolls were probably much better at guarding something than humans. Dolls wouldn't be tricked as easily by Nekohiko's chore-like appearance. But at the same time...

...would dolls even react to another doll showing up?

He was their kin, technically speaking.

The scuffle at the doors went on, but Nekohiko couldn't keep spying in on it. Because Hibiki took his lead down the corridor with the few other dolls following behind. And they were coming directly to where Nekohiko was.

He snuck into a small niche, hiding behind the silk paper screen with fir branches drawn on it. His breath hitched and his mind thrashed in search of some trick to get to Kataji through the layers of dolls. He stilled, waiting.

Hibiki was silent. Like a doll, himself. Utterly disinterested in anything that wasn't asked of him by Morokata -- or didn't involve dollmaking or handling. He limped by Nekohiko's niche, and soon his inhumanly hollow footsteps got swallowed by the background noise of the Palace.

Nekohiko dropped all his scrolls to the floor, quick to get to the entry into Kataji's rooms. There wasn't much he had to bet on. Just his belief in Kataji -- and the remnants of friendship they had once had.

The closer he went, the stiffer and more mechanical he made his movements to be.

Just another dummy doll, one made by Hibiki, no less. Exactly like every other one here.

The dolls didn't flinch from his advance. To them, he must have been so negligible unless he was an obvious threat. He would only appear like that if he dared to break or slip into the rooms as he had originally planned.

Instead, he reached the doors of Kataji's rooms in the most mundane manner. A mechanical doll-walk. Then a matter-of-fact stopping right before the door.

Carefully and methodically, he knocked.

Like dummies, the guards to both sides of the door loomed motionlessly, watching before them. From the looks of it, they weren't at all different from Nekohiko. Just a homogenous group of humanoid dolls dressed in Imperial Bodyguard uniforms.

Who would see the difference, really?

But he had his will. And his voice.

"Kataji," he called softly, leaning in to the very doors. "Kataji... It's me. I only wanted to talk to you. But you no longer reply to any of my other bodies, and do not even carry them around anymore. So I had to come to you like this."

Breathless, he waited. His nervousness seeped down his spine and his limbs, making him shiver even though his new, temporary body layers had to dampen all cold as well as touch.

He swallowed, hard.

The hallway was just so empty and quiet, with all these inhuman statues of dummies around him.

...

Moments trickling by, and still no answer.

"Kataji. Please," he whispered. His helmet's visor hit the door gently when his forehead rested against it. Once more, he curled his fingers in to knock at the door.

Even if no answer came.

Even then.

But just when he wanted to plead again--

The door slowly slid from beneath his touch. Outward, and aside. Opening up.

From beyond it, poured the golden glow of the inner chamber lighting. And stark within it, limning darkly against the bright shine, stood Kataji.

On top of his head, the Emerald Crown as it had been on Abihiko's head earlier today. On his shoulders -- Emerald-green robes Abihiko had been forced to wear for years even though he had hated them with all his might.

And on his face -- the smile. So familiar and recognizable.

Exactly like Abihiko's. Only not at all warm, or kind, or heartache-inducing.

It was cold and wafted of great distaste, even when stretched so politely on Kataji's surprisingly-calm face.

"So that creep was right, after all," Kataji told a few doll guards who were with him inside the rooms. "I have a visitor. Another of his never-ending sex dolls, hmm. How refreshing."

 

 

---

***

 

Nekohiko threw skittish glances at the guard dolls surrounding Kataji. Their passivity and stillness hadn't changed even though something in Kataji's environment did, so drastically.

A visitor.

Yet as Kataji opened the doors wider, offering Nekohiko a free way in -- even then, the dolls didn't react.

"I am not as stupid as I look," Kataji told him, eyes glaring. "Doll mastery is a skill you learn. Maybe Hibiki doesn't think I can. But I do. And I can switch off his dolls as easily as he does. These dolls won't bother us."

...oh.

Tentative, Nekohiko looked over his shoulder to the hallway and the distant shadows of normal -- human -- servants and guards snooping there, but Kataji didn't let him dwell in his indecisiveness.

"Well, come on in. Didn't you say you wanted to talk to me? Just now?"

Rigid, Nekohiko nodded and stepped into the room. He fumbled removing the helmet off his head while Kataji swung the door closed with a push of his shoulder.

He leaned against it now, giving Nekohiko the same smile with which he had greeted him. It lingered just long enough to show Nekohiko Kataji was desperate to seem aloof and emboldened.

But as soon as Nekohiko's helmet came off his head fully, the smile... it just couldn't hold on.

Slowly, but Kataji's expression turned bitter and hawk-like, watching Nekohiko's features with a miserable yearning mixed with distaste. His cheeks burned with a fevered fire not unlike Abihiko's, even though this fire never reached his eyes, instead omitting them.

His eyes resembled more the extinguished and dark pieces of coal than anything like the ember-infused heat Abihiko emanated when he locked gazes with Nekohiko.

His gaze was dead-cold.

"Kataji--"

Not wishing to hear it, Kataji kicked himself off the door and walked away as though unable to look at Nekohiko directly any longer. His long, elegant sleeves swooshed as he took a busy walk into the rooms as if running away.

"Those stupid dolls, always following me around," Kataji said, tired. He strolled into the next room with the golden columns and wavelike curtains spread over the rafters. He entered the lounge area around a tea table with the already-assembled set waiting on it.

"Come on in, I guess," he told Nekohiko, bitter.

Kataji sagged on one of the lounging seats and slowly slid down to the floor. As though waiting for his own temper to calm down, he stared at the tea set before him then reached out to take the cover off the tea tray.

Elegantly and effortlessly, he began setting the tea on the table in the well-trained routine.

"Hibiki and Nao are wearing me down quite a lot, as you can probably imagine. Tsk. I wish Morokata had more trust in me without those two freaks but I guess he cannot. Nobody does, after all. I am the eternal disappointment and the most subpar individual. Nothing to trust, much." Wearily, he turned his head to Nekohiko who still dawdled by the edge of the lounging room, and gave him a withering look. "As a true host, I must offer you tea and sweets while we talk. No? How uncouth of me to have almost forgotten my manners." He spread his hand with a flourish to the table and made almost a perfect performance of a Morokata-like hospitality. "Let this inferior person serve you as best I can. Which, as we both know, is quite terrible anyway. Otherwise you wouldn't have to run away from me quite as hard as you have always been doing. But oh well. Tea, I cannot fail at, can I?"

Nekohiko fidgeted with the helmet in his hands, still giving a cautious side-eye to the dolls who stood so lifelessly beside him. But with how dismissive Kataji was toward them, Nekohiko calmed down soon enough. Not like he had any choice in the matter.

As for Kataji... Nekohiko knew his limits pretty well. Kataji was his maker and his Master. There was a slim chance he would try to abuse the Master Orders he had over Nekohiko.

Perhaps, Nekohiko did not want to believe it would happen tonight. Or ever. But he was not a simpleton.

It was possible. Thus, he had to be on the lookout for that. Thus, he was fully ready to use magic to immobilize or restrict Kataji's movement. As soon as he saw anything that might threaten him, he would not waste a chance to protect himself.

Still, he stepped slowly, as though afraid of a trick or an ambush hidden somewhere deeper in Kataji's rooms. The softened and Bound-smoother floor drowned out all sound and gave the false sense of coziness where there was none.

Distraught, Nekohiko stopped by the table, then sank to the floor, watching Kataji warily from the other side.

"I have never run away from you."

"Yes, but you weren't exactly running toward me even when you promised you would, mmm." Kataji poured tea, classy. "Only the worst of people deserve to be treated with as many lies and false promises as you treated me. So I assume my work on your body must have been so unsatisfactory to have earned me so much disrespect from you."

...

"That, or you did all that cruelly -- without even needing a reason." Pleased, yet clearly fuming, Kataji nodded to himself. He lifted his full teacup and covered it with his hand tastefully before sipping from it. "Cheers. And congratulations, Itsuki!"

"Congratulations to you too," Nekohiko said, uncomfortable. "You are the Emperor now..."

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Thank you, thank you. Please have a drink. The tea is marvelous, with a bit of spice." Kataji held the liquid in his mouth, savoring, then swallowed with difficulty as though even that was hard for him to do while he watched Nekohiko. "My, my. Am I a talker, all of a sudden. And you said you would come here to me for a talk. Yet you are so quiet instead, dear Itsuki. How so? Am I not entertaining a host enough? Have I displeased you with something again -- without knowing?

"Because if I did -- I apologize. But please, tell me outright rather than hold it to yourself only to surprise me with your sudden desire to hurt me or punish me for something I haven't done. You tend to be oh!-so-enigmatic when you do that."

"..."

Now the spicy, heady tea stuck in Nekohiko's throat, making it hard for him to gulp it down.

He put his teacup on the table, feeling so guilty, each movement felt like it was weighing him down.

"I wanted... to apologize. I... don't know how to justify anything I have done to you. It was... horrible."

"Well, at least I ended up on the Throne because of it all," Kataji said with a razor-fast smile that didn't fit him.

"At least you did."

Kataji's glee vanished, abrupt. "Who gives a shit about the stupid Throne. Even Hibiki doesn't treat me with due respect. Nobody does. Everyone knows I am merely a temporary stand-in. A second-rate version of someone far better. A dummy in place of someone much more useful and anticipated. You." He still avoided meeting Nekohiko's eye, clearly disturbed by his proximity even if he tried to pretend he didn't care. "Congratulations on your wedding. I already congratulated your husband in his dungeon cell. Now I suppose it's time I did the same to you. So... very happy for both of you."

He sounded the exact opposite of that.

The tone of his congratulations stung, especially coupled with him saying nobody respected him. "Kataji, I never treated you as a second-rate version or a stand-in. I--"

"Itsuki?" Kataji neared over the table, his eyes scalding Nekohiko with the cold fire in them. "I don't give a fuck. Start talking about the actual reasons you came here for. What were they? Come on, come on -- speak. I am listening."

...

"Perhaps I should do that for you, as well? As I have done everything else for you to end up where you are right now, married to my own brother, cleared up in front of an entire country, all of your enemies killed or trampled by your glorious ascension to the Throne? What do you want from me now? Your Throne back? Your hapless husband? I wonder how you would take either of those things you obviously came here for? Not like you could have ever truly come here to talk to ME. Even though you just said you did. But let's say I believe you. And this is not a very thin and bad cover-up for you crawling in here like a thief you are, pleading to talk to me as though we have anything to talk about."

He just kept going. Nekohiko couldn't even wedge in a word, so worked up Kataji had become.

So... unhinged in his frustration that seemed to never exhaust itself.

"Because if you think I will give these things to you -- you are gravely mistaken," Kataji ended with a maddened, quiet little chuckle. He turned aside halfway, his eyes blinking fast and his breathing slightly quickened. Even his hands shook; Nekohiko could see -- as Kataji squeezed them into fists, hiding within his deep sleeves. "You took... so much from me already -- you have no right to demand or beg anything ever again!" Rather than scream these words out, he dropped into the raspy, harsh whisper. "I don't owe you anything. And if you want to take it from me, you would have to fight me. I suppose. Not that you would find it that hard to do since... as we all have heard today, you powerful people just can't help abusing those weaker than you. Trample them, hurt them. Then pretend it never happened.

"Is that not so? Itsuki."

...

You seem to take literal pages out of Morokata's book of blaming people.

Not that you are wrong, per se.

Nekohiko dropped his gaze. "I am not going to fight you, Kataji. You are my maker, and I owe my existence to you. I respect you as I do no one else... but not when it comes to fulfilling my goals."

"Mmm? Which are? Revenge to that awful Tenma person you have told me so much about back in Red Stone? I wonder how that turned out... how much you avenged yourself before him. How many times? Did you like it? Avenging yourself? Over and over again? Mmm, I bet he liked it very much, too--"

Nekohiko couldn't help but glare. His breath rushed out of his mouth in shame and anger. With enormous will, he kept his calm and refused to be baited.

"Please, cannot we just talk? Like we did months ago. Before you began seeing me as someone I am... not."

"A trustworthy person?"

...

Spirits, Kataji.

Please.

"I understand you want to punish me for everything I have done. And for all the lies I have told you. But if you just keep doing that -- then I do not even need to be here, or to listen to you. You seem to be in need of a punching dummy. Not me."

Kataji slammed his cup on the table, hard. "What if I want both? In you?"

"...you and I," Nekohiko began, timid, "were friends, once. Just two lonely people in need of someone to understand them and relate to them. But then, I do not even know when... you started seeing me as something else. Something I told you, several times -- I cannot be--"

"Yes, you told me you are not a person who can be attracted to others, or fall in love with them. Or to have any desires or urges to be close to them." Kataji nodded, a bitter smile on his lips. "Yet then you did all these things with my brother. So I assume -- what you mean when you say that -- is... for me. Not for Abihiko. For Abihiko, you can be whatever the hell he desires. And I... I am merely a temporary obstacle on your path to him. Am I mistaken?"

"See. You cannot even stop comparing your and my relationship to what I have with him. When never in my life have I given you any indication it would be." Nekohiko held his gaze on Kataji's pale face, too decisive to avert it. He had to say what he had meant -- for such a long time.

"Kataji, for the third or fourth time, I am telling you -- I can not be interested in you in this way unless you force me through a Master Order. But that doesn't change the fact that, unless I am forced to -- I won't be. And I have told you this since the first time you have implied this." His voice steadied, grave. "I have only avoided telling you the truth because you refused to listen when I told it. Easier for me, to simply avoid you -- after a certain point.

"As harsh as it is, Kataji -- this is the deepest truth between you and me: I am just not interested in you in that way."

Kataji chuckled, turning aside and swilling the tea in the new cup he had poured for himself. Idle, he contemplated the gentle steam rising from the cup.

"Ah yes, when you promised to come back to me while you were actually marrying my brother. Or when you promised to tell me the entire truth and then abandoned me with Aomi as an unconscious body. That was definitely because I have misunderstood something. And not at all on you."

Damn it... why did this seem so hard to unravel?

"You weren't the one I was coming back to. It has always been Abihiko. To... kill him, if necessary."

"--or to fuck him, of course," Kataji chimed in, saluting with his cup.

"If I told you the truth back in Red Stone -- what would you have done to me?!" Nekohiko was losing patience. "I was first forced to tell you lies when you were literally on the verge of burning me alive in a furnace! Kataji -- this is not a situation in which anyone would be happy telling the truth! For the first few months of interacting with you, I had no legs -- to run away from you with! No arms to push you away if I felt I had to! Sometimes no voice or eyes to even perceive if anything was going wrong around me or if I were in danger! What truth did you expect from a person who is immobile, helpless, and under your full control to condemn me to death if you willed it?!

"And now you blame me for being helpless and trying to save my life by pleasing you the best I could? Kataji -- you have always been my maker and my master! The sole person who held my life in his hands! Long before you have put your blood inside me to be able to give me Master Orders. That is not a relationship that can be built on trust and truth. I am sorry you have ever thought differently."

Kataji accepted his words with uncharacteristic serenity. He breathed in the delicious scent rising from his tea but put it aside without sipping. Gracefully, he sat primmer and gave Nekohiko a very charming smile.

"I see. How nice of you, Itsuki, to have finally told me exactly what you think. What you have always thought. When you were holding my hand and twining your fingers with mine, then you were cleaning my wounds with both of us half-naked, when you were offering yourself as my date to the reception in the Palace, when you kissed me on the lips. When you told me I was the only one who mattered. And the only one you wanted to return to. And would return to.

"I am glad all these things have cleared up now. And are so utterly unambiguous and definitely not a ground for misunderstanding any of your actions, past and present."

Nekohiko frowned. Yet before he could interject, Kataji went on, rushing.

"Yes, present. Because here you are, again. Under disguise, with promises to not hurt me and not force me to do anything I do not want. Even when I tell you -- anything you need from me, I will not do unless forced. So that just makes me curious, Itsuki. What do you mean? When you say you won't force me to give up the Throne or Abihiko... or to not call those guard dolls this same moment to grab you and present to the Grand Imperial Tribunal as they so vehemently desire. What do you imply?

"Have you not come here to get all those things from me? But if not with force or violence, as you say -- then with what?

"With more of your lies and fake promises? With this--?"

Across the table, Kataji extended his hand toward Nekohiko, his palm vulnerably open for the taking as though in an offer to dance.

"So you can hold my hand and twine your fingers with mine as you did months ago? Or to kiss me on the lips, maybe? Or to tell me I am the only one who matters to you? All -- I assume -- to get what you want from me. Like a sort of a payment for my services and convenience to you. No?"

Nekohiko felt cold and hot at the mere idea.

He felt ill, and that translated into how hard it was for him to speak up. "No, Kataji. I came here as a friend. Because that was what I have always seen you as.

"My friend."

Weren't you?

"Friends do not sell themselves and their emotions to the highest bidder, feeling forced to do so, you see. Do you know the people who do?" Cruelly, Kataji smiled, the fingers of his hand closing into a subtly-trembling fist as though all he wanted to do was to use it. Against Nekohiko. "They are called sluts, Itsuki. Is this what you came here as?

"But hey -- the body defines the function. All you sex dolls are exactly the same, aren't you?"