Content Warnings: slight gore

(middle section of the text).

 

Chapter Hundred Thirty-Eight

This Bond Cannot Break

 

 

Nekohiko was still bleary with sleep and the lingering nightmares that had plagued him. He wanted to snuggle close to Morokata, but Morokata avoided him. Gone were his warmth and the coy pretenses he always showed when around other people.

With a doll that could not disobey his Orders, he was quite cold. And not as happy to perform the classic niceness the Hisomes were so famous for. His demeanor wasn't impolite or unkind to Nekohiko. Just impersonal, frigid.

It sharply reminded Nekohiko of Suminoe.

So this was what Hisome people were like when nobody observed them, he thought. Natural and honest with themselves. Did that mean that Suminoe had never once pretended and had always shown Nekohiko his truest and most sincere self?

How... meaningless, to have found this out now. When it was already too late to appreciate. Or to thank for it the one who might have loved to hear it.

Sad, Nekohiko pondered about the eerie quietness of the outside.

"Wasn't there... war? Revolution, last night?" he asked Morokata, only now realizing.

The silence of the outside of the Palace was ringing, so pure it was.

Morokata shot him a displeased look. His fingers began tapping his lap, jittery. "Do not reply with a question to a question, baby doll. Besides, what does it matter to you what goes on outside? You might be the Emperor, but trust me -- you will never have any access to ruling or to any governmental issues. Safer for you and for everyone. You and Kataji, the ruler of Binders and the ruler of non-Binding folk, would make a lovely couple. On the surface. So never bother yourself with such irrelevant things as what's going on outside of your pretty, gilded Palace rooms. Will you, baby doll? We wouldn't want your cute little mind to dig through such unsavory things."

Huh.

This sounded reasonable. Nekohiko nodded, happy.

"I asked you what you have schemed against me," Morokata continued, a slight edge in his tone. As though even a small delay in Nekohiko's response had caused him great inconvenience. "Once again, I Order you to reply to my question. Have you planned anything against me?"

...

And once again, Nekohiko simply ignored the Master Order. Which even he found odd.

Why would he? It was a Master Order. He shouldn't be able to ignore it.

It occurred to Morokata first. "Did you not actually scheme against me?" he asked Nekohiko, sounding shocked. "Respond truthfully now, dollie."

"I did not, Master. I haven't actually made any plans against you," Nekohiko said in all honesty.

"..."

Morokata balked for a few heartbeats, then cracked a wild smile that lit his eyes from within. "I cannot believe this. Gods, of course! When you and that wretch came into these rooms, you were screaming mad at him. Flinging fists and wanting to throttle him for lying to you." As though stricken with some bizarre idea, Morokata shook his head. "That bastard actually kept all the most important secrets away from you. Even now. He doesn't trust anyone, does he? Tsk."

Aggravation brewed inside him, clearly.

But Morokata did not allow himself to go off, instead turning his brimming resentment into a tasteful chortle.

"He was not wrong, but... Holy Spirits, I will throttle him myself for forcing me to descend to such methods as Law of Transparency to make him talk. That jerk. Bah. I thought I'd get the truth easier out of you."

Nekohiko tilted his head, relishing the sight of Dear Morokata as beautifully angry as he was now. But Morokata was displeased with his attention.

"Anything else that might hurt me and my goals that you plotted or are plotting?" he asked, dour.

"Mmm. Nao betrayed you. She told me everything I might need to defeat you," Nekohiko replied, compelled to speak only truth to Dear Morokata. With or without wanting to.

However, this time, Morokata seemed mollified.

"Nao?" His eyes crinkled up, delightful in their crescent-like shape. "Of course she did. All Dark Sisters are mercenary whores, as everyone knows. Not that it will save her from my hand, ha-ha. Thank you, baby doll. Thank you for giving me exactly the reason to get rid of that leech once and for all. So what exactly did she say my defeat will be? Mmm?"

Dear Morokata's attention and the joyful mood filled Nekohiko with glee, too. He perked up.

"The Master Order Bond inside me is specially made," he quoted Nao directly. "It can only be undone if you personally destroy it. You, or Hibiki, perhaps," Nekohiko added after giving it a thought. "In any case, if either of you destroys it, I will be free. And I guess that's what she considers enough to be your downfall."

He shrugged as a conclusion.

Even the potential of what he just said seemed impossible to him. He, bringing ruin to Dear Morokata or Kataji? What? No.

Simply no. Never in his life.

But judging by Morokata's sour expression, he did not hold the same opinion.

Methodical, Morokata kept drumming his fingers against his thigh as he contemplated what Nekohiko said. Then, with an aggrieved sniff, he turned aside.

And chose not to respond to Nekohiko's words. At all. As though it touched a string that should not be touched.

"I Order you to never endanger me or attack me or betray me," he said, at last.

"Yes, Master."

"I Order you to self-destruct if you ever even come to a situation when you might be used as a weapon against me."

...

"Yes, Master."

"I Order you to... never even dare to say anything like what you just said to me. To never even think. In fact, forget what Nao has told you. And repeat after me: Dear Morokata cannot be defeated. I cannot defeat him. And I will never try. I love Dear Morokata. My Master Bond with him is unbreakable and cannot be endangered."

As though charmed, Nekohiko repeated the words exactly as they came out of Morokata's mouth. And Spirits, it felt good to say them.

He reveled in repeating them. Absolutely.

Because Dear Morokata sounded nervous, and Nekohiko only wanted to relieve him from any concerns he might have. Luckily, Morokata was pleased by Nekohiko's actions and even let Nekohiko snuggle close to him after Nekohiko repeated all the Orders given.

Like the favorite house cat, Nekohiko basked in Morokata's attention on the lounging seats long after the morning light grew softer and warmer, filling the room with the streaks of pale gold as the day rolled out in the skies.

The happiest couple of hours Nekohiko had seen. Made even happier when Dear Hibiki arrived. Hibiki's pissed-off looks notwithstanding.

If only Dear Kataji was here, too!

Nekohiko craned his neck toward Morokata who was sipping tea from the cup Hibiki's dolls had brought him.

"And Kataji?" Nekohiko begged, shy with his own audacity. "Where is he?"

He was already in the presence of two of his most beloved people in the world. Did he truly dare to ask for the third one?

How selfish of him.

Hibiki's features were mired with fatigue and irritation. Dark shadows under his eyes, the popping red of his eyeball capillaries, the slightly sluggish motions of his body. He plopped down next to Nekohiko and Morokata and proceeded to ignore Nekohiko completely.

"The nobles and the Tribunal keep pestering all my dolls asking about you," he told Morokata, teeth gritted. "I cannot work in such circumstances! Everywhere I go, it's 'get me to Morokata now! Get Emperor Kataji's opinion! Where is Morokata? Where is Emperor Kataji? What was decided with the traitor Abihiko?' Aaaaaaagh!"

Oops.

Perhaps Nekohiko should not have asked about Kataji, then.

Hibiki hadn't slept at all tonight, and the toll it took on him was obvious.

Then again, Morokata hadn't slept either, yet he didn't show a single hint of tiredness or displeasure with the governmental issues. He even mustered enough patience to pat Hibiki and then Nekohiko on their heads.

"I will be there soon," he told Hibiki. "Announce to them through the dolls that I am coming and the whole issue with the destruction of the Palace and Abihiko's political agreement will be announced in due time."

Nekohiko's ears picked up the mention of the Palace destruction, but he didn't know what to do with this information.

He didn't care, really. It was just that... this place was his birth home. He should have cared more about what had happened to it yesterday. A tinge of sadness pecked through his hazy joy to remind him of this.

But Morokata took it away shortly. His hand caressed Nekohiko's hair like a dog's, slowly trailing down Nekohiko's dark locks. "We will rebuild what is ruined. And we will make it even better, don't you worry, sweetheart. I Order you to not even think of this. All right?"

Yes, Master.

"And in regards to Kataji," Morokata paused, thoughtful. "He is safe away. We put him in the traitorous Okinaga's mansion. If he dares to wreck the Palace, the Emperor can take his own mansion freely. Obviously, the Emperor cannot be housed in this Palace anymore. Nobody can. Because, really..."

His gaze wandered impressedly over the walls and the ceiling of the Imperial chambers they were in.

"Apart from these quarters which were protected by the Marital Seclusion array -- almost everything else in the Palace was destroyed through the night."

...

Again, this horrible squeeze of Nekohiko's heart at hearing this!

If he hadn't been Ordered to be happy, he would cover his face with his hand, in shock at the mindless ruin and waste of such a beautiful place as this one.

"A strong array, this Marital Seclusion, isn't it?" Morokata smirked. "Our dear lunatic Okinaga managed to actually shatter the foundations of the Emerald Palace and let his stupid fire snake Beast out to aid him in his attempt at seizing the government. Madman. If Kasuga and Iokirihime at first fought on his side, wanting to bring ruin to the Palace and the Tribunal that sided with you, the true Emperor -- then later, even they realized just how insane Okinaga is. Took them a long time, huh.

"As always," Morokata ended, his tone wafting of cold gloating. "Takes everyone a mightily long time to see the true monsters. The true abusers, and their real victims." As he said the word 'victim', a grimace of wounded ego crossed his face for a brief moment. "My hopes for humanity have never been lower."

Upset, Nekohiko wanted to give Morokata a hug, but Morokata shrugged him off with a cringe. He stood up, patting his clothes and adjusting his headdress and hair. "Hibiki, while I'm gone, take care of Abihiko. Prepare his body for the spell."

"Do you have any idea how complex that spell array is?! Who do you think I am, a dummy that can go on for days without sleep?" Hibiki glowered at Morokata from within his overlong bangs.

Morokata's eyes flashed. "Reining is not easy. Nobody said it is. Sometimes you have to sacrifice sleep to get ahead. So please--"

"No."

Hibiki reclined on Nekohiko, his porcelain back hitting Nekohiko's wooden shoulder with a hollow, artificial sound. With his arms folded on his chest, Hibiki huffed. "I am not killing myself to do a spell as complicated as that without resting properly first."

"Gods, just--" Morokata jerked his hands, casting a tiredness-lifting spell on Hibiki. Yet Hibiki was not having it.

"How many spells have we done like this in the past few days? I can't handle them any moreeee. Moro-- I don't wanna!"

"Why are you such a child?!"

Their spat went on for a bit, but ended up with Morokata leaving anyway and with Hibiki plastered all over Nekohiko as though seeking sanctuary in Nekohiko's arms.

Nekohiko welcomed this intimacy. His empty longing still ate through him and he wanted to bury his face into someone's hair and curl in closer. Needing warmth, needing companionship.

Hibiki fit fine with these desires.

Alas, Hibiki disagreed. "Ugh, even your proximity disgusts me when you look like this. I can almost smell the wrong materials you are made of. That asshole who had done this pathetic cheap body has already paid the highest price for it, don't worry."

"Eh? You... found that poor Binder?" Nekohiko raised his head from Hibiki's chest.

Hibiki rolled his eyes, displeased. "That excuse of a Binder, yes. But now, I have to bother with Morokata's orders to carve that stupid spell array on our 'subject', AND have to redo your entire skin and flesh. When will a person ever earn some sound sleep around here?"

"You can wait with my body fixing, you know--"

"No, I can't! It drives me insane, knowing how poorly someone has treated my masterpiece of a doll!" Hibiki suddenly livened up and jumped off the seat, dragging Nekohiko after himself by the hair.

Yes, by the hair. Hibiki's fingers dug into the mop of Nekohiko's hair at the back of his head and pulled him in the direction he wanted to go. Hibiki was so disgusted with Nekohiko's current form that he could not endure touching any other part of Nekohiko. Not his shoulder, not his hand, not his elbow.

Even when they brushed clothes against each other, hurrying down the hallway to the nearest empty concubine bedroom, Hibiki shuddered and hissed with dismay. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," he told Nekohiko once they were in the bedroom and he could release Nekohiko's hair from his grip.

It hurt a little, being pulled like this. Even more so -- summoning such disgust in someone Nekohiko loved.

But he persevered.

The daylight filtered through the window shutters, giving the room a particularly indifferent feel. The untouched surfaces and bedding made it even more artificial, somehow. Nekohiko walked to the middle, giving the room an apathetic glance, then turned around to Dear Hibiki.

"Undress," Hibiki Ordered. In the silence and solitude of the room, his grave tone sounded menacing. Then, when Nekohiko clumsily scurried to remove the outer and inner robes off his body, Hibiki had to add, gnashing his teeth. "Undress, I said."

"I... did." Nekohiko shivered in the chilly room, holding by the barest tips of his fingers the flimsy inner robes that slid off his shoulders so easily. His pale, new body was now exposed, revealing all the marks and bruises of passion on his chest and arms and thighs.

With Nekohiko wondering only barely about their presence and origin.

But Hibiki didn't even give him a look. Disturbed, he covered his eyes with one hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose in turmoil. "Are you deaf, Emerald? Undress, undress. Undress! Your fucking skin and flesh -- take it off!"

...

Oh.

Shakenly, Nekohiko raised his hand to his shoulder but didn't know where to grab and what. How would one... undress from their skin and flesh?

"Dammit. We will waste so many precious minutes removing it all," Hibiki groaned. With the most frustrated of sighs, he reached into his boot and fished out a small curved knife. Very much reminiscent of the whittling and carving knives Kataji had.

And with how sharp it looked and how matter-of-factly Hibiki advanced, catching Nekohiko by his hair again... Nekohiko knew exactly where this was going to.

Merciless, the knife made its first contact with the tender flesh, caressed so fervently just half a day ago by whoever had left these kiss marks all over him. Nekohiko's first scream of agony cut through the eerie hush of the rooms, clashing with the echoes all through the emptiness.

Then, when the screams went on, a different kind of pain joined in with Nekohiko's physical one.

This one came from his heart. Like someone tugging at a string inside it. Like a response to Nekohiko's pain and misery, telling him--

"I hear you.

"I ache with you. And just like you, I cannot do anything about this."

Please forgive me.

 

 

---

***

 

Hibiki actually considered removing Nekohiko's perception of pain at being flayed alive -- but only once.

It occurred to him on the fifth minute of him digging his knife into Nekohiko's flesh and peeling the layers of skin and meat away. Blood had spattered Hibiki's face and made his motions far less precise because of all the slippery and sticky fluids covering his fingers.

Plus, Nekohiko squirmed under his touch on the blood-covered bed, making each of Hibiki's motions doubly difficult.

And they were just done with removing the skin and flesh from one of Nekohiko's arms. One.

"I Order you to stop thrashing like this," Hibiki burst out with an enraged cry. "You are ruining my aim. Also, can you fucking please stop screaming? You will deafen me if you keep doing that."

Tears poured down Nekohiko's face without stopping. "It... hurts, Dear Hibiki."

"I know." At last, Hibiki seemed somewhat tender as he put his chin on his palm, smearing Nekohiko's blood all over his own face. "And I wonder if you would like me to Order you to not feel pain, my cute little Emerald Fir."

Y-yes.

Please...

"But what would be the fun of it if we remove the pain, mmm? How else would you learn not to disappoint me as much as you did by slathering your body with cheap animal-based matter?"

Thus, it had to go on as it was. And Nekohiko did not dare to ask for anything else. In the grasps of pain, minutes stretched into hours. He lost track of all time as he gasped for breath, swallowing tears as he persevered through Hibiki's work on the flaying.

At some point, he fainted, and that was only mercy.

Because it caused him to miss it when the servant dummies filled the room, bringing all the Third-rate aspects Hibiki had prepared for this work.

The clumps of matter. Skin, and cartilage, and muscle, and jars of blood of purest quality that Hibiki considered worthwhile. In the brief glimpses that Nekohiko took as he came back in and out of consciousness, he saw the scuffle in the room.

How frantic and unnerved the humanoid doll assistants of Hibiki's were. How cowering whenever he snapped at them and flung another jar of something he found questionable into the wall, bringing rains and splatter of viscera on everyone with his outbursts.

The lesser dummies that looked merely as walking tables and basins of discarded matter -- moved about with their usual indifference, so Nekohiko focused on them. Such mechanical, dumb existences.

The sight of them even endeared him. Their lack of understanding of what was happening, their inability to think or dislike anything.

He envied them, in that moment.

...

It all seemed endless, but even this torment ran out. All things did.

Hibiki's infinite rage being the only exception.

It was already early dusk, and the room's light was colored caramel-orange and sweet. Hibiki leaned over Nekohiko, who lay in the bed, swimming in sweat and blood on the stained, gory sheets. Nekohiko's eyes rolled in his sockets tiredly, trying to peer at Dear Hibiki through his tear-stuck eyelashes.

Hibiki looked awful, himself.

Smeared with blood and clumps of gelatinous cartilage and sinewy muscles sticking to his hair, he leered back. Yet his deranged eyes were so full of joy that Nekohiko couldn't help but smile at him. Even if his own smile quivered with fear settling deep within him.

"Is it over?" Nekohiko's voice was scratched raw from all the screaming during the agonizing process of his body being fixed.

He had been flayed alive, and had been put back together under Hibiki's diehard watch.

Quite an ordeal.

Rather than reply, Hibiki smiled wider.

"Perfect. You are perfect now, Emerald. The peak of my doll-mastery. My most precious work."

Slithering like a cold, clammy snake, Hibiki's fingers trailed across Nekohiko's body from his legs to his face. As gently as Hibiki could allow himself, he clutched his chin tightly and forced up. But not for anything tender, no. Solely admiring the masterwork that lay before him. Like an object he considered to his taste.

"I only wish I had time to enjoy you. But... you are so dirty and disgusting. You still smell like those other materials, my dumb little Fir. I am not nauseated by it solely because I haven't eaten anything in such a fucking long time. Aihhh..."

With a delighted creak, Hibiki stretched his back and rolled his shoulders, yawning with all his might.

"Is the dinner ready?" he asked the nearest humanoid doll, a sweet-looking young girl made of beautiful white jade.

"In the n-next room, Master Hibiki," the girl replied in her melodious voice. She bowed, ushering him to follow her.

And he did, pleased. But not before he cast one last adoring look at Nekohiko's form, as covered in gore as it was on the wide, disturbing bed.

"Wash yourself in the bathing pool, Fir," Hibiki Ordered. "Wash and pick something nice to dress in. Or better no... Just walk around naked. You deserve it. Let everyone see the genius that I am in crafting you the way you are."

"Yes, Master."

Hibiki's eyes flickered with a dark, hungry fire again. "Then wait for me. I won't be long."

...

Nekohiko didn't attempt to move even when Hibiki's footsteps receded into the adjacent room in which the sounds of clinking dishes and pouring teas could be heard.

He must be eating already, Nekohiko thought. Without cleaning himself off all the blood and flesh that he had worked in. Oh well: Hibiki was never that squeamish about blood and bodily fluids. He was working with them all the time. No wonder he would eat without cleaning himself off, first.

Yet he demanded that Nekohiko washed himself all the same.

Huh.

Careful, Nekohiko sat up and wanted to take a good look at his own body. Yet he couldn't. The stench of blood and the vile carnage that the bed he lay on represented -- stunned him.

A tremor ran down his spine, lodging in his core and refusing to let go.

Sickened, he averted his eyes and covered his mouth and nose with his hand only to realize that his hand was also covered in blood.

"Spirits..." He suppressed another gag reflex, and slowly, rigidly crawled off the bed and to his feet. He almost fell, so weak he was from the sight of so much gore covering him and the floor all the way across the room.

Yet his Master's Orders were law, and he had no choice but to move on. Through dizziness and reluctance. To the pool.

He went past Hibiki who chewed on his food methodically. On his lap, sat a small rag doll. For no real reason other than to have it there. Such an ugly, old thing -- but one that Hibiki was quite excited about sharing bits of his meal with.

Like a perverse tea party of sorts.

Blood indeed didn't bother him in the slightest, albeit the gaunt young man had wiped his hands off before eating on one of his doll's clothes.

Nekohiko waded away. He only took note of how serene and content his Master looked before he paused in one of the main corridors of the Imperial chambers.

He didn't know where to go.

The only pool he was aware of was in the Imperial bedroom. But its doors were now sealed closed, and several mean-looking dolls guarded it. They wore the Imperial bodyguard uniforms of Emerald colors, shining so brightly in the dim lights of the rooms. As soon as they saw Nekohiko dithering over the idea of coming over, they reached for their weapons.

"Morokata's orders. You are not allowed to enter this place under any circumstances."

I didn't even want to.

I am pretty sure I cannot. Had Hibiki or Morokata given me Master Orders to never even come close to it? They must have. Even nearing these rooms seems impossible to me.

Then again, Nekohiko did not remember all the Master Orders Morokata and Hibiki had given to him through his torturous half of a day. There had been too many.

Underneath all these Master Orders, Nekohiko was like a fly, gradually being swaddled in layers upon layers of spiderweb, unable to so much as peek outside of it.

"I do not know where to go. Dear Hibiki told me to wash in the pool, and..." Nekohiko once against shivered, cupping his elbows with his hands and giving the forbidden Imperial bedroom doors a tremulous glance. "What is in there? Why can't I go in? Am I not the Emperor? That place looks like my very own bedroom."

"Well, clearly no," another bodyguard doll replied, gruff. "Only Hibiki and Morokata themselves can come inside. And maybe some carrier dummies that bring food. But nobody else."

Ahh...

Good to know.

"There are several pools in the concubine quarters," the first bodyguard snapped, nodding Nekohiko to go away. "Go and use whichever. You need it. Gods, you look like you climbed out of a grave."

I guess I do.

I feel like that, too. Or maybe, that I haven't actually climbed out of it yet. And might never be able to.

But what a pretty grave this one is...

The gold ornamentation and watery silks in the curtains were so splendid in the farther rooms of the concubine harem that Nekohiko found himself unfit to be here.

This was too pretty. He had never even been here, and neither had the Imperial rooms' current owner. It showed. While tidy, the rooms had an atmosphere of abandonment and desolation about them. The luster of jewels -- faded, the opulent fabrics and lounges -- looking sad and useless. Nekohiko strolled through it all, leaving bloody footprints on the fine pearlescent carpet. He stopped only when he reached the edge of one of the bathing pools.

So far-away from the rest of the Imperial chambers, he couldn't hear even the ever-present patter of dummy footsteps or the clinking dishes from where Hibiki's dinner was taking place.

It was quiet here, and deadened.

He loved it.

He watched the calm surface of the pool before him -- and instead of walking into it down the elegant silvery steps, he fell.

He didn't even jump. He simply let go of his will to keep standing and crashed into the water, sending a thunderous splash in the hollow, echoing room. For a moment, he almost felt blissful. As though acting out a drowning fall. As though happy to imagine what it would feel like, to never come back to the surface, simply dissolving here, in this chilly, stale water.

His hair floated around his face like seaweed as he stared before him through the dark water, wondering why this image of himself wanting to drown here... seemed so familiar.

As though he had seen it once already. But where?

...

A painful tug at his heart lurched him back to awareness.

Where did it come from, this tugging? As though someone actually struck him in the chest, wanting to reach inside it and take his beating heart out... like a call Nekohiko could not hear.

Maybe it was the Master Bond inside him? That would make sense.

The memory of Morokata sparked up inside Nekohiko with fear and remorse. He surged up, breaking the surface and sputtering water out of his mouth as he glued the wet hair off his face. He had to clean himself as his Master had told him. Not drown himself.

Even if he wanted.

In fact, as he began gently rubbing the skin of his arms and neck, getting used to the new velvety surface of Hibiki-made skin, he wondered if he would prefer to do literally anything else other than this.

He was so miserable even though he was happy.

He was so lonely, yet his beloved Masters were close to him all through the day. He was so... lost even though he knew exactly what he should be doing and why.

But...

...

How come tears were once again rolling down his cheeks into the chilly water dyed with the red of the blood that washed off him?

How come he felt so... so utterly broken?

Careful, he clutched his fist to his chest where his heart was and touched the tender new skin over his pectoral muscle. Like a spooked bird in a cage, his heart beat inside, fast and tremulous. And within it, was something else.

Like a taut string, hit by someone from far away. Reaching Nekohiko's core and resonating all through him.

And in this string, there was both pain and memory he knew he could not access. And... hope.

Beautiful like a budding sunrise after the darkest night.

A Bond so strong, even deep within the Master Orders that buried Nekohiko head to toe, he felt its pull. And felt its imminent and sweet promise. Like a guiding light that only burned stronger the more time he spent focusing on it.

This Bond was unbreakable. And Nekohiko had no idea where it came from. But now that he paid it attention, his hand wormed up his chest as though on its own. Needing to touch something and bring it forth to light.

Something that he knew was connected to the hurricane of confused emotions inside him.

Something...

The wooden seashell hanging off his neck on a cord.

...

"Where did this come from?"

Nekohiko did not remember having this thing. He ripped it off his cord and lifted to his eyes, baffled beyond measure.

Then his eyes fell on it and immediately --

He felt like drowning all over again.

But not within the bloody waters of the pool. Not at all.

His consciousness was deep-diving somewhere else. And that somewhere else felt like more of a resurfacing from a dark and suffocating well than drowning.

 

 

---

***

 

His mind shifted between the doll body and the seashell.

Within the split second of it, he gasped in sheer relief. Choking with tears, panting with the wildest of hopes.

He was inside the seashell.

And everything that his human doll body was not allowed to have -- his memories, his desires, his plans, his wants -- came crashing back to him. Morokata, the bastard! He had Ordered Nekohiko to forget about the existence of his other bodies!

If Nekohiko hadn't followed the inevitable yearning pull of his heart just now, he might have never accidentally rediscovered shifting his mind between his own bodies! And this mysterious tug at his heart...

It was...

Of course. Abihiko.

Was it the Marriage Bond?! The Fox Thread Suminoe had tied the two of them together years ago?

Something else?

It did not matter. Whatever it was, it... worked.

The most brilliant-shine, the loudest and most ferocious thought that threatened to consume Nekohiko, so euphoric he was to remember him. And to now comprehend the sheer horror he had been dealt throughout these past few hours as Morokata's and Hibiki's doll.

He groaned, shuddering with revulsion.

With it, came rage.

And then the beautiful but steady feel of knowing exactly what he had to do now. Provided that he wasn't too late yet. What had Hibiki and Morokata said about preparing some insidious spell array on Abihiko?

He had to hurry.

He only had one last chance to do it, seeing as the stupid human doll couldn't move as efficiently without him being inside it and guiding its motions.

Once Hibiki realized Nekohiko's mind wasn't inside the doll once again... everything Nekohiko was planning would come under threat. The faster he acted, the less likely he was to get caught and thwarted.

Besides, he reminded himself, giddy.

I no longer have one Master, do I?

I have two.

And one of these Masters is not like the other. Not as smart, not as patient, not as calculating.

And the other one is not even here now.

"Perfect," he told himself, unable to hold off his smile. One that he was sure did not look at all that different from the deranged leer Hibiki had shown him earlier.

Which made it all the more fitting.

 

 

---

***

 

He sprang up within his cat body, swinging his furry head left and right as he stretched his legs and paws, preparing for the mad dash across the entire city.

The cat was still somewhere in Kotone's rooms as he had left it last. Stashed under the table in a Binding wool basket. Nekohiko crept from under the table and darted to the window. He probably should try to locate Kotone and find out if the last night's horrible incidents had been dealt with. But...

He simply had no time.

Between Nara and Abihiko, he somehow chose... the latter. That surprised him, but not so much that he stopped to ponder it through.

Abihiko was his strongest ally. The only one on his side no matter what. Kotone... could wait.

He was not abandoning his Imperial duties to save Abihiko, he could swear! This was a one-time thing, and didn't mean anything!

He just missed Abihiko too much after what Morokata had done to his memory, all right? This was only understandable.

Like a wild animal fearing for his life, he rushed through the Shrine grounds, not caring if he spooked some of the Binders and Priests who puttered around. The people in the Shrine seemed fine. They were doing their jobs. Likely -- cleaning the Spiritside gashes after the turbulent night, which Nekohiko was absolutely behind.

He gave them only the specks of his attention as he did to the ravaged deer forest that ran down the slopes of the mountain on which the Spring Sunlight Shrine stood.

The aftermath of the battles of last night was clear in the savage hue of corrupted Spirit energies that enfolded the Shrine. No matter. Nekohiko would fix it all when he had more time to spare.

Right now, all he had to do was to get across the capital to the Emerald Palace!

Yet as he dashed past the last line of the trees that hid the cityscape from him--

...

He halted, stricken with the deepest stupor he had ever felt. He itched to move through it, still adamant about getting to the Palace first and foremost.

But how would he do that? Look at this place. Was there even anything for his small cat paws to run through?

...

Before him, spread Nara in all its glory and misery and carnage.

Or whatever was left of it.