Chapter Hundred Forty-Three

Choices

 

 

This was not Morokata, Nekohiko kept telling himself.

Please, this is not Morokata. This is just one of Kataji's very badly-timed jokes. Please, let it be so!

Kataji put one leg over his knee, reclining comfortably beside Aomi. But his relaxed pose didn't change the fact that his hand was still on her neck. Like a shackle.

Aomi's shoulders were tense as she carefully disentangled herself from his hold. With desperation, she threw a glance to the doors.

"I really need to go. Thank you, Elder Brother, for having me."

"Ehh? But we haven't even spoken about the most important topics yet! We just talked about ourselves and what we've been busy with these past few days. But not about our most wonderful Eldest Brother -- and his new husband. Did we? Since we're all such a large family, shouldn't we spare some more conversation to them, Sweet Sister? That is quite selfish of you and me to only talk about ourselves, don't you think?"

Even through the ladybug, Nekohiko could sense Aomi's growing panic.

This was not her brother. She had to know better than anyone. That he wore Kataji's face meant nothing when the words that came out of his mouth were so alien and unsettling.

"Bye, Kata!" She rushed to stand up -- with Nekohiko cheering her on to get out of here as fast as possible.

But...

Rather than get to her feet, Aomi swayed and toppled back to the lounging sofa. The way she lost her balance was so unusual that Nekohiko's heart lurched at the sight.

This was not a mere trip or a stumble.

And Kataji was not touching her anymore, instead sitting back leisurely, taking a whiff of his still-steaming tea from the cup.

"You look tired, Sweet Sister."

...

Aomi shivered, looking down at her hands that tried to push her off the seat once again. With how rapid her breaths became, Nekohiko could feel in his bones that something with her balance and strength was off, even if, from the outside, the girl appeared fine.

Her gaze fell heavy to the table on which her and his cups of tea were. But while hers was empty, his -- still stood full of the green liquid. Untouched.

Aomi recoiled. Yet she could not move fast at all, so she didn't escape Kataji's vicinity. "Did you do something to me? There was something in my tea!"

"Tsk." Kataji leaned forward, his face so deliciously coy. "Why so suspicious of me, Sister? Do not you trust me?"

"S-stop calling me that," Aomi slurred, trying her best to draw back from him. But on the small seating, there was nowhere to go, and Kataji's body only closed in -- slowly yet imminently. Like a predator who was gaining ground no matter what.

Aomi gulped, once again pushing herself to stand up. "You are not Kataji. You are--"

...

It pained her to say, Nekohiko could tell.

It pained him to accept this, too.

"Yes?" Kataji crooned, creeping on as though to pull the girl under himself.

"STOP IT!"

Her cry was so panicked and disgusted, it almost sounded like a whelp. At last, Aomi shoved herself away from him. But she could not stand. She crashed to the floor, toppling the tray with candied fruit off the table with her.

The clangor of the bowls on the floor sounded eerie in the quiet room. Even more so with how still Kataji... no, Morokata, was being.

He chose to keep Kataji's glamor on himself, but it was him. The Witch-King of Hisome.

Nobody else would find so much pleasure in wearing the face of a girl's brother to torment her with it. His smile never left his face as he reclined on the lounging sofa, watching Aomi struggle on the floor beneath him. If anything, his pose only grew more relaxed.

Through incredible force, Aomi pulled herself on to her knees, then wanted to stand up again. She had to hold on to the nearest chair to help herself up -- but she was managing. She was succeeding!

She could get away--

But, of course she would not.

The sole reason Morokata didn't need to pursue her was that he didn't need to.

He rocked his leg hanging over the other knee, then leaned his chin on his fingers as though observing a fascinating stage play. "Sweet Sister, why would I drug your tea, to begin with? You hurt me with such bizarre allegations. After all, I am a fully-grown man and you are only a little girl. Do you really think I would even need to drug you to do whatever the hell I want with you?"

...

This was horrible.

Nekohiko's memory sparked up with a squirming ache. The very first time he had met Morokata was under such grim circumstances. Ones that reminded him a bit too much of what was happening before his eyes now.

That night when Kotone had been abused by him -- and then disgraced in front of the entire school. And when that had happened, Kotone hadn't been much older than Aomi was now.

The comparison was all the more horrifying, knowing what Morokata was capable of.

Nekohiko wanted to scream at him and call his attention to himself and away from Aomi. But...

Hells!

Ever since Abihiko had taken away the ladybug's ability to speak during the last day of the Trial -- it still wasn't back! The ladybug was mute.

Nekohiko could not do anything to distract Morokata and stop this horrific scene from unfolding. His mind flashed back to his human doll body -- long enough to check where he and Abihiko were in the city and how far away from poor Aomi and Okinaga's mansion.

They weren't that far! They could still make it.

Please, Aomi -- just hold long enough to wait for us.

We are coming!

"Abihiko," he said, hollow.

The tone of his voice stopped Abihiko in his tracks even with how quietly Nekohiko had spoken. The gravity still got to Abihiko and told him something truly terrible was happening. They froze over one of the dilapidated roofs of the now-destroyed restaurant, the swerve of maddened city beneath them nothing more than background noise to Nekohiko's mind.

All his attention was elsewhere.

"We need to go to Okinaga's mansion," Nekohiko said, his expression deadened with the images he saw before his eyes.

The things Morokata could do...

How deeply he could hurt Aomi -- and revel in that, punishing Abihiko and Nekohiko for their disobedience.

"Why?" Abihiko frowned, wishing to argue.

But Nekohiko did not give him a chance.

"Morokata has Aomi."

...

Truly, he didn't need to say a single thing more.

 

 

---

***

 

Morokata was already on his feet, slowly trailing Aomi as she tried to run away from him and failed. As though polite, he reached out to her and clutched her elbow, lifting her up and steadying her against her vertigo.

"Let me help you. You break my heart, unable to walk in a straight line, dear."

In his arms, Aomi only stiffened, a tremor of revulsion coursing through her. "N-no need. Please, I beg you--"

"Shhh." And Morokata hugged her tighter to himself, his hands firm and strong as he clasped them around her waist, holding her against himself. "Where is your bravery, little girl? Did you not walk into the same room as me -- trying to distract me from whatever I've been doing? Then, is this not what you wanted? You and me? Alone together? Mmm?"

"What are you t-talking about--"

Aomi's tongue slurred from the drug, but her confusion didn't help it. The girl had no idea what Morokata meant.

And Nekohiko could only guess.

...

"You," Morokata purred in her face, his eyelashes lowering over his cheeks as he assumed an enchanting, seductive expression. That he wore Kataji's face to do in only worked against him because Kataji's face wasn't fit for this kind of sultriness.

It looked wrong.

"You called me here all the way from the Emerald Palace -- by demanding an audience with Kataji. No, my darling? You did it to let your miserable pathetic wooden friend act up and do something vile in my absence. Thus, you helped him. You provided a distraction, like the manipulative little whore you are. How naughty of you. Should I not punish you now? As an adult, I feel in the right to administer a punishment I see fit to a misbehaving little girl who thinks she can play adult games with the likes of me."

Despite his words oozing honey, he gave her a rude squeeze, pressing to himself harder.

Aomi gasped, her hands pushing against his chest as she shook her head in horror and disbelief. "I-- I have no idea what you mean! Please--"

"Yess, you do." His lips showed teeth as he neared her, breathing coolly in her face gone cold with sweat. "Oh, I noticed your little talents in scheming and court politics for a while now. And how deftly you tried to play along with me and mine. Didn't you creep around that dear tree Neko and help him get where he is now? Disrupting my wedding? Ruining my plans? Now -- separating me from Hibiki..."

"I didn't! Please, let me go!" she yelped, wriggling out of his arms.

But to no avail.

He held her firmly.

"Did you dare think you can play adult games and not face adult consequences, little girl?" Morokata whispered in her face, savoring each word. "Or perhaps you thought I would spare you just because you are a child? Well, guess what -- Hisome heirs can abuse, mutilate, and kill children -- and none of the Spiritway laws do shit to us. We are free to do whatever the hell we want."

"Kataji!" Aomi screamed toward the doors in the last attempts to remind Morokata where he was.

In Kataji's temporary home.

Kataji wasn't in this room, but he was somewhere else in the mansion. He had to hear--

"Now begging for your brother to come! And after you backstabbed him so many times, scheming with Abihiko and that tree?" Enjoyment had never sounded as venomous a Morokata made it. Tenderly, he pinched Aomi's cheek, turning her to face him and his terrible, cold expression wrapped in velvety seductiveness. "Fleeing from your responsibilities and mistakes, dear little one? Cannot handle me on your own? Ah, how sad. And to think you walked into this room voluntarily. As though you only wished to be left alone with me."

"I did not -- I did not scheme! I just wanted to see my brother," Aomi sobbed, panting. She no longer could maintain her usually-composed exterior, so much Morokata's words, his proximity -- the fact that she was drugged and helpless beside him -- scared her. "Please, kind sir -- I did not scheme, I swear. It was a c-coincidence..."

Gods, she was right.

Nekohiko had not asked her to do this for him. He hadn't planned it. Perhaps, he wasn't that good at planning these kinds of things, to begin with. Which was why he was so infinitely grateful to her for drawing Morokata's attention away from the Emerald Palace. For just long enough to let Nekohiko and Abihiko trick and overpower Hibiki.

But now...

This had backfired so dreadfully.

"Coincidence, ah," Morokata hummed, eyes rolling in mock-contemplation. "I'll be honest with you. I only came here to find out what marvelous schemes you and that Spiritway slut Kotone might be making behind my back. You two have helped Neko so often that I wanted to make sure neither of you two was pulling any other ridiculous tricks on me. But I did come. And that was the sole reason my dear boy Hibiki is dead now.

"Because of you. Aren't coincidences like this fun? Mmm, Sweet Sister?"

Aomi gaped, unable to wedge in a word in his bizarre, embittered confession.

"Well then, isn't this such a wonderful coincidence that you are here now, with me -- and your feckless brothers and your tree friend aren't here to stop me from abusing this mar-ve-lous coincidence, too? If they were so lucky you were there for them, is this not my turn to get lucky? Ha-ha!"

Aomi was trying to plead him again and to thrash out of his grasp, but he was tired of her resistance. He caught her face in his hand, squeezing both her cheeks so hard, his nails dug into her flesh. He jerked her head up to make her look him in the eye.

"I lost my little dear boy just now. Hibiki was pure and innocent, albeit a bit... depraved. Even if he didn't know that some things he was doing were wrong, he was, nonetheless -- such a cute little thing. I truly loved having him in my life. Alas, he is gone now. Lost to a very, very unfortunate coincidence. But hey -- I now have a dear little girl instead. You aren't as good as him, mind you. But you will suffice just fine. Especially since you came here by yourself. As though wanting to be in my arms like you are now. Don't you? Lucky me."

From his nails digging into her cheeks, a few thin trails of blood oozed out, and Aomi shut her eyes tight, lurching away. She fought as best she could. But she was weak, and she was drugged. And Morokata found her struggles only that much more amusing.

Nekohiko's heart bled through all of this.

He couldn't speak and he couldn't move as fast as he wanted. His stupid bug feet could only do so little to get anywhere.

"Oh? You seem to not want me, after all? You want to leave? You really, really don't want me holding you like this?" he asked her in fake concern.

"P-please, no..." Aomi couldn't help throw a desperate look to the doors, and Morokata was only waiting for that.

Like a cat snatching a mouse at the perfect moment, he beamed. He readjusted Aomi in his hands and dragged her toward the doors as though to usher her out like a good host he was.

"Please -- go and be free!" he told her gleefully. With a kick, he banged the doors of the room open. His hold on the girl changed -- from holding her over by her waist and her face, he shifted his hands to the back of her head. His fingers dug into her hair, shoving her out into the hallway while never really letting the girl out of his grip.

From this rude motion, Aomi nearly crashed to her knees on the threshold, but Morokata's fingers in her hair didn't let her.

Pain struck her, and she let out a piercing scream. Her hands flew up, trying to free herself from his grasp on her hair. But instead, she froze when she realized why he pushed her out of the room here.

Into the dark, shadowy hallway filled with the most menacing and disgusting men one could find in the streets. The new guards Morokata had brought with him.

The ones that looked like they did not belong as any guards or soldiers anywhere, so lowlife they were. Where had he even found such scum?

Nekohiko realized too late.

Morokata had picked these men for a reason. For a very specific reason.

A few of them already started grinning, seeing the humiliation and abuse of the little girl before them. Sickeningly, they found Morokata's performance entertaining.

The looks they gave Aomi were even laced with anticipation for more fun to observe. Which Morokata was only too happy to do.

"Yes, little girl?" Morokata crooned over her ear, bending down to peer in her petrified, scared eyes. "You want to leave me and go to this hallway, yes? To these nice men, surely? You want me to leave you alone with these gentlemen, no doubt? Yes?"

"No, no--" Aomi gasped, out of voice to speak with. Her lips trembled, and tears ran down her face in streams. "Please, Morokata! No--"

"Your Majesty Morokata, tsk," he corrected her, mentorly-strict. "We aren't that well-acquainted for you to call me by my name. Unless, of course, you would want to get more... personally acquainted with me. Albeit, just a minute ago, you acted as though you didn't want to.

"So let me ask you this again -- little child. Do you want to go back to the room -- alone with me? Or perhaps you would rather prefer for me to leave you out in the hall with these cultured men who would no doubt show you the best of times in my absence?"

...

What a twisted manipulation.

He gave her no choice... but he acted as though she had one.

He yanked her by the hair when it took too long for her to answer. Tear-stained, Aomi raised her face at him and could only nod silently, gulping down in fright.

"Mmm? I can't hear you!"

"W-with you, Your M-majesty--" Aomi mouthed, quivering all through like the little scared thing she was.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? Because it sounds as though you are the one who begs me to do anything I want to you. You -- want me. You choose me," Morokata specified, sated in the most subtle yet malicious of ways. "After all, the door is always open, my sweet little girl. You can go and be free whenever you want. Yet you... chose me. Didn't you?"

...

Choking on tears, Aomi nodded again. And that, at last, pleased Morokata enough to drop his hold on her. The girl crashed to the floor, unable to hold her weight on her arms and knees, and could only tremble as he stood above her, shaking his hand as though him holding her by the hair had sprained his fingers.

"Good," he praised her. Then cast a grave look at the guards before the door. "Drag her in and leave us. The little girl has made her choice. She picked me. As everyone always does. Still nice of her."

The goons hadn't even shut the doors yet after they'd dragged Aomi in and left her on the floor before the tea table, and Morokata already sat down on his chair, assuming once again his elegant pose of idle contemplation.

He put his chin on his hand, observing Aomi's slow descent into despair. The girl had been shoved left and right, dragged by the disgusting guards. She probably couldn't even think clearly, with how drugged she was.

Everything about this sight was pitiful. And horrifying, with the connotations being left alone with Morokata left her with.

But so far, he wasn't doing anything. Just waiting. Yet underneath his facade, he was fuming; Nekohiko saw.

Hibiki's loss had touched him deeply. Nothing could change that fact. Aomi's humiliation was only a brief respite in his dark, turbulent concerns that even he, a person known for his perfect veneer of fakeness, could not quite hide.

Morokata watched the girl in the dead silence, his thoughts clearly far away.

Some of this, Nekohiko could understand. Knowing Morokata... Hibiki must have been his closest ally. One who had been allowed to insult Morokata to his face and to snap at him, and Morokata had always let him.

Their relationship had to have been more profound than just allies and professionals.

If Nekohiko didn't know these two sick monsters, he would assume they had been... friends. And Hibiki's loss meant for Morokata something more than just losing an asset and a tool.

Then again, what could he really assume about a Hisome?

Maybe this dark, twisted expression was the way Morokata looked whenever he broke his favorite ink brush or his chopsticks. Merely tools he fancied, and had now lost. Who could tell?

But the Hisome King got himself under control shortly, though. Once again, his gaze lit up with a hidden joy, and he stood up. Her breath stuttering, Aomi recoiled away from his slow approach, and Morokata enjoyed her reaction.

She was only a child. She had not yet experienced how cruel the world or people in it could be. She... was only scared of guessing and suspicions. But already, she felt that this cruel person would stop at nothing to educate her on these matters.

He smiled too widely and sweetly, seeing her beneath his feet.

"Aren't you lovely, Sweet Sister? Aren't you like a flower only for me to pluck? So sweet. So innocent, even if you think you can scheme like an adult. Tut-tut... it's even adorable, the delusions you have."

Then, as Morokata leaned in to caress her face with his fingers as though a lover, Nekohiko's soul reeled in revulsion.

He would not dare!

Morokata was only playing -- only toying with her. He wouldn't actually hurt her or abuse her like this--!

But Nekohiko could no longer hope for something so fortunate. He and Abihiko were nowhere close to Okinaga's mansion -- and they wouldn't be in time if Morokata was already making his moves on her.

So in the last attempts to catch his attention and divert it...

Nekohiko had to sacrifice his presence and his body. The last he had apart from the seashell.

And the only one he had to know where Aomi was. Like his guiding beacon, the ladybug could tell him where to find her and what was going on around her so that he could prepare and save her to his best efforts.

If he lost this body... he wouldn't be able to find her anymore.

He would lose a way to know if she were in danger or not.

But... she already was. There was nothing else he could do but sacrifice this body and try to save the girl, even for just a few moments longer.

Madly, he jumped at Morokata.

Yes, as a mere ladybug. Trying to hurt a human -- a giant -- compared to a mere insect.

Whatever it cost him, he had to do it.

"I hate you! I will kill you!" he wanted to cry at Morokata -- and no sound escaped his muted ladybug mouth.

He plopped miserably into Morokata's fingers from Aomi's collar. He couldn't even fly to be a better diversion. Couldn't fleet around and annoy Morokata like a clingy fly or a wasp. He had never learned how to fly in this body, so now he paid for it in full.

Morokata hardly noticed him, pushing Aomi's hair out of her face as though nothing happened.

But Aomi did.

She noticed, and her eyes, blurry with brimming tears, fixated on Nekohiko's small desperately-flopping body, lost somewhere between Morokata's sleeve and Aomi's collar. For a heartbeat, Aomi almost looked relieved. Hopeful, about seeing him here.

He wanted to tell her, too -- that she was going to be fine. That he and Abihiko were coming here to save her. That she should not worry.

But...

"Ehh? What is this? Wait a moment, wait a moment," Morokata chuckled, at last noticing what Aomi was so focused on.

"No -- don't touch him!" Aomi squeaked, rushing to smack Morokata's hand away from her collar.

It was too late.

Especially now that she said "he" about the ladybug so explicitly.

Morokata's eyes lit up with furious inner fire. He twisted the girl's hand away by the wrist -- so hard, a crack snapped deep inside her bone.

She shrieked in pain, but for him, dealing with her was nothing more than flicking off an ant. Ironic, since he dealt with her -- a human girl much more like one would with an insect, while all his attention and devotion went to catching Nekohiko's ladybug in his hand like a little treasure he had searched all his life for.

It wasn't hard for him to do.

Nekohiko was flapping aimlessly, unable to find his footing, and Morokata plucked him out of Aomi's clothes with ease. Just with two fingers, he held Nekohiko's ladybug up to the light.

And in this warm, beautiful light, Morokata's eyes, crinkling up in crescents at the sight of Nekohiko so conveniently pinned between his index finger and thumb was oddly mesmerizing.

"There you are, dollie. And I was so busy thinking about how to send you a message most efficiently."

...

I got your message loud and clear, you asshole.

Do not you dare touch her!

But Nekohiko didn't get to do a single thing. He was only a tiny insect, and Morokata was so unbelievably more powerful than him. Not for long, though.

Nekohiko wanted to scream at him that his human body was on its way here -- and if Morokata thought he could do anything against him, then good luck to him--

His thoughts were cut off harshly.

Morokata's fingers smashed against each other, and a shattering crack ran through Nekohiko's body. All his tiny insides were being crushed in Morokata's hold. All the while his expression never changed.

Always smiling. Never wavering.

"Please don't! Neko!" Aomi cried.

The last thing Nekohiko could hear in the ladybug was Morokata's words, slowly fading in the destroyed hearing of the wooden insect.

"Ahhh, this feels nice." Morokata flicked the last bits of the wooden small carcass off his fingers, cleaning up after this little mess. "What message? I don't have anything to say to him anyway.

"Humans do not speak with trees. Ha-ha. We have better things to do."

...

The bleak silence and emptiness met him on the side of his mind where his connection to the ladybug had just been. And Nekohiko knew he had nowhere else to go but back to his human doll body.

Or to the seashell.

Just these two.

...

And even these two were too far away to rip Aomi out of Morokata's arms and destroy him as Nekohiko wanted.

 

 

---

***

 

Abihiko did his best to arrive at Okinaga's mansion in time. But he failed.

There was simply too much space between them and this district, and the ruined terrain of Nara didn't help them in their rush. They'd been attacked by a maddened Savage Spirit of the Cobbles. And even though neither Nekohiko nor Abihiko engaged in that fight, focused only on getting to Okinaga's mansion faster -- they were still distracted. They were still delayed.

Abihiko zoomed like a meteor through the remaining streets separating him and Nekohiko from the mansion. Fire was a halo around them as they dashed to prevent anyone from stopping them on this last stretch. But there was no one here.

The mansion was empty when they came to it.

Even in the ruined, marauder-ridden city, the eeriness and calm of the mansion against the backdrop of the fiery horizon was a shock. Most street bandits and rebels would have come to this place and lay waste to it if it were empty like all the other big mansions. Marauders were unstoppable tonight.

And yet, this mansion was clear of anyone's presence. Which meant it had been abandoned mere minutes ago, so that no marauders would even dare to come close to it.

...

Or that this was another trap of Morokata's and something destructive was placed in its center, waiting for Abihiko and Nekohiko to come...

No matter.

The two of them didn't think for a second. Abihiko's decisive footsteps rushed into the inner courtyard, then up the stone steps to the hallway in which Nekohiko had seen the tea room. The shadows and the interplay of fiery reflections from the stormy sky set the mansion aglow. Every corner looked like it contained foes and ambushes.

Nekohiko swerved left and right, fully prepared to attack anything that moved. But Abihiko didn't spare all this a shred of his attention. He marched on, smashing down doors with his explosive Hira spells. He even forgot that Nekohiko couldn't move as fast as he did.

Both of Nekohiko's legs were lame and unsteady. He had to lean on the walls to even be able to walk. But Abihiko was too wrapped in his fury to remember. He left Nekohiko behind, already ramming his shoulder in the doors of the tea room where Morokata and Aomi had been last.

And then, he went deadly quiet, making Nekohiko's heart speed up with the premonition of something awful happening.

Though his guesses were much worse than reality. When he darted into the room after Abihiko, all he saw was how empty it was. The traces of Morokata's and Aomi's presence were still there -- some trickles of blood on the floor, the last of the steam slowly curling over the tea cups on the table.

The crushed remains of the ladybug placed neatly in the middle of the table, too.

Yet no Aomi. And no Morokata.

"Heavens," Nekohiko breathed in relief. With how silent Abihiko had become upon entering this room, Nekohiko half-expected to see Aomi's dead body in here.

But of course no. Morokata, giving up such a perfect hostage and blackmail material without using it to its fullest potential first?

That she was alive didn't mean she wasn't hurt or abused. But at least, she was alive. They still had a chance.

"Where is she?" Abihiko asked him, menacingly-quiet.

...

Nekohiko ached at being asked this -- something he had no idea how to answer. "I don't know--"

"WHERE IS SHE?"

...

He had never seen Abihiko quite this angry at himself. Not even when Nekohiko had thwarted Abihiko's plans after the Trial and had misbehaved to piss Abihiko off. Even when his own life had been in danger because of Nekohiko's actions, Abihiko had never raised his voice at him like this.

Pain and genuine fear wafted in Abihiko's tone. For a moment, all Nekohiko saw before him was that same young boy Abihiko once was -- when he had discovered the mutilated dead body of his mother on the Shrine gates of Izumo. The shock and vast calm darkness of Abihiko's mood at that moment had drenched Nekohiko in cold sweat.

There was one thing Abihiko held dearest to his heart aside from Nekohiko.

His family. Kataji might betray him, but Abihiko still loved him. Aomi might torment him, but he would still be on her side, caring for her deeply. Even Okinaga, wishing to kill Abihiko's lover, still had a place in Abihiko's heart, never leaving it. To Anihiko, his family came very close to first...

Or maybe it was first. Nekohiko would not dare to think otherwise.

Nekohiko trembled, drawing back from how enraged Abihiko glared at him.

His makeshift wooden leg failed him, and he tripped, almost falling. And this tiny misstep snapped Abihiko back to his usual self. He flinched, catching Nekohiko before he could fall to the floor.

But he didn't speak again and didn't look up. He only held Nekohiko upright, subtly pulling to himself as though to make sure at least Nekohiko wasn't going anywhere or left him. In this tense silence, their heartbeats pulsing so close to each other in their chests were way too fast.

Anxious. Worried.

"We need to cast a tracking spell of some sort," Abihiko said at last, his voice hollow.

Yes.

This sounded most reasonable.

"Morokata isn't an idiot. If he knew we were coming, he would have gone somewhere he feels safer to meet us," Nekohiko spoke, too, wishing to say at least something. "It's either the Hisome mansion -- or the remaining parts of The Doll Palace. Or..."

Or...?

Morokata had many allies besides Hibiki. That Hibiki was his closest one didn't change the fact that Morokata had several -- Iokirihime, Sakai, even parts of the Spiritway, starting with Hifumi and his apathetic substitution work for Suminoe.

Spirits, Suminoe!

He was an issue, too, and Nekohiko had half-forgotten all about him. Where was he, even? Could he come back and take the Spiritway powers away from Kotone and pit every Spiritway priest against Nekohiko now?

So many opportunities for Morokata to act up. So many allies and supporters. Whereas Nekohiko and Abihiko were alone against him, perpetually in the dark about any of Morokata's plans.

"I do not have any more bodies to spy on others with. I cannot peek at what he's doing, or even where he is. I only have the seashell," Nekohiko suddenly said, reaching to his throat around which the pendant with the wooden seashell hung. Thoughtful, he caressed its ridged surface, and slowly Split the seashell off the cord.

On his open palm, he proffered it to Abihiko. As he should have done hours ago -- when the two of them had just been reunited after the Trial and the prison and Kataji...

Gods, even that seemed like an eternity ago.

So much misery and pain had happened since then.

"It's yours. You should wear it," Nekohiko told him, soft. "I want to know where you are at all times. If you and I are separated once again, I need to know. Everything that happens to you and where you are."

I don't know if I can handle another separation at all.

I need to stay as close to you as your skin, as your heartbeat, as your very breath. The way my seashell had been for the past few months.

Please.

Abihiko gave him a somber look. But he did not reject the seashell.

He leaned his forehead to Nekohiko's wooden one and closed his eyes, drawing in a calming breath. His fingers curled around the seashell, taking it from Nekohiko and squeezing in his hand so hard, Nekohiko felt swaddled in Abihiko's heat -- even from within his human doll body.

"We are not separating ever again," Abihiko told him. "We are strongest when together. Now that the truth is out in the open and the wars and the mayhems had already begun, there is no reason for us to be apart. We did everything we could.

"We set the Empire on fire and pitted all the Lords against each other. It is war. They cannot scheme against us anymore They just have to fight us, head-on. Neko? The only way out is through.

"And we can only walk this way together."

Not separating, yes.

Never again.

Nekohiko wanted to plant a brief kiss on Abihiko's lips, but he had no lips of his own. Only his skeletal rictus grin. The best he could do was hug Abihiko and nod.

They had to start setting their tracking spell to locate Aomi, or at least Morokata. But Abihiko was not the one doing it, contrary to what Nekohiko thought.

"Track them," Abihiko told him, indicating with his chin the table with the abandoned tea cups.

It was sure easier to track someone using the last things they had touched or used, so it made sense to go for the tea cups Morokata had served by himself and held in his hands. Nekohiko reached out for them eagerly as he knelt before the table to prepare himself for the meditative experience that was the Tracking array spell.

But his focus frayed. Because Abihiko was not wasting his time, either. Abihiko was setting a different spell a few steps away. A very familiar -- and worrisome spell.

Nekohiko had seen him cast it many, many times during the Civil War with the Usurper five years ago.

And the first time he had seen it, had been right after Yakabe's death. When Kazuragi, maddened with grief, had attacked both Nekohiko and Abihiko with his lightning storms.

Nekohiko's eyes widened in shock as he recognized exactly what Abihiko was doing.

...!

"Ward Father!" Abihiko growled, his hands flashing in the searing-hot circle pattern. The fiery markings of the Hira method burned in the air -- almost to the blinding-white, so hot they were.

Then, in one single rush, Abihiko slammed his fist to the floor, Splitting it all the way to the ground no matter how much space separated him from the earth down below.

The crack in the earth's core was deafening, and the heat that escaped it -- scalding like lava.

This was a spell of summoning Lord Hira Okinaga from wherever he was -- to Abihiko. Like a cry for help, like the single most potent call of the Ward Son to his parent to come and save them.

...

It made sense, Nekohiko thought.

They needed any help they could get -- to save Aomi as quickly as possible. And one of the Great Lords, who could travel underground through lave almost as fast as Kasuga could travel through lightning and Iokirihime could through water, was such a useful ally.

But...

Hira Okinaga? Here, right where Nekohiko was?

Had Abihiko completely lost his mind? What was he even thinking, doing this?!

Abihiko rose from the floor, casting a glance at Nekohiko as though making sure Nekohiko was aware of what was happening. There was so much turmoil and hurt in Abihiko's eyes that Nekohiko did not doubt him for a second.

He trusted Abihiko. Completely.

If Abihiko thought they could summon Okinaga and nothing bad would happen to either of them? Then Nekohiko believed in him enough to agree.

Subtly, Nekohiko gave him a nod, and Abihiko's gaze softened.

They did understand each other.

It was only a question whether Okinaga understood Abihiko just as deeply and would not try to kill Nekohiko on the spot as soon as he came here.

And with how all the furniture and the walls and the ceiling in the room began rumbling, vibrating with something dangerous coming in from the ground below -- Nekohiko knew for sure:

Lord Hira Okinaga was coming this way. Like the earthquaking cataclysm he was.