A.N. OTL

.

The

Twilight

Void

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caroandlyn

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Part Nine

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"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya," says the boy sitting in the chair.

He closes his eyes, opens them again, rinse, repeat.

"I am an Elemental Ruler."

His fingers tense against each other, tangling and unraveling in rapid movements.

"My magic affinity is Shadow."

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

"I am legally binded as Contractor to Ogiwara Shige—no, I, I am—"

"Take your time," says the woman, putting a reassuring arm on his shoulder. She flashes him a blinding smile, her green eyes as dazzling as the emerald necklace that frames her neck. "You have a lot to remember, after all, Kuroko-kun."

Kuroko glances surreptitiously at the bandages on his ankle. He'd seen only a glance of the wound before the woman—Alexandra, she'd called herself—had basted it with poultices and away from view. It had still been enough time to tell that it was a serious, even soul-threatening injury; and more importantly of all, most likely self-inflicted.

"Try again," says Alexandra, sweetly.

Kuroko closes his eyes again.

"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. I am an Elemental Ruler. My magic affinity is shadow."

"Very good," Alexandra croons.

"I am legally binded as Contractor to—" Kuroko furrows his eyebrows, trying to recall the murky figure that has replaced Ogiwara's legacy inside of his mind.

His head starts to ache, a raw soreness stretching across his skull.

Alexandra settles a hand on his cheek, sensing his discomfort. "If it's too much, you should take a break," she mumbles, sultry. "Why don't you rest for another day?"

"I cannot remember him," Kuroko mutters under his breath, half-crazed. He sinks further into himself, resting his sore head against both palms. "My memory of him is gone. I cannot remember him. There is an empty space in my mind, Alexandra-san. I cannot remember him."

"That's only natural," Alexandra says, leaning close to him, her warm breath against his neck. It sends strange tingling sensations up his spine, a mixture of terror and comfort. "You were stabbed in the achilles tendon, after all, the center of your magic, and you went as far as to summon a Blood Portal after that. It's a miracle you can still function at this level; memory loss is nothing, comparatively. I've seen demons with lighter wounds in the same place become reduced into gibbering hunks of meat from their magic going out of control. Well, of course, it really can't be compared. Demons are such weak creatures."

"Aren't you a demon too, Alexandra-san?" Kuroko says, humorlessly.

Alexandra chuckles. "Yes, but a half-breed, dear. You give me too much credit."

Kuroko briefly thinks of Ogiwara, another half-breed. The last time he'd seen his old contractor, he'd been driven mad by his demon blood, his eyes bulging and lips formed in a brutal scowl. A stark contrast from the cheery-eyed boy he'd called a friend, who'd never have murdered anyone, let alone his entire village, his own blood siblings he'd raised since birth.

"Half-breeds certainly aren't weak," Kuroko says. He'd learned the hard way.

"You're so sweet," Alexandra says, misinterpreting him. She places a hand on the base of his neck, the other playing with his hair. It's comforting, the rhythmic strokes of her fingers against his head. "Don't be discouraged by today. Your memory might come back to you anytime, Kuroko-kun. If you can manage to replenish your magic stores, who knows what'll happen."

Kuroko glances down, at his palms. They're pale and white, unmarked, unblemished, as always. Objectively, the amount of memory missing is barely enough to account for any major changes, a second in the long eternity of his lifespan, but somehow it feels like he's lost an entire lifetime.

"I need to know his name at least," he says. "Please, Alexandra-san."

He hears Alexandra sigh behind him, the hand on his head withdrawing. He misses the pressure, almost, at least if only for the reassurance that she understands him. "I really don't know his name, Kuroko-kun," she says, but her words fall flat.

"I—" Kuroko says, then stops himself before he say anything else. "I need to remember. I can see him, almost. Standing right in front of me."

Alexandra strokes his cheek, pitying. "I know, Kuroko-kun. But this is a bridge you have to cross by yourself." She pauses. "Try again, then."

"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya," he says again. The words taste empty against his tongue. "I am an Elemental Ruler. My magic affinity is shadow..."

Again.

"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. I am an Elemental Ruler..."

Again.

"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya..."

Again.

Masako wakes with a splitting headache and Murasakibara's vaguely concerned face peering over her.

"Masako-chin, you're awake."

"Oh, don't pretend to act like you care about me," Masako says, irritated, pushing away the Elemental Ruler. Her mood's completely in a tizzy from the confrontation with Katsunori, and the fact that her precious target had been stolen in front of her own eyes, by an harmless old lady of all people; she certainly doesn't have the patience to deal with Murasakibara, who can make her spit blood in anger on her best days.

Murasakibara grabs her wrist before she can fully sit up, sending sharp jolts of magic into her system. He stares at her, not quite understanding her rejection, since she's always at least made an effort to coddle him. His eyes have always been intense, emphasized further by their sharp purple color, and frankly it's extremely unnerving.

"Masako-chin is strange today," he remarks, his words too juvenile for how old he really is (probably hundreds of thousands of years older than her, and isn't that a thought?). "Is it because of the man that brought you back?"

"What man?" Masako asks, eyes widening in slowly dawning realization. It couldn't have been Katsunori, he didn't give a shit about her and why would he, when there were prettier girls to sleep with, that treated him nice and spoiled him rotten? But there wasn't really any other explanation for how she'd gotten back, and now that she was thinking clearly, how else would she have gotten back to Yousen safe and sound? It wasn't like she'd collapsed in the middle of some crowded street.

Unconsciously, she checks both her storage pouches with her free hand, but all her sealing scrolls are still there and in pristine condition. Money's completely accounted for as well; Katsunori really hadn't had any ulterior motives when he brought her back.

"The man," Murasakibara repeats. As if remembering an unpleasant memory, a grimace overcasts his face. "He said Masako-chin was too weak. I told him I would crush him."

Masako chokes back a laugh, not sure whether to feel happy or burst into tears that moment. It's classic Katsunori, to insult her for her shortcomings and in front of her residential Elemental Ruler no less, but still try and bring her home safely.

"Do you—do you remember when he brought me here?" Masako asks, trying to calculate. It had been just about three when she'd gone to the alleyway, and going by the way the sun was incessantly pouring through the window, she guessed that it was well past noon.

Murasakibara blinks at her with that creepy gaze. "He's still here," he says, with obvious distaste. To be honest, Masako can't blame him. "Mura-chin said it was rude to kick out a guest."

She frowns at that. Okamura's a nice boy, for sure, and has the heart of an absolute saint, but he can't tell the difference for his own life between people who should be let loose in the Yousen campus and those who shouldn't. "I'll talk to him, then," she says, wrenching her hand out of Murasakibara's vice grip and trying to stand up. Her vision shakes for a moment, but steadies a moment later.

Strangely enough, Murasakibara doesn't seem too hung up on her rebuffal. He only watches her with those large, empty eyes, quiet as ever. It's easy to remember just how old he is, in moments like these, isolated moments when all childish acting is given up.

(Sometimes, she wonders, if he even cares for them—he tolerates them, Tatsuya especially, and acts amiability towards them enough, but there's those eyes. Those large, empty eyes.)

Sure enough, Katsunori's sitting down in the canteen when she enters, a smirk on his face as he chats with Okamura. He must have noticed her approaching ages ago, with her strong magic presence amplified by Murasakibara, but he doesn't bother looking up even as she sits on the bench opposite of him.

"Araki-sensei!" Okamura grins when he sees her, waving a giant hand in greeting. He's large, almost as tall as Murasakibara, but in the giant, oafish way, unlike Murasakibara's lean frame. Next to Okamura, he looks positively colossal. It would be comical, except Masako knows that both of them still easily tower over her.

Katsunori finally raises his head at that. He looks like—a mess. Masako's taken aback by the giant black ring that surrounds his right eye, and two deep puncture wounds on his neck. Unconsciously, she raises a hand to touch her own neck, feeling the identical scabbing on her skin.

"That old lady really did us a number, hmm?" Katsunori says humorlessly.

Masako can't help it—she chokes, feeling a wave of laughter creep up her throat. It's so strange to see proud, regal Katsunori with a black eye and marks of defeat. She's probably worse off, since it took longer to awake from replenishing her magic, but still. Katsunori completely destroyed by a harmless old lady. Who would have thought.

"You look like," Masako begins, but can't finish because she's laughing so hard. "You look like shit."

The word is cruder than anything she would have ever used in her younger days, and Katsunori's almost scandalized expression is worth every moment of it. It's so easy to be brought back to earth like this, to be reminded that even though she's lived centuries, that old lady they fought must have been thousands of years older. Masako's not nearly as wise or as old she thinks, not in the least.

"I could say the same about you, Masa," Katsunori says, scanning her over. "Ladies don't like to be told that, though, do they?"

She snorts. "Since when have I cared about my appearance?" It's not true in the least; succubi thrive on sexual energy, and appearances are perhaps the most defining aspect of if a demon of their kind will thrive or not. Still, she can't bring herself to care.

"Of course," says Katsunori, conceding to her. He reaches a hand to her, brushing over her forehead and pushing away stray locks of hair. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

The movement causes an unwilling flush to rise to her cheeks, and then annoyance. It's just like him, to target her in her most vulnerable state. There she was, thinking that maybe getting defeated would humble him, and then... this.

"I'm sure you've see much greener pastures," Masako hisses at him, Even when they had been—goodness, what had she been thinking—together, there were still waves of attractive women throwing themselves at his feet, many much prettier than she was.

"Araki-sensei—" Okamura tries to say, sensing the tension, but Masako silences him with her glare. He retreats bashfully, uncomfortably standing up, although she's too preoccupied with Katsunori to pay much attention to him.

"But yet you're the only woman I've ever taken seriously in this world," Katsunori says, completely deadpan serious. He places his hands over hers, and she can't bring herself to wrench them away. "I would have left you in the alleyway, if I really didn't care."

It's not a threat, but somehow something prickles at Masako's spine, something that screams no no something's wrong don't listen to him.

Masako doesn't listen to that voice. "You're not thinking straight, Kacchan," she says, but allows herself to look into his eyes, to see the shades of grey and blue intermix into galaxies of love, of passion.

Katsunori smiles at that. "I'm thinking the clearest I've ever been," he tells her, intently gazing at her. He comes a little closer to her ear, just the right distance so Okamura can't hear what he's saying. "It's Alexandra."

Masako's eyes widen at that. It's not a well known name, like Ogiwara Shigehiro or Haizaki Shougo is, but it still sparks a little tug of remembrance in her. A name that she's heard mentioned much more than once.

"Tatsuya," she lets slip, to Okamura's blank surprise and Katsunori's knowing smile.

"Tatsuya," Katsunori repeats. He winks.

"Imayoshi," Riko says with disgust. "I knew that bastard was up to no good. I wish he would do the world a favor for once and end himself."

Kiyoshi wraps an arm around her shoulder, smiling. "Shh, Riko. He can't hurt you for now." More quietly, he says, "He's under the impression that Midorima's killed you and the rest of Seirin. It's spread to most of the other campuses, but a lot of people aren't completely aware about the situation."

Riko stares at him, then closes her eyes again in exhaustion. She's always hated Imayoshi, and the feeling is mutual, but to hear that he's been colluding with an Elemental Ruler against her entire camp is a whole other matter altogether.

"Has—has the news about Kagami spread too?" Riko says, almost too afraid to hear the answer. "That, he's alive?"

One look at Kiyoshi's grim face is enough. "Takao's colluding with them too," Kiyoshi says, world-weary. "And how you got possession of the Tear of the Heavenly Emperor wasn't exactly subtle. There's really only one use for that item, and it's..."

"Why would Takao admit it?" Riko says, curling tighter to Kiyoshi. "Wouldn't it implicate him as a traitor?"

"I'm sorry," Kiyoshi says, "that I trusted him." He looks older now, wearier, in this dim lighting, small flecks of dim light highlighting the sharp angles of his face. "He's convinced Midorima that one of the other Contractors is the traitor. It's a win-win for him; he pays off the life-debt to me, and he gets rid of any evidence against him."

Riko raises a hand to his shoulder. "It's okay, Kiyoshi. They—we didn't know about them. That they were traitors."

"It's all the Contractors," Kiyoshi says, not quite meeting her eyes. "All of them—except Kagami—all of them are involved in some kind of conspiracy. They want to—they want to overthrow the Elemental Rulers. They're colluding with the Seven Demons."

He brings his hand to the light, the metal ring on his ring finger glinting sharply. There's an engraved heart symbol in the middle, a grotesque reenactment of the Kiyoshi family seal—a wall of thorns—shaped in the background.

"I can sense "Bad Boy"," Kiyoshi says, closing his eyes. "Haizaki, no, Hanamiya, he—he's escaped the sealing, somehow." Another deep breath. "It was my ancestor who first defeated him a hundred thousand years ago with this ring, forcing himself to escape into Haizaki's body. It's my duty, as a member of the House of Kiyoshi, to reseal him."

"Kiyoshi, no," Riko says, realizing what he intends to do. "You'll get yourself killed, you don't know what it took for him to seal Hanamiya—"

"I know that he sacrificed himself," Kiyoshi chuckles humorlessly. "I'm fully prepared for the consequences, Riko. I'm not afraid of death anymore."

"But—" Riko says, about to say something, then stops herself before she can finish, a conflicting expression on her face.

"I know," Kiyoshi says, resting a hand on her stomach. "It's about the child in here, right? I've known since we brought Kagami back."

Riko stills, but doesn't look up.

"I hate you, Kiyoshi," she says, although there is no real enmity in the words. "You're horrible, and selfish, and the worst person in the world... I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."

"You have to raise them well, after I'm gone," Kiyoshi whispers, resting his head on her shoulder. "Tell them that I loved them, that I wish I could have been there for them."

"There are other options," Riko sniffles slightly. "There are so many other options, and of course you choose the one that involves you dying. How about the people who need you alive? Me, Seirin, and—and our child. Selfish, selfish, selfish."

"Shh," Kiyoshi whispers, closing his eyes again. "It's the only way."

What he doesn't say: I'm sorry.