Walk forward, into the world

Title: Walk forward, into the world
Author: Ainzfern
Genre: Ai no Kusabi – Post OVA
Code: Iason/Riki
Rating: NC-17
Parts: WIP – 1/?


Walk forward, into the world – Part One


Prologue:

He floated. There were mists and dreams and voices upon the cusp of hearing. He had no sense of time in this place. How long he had been here, he simply did not know. But, in this strange semi-lucid twilight in which he drifted, it almost seemed not to matter. He was warm. There was no pain. He could feel a steady pulse, a deep - thrum-thrum - thrum-thrum - beating through his body. His heartbeat. Felt… not heard. He remembered things. Words. Feelings. Images. Long hair, as pale as the dawn sun. Hands, smooth and elegant and long-fingered, with strength enough to crush and shatter yet touching with only gentle fervor. And a voice. It was a beautiful voice. It was a voice he knew somehow that he would never hear again.

Now there was pain. Not physical, but internalized. There was regret; there was sorrow and longing, filling the space within his chest like phantom tendrils from some plague-sickened and poisonous vine. The warmth surrounding him offered no comfort. He moved, his limbs sluggish and slow, pushing through some strange and cloying resistance. He felt as though he was immersed somehow, cut off from the world, and he grew afraid. In his mind, an image formed. Pale blue eyes and a face carved in the image of the angels of Nirvana. But that face was gone. He knew this. He tried to reach for the image, to hold it, but it slipped from him, disappearing back into the darkness.

He tried to cry out, to vent his anguish and despair, but no sound emerged.

No sound ever did.

In his mind’s eye another image formed. Another face, familiar only because it always came to him at these moments. This face was alien, different to the point where he knew he ought to fear it yet, for some reason, he did not. It glowed, its silver skin shot through with skeins of pale blue and gold. Its eyes were blank, no irises, no pupils, yet this oddity did not worry him. For all of their mirror-like appearance, he sensed only warmth and an oddly deep compassion from them.

Words came. Once again, not heard… felt.

It was a soft voice, a gentle voice, yet carrying the echoes of the vast and abiding passing of time, and it soothed away the fear and the pain as if they had never even existed. There could be no denying this voice. Not in this place.

“Sleep, Riki,” the voice told him, in the melodious soothing tones of a mother, “Sleep…”

And Riki slept.


******

“He’s dreaming again.”

From his vigil in the shadows at the edges of the sterile and silent room, Raoul Am, current provisionary leader of the Tanagura syndicate and Chief Biologist in service of Jupiter, frowned ever so slightly as he turned to face the man standing by the monitoring consol near the down-lit tank in the centre of the pristinely white floor.

“I know, Katze,” Raoul murmured as he faced forward once more. “He will settle soon enough.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment as he appraised the young man floating, suspended and restless, in the large plexi-glass container. As the mongrel’s formerly agitated movements began to still, he nodded in satisfaction. “There he goes.”

“Hmm,” Katze entered a few observations into the consol keyboard. “It’s taking less time these days. I think he’s getting closer.”

With a slow and somnolent sigh, Raoul turned to face the red-headed Furniture. “We’ll need to make arrangements, then.”

“Understood. I’ve already got it covered.” Katze turned back to the consol, but not before Raoul noticed the somewhat strained and disturbed expression on his face.

“Katze,” Raoul flicked one more glance at the young mongrel floating in the tank before taking a step towards his current companion. “Iason... always felt rather disposed to humor you.”

Katze’s face betrayed no response but, Raoul saw, his hands stilled upon the keyboard.

“And… I will admit you have proved very useful to both of us in our past, and current, endeavors.” Raoul continued to move towards the slighter man, his expression giving away nothing. “So… in deference to my dear friend… You may ask your questions without fear of retribution.”

Katze’s breath escaped on a sharp gasp of surprise. His hands clenched for a moment before, with more intestinal fortitude than Raoul would have credited him with, he drew in a deep inhalation and nodded. “Why did she do it, do you think?” he asked quietly.

Raoul considered it for a moment. “Jupiter?” He sighed once more. “I simply do not know. She has remained silent on this issue.”

“Is that unusual?”

Raoul’s broad shoulders lifted in an almost imperceptible shrug. “I have no basis of comparison, Katze.” An elegant eyebrow twitched slightly. “Iason was always her choice for communion. I have only just begun to interact with her, and she only speaks to me of the current day to day requirements in my role as provisional leader.”

Nodding his acceptance, Katze turned slightly, looking up at the Elite Blondie towering over him. “Are you going to tell Iason that he’s alive?”

“No.” Raoul felt his expression harden slightly. “Not yet.”

Wetting his lips, his eyes clearly showing that he knew he was reaching the limit, Katze lifted his chin slightly. “Why?”

Clasping his hands behind the small of his back, Raoul abruptly turned to face the tank, and its current occupant, once more. He let his eyes wander over the naked mongrel within, seeing with a strangely unbiased eye, the loveliness of his imperfect form.

His completely re-constructed imperfect form…

Jupiter hadn’t missed a thing. All the burns from the explosion at Dana Bahn had been healed, the golden skin of the man now beautifully unmarred. Even earlier scars, ones that pre-dated his time in Midas, were erased. The broken bones, the torn flesh, even the mongrel’s cruelly mutilated genitals… all repaired.

All as they once were.

“It’s ironic, don’t you think, Katze?” Raoul tilted his head to one side as he considered the sight before him, “That these amniotic tanks,” he gestured with one graceful wave of an elegantly long hand, “these… technologically perfect wombs, that were to bring forth perfect pets - and which Iason and I labored so long to create – would be used in such a manner.” He glanced over his shoulder briefly at Katze’s impassive expression, before turning his face away again. “To repair the body of a slum-bred mongrel.”

“The tanks repaired Iason’s body, too,” Katze’s low reply murmured from behind him.

Raoul’s heart constricted for a moment. Iason… His friend. His equal. His brother. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Yes.” He smiled down at the floor, secure in the knowledge that the mongrel Furniture behind him could not see the gesture. “Yes, this is true.”

“So..?”

Turning, swiftly and silently, Raoul faced the younger man with suddenly blazing eyes, feeling no particular satisfaction when Katze winced slightly, bracing himself for the first blow.

It never came.

“So why have I not told Iason?” Raoul demanded, “Was that your question?”

Katze remained silent, but his gaze did not waver.

Raoul nodded, silently acknowledging the Furniture’s courage. “I have made this choice, Katze, for many reasons. Most importantly… Iason needs to have no distractions as he recovers.” His eyes narrowed into glittering slits, the only outward sign of emotion that he would deign to show to the mongrel before him.

Fortunately for Katze, Raoul noted, he reacted with appropriate humility, lowering his eyes and bringing his shoulders forward in a silent gesture of submission. He may have been granted a certain freedom of expression under Iason, Raoul thought, but it was gratifying to know that the Furniture did not expect that gratuity to extend to Raoul’s temporary and unwanted leadership.

The very notion softened his umbrage somewhat, and so it was with uncommon honesty; at least – uncommon honesty where, technically, a slave was concerned - that Raoul answered. “The other reason is more prosaic, I will admit.” He drew in a deep and visibly frustrated breath, showing to Katze what he so valiantly hid from his Elite peers, “Jupiter has given me no specific instruction regarding the matter of Iason and Riki.”

He watched as Katze’s eyes widened.

Nodding, Raoul continued, “From the moment their broken near-dead bodies were returned to Midas, she has remained silent in regards to her judgment.” He lifted one broad shoulder slightly, almost helplessly. “She gave me clear instructions in regards to healing them both… She told me that I was to take Iason’s place in the Tanagura syndicate for the duration of his convalescence but, beyond that, nothing. I do not wish to take any action that may incur her wrath.” His eyes closed briefly as his normally smooth brow creased in pained concern, “Especially, if such actions were to bring her anger down upon Iason.” He swallowed, hard, “He has suffered enough, Katze.”

Katze nodded, stepping away from the consol and approaching the Elite carefully. “Iason trusted me, Raoul,” he said softly, sincerely, “You can, too.”

Raoul reached out and clasped the Furniture’s shoulder. His grip was firm and sure, the first time that he had ever willingly touched a mongrel. He couldn’t help but feel that the action was nowhere near as repulsive as he had always imagined.

“Take Riki away from Midas, Katze,” Raoul held Katze’s eyes with his somber gaze. “Hide him somewhere until he is well again. Do not tell him that Iason is alive.”

“But… But you’re Iason’s friend!” Katze’s eyes widened again, his expression growing incensed. “How can you even- -“

Slowly Raoul increased his grip, watching with no real pleasure at all, as the Furniture’s face paled and his entire body jerked backwards into a ridged arch with the sudden unexpected pain. A low grunt of distress left Katze’s throat, his head wrenching back on his long neck, his bright eyes closing with agony.

“I make such choices because I have to!” Raoul hissed into Katze’s ear. “Do you not think that I would happily give Iason back his pet if it were within my power to do so?! “ Raoul increased his lethal hold on Katze’s shoulder, ignoring the mongrel’s sharp short agonized cry, ignoring the blood seeping through the white fabric of Katze’s shirt as his fingers punctured fragile skin and flesh, “Jupiter has given me no guidance, no instruction… how do you think Iason would feel if I were to grant him back his pet, only to be told that the wretched mongrel was to be terminated?!”

Panting harshly, Katze simply stared up at Raoul’s coolly furious face.

With one sudden movement, Raoul released his grip on Katze, pulling his hand away and turning his face to one side, feeling his full mouth twitch into a tiny moue of disgust at the Furniture’s soft groan of relief. “I do not have to justify myself to you, Katze,” he said coldly, wiping his bloodied fingers fastidiously with a kerchief that he pulled from his coat pocket, “Iason’s will and testament clearly states that I am to conduct his personal and political affairs in the event that he is incapacitated. All I need to know is that you will obey my orders.”

Katze bowed his head, visibly aware that the moment of amnesty was very clearly over. “Of course, Master Am.”

“Fine.” Raoul tucked the kerchief back into his pocket. “Then you will continue with our original plan?”

“Yes, Master Am.”

“Very well,” Raoul adjusted his cost-sleeves, neatening his appearance, “and you remember the signal to act?”

Katze flushed angrily, even as he nodded once more. “Yes, Master Am. As soon as Riki’s eyes are open, I will take him outside of Midas.”

“Good.” Raoul strode towards the door of the room without even a backwards glance. “I am glad you understand the situation, Katze.”

TBC…