Eidolon

Warning (PG16)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Only when the car door closed and the Aspark pulled smoothly away from the curb, Rei dared speak, her soft voice breaking through his reverie, “Are you alright?” It was a simple question, mundane even; a show of personal concern that was entirely new between them. Her face was open, her brow slightly furrowed.

The effect on Takumi was an immediate mellowness, startling in its intensity, spreading through his chest, a feeling he would never allow himself to voice. His expression, for a fleeting moment, grew almost tender. Instead of answering, he reached over and rolled up the partition, sealing them in privacy. Then, unhurriedly, he leaned in and started kissing her. It wasn’t a demand, but a slow, deep exploration that took Rei’s breath away.

“With you here,” he whispered against her lips, his breath warm, “I will be.” Rei melted into him, her hands coming up to cling to his shoulders, a slight tremble running through her. She let the lovesick longing she’d been fighting take full control, drowning in the scent of him, the sound of his voice. He groaned softly, his lips traveling to the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. His hand slid down her back, his fingers stopping just above the sore, freshly branded tattoo, causing her to shiver and hiss at the mix of pain and pleasure.

The urge to undress her right there, in the back of the car, was a palpable force. But with a visible effort, he pulled away, holding her face in his hands, drinking in the sight of her open surrender and fierce beauty. Then an unwelcome unease crept back into his gaze.

Takumi moved back, retreating entirely to his own seat, the distance feeling vast. He adjusted his suit jacket and smoothed his hair with his trademark, perfunctory precision. “It is… inconvenient,” he said, his voice returning to its business-like cadence, “that Kazuo Kuroda is coming.” He let out a short, frustrated laugh, glancing at her again, trying to mask the depth of his concern, “He is not… my biggest fan.” The understatement was colossal, and his eyes held a warning, a silent communication of the threat heading directly for them.

The silence in the car after Takumi’s admission about Kazuo was charged with the ghost of his kiss and the looming shadow of the patriarch. Rei watched him, the rigid line of his shoulders against the plush seat, the distant look in his eyes as he stared unseeing at Oslo’s illuminated streets. The tender man who had kissed her worries away, replaced by the strategist calculating a siege. She knew pushing him for more, for reassurance or details he wasn’t offering, would be a mistake. It would break the fragile new trust between them. 

Instead, she leaned her head back against the seat and let out a soft, deliberately dry sigh. “Well,” she said, her voice lightly teasing, “it’s impossible to please everyone.” She turned her head to look at him, a small, knowing smile on her lips, “But for what it’s worth… you’re definitely growing on me.”

Takumi’s gaze snapped from the window to her face. He studied her for a moment, seeing the gentle humor in her eyes, the lack of pressure. A low chuckle escaped him, the sound loosening the tightness in his chest just a fraction. He shook his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of her understatement. Growing on her, yet in the history of their relationship, that was one of the most generous reviews he’d received from her. 

As Takumi turned back to the window, Rei felt the distance between them in the spacious back seat turn cavernous. The memory of his body against hers, the taste of him, was too fresh. Acting on a bashful impulse that felt both daring and perfectly natural, Rei slid her hand across the cool leather until it rested beside his’ on the seat. She didn’t grab, didn’t demand, simply linked her pinky finger with his, the smallest point of contact, a silent thread of solidarity in the dark. 

Takumi’s attention dropped to their hands. He stared at the delicate link for a heartbeat. Then, without a word, he turned his hand and captured hers fully, his long fingers lacing through hers with a firm, deliberate tenderness that made her heart stutter in her chest. It was an unspoken promise, a claim that was also a sharing of the burden. He didn’t look at her, but she felt the subtle release of tension in his grip, in the way his shoulders lowered a bare millimeter. 

As the sleek car glided through the quiet, historic streets, nearing their hotel, Rei broke the comfortable silence again, her voice softer now. “I liked hearing your thoughts tonight,” she murmured, “About AI and humanity. It was… refreshing to hear you muse on something beyond quarterly reports or the concrete art of fine dining.”

Takumi glanced at her, his grey eyes glinting in the passing streetlights. There was a spark of something there, amusement, a warning, and a faint trace of pleasure at her appreciation. He gave a short, sarcastic laugh. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, his thumb brushing absently over her knuckles, “I prefer discussing the apparent possibilities within the world, to the plausible impossibilities of what lies beyond it. One is actionable, the other most often a distraction.” Rei smiled, a private, fond curve of her lips. 

She mumbled, almost to herself, “That’s very on brand for you.” Then, a little lower, she added with a playful shrug, “A shame. I found you distinctly sexy during those musings…”, she paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face, “But at least you possess impressive self-awareness.” Takumi heard her. A deeper, richer chuckle rumbled from him this time, though his gaze remained fixed on the city blurring past.

Instead of commenting on her assessment of his sexiness or self-awareness, he brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a slow, warm kiss to her knuckles, his eyes closing for a brief second. The gesture was one of gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of her understanding and her place beside him. Rei blushed, a novel sensation akin to butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

When he lowered their hands again, he didn’t let go. He held hers firmly as the car slid to a silent halt beneath the porte-cochère of their hotel, the real and formidable world waiting just beyond the tinted glass. The philosophical detour was over, the battle with Bjorn was in a tense ceasefire, and the inspection by Kazuo Kuroda was a storm cloud on the horizon. But for the moment, in the quiet, they were just two people, hands intertwined, drawing strength from a connection that was, against all odds, becoming the most tangible thing to either of them.

The silence in the hotel suite was thick with unspoken questions. Rei burned with curiosity about Kazuo Kuroda and the clearly fraught history between the two, but the rare, almost vulnerable unease she sensed in Takumi kept her quiet. Upon arrival at the hotel, he had been glued to his comms. After he had tucked it away with a rare loud sigh, he started drifting around seemingly deep in thought, picking up trinkets, looking at them like they were see-through, then returning them to their exact position. 

For Rei the day had been a whirlwind of pain, intellectual sparring and intense emotion. One of those puzzling new emotions was an urge to soothe Takumi. What she craved now wasn’t more conflict or interrogation, but closeness. She longed to feel the man behind the control, the tenderness she sensed was blossoming beneath the ruthless exterior.

Her eyes fell on the enormous, freestanding bathtub in the ensuite bathroom, a sculpted basin of dark, veined marble. A mischievous smile touched her lips. “It’s not your private hot spring,” she commented, her voice light and cheeky drifting out from the bathroom, as she turned on the taps, filling the room with the sound of rushing water and the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from the bath salts she found, “but it might ease the pressures of the day if we enjoyed a soak?”

Takumi, who had thoughtfully been studying the holographic clouds on the bedroom ceiling, walked to the bathroom doorway. With a pleased smile he crossed the room and began to undress her, his movements slow and purposeful. “An excellent idea,” he murmured, his fingers deftly working the fastenings of her silver dress. As it slipped off his hand gently traced the edge of the second skin covering her new tattoo, “This new technology is a blessing. It even allows you to submerge yourself… it by-passes the tedious aftercare I had to endure.” There was a rare, almost nostalgic note in his voice.

Emboldened, Rei’s hands came up to undress him in turn. She pushed his jacket from his shoulders, loosened his tie, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingers traced the ghostly, glittering lines of tigers and bamboo on his chest and back. “You know…”, she started, her voice demure but her eyes full of earnest curiosity, “I won’t pester you about your father-in-law or your Oni past… but if you ever wanted to share anything, know that I’m curious, that I… I want to get to know you.”