Eidolon

Warning (PG16)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Reon allowed her a moment, settling himself at the table and placing the bag beside him. “Come, Kitsu. Be a good concubine and serve us tea,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for refusal. Rei bowed her neck obediently and performed the task with practiced polish. Once she had served them both, she settled on the cushion in front of him, Takumi’s old seat, and picked up her cup.

In a surprisingly friendly tone, he asked, “Where did you go shopping?” Rei’s posture relaxed slightly. She leaned in, her enthusiasm bubbling over, “It was called Paleet. And there was this interesting store with these…”, she gestured to her outfit, “…cool patterns. And guess what?” Reon chuckled, a low, rich sound. He savored this new, almost infantile side of her, so different from the fierce concubine or the sensual woman in golden lace. Now, she was like a young woman returning from an outing, brimming with excitement. “What? Do tell”, he said with a grin, sipping his tea.

“A woman from a fashion magazine named Astrid cast me and my bodyguard as models! We did a whole photoshoot and everything,” she explained, her eyes sparkling, “It was the most fun I’ve had in ages.” She then seemed to catch herself, clearing her throat and correcting her posture to a more formal poise, “And well, I’ve never had my picture taken like that before. She showed me one… it’s strange how one can look in pictures.”

Reon studied her, his curiosity piqued. He was surprised not only by this unguarded version of her but by her comfort in revealing it to him. She seemed far more at ease than she had with Takumi present during the ritual. It was impressive, considering he was still her Oni superior, a man who held significant power over her.

At present he didn’t feel like scolding her; this new sincere presence of hers was far too entertaining. So far getting to know the real Kitsune, was much more rewarding than simply commanding her obedience.

Reon’s eyes glinted with interest, “Can you show me these photos?” Rei gleamed, the expression transforming her face. She brought her pocket data slate forward, placing it on the table between them.

“Astrid shared a portrait of me,” she explained, her finger hovering over the screen, “Even though she explained it hasn’t been edited and probably won’t go in the magazine. She was so kind, saying it was too good not to give me.” Reon didn’t even try to lean in and look at the slate. “Join me on this side,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate, “Show it to me properly.”

Rei tensed for a fraction of a second, a visceral memory of being bent over that same spot flashing through her mind. But she obeyed, moving with a seemingly indifferent grace to settle beside him. She held the slate towards him, the screen illuminating to reveal a stunning portrait. It was a shot from the hip up, showing her in a glittering dress with a sunset motif.

Her hair was styled in soft waves, her makeup natural and sun-kissed, save for a bold stroke of orange eyeliner that sharpened her gaze; the same make-up she was wearing currently. In the photo, she wasn’t exactly more beautiful than she was now, sitting beside him, but she was different; an impossibly intact work of art.

Reon took the slate from her, his long fingers brushing against hers. He studied the image intently, his gaze analytical, then turned to observe her in person, comparing the two. A slow smile spread across his face as he handed the slate back. “You don’t exactly look different,” he mused, his voice a low murmur, “But in the photo, you look timeless, like a painting. Sitting here, you look alive, like fire.”

Rei took the slate back, her eyes studying him with open wonder. A smirk played on her lips, a remark clearly threatening to escape. Reon noticed, his gaze sharpening. Out with it, his eyes beckoned. Rei decided to test the waters. If he was going to pull rank and punish her, she might as well find out how far she could push her new directness early on. 

“I like how poetic you sounded just now,” she said, her tone deliberately light, “Like your compliment in the hot spring, about the combination of my traits being indescribable. It’s a nice… sensitive side to your other, more commanding personality traits…”, she hesitated only a split-second, “Like your sadism.”

Reon looked momentarily shocked, then pleased. He leaned forward, closing the small space between them. “Are you trying to provoke disciplinary consequences, Kitsu?” he asked, though his voice held more intrigue than threat. Rei replied smoothly, as if she had expected that retort but didn’t particularly care, “I meant it as a compliment. A complex personality with seemingly paradoxical traits is, in my book, much more interesting than a straightforward average Joe.” 

She smiled at him, a disarmingly genuine expression, “You might have noticed, but I’ve decided not to be scared of you. Being frightened is exhausting. I’ll take the discipline you decide to give me as valuable lessons, rather than tire myself trying to predict the new Oni traditions that I’m still so unfamiliar with.” Rei held his intense look, a silent challenge wrapped in a declaration of independence. She was not cowed, she was a student choosing to see him as a teacher, albeit a dangerous one.

A natural laugh escaped Reon, caught off guard by her candor. It was utterly refreshing, a stark contrast to the sycophantic deference or terrified silence he usually encountered. To ground the conversation back in the necessary reality of their world, he adopted a more instructive tone.

“Then let me explain Oni etiquette,” he began, his voice calm but firm, “ascribing a member of higher rank with any adjectives of a negative connotation, is considered an insult. Even if I, in a moment of sincerity, admitted my sadistic inclination to you in the hot spring, even if every concubine and Oni member who undergoes the ritual with me knows it, one simply does not say it out loud.”

Rei bowed her neck reverently. “I understand,” she promised. Then, she looked up, her eyes strong and inquisitive, “Is saying you sometimes speak poetically considered insulting?” Reon laughed again, the sound more gentle this time, “Poetry is quite important to the Iron Oni – and to me. I’ll take that as a compliment.” Rei’s smile was radiant, “I meant it as such.”

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, the air between them charged with a strange new understanding. Rei became acutely aware of how close they were sitting, their knees almost touching. A flush of self-consciousness warmed her skin, and she moved to return to her former seat across the table. Reon’s fingers were suddenly around her right arm, not harsh, but strong and warm. “Stay beside me,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Rei’s breathing quickened. She looked up at him, and the familiar shade and shape of his eyes sent a confusing jolt through her. The complex emotions tied to her old lover mingled dizzyingly with the powerful, new presence of Reon. Her body thawed with a strange, familiar comfort, as if she were sitting next to someone she knew well.

She cleared her throat and tucked a loose strand of vibrant hair behind her ear in a suddenly timid gesture. “Okay, Reon”, she murmured, nodding compliantly. She settled back onto the pillow beside him, this time making herself more comfortable, accepting the new proximity.

Reon released her arm leisurely, his smile deepening at the newfound, coyness in her. He sensed her guard lowering and suspected it was entirely due to his resemblance to his estranged cousin. The thought was annoying, he wanted her reaction to be for him, yet their similarity was strategically useful; it was a clear shortcut to the closeness he was becoming increasingly interested in.

He reached for the transparent shopping bag. “I’m intrigued to see what you brought me,” he stated, his eyes glancing at the brand logo on the front. His eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, “This Norwegian brand is up-and-coming. It used to be an old, forgotten fashion house, but they recently hired some ambitious new designers.” He looked at her, a new layer of appraisal in his gaze, “If you did want a career as a model, a campaign with them would be a very good place to start.”

Rei watched him, a strange expression on her face. As Reon reached into the bag, a sudden realization dawned on her. She leaned back, studying him with new eyes. Every time she had seen him, she’d thought he looked like a model, but she had attributed it solely to his physical traits.

Now, she saw it was just as much in his posture, the measured grace of his movements. And then she remembered one of the old collages she made from fashion magazines, her main window into a world of beauty and style. With unexpected clarity, she identified a memory: a picture she had cut out, a younger man with startling blue eyes who looked most certainly like Reon.

He sensed her scrutiny and looked at her questioningly, his hands still pulling the silk paper away from the embroidered linen pants. Rei leaned closer, her mouth slightly agape for a moment before she found her words, “Were you… are you actually a model?” Reon laughed, a rich, amused sound.

“You certainly took my promise that compliments were always allowed to heart,” he said, as he pulled out the green leather mules. He held one up, “It’s lucky these are in my size. Considering I was barefoot last time we met, I’m impressed you got it right.”

Rei glanced at the shoes, deciding against explaining her process; the combination of her memory of his feet, her ability to compare them to Cillian’s, and the sheer luck that they shared a shoe size. Instead, she pressed on, her focus absolute, “I wasn’t trying to flatter you. I’m quite certain I’ve seen you in a fashion magazine. Younger, maybe nineteen? But it was you, wasn’t it?”

Reon froze, the pants half-unfolded in his lap. A flicker of astonishment crossed his features. He turned fully to look at her eager face, which was alight with the fervor of a quiz show contestant awaiting the final confirmation. He laughed, disarmed by her expression, “You are full of surprises. It feels like a lifetime ago. Most of those magazines should be molding in dumps by now.” He paused, then conceded with a slight shrug, “But yes. I did model for a while.”

An utterly triumphant “I knew it!” burst from Rei. While she was still recovering from the thrill of her deduction, Reon finished unpacking the clothes. He smirked at the bold style, but also noted that she had chosen something far more subdued than her own outfit, pieces he could actually see himself wearing if he felt like heading into Oslo. A wave of nostalgia, bittersweet and unexpected, flowed through him.

“That was back when I was stationed in the Asian Iron Oni branch,” he said, his voice taking on a distant quality, “Living in Seoul, South Korea.” The memory hung in the air between them, a piece of his past now suddenly and intimately connected to the collages she had made in her room in Chochin Row, a shared thread she had somehow unearthed.

At the mention of Korea, Rei turned to him, her face alight with interest, “What was that like? I’ve always found Korean culture fascinating: the music, the fashion, the food.” Reon’s expression remained neutral, a veil drawn over the past. “It was complicated, but formative,” he stated, effectively closing the subject. Then, with a sudden shift, he declared, “I will try on your gifts.” He rose to his feet in a fluid motion and pulled his cashmere sweater over his head.

The sight of his toned, tattooed chest, chiseled to perfection, left Rei momentarily breathless as she looked up from her seated position. Reon wasted no time, his fingers moving to the button of his trousers. “Kitsu,” he said, his voice a calm command, “Get up and help. Hand me the clothes.”

Rei rose to her feet and snapped into action. She studied his body with a willing, investigative eye. Compared to Karasu, Reon was leaner, less about brute strength. Compared to Takumi, he was more defined, his muscles larger and more sculpted. Reon smiled, a faint, approving curve of his lips, as he noted her unapologetic appraisal. He pulled on the dark green linen pants with the hand-stitched leaves, then the crisp white shirt with the matching embroidery, and slipped his feet into the green leather mules. Everything fit him perfectly.

It had fit Cillian perfectly, too, but on Reon’s honed musculature, the clothes took on a different character. The sharp angles of his frame highlighted the seams and cuts, making the garments look almost casually integral, whereas on Cillian they had appeared daring. Reon made them look like they were merely an extension of himself.

“What do you think?” Reon asked, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. Her eyes snapped up to meet his’ as he walked closer. She offered a smile that was almost bashful, “I think you look like you just walked off a catwalk.” She held out the fluffy tiger cardigan to him. He placed a hand on it, gently lowering it in her arms. “I won’t try that on,” he said, his tone final, “Embroidered leaves on quality textiles are one thing. But I only wear tigers on my skin.”

Rei tilted her head, keen to ask about the significance of his tiger tattoos, but Reon spoke first, steering the conversation back to the evening’s purpose. “It’s a lucky coincidence you like Korean food,” he stated, a hint of genuine pleasure breaking through his commanding façade, “I’ve actually prepared ingredients for Korean tonight. Tteokbokki, Japchae and Bibimbap. They are the dishes I miss the most.” A rare note of wistfulness entered his voice, “It’s difficult to find good Asian food in Oslo. I hope your expertise in Japanese cuisine will translate to Korean dishes.”

Rei’s face lit up with passion, “It does! I’ve experimented with Korean recipes myself, since I love kimchi and gochujang so much.” Reon was visibly pleased, his own excitement shining through, a crack in his usual controlled demeanor, “Shall we head to the kitchen, then?” Rei neatly folded the cardigan and placed it back in the plastic shopping bag. She straightened her posture, meeting his gaze with a newfound sense of purpose, “Yes, please show the way.”