Eidolon

Warning (PG16)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Once the fresh tea was done steeping, the pot and cups neatly arranged, Rei moved to place her shoes near the temple entrance. As she bent down, she caught the murmur of their voices outside, but couldn’t make out the words. Driven by a powerful need to understand the dynamics she was trapped between, she moved with alert quiet, easing closer to the entrance but careful to stay out of their line of sight. She wasn’t trying to see them; she just needed to hear.

The word ‘tea’ drifted to her, followed by the sound of movement. Her heart leapt into her throat. She hurried back on the balls of her feet, flying soundlessly over the tatami mats, and slid onto a cushion at the low table, her back to the entrance. She focused on slowing her elevated pulse, on calming the frantic rise and fall of her chest, arranging her features into a picture of serenity just as the two men entered.

The heavy rivalry between them filled the room instantly, as palpable and clinging as the smell of bonfire on clothes. The air grew thick, charged with their unfinished confrontation, and Rei sat at its center, fighting the urge to turn and run into Takumi’s arms, apologizing and losing herself in her need for him.

Takumi’s gaze immediately found Rei from across the room. The sight of her back, her damp hair pinned up with a single, utilitarian chopstick and clad in a vibrant red gi, sent a conflicting jolt through him. It was a uniform of another man’s domain, and yet, the sheer wave of relief that washed over him at seeing her safe, and the subsequent frustration at feeling that relief, was nearly overwhelming.

Watching from the entrance, Reon hated the subtle shift he saw on Kumi’s normally unreadable, marble-set features. He didn’t pause but stalked to his seat at the head of the table, his voice cutting through the tense silence with the hard, impersonal tone of the Ceremonial Master, “Kitsu. Pour the tea.”

Rei twitched at the sound, the lover from the morning entirely vanished. But she scrambled to her feet with an urgent grace, moving to serve them, her eyes carefully averted from Takumi. Even without looking, she felt his aura, a familiar, magnetic pull. The comforting, subtle scent of his cologne reached her, and she had to fight a powerful, instinctual urge to bury her face in his chest and seek shelter.

Takumi settled at the table opposite Reon, the silence between the two men stretching, thick and hostile. As Rei finished pouring the tea, the simple task feeling monumental, she could no longer contain the turmoil inside her. She moved from her kneeling position, folding herself into a deep, formal bow, her forehead aiming for the space near Takumi’s Bordeaux-suited legs.

“I’m so sorry, Takumi,” she pleaded, her voice avid with sincerity, “I’ve realized how naïve and ignorant I was. I truly only meant to have fun. The photos with Kelly, it was all a foolish act fueled by my old dream of becoming a model. I never meant to dishonor you.” 

The testimony was a balm to Takumi’s frayed nerves. It proved her allegiance, her affection. But even more satisfying was the palpable ripple of resentment that rolled off Reon from the other side of the table; a clear discomfort at hearing her declare herself as voluntarily belonging to another.

Takumi reached out, his fingers closing around her chin with an iron grip, tilting her face up to his. For a moment, he was arrested by the sight; her shiny, earnest, magnificent black eyes, the full, forgotten force of her beauty hitting him anew.

He steeled himself, his voice cold and precise. “You are right to apologize Kitsune,” he stated, “Your ignorance is easily read as disloyalty, and I will reprimand you for it extensively.” His thumb stroked her jaw, a possessive caress that was also a promise of punishment, “I will ensure you’ll never forget, that you are mine.”

A low, displeased grumble came from Reon’s side of the table. “A noble intention, Kumi,” he interjected, his voice a silken threat, reasserting his presence and his ultimate authority over the discipline they were now all entangled in, “But the oversight of that… education… befall me.”

Rei’s eyes flickered toward Reon at his words, a fresh wave of worry washing over her. The competition to punish her, brewing between her two masters, was a terrifying prospect. Her initial impulse had been to bury herself in Takumi’s arms, but the sight of Reon’s jealous expression made her reconsider. Instead, she leaned back slightly, settling obediently beside Takumi, allowing their legs to touch. The heat from his body was a small, comforting balm. She didn’t dare embrace him, keeping her eyes downcast in a show of compliance.

Takumi, imposingly calm, replied smoothly, “I appreciate your devotion, Honored Master, to teaching us the Oni traditions and ensuring Kitsune, as a new member, truly learns the necessary skills to best serve me.” He was artfully balancing respectful praise with a clear underlining of his own position as the primary master. Officially, Reon’s role was educational and correctional, tasked with maintaining traditions and obedience fitting for different ranks. But Takumi was the master of Kitsune; even if Reon was the master of them both.

Reon’s jaw tensed as he emitted his characteristic hum, this one both contemplative and deeply annoyed. The urge to physically beat the insolence out of Takumi was a palpable thrum in his veins. Kumi was clever, always phrasing everything with perfect respect, but the underlying challenge was not lost on Reon.

As if to drive the point home, Takumi subtly lowered his left hand, resting his palm on Rei’s back, directly over the sakura brand of her tattoo. Rei’s reaction was a mixture of a grateful, relieved smile at his touch and an involuntary wince as the weight of his hand pressed against the still-healing skin.

It was a cunning gesture of silent communication: a simultaneous dominance and comfort to Rei and a reminder to all, of the permanent mark that bound her to him. It was a declaration that, no matter what lessons were taught in this shrine, the fundamental bond between him and Rei remained. The air in the room thinned to that of a mountain summit, growing sparse and stale with conflict.

The knowledge of Takumi’s hand on Rei’s back, the subtle wince of pain it elicited in her face, sent a fresh spike of aggression through Reon. He forced his expression into one of deceptive casualness. “It’s commendable that you wish to brush up on your Iron Oni Fist,” Reon said, his voice a low purr, “Why don’t we spare? Now.”

Takumi’s eyebrow lifted. The offer was layered. On one hand, it was an immense honor; the Iron Oni Fist was shrouded in proud ceremony, and lessons from a Ceremonial Master were a rare prize. Takumi’s desire to learn was genuine; Reon was, without question, the best in the world. But the look on Reon’s face was murderous.

Even though Takumi was skilled, a formidable fighter in his own right, he was no match for an Iron Oni Fist Master. Reon could, quite literally, kill him; and given his obvious fixation on Rei, he might even want to. Takumi’s only shield was his corporate position; harming him would create a significant problem for the syndicate. But that wouldn’t stop Reon from beating him to a pulp for the sheer pleasure of it.

Rei observed the frigid showdown, the vast hall seeming to shrink as the two men locked eyes. She felt the impending violence like a change in atmospheric pressure. She didn’t want Takumi hurt, and she didn’t want to see Reon’s sadism unleashed, especially not when she had glimpsed the softer man beneath, a side she preferred and one she planned to encourage. But she also knew she had no say in the matter, and a dark part of her acknowledged that perhaps, they needed to physically purge the deadly pressure boiling between them.

Takumi had no right to decline a direct offer from a superior. But in less than two hours, they had a critical meeting with Bjorn, who was already displeased by Takumi’s solo appearance at the planning session the previous day. He had to find a way to postpone the beating. Smoothly, he moved the hand from Rei’s back to cup her buttocks in a bold, claiming gesture. Rei exhaled softly but remained calm, leaning only minutely closer to Takumi, a silent signal of her approval.

“Sparring is a great honor, Ceremonial Master,” Takumi began, his voice rational and steady, “Unfortunately we are expected at an important rendezvous with the CEO of Helix Apex in less than two hours.” He paused, letting the weight of the corporate world intrude upon their shadowy realm, “A man who is thoroughly fascinated with Kitsune… and her role as the initial model for the Eidolon construct.” 

His gaze was unwavering, “It would be extremely detrimental to the project’s progression if either of us,” he implied himself also visually, gesturing vaguely at his heart with his teacup, “were delayed or… inhibited… in our ability to perform at the meeting.”

He was subtly drawing a line. Even if Reon wanted to break every bone in his body, doing so would risk the project the syndicate had sunk considerable resources and prestige into.