Eidolon

The meeting concluded with a veneer of professional cordiality. Bjorn saw them to the door of the conference room, his charismatic smile not quite reaching his calculating eyes. “A productive session,” he said, his gaze lingering on Rei a moment too long, “I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow to finalize the integration details.”

“Likewise,” Takumi replied, his tone perfectly polite, his posture rigid. He placed a firm, proprietary hand on the small of Rei’s back, steering her out of the Helix Apex headquarters without another word. The silence between them was tangible, thick with the tension of the looming specter of the night ahead.

Only when the soundproof partition of the Aspark whispered up, sealing them in the plush interior, did he break it. His voice was low, stripped of all pretense, a direct order delivered to the space between them. “Tonight,” he stated, not looking at her, his gaze fixed ahead, “you will repent. You will obey me completely. Do you understand?” 

Rei nodded, a shiver tracing its way down her spine that was not entirely fear, “Yes, Takumi.” Her mind raced, imagining the forms his reprimand might take; a cold, clinical distance, a demand for absolute submission, or something far more visceral, meant to scour the memory of Reon’s touch from her skin.

Takumi turned his attention to his encrypted comms, his fingers flying across the screen. Rei’s own thoughts, however, drifted to the driver’s seat. Cillian. Her stomach twisted with a fresh wave of guilt. He had borne the brunt of Takumi’s wrath for her impulsive, foolish stunt playing the fashion model. She studied Takumi’s profile, the tension in his jaw, the way the makeup on his knuckles had begun to wear thin, revealing the angry red bruising beneath.

Mentioning Cillian was a risk. It was poking a fresh bruise on an angry animal. But the worry was a persistent gnawing in her chest. She dared a gentle, almost hesitant inquiry, “Takumi… what happened to Kelly?”

His eyes, which had been scanning a message, flared with instant, cold fire. He slowly lowered the device, the movement deliberate. “Kelly,” he said, his voice dry and brittle, “was warned about maintaining professional boundaries. His indiscretion could not be overlooked.” Rei’s heart sank. She tried to keep her tone neutral, to not sound like she was pleading for him, “It was my fault. I roped him into it.”

Takumi’s patience, already stretched to its limit, snapped. He placed his phone down entirely and turned fully to face her. The atmosphere in the car grew turbulent. “Your previous security detail,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, “was not some defenseless boy, Rei. He is a trained operative, a professional perfectly capable of removing you from almost any situation. He chose not to, he chose to go along with your foolishness, fully aware of the risks.” The words were laced with a scathing contempt that made Rei pale. She had been so focused on her own guilt, she hadn’t considered the burden of responsibility Takumi had placed on Cillian, the expectation of professional judgment he had failed to meet.

She lowered her gaze to her hands, fidgeting with the enamel ring on her finger. The question was a whisper, almost inaudible, “What… what was his punishment?” Takumi was fuming, the controlled anger a palpable heat radiating from him. But he sensed her genuine guilt, her dawning understanding. Taking a slow, deep breath, he mastered the impulse to lash out. He didn’t answer immediately, instead turning to look out the window at Oslo’s darkening, clean streets, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside the car.

“Kelly has been sent back to Mirage City,” he said finally, his voice flat, “He has been given new tasks… testing ones… in order to prove himself.” Rei opened her mouth, the questions: what tasks? Is he alright?, bubbling up, but the look in Takumi’s hard eyes as he glanced back at her stopped the words in her throat. It was a look that deemed the subject closed and deemed further inquiry a direct challenge. Instead, she pressed her lips together and turned her own gaze to the window, watching the historic city pass by, a beautiful backdrop to the gilded cage of consequences that was steadily closing in around her.

The silence that had accompanied them from the car deepened within the hushed luxury of their hotel suite. After the door clicked shut, it sealed them in a world of their own making. Rei hovered near the entrance, unsure of her footing. She wanted to repent, to erase the distance she feared was growing between them, to be the perfect, devoted partner he demanded and that she, to her own surprise, desperately wanted to be.

Takumi moved past her with a weary grace that couldn’t quite mask his pain. Every movement was measured, each step a careful negotiation with his bruised body. He made his way to the living area, his fingers slowly working the knot of his tie before removing it and letting it slither onto the back of a sofa. He shrugged out of his suit jacket with a slight, suppressed wince.

Rei followed him, her sharp eyes cataloging the subtle signs of his suffering. The careful way he rotated his shoulder, the stiffness in his stance. It was a familiar sight, one that tugged at deep, old memories. She had seen her father, Jin, move exactly like this after brutal matches in the underground rings.

Without a word, she moved to the hotel service panel. Her fingers danced across the screen, efficient and sure. She ordered several buckets of ice. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added a bottle of champagne.

Takumi watched her, having sunk into the plush cushions of the sofa. A faint, tired smirk touched his lips, “Champagne? What’s this – a celebration of my bruises?” Rei turned, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her own lips, “It’s entirely for your benefit, I assure you.” She eased nearer, her movements gentle and non-threatening. 

“May I?” she asked, her fingers hovering near the buttons of his vest. He gave a small nod. As she began to unbutton the fine fabric, she spoke softly, her voice a calming murmur, “My father … he had his remedies for this, after matches, being a boxer. I’ve seen a lot worse than this.”