Eidolon

Warning (PG18)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Rei seized the opening, desperate to steer them away from the jagged cliffs of their rivalry. “The balance of Sichuan pepper and dried red chili turned out great this time, if I do say so myself,” she said, her voice a tad too bright, “Once in Chochin, I found a small shop that imports directly from Chengdu. The owner was an elderly Chinese woman who insisted on teaching me the proper way to dry-toast Sichuan. I don’t think I got it completely right until today.” 

She looked between them, willing them to follow her lead, “Have either of you ever been to Chengdu? I’ve heard the food there is extraordinary.” Takumi shook his head, his expression softening slightly as he engaged with her attempt, “Only to Shanghai and Hong Kong for business. I never had the opportunity to explore the interior territories of China.” He was grateful for the lifeline, for the chance to speak with her, not Reon. 

“Korea or Japan occupies most of my travels when I’m not here,” Reon offered, his tone more neutral now, though his eyes remained watchful, “That said, I’ve been to most major Chinese cities at least once. In Chengdu I recall liking the Wenjinjiang Hot Spring Resort.” Rei beamed, tilting her head in interest, absentmindedly mouthing hot spring under her breath. Reon smiled at her excited expression and continued,”Though if you ask me, the hot springs in Japan are unmatched. Particularly the remote ones in the mountains. Ryokan with private rotenburo overlooking valleys.” 

He looked at Rei, a new spark in his gaze, “You’ve never experienced a true Japanese onsen, have you Kitsu?” The question caught her off guard. “No,” she admitted, her voice softer, “My father told me stories about New Tokyo, about the onsens, markets and the temples. Apparently I was born there, but we left when I was too young to remember, so in a sense I’ve never even been to Japan.” A flicker of old longing crossed her features, “I’ve always wanted to go. To experience that part of my heritage.” 

“I’ll show you,” Takumi said immediately, his voice warm, genuine, “Once the Eidolon launch stabilizes, we can travel there. Kuroda Global has an important division in Osaka, so there are many reasons to visit… regarding hot springs, there are ryokan in the Hakone region that offer complete privacy.” With a brilliant smile Rei nodded instinctively, gravitating towards Takumi until Reon’s aura surged dangerously. She caught herself and straightened. 

The words hung in the air for only a second longer before Reon spoke, his tone silken but unmistakable, “A worthy thought, Kumi. Though perhaps Kitsu would benefit from experiencing the more traditional, less commercialized springs. I know of several in the Northern Alps that are inaccessible to most. The Oni maintains certain… private retreats available to Ceremonial Masters. The water there has genuine restorative properties.” 

The two men’s eyes met across the table, over Rei’s carefully neutral position at the head. The invitation, unspoken but deafening, was clear: Reon wanted her to go with him, to a spring unavailable to Takumi. Rei felt the trap close. If they both insisted on their invitations, she would be torn not by her own desire, but by the immutable law of the hierarchy. Reon, with his superior rank, could simply order it. 

The mapo tofu cooled in its bowl, the fragrant steam dissipating into the tense, charged air. The mountain wind groaned against the house, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the impossibility of her position, a woman caught between two masters, her own wants rendered secondary to the ancient, brutal dance of their egos. She stared at the careful arrangement of chili oil and ground pork as if it could save her.

Their following conversation was stilted, orbiting the technical aspects of the Iron Oni Fist or favourite food, but Reon consistently steered it back to Rei’s progress. He spoke of her ‘natural agility’, her ‘surprising stamina’ and her ‘dedication to mastering new forms’. Each praise was a landmine, an allusion to her more sensual talents. Reon never ordered her near him, but the threat of it, the possibility that he might, at any moment, demand she come closer, kept both Rei and Takumi coiled tight. 

By the time the mapo tofu had gone cold, the once-vibrant chili oil congealing into dull orange pools. The remains of the meal sat between them like abandoned evidence. Outside, the wind had stilled, leaving a silence so complete Rei could hear the faint crackle of the lantern wicks. 

Reon set his chopsticks down with a finality that made Rei’s stomach clench. He moved from his cushion in one fluid motion, his golden gi catching the lantern light as he reached across the table. Rei’s breath caught in her throat. She knew what was coming before his hand even touched her.

He leaned over the corner of the table, a towering presence that blocked the warm glow of the paper lamps. His hand came up, cupping her face with a grip that was firm and inescapable. There was nothing spontaneous about this kiss. It was a performance, an insistence, a reminder of hierarchy written in the press of his lips against hers. 

Rei froze, her body going rigid, every muscle locked in place. Her hands remained at her sides, fingers splayed against the tatami. She did not lean in, did not respond. Her eyes, wide and dark, fixed on something beyond Reon’s shoulder, anywhere but his face, anywhere but the sight of Takumi witnessing this. Her lips stayed a firm, unyielding line against Reon’s, a silent plea in every unresponsive millimeter. 

Reon felt the careful, deliberate non-participation. He understood its cause with painful clarity, the man seated at the table beside them, the man whose presence turned this kiss into a weapon rather than a welcome. A faint, annoyed hum vibrated against her mouth before he pulled back, releasing her face with a controlled slowness that somehow made the whole charade worse. His blue eyes searched hers for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something almost like disappointment crossing his features before being smoothed into cool inscrutability. 

Takumi had looked away, his profile a mask carved from the mountain stone itself, jaw tight, gaze fixed on a section of the darkened window where only his own reflection stared back. He had chosen not to watch, not to give Reon the satisfaction of witnessing his reaction. His hands rested on his thighs, perfectly still, but the knuckles were bloodless, drained of all color. 

The silence that followed was its own kind of violence. Reon’s gaze lingered on Takumi’s averted face for a long, measuring moment. A faint, sardonic smile touched his lips, the smile of a man who had made his point, asserted his rank, and would not apologize for either. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture that could have been dismissal or acknowledgment, and stepped back toward the kitchen alcove. 

“The path down is well-lit tonight,” he said, his voice betraying nothing, neither triumph nor regret, “The moon is full. You won’t even need the path’s lanterns.” It was a dismissal, an ending. Rei rose on unsteady legs, her body protesting the sudden movement after the prolonged tension. She gathered her coat from the hook by the door, her movements mechanical, her mind a white static of shame and guilt and something else she refused to name. She didn’t look at Reon, didn’t trust herself to. 

Takumi stood as well, his motions deliberate, controlled, a man wordlessly reassembling his armor piece by piece. He walked to the door and slid it open without a backward glance, the cold mountain air rushing in to claim the space between them. Rei paused on the threshold. For a heartbeat, she felt Reon’s gaze on her back, a physical weight between her shoulder blades. She stepped out into the night without turning. The door slid shut behind them with a soft, final thud.

The path down was indeed bathed in moonlight, the ancient stones silvered and slick-looking in the pale glow. Takumi was already several paces ahead, his silhouette sharp against the luminous darkness, his pace relentless. Rei hurried to catch up, her heels clicking against the stone, the sound too loud in the vast, watching silence.

 The initial descent down the mountain was made in a suffocating silence. The night air was cold, sharpening the ache in Takumi’s newly acquired sparring bruises. Rei walked beside him, her hands fidgeting with the sleeves of her coat, Takumi’s muteness screaming louder than any accusation. “Takumi…”, she finally ventured, her voice small in the expansive quiet, “How… how are you feeling?” 

He let out a sigh, the sound carrying all the frustration of the evening. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his words crisp and final, “And… I don’t want to share a private dinner with him like that again… if it can be avoided.” Rei nodded, swallowing her own unease, understanding. The forced feigned civility had been its own unique torment. 

She didn’t speak again, but she moved closer, until their arms brushed with each step on the ancient stone. It was a silent declaration: I am here, I am yours, even in all this. Her hand, swinging slightly at her side, brushed caressingly against his, inviting, begging. For a moment, Takumi seemed lost in his own turbulent thoughts, his fists clenching at his sides. Then, with a gesture that felt like both surrender and boldness, his hand found hers in the darkness. His grip was fierce, almost crushing, but she held on just as tightly, their fingers laced together like a lifeline thrown across impossible waters.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the distant lights of the city below, but the message was clear. Through the jealousy, the humiliation, the complex fog of a rivalry he couldn’t simply conquer, he was holding onto her. It was a simple, physical truth in a world of impossible loyalties. They walked the rest of the way down to the waiting car, hand in hand, a united front against the mountain at their backs.