Chapter Text
Perhaps Kusuo would have been more disturbed if it had been his first encounter with death. But even as a child, there were several attempts made on his life before, and they had all failed.
Yes, death was a fact of life that applied to everyone. Everyone, except him. It was true that it had claimed his parents, but only because he allowed it. If a death mark could write his fate in ink, he’d be able to conjure another sheet of paper. Even if it set his demise in stone, carved it into granite, he’d be able to break the pieces and make the stone anew. He didn’t mean this out of arrogance, it was simply yet another fact, existing in contrast with one another. Reality was full of loopholes and contradictions, and he would not let some silly, arbitrary thing get in the way of what he needed to do.
“Is that all?” Kusuo drawled, straightening. “If we have a lead, then we should go.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Mikoto protested, twisting around in her seat as Kusuo stalked towards the door. “At least take a second to rest—you all look like you need it!”
“We don’t have time for this,” Kusuo ground out. “Kokomi could—”
“The death mark doesn’t just apply to you alone. It can affect people near you.” The fortune-teller cut in, making Kusuo pause, his hand gripping the door knob.
“Besides,” she continued, now that she regained his attention once again, “even if you could survive it—what about them?”
Kusuo’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin, but he said nothing as Mikoto gestured to Aren and Shun, who still stood around the crystal ball, both wearing stiff expressions. Shun cleared his throat in an attempt to discharge the crackle of tension in the air.
“We could go now if you really want to…” He offered tentatively, and then gave a brief pause, “b—but wouldn’t it be a good idea to rest? You’ve been using the Panalyze Stone the entire night. I… I know that for me, it can mess with my head.”
Kusuo glanced down at the pendant on his neck. He nearly forgot that he wore it again to silence the anxious churning around him, and now it succeeded yet again in closing him off to everything. This whole night, his mind had been pinpointed on a single thought, the urgency pressing him, even when he started to run on the fumes of his own impulses. But when he thought of what could be happening to Kokomi, if she was already at the hands of her brother…
Kusuo felt nauseous, the guilt gripping his heart like a fist. He shook his head, ridding himself of the voices in his mind which only spoke of disgusting things.
It took conscious effort to bring his fingers around the pendant and slide the chain from his neck, like he was lifting a physical burden off of himself. He tucked it inside his breast pocket, and immediately, everyone’s thoughts came rushing back, and Kusuo felt as if he just resurfaced out of water.
“Isn’t that the stone you’ve been looking for?” Mikoto asked, incredulous. “You gave it to him?”
“For better or worse, he’s the only one who can carry it now.” Aren said, his expression a touch grim.
“It’s for the better.” Shun said with certainty. At least, he chose to believe so. It was a good sign that Kusuo was still willing to take off the necklace—how he was able to endure it for that long, Shun wasn’t exactly sure. Lesser people would have already lost their minds.
Kusuo closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose. He had to center his mind. Rein back his emotions. Get himself together. Why did he feel so scattered? His body was here, but his mind was on a million different things. A million possibilities of what could be happening—what he could have done instead. It always went back to that.
‘Fine.’ A single word of compromise, torn out of his better judgment. Kusuo opened his eyes again. ‘But we’ll be leaving at first light.’
“Isn’t that in three hours?” Aren said.
The psychic considered him, the politeness of his tone a stone’s throw away from a threat. ‘If you need help sleeping, I‘ll happily knock you out.’
“Who needs death marks when you’ve got such a killer personality.” Aren muttered under his breath.
The fortune-teller had been kind enough to let them stay the night at her shop. Shun thought it was because she felt bad after essentially spelling out their doom just moments before. He and Aren both slept on the floor, pushing aside the table with the crystal ball to make room for cots and blankets, while the psychic disappeared in the corner of the shop.
But the night was short, spent uselessly ruminating on thoughts of the next day, and when dawn approached, Shun felt as if he barely had a chance to close his eyes.
“Did you manage to sleep?” Aren croaked beside him.
“Not really. You?”
He gave a sigh. “Same.”
‘If you both change your mind, now’s your chance.’
The sudden offer startled them. Aren and Shun turned towards the psychic, who kept vigil by the entrance, his arms crossed. Dark circles hung down his eyes, making the angles of his face even more severe. Perhaps he would have looked intimidating if his hair didn’t stick up in odd places from having crammed himself somewhere to sleep. He looked more haggard than both of them.
“Did you even sleep at all?” Aren asked.
‘That’s not important.’
“So you couldn’t either, huh?”
Kusuo scowled and merely repeated back, ‘If you don’t want to go—’
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about us.” Aren cut in with a smirk.
The psychic threw a glare this time, but he didn’t scoff or make any snide remarks, which was new. Instead, he stayed quiet, looking as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t.
Now that Kusuo could hear their thoughts again, he couldn’t deny what the death marks must’ve meant. Though he felt himself the exception, the same couldn’t be said for Aren and Shun. He sensed the worries that lay hidden in their subconscious, tucked away under their bravado and stubbornness, and he could see how cruel it was for him to brush it off as he did so earlier.
What was it that he wanted to say here? Thanks for risking your lives? Sorry you might die? Ugh.
Again, this would all be easier if he were just by himself.
‘… I wouldn’t blame you if you changed your mind.’ Kusuo settled on saying instead.
“We’re still going.” Shun declared.
“This isn’t our first encounter with death marks,” supplied Aren, shooting the psychic a pointed glance. “I recall someone squeezing the air out of our lungs in our first meeting, but we’re still alive.”
Kusuo looked like he wanted to argue a point, but then ultimately said nothing, merely acknowledging the statement with a twist of his lips. He wouldn’t apologize—he thought they’d been sent by Makoto’s soldiers and did what he thought was necessary in the circumstances. Still, he didn’t know they’d been branded with death marks just from that decision.
‘Why?’
“Why what?” Aren repeated.
‘Why are you both still staying, even after everything that’s happened?’
“You’re asking this now, after we chased you down in the desert?” Aren was in disbelief. “Are you dense or something?”
Kusuo’s eyes narrowed, mouth deepening into a scowl. The comment hit a bit too close for comfort. But before he could throw a retort, Shun swept in.
“I—I think what Aren meant, is that we honestly just want to help,” the silver-haired man said. “What other reason do we need?”
Kusuo didn’t immediately respond. He’d had difficulty believing their intent before, but there were no hints of deceit in their minds, no increased heart rate or uneasy glances. Their gazes were direct and open. Maybe, it always had been, and he just refused to look. He shifted on his feet, their answer making him deeply uncomfortable. He hated feeling like he owed other people. ‘I’m not wholly certain how the death marks come into play…’ Kusuo admitted, offering this small bit of cordiality, ‘But I’ll make sure nothing happens.’
Suddenly, Aren laughed—loud and unrestrained, too big to be contained in the humble shop, that even Kusuo was startled. He stood up from the floor and approached the psychic, clapping him on the shoulder, old grudges slipping away like water.
Kusuo merely looked at him like he’d been possessed.
“You’re not half bad, are ya?” Aren grinned. “So, what’s the plan? How do we narrow down Kokomi’s location?”
Smiling, Shun picked himself up off the floor, and for a brief moment, Kusuo had an irrational fear that they’d corner him into a group hug. Fortunately, they knew better than to even try. “How about we search between the Teruhashi Kingdom and any nearby mountain ranges in the West?”
“If her brother’s the problem, why not just go straight to the source?”
Kusuo could agree with Aren, another surprising turn of events. He’d love nothing more than to find Makoto, confident and comfortable in the safety of his throne room, before burning it entirely to the ground. But he had to think beyond the obscene satisfaction of revenge, as difficult as it was. It wouldn’t help them find Kokomi, and he couldn’t risk wasting more time as he did in the Southern Kingdom, lashing out just because he was angry and full of resentment.
‘I think I know where she is. I saw what it looked like in the fortune-teller’s mind. It’s not a mountain precisely, but a volcano.’
Aren looked surprised. “You can tell from that alone?”
‘There’s only one volcano beyond the Western Kingdom, but it’s been dormant for five years now.’
Shun’s eyes widened, “Five years ago, there were rumors that you caused a volcanic eruption…”
Here, a wry smile curved Kusuo’s lips, ‘Yes, that’s how I became infamous. Though the truth isn’t as exciting.’
.
.
.
They teleported to the base of the volcano, and its sheer size made Shun and Aren gape, towering over even the giant castle of the Eastern Kingdom. Hardened lava protruded down its side in uneven, swirling layers, like a series of angry, black scabs, a leftover wound from the catastrophe that occurred that day.
“You were traveling through the town when the eruption happened, and this is the volcano you fought against?” Aren asked, still incredulous, after Kusuo had told them an abridged version of his side. He gave a low whistle.
‘I was trying to prevent the lava from spreading.’
Kusuo still remembered the tremor of the earth as the eruption awakened him deep below the ground. By the time he resurfaced, it was too late. The sky had been covered in plumes of gray smoke, choking out the sun. Spurts of lava spewed out of the volcano’s mouth, rolling down in astonishing magnitude.
Some of the nearby villages had already perished in the lava’s surge. He managed to subdue the impact by cooling the rest of the lava flow, but it must have appeared differently to the villagers. Floating distantly above the wreck of ruined houses and buildings, he must’ve looked like he was controlling the lava himself, a cold and unsympathetic figure to the disaster happening below.
“How could they pin the blame on you?” Shun said, aghast. “You probably saved hundreds of lives that night!”
Kusuo considered this. Did he? Or did he just find an opportunity to test his powers after waking up from a fifty-year slumber? In hindsight, if he were really trying to help—he should have aided in the villagers’ escape. He should have stayed to rebuild. But back then, the people to him were just like tiny, scrambling ants, and ants had no concept of a flood until it drowned them.
“You think someone planned this as some revenge for what they thought you did?” Aren asked.
‘It doesn’t matter. What matters now is that we find Kokomi first.’
Kusuo understood two things.
One, whoever took Kokomi knew to wait until she was out of his reach. They must’ve known she’d been under his protection all this time, ever since she picked up the Panalyze Stone and collapsed in front of the crowd at the open markets.
Two, there must’ve been a reason why he and Mikoto both couldn’t pinpoint Kokomi’s exact location before. In theory, he could understand how one fortune-teller’s powers could be blocked, but how could his abilities be interrupted too? As he told Mikoto, he was able to pinpoint others by looking through their mind’s eye. It stemmed from his telepathy, and his telepathy could cover almost an entire town. It should’ve been nearly impossible to block.
If you choose to find her, I should warn you again… you have death marks on your faces.
The fortune-teller’s words rang in his head. For him to be lured back to the very place where he’d been sleeping deep underground for half a century… Kusuo felt his skin prickling with a sense of foreboding.
He scanned the volcano using his x-ray vision, revealing tunnels leading underneath the land mass. With a flick of his wrist, a loud crack in the earth cleaved the base of the volcano, creating an opening big enough for them to pass through one by one. Hot, humid air burst from the cracked entrance, like a dragon’s breath on their faces.
Shun took a shuddering breath, “T—this is…”
“Insane? This is insane.” Aren finished.
But Kusuo didn’t linger. He led the way underground with Aren and Shun following closely behind, the darkness of the tunnel swallowing them whole until he summoned a small orb of fire in his open palm. The steps were steep and uneven, jagged lines cut into the side of the volcano’s rocky terrain. The rough handiwork made him deduce that this must’ve been made less than five years ago. Did they unearth the tunnel that he had buried from when he resurfaced, using it as a way to make their den?
The trapped heat underground made it hard to breathe, the tunnel walls radiating with a damp, sweltering warmth, as if they were walking inside a furnace. The air smelled distinctly of sulfur. Still, the steps spiraled deeper below, relentless, until finally a craggy, narrow path revealed itself ahead of them. Kusuo closed his hand, extinguishing his own fire. On the wall was a mark dimly lit by torches, making Shun lurch back as soon as he saw it, his face turning pale.
“T… that’s… the D–Dark Reunion’s insignia...” Shun swallowed, the words stuck in his throat. “B–but how? I thought…”
Kusuo had a hunch this is where things were going. So, all the pieces were finally connecting. If this is what they wanted, then he would make them regret trying to lure him here.
He turned to Shun and Aren, opening his mouth, “I’m not picking up on any thoughts.”
“Huh? Is t–that why you’re t–talking to us?” Shun murmured in a low voice.
Kusuo nodded. “I suspect there are more people here, but I can’t tell. My telepathy’s been blocked, and the lava from the volcano is making it hard to sense any other signs of life.”
“T… that’s not good.” Shun quivered.
“I’m sure these bastards are hiding here like rats,” said Aren.
Kusuo agreed. He considered the two of them carefully. “I have a plan of my own. From this point on, stick to it if you can.”
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.
.
Shun never considered that they’d be willingly walking straight into the Dark Reunion’s lair. He had risked his life trying to run away from them, so every sense and gut instinct in his body now was telling him to turn back. But, despite the tremor in his hands and the coiled tension in his stomach, he soldiered on by himself.
He said he wanted to see things through. He had stolen away the Panalyze Stone, journeyed to the North, trespassed into the psychic’s castle, and somehow stopped a fight between said psychic and the prince of the Southern Kingdom—against all odds, he achieved these feats without getting himself killed. He was no longer the same person before. He would no longer be afraid.
‘God, this is a terrible idea.’ Shun couldn’t help but think to himself, anyway. ‘We should’ve stuck together!’
His burst of courage was rather short-lived. At least Kusuo couldn’t read their minds right now. He didn’t mean to be pessimistic, but it was a difficult habit to break, especially when he was anxiously standing here, alone and sweating in the dark.
Kusuo told him to make use of his abilities and stick to the shadows as much as possible, while Aren sought to make himself a target. Well, at least concealing himself was a talent he knew best.
Shun was vaguely aware that the Dark Reunion had more than one congregation hidden across the lands, a Hydra with multiple heads, but he never saw another lair before—and he’d never imagine why they would build one under a volcano. He had so many questions. How had they acquired the resources? And more importantly, why did they choose to build one here? Was there something important about the volcano?
He didn’t like this string of coincidences. How he and Aren had run into Kokomi at the open markets, how Kusuo had gotten ahold of the Panalyze Stone through Kokomi, and how Kokomi had been abducted, imprisoned in the volcano that Kusuo himself had sealed—five years ago.
There was a meaning here. He’d been pulling his hair trying to work it all out, but he was just a piece of the puzzle, too small to fathom the full picture. What had he gotten himself into?
In the distance, Shun heard a commotion, making his shoulders tense. He slithered carefully along the wall, sweat on his brow and his palms. There was indistinct shouting and the ruckus of a fight, followed by the telltale sound of a body dropping to the ground.
Shun snuck closer and saw Aren’s face pressed to the dirt, his sword abandoned while two figures in cloaked hoods struggled to drag his heavy body by his legs.
Apprehension wedged Shun’s throat close, but he forced his feet to move, following a few paces behind.
.
.
.
Those rat bastards hit him harder than he thought.
Aren kept his eyes closed as he was roughly hauled down long, twisting corridors. The two disciples moved sluggishly, straining to carry his weight, and it made him wonder if they weren’t used to physical labor. The blacksmith suppressed a snort.
He waited for the noise of a door being wrenched open, until they threw his body inside a cell. Then, without so much as speaking a single word, they closed the cell door again, barring it with a heavy bolt.
Finally, Aren sat up, studying the cell he’d been locked in. He thought that the two disciples would at least split up—one to drag him to the cell, the other to patrol for any other signs of intruders, but they both just lugged him, as if they were just cattles pulling along a cart. They didn’t even speak to each other the entire way. In fact, the only sign of life he saw was when he’d punched one of them in the face—as if he just woke him from a nap. Other than that, there had been no show of anger or surprise about an unexpected trespasser in their den. Just total silence.
Strange. But that wasn’t his priority now.
“Shun?” Aren called.
Nothing.
He spoke a bit louder, though he was cautious to attract attention. “Shun?”
Still no response. Aren frowned, carefully approaching the cell bars. Did he get lost?
Cursing under his breath, Aren wrapped his hands along the cell bars, testing its weight, before he inspected the hinges along the side of the metal door. He patted his body and sighed in relief. Even if he’d dropped his sword, at least he remembered to carry his tools with him.
Crouching down, he set to work. He’d have to get out the old fashioned way.
.
.
.
Kusuo sent off the other two on separate tasks, descending further under the volcano by himself. Hopefully, they’d be able to find Kokomi on the higher ground. It’d be dangerous to go any deeper. While the volcano had been dormant for a few years, it didn’t mean that it was extinct. Magma still flowed inside, slithering in circles, waiting until its cage cracked again.
It was a strange feeling, being here again. There was an otherworldly quality to it. Back then, the silence here felt heavier, the warm air dense and still. There had been no sense of time, just the slow pulsing of magma inside its chamber, like a giant’s dull heartbeat.
Now, it was as if his sanctuary had been pillaged, and there was a persistent, inexplicable dread twisting inside his gut, impossible to ignore. He needed to find out for himself, to make sure it was just paranoia. The intersecting paths ahead splayed out like veins, connecting to an organ. Kusuo followed the one in the center, knowing intimately where it would lead—it had been the same passage that he dug himself out of, after he awakened from his fifty-year long slumber.
A chill slid down the length of his spine, the hair on his arms standing despite the trapped heat sprawling all around. There, just ahead was the cavern that he slept in, and standing at the center was the only living relative he had left. He hadn’t seen his brother since—
“The infamous psychic!” Kusuke greeted, his arm stretched out as if in welcome. “How I’ve longed to finally meet you!”
Since he’d wiped his memory, along with the rest of the world.
It was like seeing a ghost. Where had he been this entire time? Had they just missed each other, living on the same continent as strangers? Isn’t that what he had wanted when he chose to erase his memories?
Kusuo felt a muscle in his face spasm. He ground his molars together, squeezing his jaw to control the wild flurry of emotions that roused within him. Did his brother recognize him? Kusuo observed the man, but no deeper recognition surfaced in Kusuke’s face, though he still couldn’t read his thoughts.
His brother appeared considerably older than the last time he saw him. A few lines creased around his one eye, down the sides of his mouth, and distractingly, Kusuo realized that he resembled their father. He swallowed down that detail, ignoring how his chest suddenly ached, unwilling to broach it any further.
Obviously, Kusuke had succeeded in finding something to slow down his aging or stop it altogether. Perhaps he should be more shocked to find his brother at the root cause of all this madness, but wasn’t he always the permanent thorn stuck to his side? Truly, nothing hurt more deeply than family. Kusuo tried to fix his face, to assume the identity that this man would expect. Which was… the famed villain, or the younger brother? Perhaps someone caught in between, or neither at all.
“I wanted to host our meeting here, just to even out the field a bit,” Kusuke continued. “You see, the ores in this volcano contain germanite, which makes germanium. The only one of its kind throughout the lands. Do you know what it does?”
Kusuo’s lips curdled ever so slightly, and at the sight, Kusuke laughed. “Oh, I suppose you didn’t, until now.”
Was that why he hadn’t been able to locate Kokomi? Why he couldn’t hear any thoughts? All along, the volcano itself must’ve acted as a natural barrier to his telepathy, and he was none the wiser.
“What do you want?” Kusuo hissed. At once, he knew that he’d already made a mistake—in front of a stranger, anyone would’ve asked, who are you? It took considerable effort to maintain the neutrality in his expression.
“I don’t want anything,” Kusuke smiled, hands raised, palms open in a false advertisement of humility. “To be honest, I’m just curious.”
“You abducted someone because you were just curious?” A hint of anger seeped in Kusuo’s voice—he couldn’t blanket the animosity that flared inside him. He needed to calm down. Calm down. Act like the person his brother thought he was. The infamous psychic. Not the younger sibling who felt responsible to clean up after his mess.
“Not at first,” Kusuke conceded, sounding playfully sheepish. Like what he did was just an accident. “My initial business was with the Panalyze Stone, which I know is in your possession.”
“So, you’re the leader of this… group?” Kusuo gave a scoff. This sham, more like. “You’ve been tracking the stone, and you want it back?”
Kusuke smiled. “What’ll it take for you to give it back?”
Kusuo regarded him coolly. “I take whatever I want.”
“Ah, you mean that blue-haired monkey,” His brother goaded, rubbing his chin. He never changed. “I must admit, I’m quite surprised. She’s far beneath you. Sure, she’s cute, but dogs are too. Are you sure you want her? ”
“Say that again,” Kusuo urged, his eyes narrowing into slits. “I dare you.”
Kusuke chuckled, though he gave an acquiescing nod. “With your reputation, I didn’t think you’d be so attached to these… people. It’s a bit of a shame. I’ve been enthralled by your powers for a long, long time.”
He watched as his brother circled around him, scrutinizing him as though he were a species he’d never encountered before.
“I know about your feat here—when you caused the volcano to erupt. I have to thank you. It made me wonder how much power one needs to manage that, and what I’ve found has been so helpful.” His brother gave a blithe smile, as genuine as fool’s gold. “The deeper I dug, the more I found. Like… this room, for example.” Kusuke gestured all around the cavern, smooth and round, unnatural in its perfection, “Now, what could this be? There was a tunnel that led directly to this hole. Is it some kind of shelter for the end of days? A vault for hidden treasures? Or is it a… crypt?”
There was a glint in Kusuke’s sole eye. Hungry. Ravenous for a mystery he couldn’t solve. It was hard to say if he’d been just like this before, or if his obsession had gotten worse. Now that he couldn’t sweep this under the rug as simple sibling rivalry, what was this… fixation called? Fanaticism?
Kusuo felt his mouth go dry. He thought he’d hidden it well. Buried the lead. Expect his brother to be the one who inadvertently unearthed his secret, even when he’d wiped his memory. He pursed his lips, driven to a corner. He needed to act larger. Larger than life. To Kusuke, they were not brothers. They were no longer connected.
How would the infamous psychic respond? What would he say?
He wouldn’t say anything at all.
Kusuo flicked his hand, and Kusuke slammed into the wall.
“You talk too much,” the psychic said, “Next time you say something I don’t like, I’ll rip out your tongue.”
“Yes!” Kusuke shouted against his grip, mask cracking open to reveal an expression of pure glee. “That’s more like it!”
A shudder ripped through Kusuo, disgust squirming through his forced aloof. Did he make the wrong move? A miscalculation?
No. He just forgot how repulsive Kusuke was. It was a game of chicken. Even as Kusuo pressed tighter on Kusuke’s jugular, Kusuke only looked more and more elated, his grin stretching wider and wider, until Kusuo dropped him to the ground, a disturbed expression overtaking his features.
Kusuke clicked his teeth. “Ah, disappointing. You can’t beat him like this.”
Kusuo’s eyes narrowed, searching the perimeter. Who was… him?
There was a rush of wind behind him, and as if out of nowhere, something—no, someone teleported in his blind side. Kusuo only had a nanosecond to look, before he felt an invisible force knocking into his side, sending him careening to the far wall of the cavern.
“For decades, I’ve aspired to create the perfect… specimen, but it wasn’t until you came along that I was finally able to make some real developments,” Kusuke said, tone reverting back to an academic’s cold assessment, even as he picked himself off the ground and brushed away debris from his trousers. “You were the missing piece, so I’d be honored to see how he compares to you, the original.”
Kusuo felt something warm trickling down his forehead. He wiped a gloved finger on it. It was his blood.
“Thank you for supplying me with your energy, by the way,” Kusuke added nonchalantly, pacing the cavern like it was a foyer. “Very generous of you. Keep the stone as a gift. I don’t need it anymore, anyway.”
His energy? How was that—
The air warped again, another teleportation. Kusuo was aware enough to dodge, just in time. Half a second too late and he would’ve gotten knocked back again. It— he was almost as fast as him. As the figure fully materialized and came to stand next to his brother, features lit by the dimly flickering torches, Kusuo saw what could only be described as a grotesque, bastardized version of himself. Long, unkempt pink hair, falling past the shoulders. Two small, circular appendages stuck on its head. Glassy amethyst eyes, like there was no soul or recognition inside.
Kusuo’s mouth pulled open, caught between horror and rage. It… it was an imitation of himself, in the cruelest way imaginable. His x-ray vision probed further, only confirming his suspicion, identifying the skeletons and musculature of several different human body parts, forcibly cobbled and grafted together, a puppet. A doll. A tragedy.
“What…” He was at a loss for words. Again, it was the wrong question. “Why?” He snarled.
Kusuke shrugged. “Why? Why not? Because I can. Because I’m curious. Because I want to know who's better.” Kusuke spoke, but his voice was like a tinning sound in Kusuo’s ears as he could only gaze at the thing in front of him. “I tried my best. See if you can try yours.”