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Kagami’s muscles scream. Louder than her voice, now—her throat went dry and hoarse hours (days?) ago—and no one would listen, anyway. Not her mother. Not Gabriel Agreste.
(Not Felix. Where is he? She’s never planned to be a princess in a tower, but heart-shaped trails in condensation and miraculous-strengthened bridal carries would be more than welcome now.)
He’s trying. Surely he’s trying. She doesn’t know what’s going on outside; she doesn’t know anything, and—she feels ridiculous for putting so much hope in being rescued. For how soft she’s become in such a short time.
Soft as the padded white walls that she slams her fists against, again and again and again, until her muscle fibers feel like they could unravel.
She falls to her knees, gasping for breath. It’s the only sound in the room. She’s long since muted the horrible newsfeed projected on the wall. Cutting off her only source of information would be foolish, but if she hears “perfect couple” one more time, she’s going to vomit.
She can’t afford to vomit. She’s lost enough fluids from the sweat rolling down her spine, between her shoulder blades, itchy and sticky—she can’t wash it off; it only builds and builds in layers and layers, a crust of salty sediment threatening to crush her.
Even now, she finds herself cringing at what her mother must think. All of her daughter’s perfect poise evaporated, blown away like dust—
Something moves.
At the mechanical whirr, Kagami is on her feet immediately. A shoe in her hand, ready to jam open any cracked door—
The opening is already gone. The wall only spat out one of Mother’s horrible heartless robots.
(Does she wish Kagami was like that? Silent, obedient, mindless?)
At least the rectangular machine’s arrival means food and water. Kagami needs to keep up her strength, so she approaches the drone, waiting for a tray to protrude from its center.
It does. It doesn’t hold any food.
Kagami finds enough strength in her to scream.
It’s a ring. A ring. Apparently the fake amok her mother holds isn’t enough; she wants Kagami to wear one of Gabriel’s leashes, too. How stupid does she think Kagami is?
Maybe not stupid. Just desperate. Maybe she thinks a shiny distraction will keep Kagami placid. That she’ll accept a flimsy substitute for freedom.
Kagami’s had enough with lies. She wants something real.
The ache in her back. The sweat on her skin. The cold of her amok on her finger. Real, real, real.
The sensations ground her, as unpleasant as they are. She breathes.
She sits cross-legged, leans against the foot of her bricklike bed, and thinks.
All the fighting in the world won’t break open this cell. Admitting it burns worse than anything—the helplessness itching like grit beneath her nails. She needs a different plan.
Unfortunately, the only new variable is that cursed ring. Yes, she’d worn one before, but that was before she knew who Gabriel was. It doesn’t take much to extrapolate that Hawkmoth had ulterior motives with her mother’s technology.
She frowns, eyes narrowing at the glinting ring. What role does it play in Hawkmoth’s plan? Is it just another way of owning Adrien and Kagami, by capitalizing on their images? That doesn’t add up. They’re already owned in a far too literal sense.
Start at the beginning. Picture each step in your mind, then act. The process for executing kendo katas works equally well for organizing her thoughts. She rests her palms on her knees and closes her eyes.
First, she needs to identify Hawkmoth’s motive. It’s simple enough—obtain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses. Everyone knows that. What no one knows is what he actually plans to do with them.
Different angle. What’s Gabriel’s plan? To pair his son with Kagami, yes, but he hardly needs more magical jewels for that. He already has a fashion empire, plus any capital gains from partnering with Tsurugi Industries on the Alliance project. What more could he possibly want?
She doesn’t know—but the perspective shift sparks another chain of thoughts. Mother didn’t need him to produce the Alliance rings. The design is sleek and plain as any Tsurugi tech; he didn’t contribute any fashion to the rings—unless you count his son’s face. But Kagami doubts her mother values that alone enough to split ownership of her intellectual property. So what else does Gabriel Agreste have that her mother could want?
There’s only one thing that Kagami can think of.
The miraculouses.
Steady. Even breaths. Solid as a ginkgo tree. Calm as a summer’s day.
She doesn’t want to be calm. She wants to be the storm, to rage against her mother’s bounds, to know how she could do this—
Because Tomoe Tsurugi has to know. She’s used the Peacock Miraculous. Kagami’s existence is proof of that.
Her fingernails dig into the padded floor. How long? How long has Mother known? How many times has she allowed that monster to akumatize her perfect daughter?
Her breaths come ragged, shallow. There’s not enough air in this prison cell. She needs out she needs out she needs OUT—
She lunges for the Alliance ring.
It doesn’t make sense. It makes too much sense. She wants to breathe; she wants calm; she wants to scream; she wants to break.
She remembers the last time she broke. And she remembers how Hawkmoth tried to placate her.
Most importantly, she remembers being Ryukomori. Only bits and pieces, but it’s enough. Ryukomori’s powers had been hers before.
Perfection. The storm.
With shaking hands, she slides the ring onto her index finger.
“We all have nightmares,” her hologram says before Kagami silences it.
“Longg,” she breathes. She pleads. “Bring the storm.”
Silence answers. Not even an echo. She’s foolish, she’s breaking, she’s desperate and being pushed to insanity—
She feels a flicker. A spark.
“You’re in there, somehow,” she asserts, for herself more than anyone, as if she can speak her salvation into existence. “You were forced to transform me before. You can do it again.”
No response. She thinks she hears the sound of a lens focusing, as if the rectangular robot is squinting at her. Judging her—or worrying that she’s onto something?
She is falling into insanity. These robots don’t have feelings, can’t worry. But her mother—she could be watching through them, for all Kagami knows. That could be something to worry about.
Well. Though she hates to tempt fate, she doubts her situation can get any more dire. What does she have left to lose?
“Please,” she tries, one more time. “I… can’t do this on my own.”
The faintest tingle runs up her spine. She hopes it’s an answer, and not a side effect of her frenzied mind.
She squeezes her fist shut, and sucks in a breath large enough to become a tempest.
“Longg.” Power crackles over her ring. “Bring the storm!”