S-2877 • L3 Sintoluna • D28 Silente
"Sintoluna tunes the thread on high. Silente spills silver, almost whole. The tide gathers song in a gentle curve. The portal already gleams in the air."
BILAB, SOLTERRA
It was almost one in the morning when Hikaru dragged himself to his room. He was exhausted. He had spent hours organizing the information requested by the Patriarch and the Matriarch, selling data to mercenaries, and working on his robotic creations. He wished he had more time for them. He always did.
Blue and silver lights slid over his body as he entered. White sheets covered the bed, and the nanoquilt slowly changed color.
Holograms projected data and graphs among the devices scattered around the room. Nanorobots, tools, and droids occupied almost every available surface. Disassembled miniatures crowded the desk.
Glass shelves rose to the ceiling, filled with books, gadgets, and curious artifacts. Among them, vials of nanosamples stood neatly arranged, their labels meticulously filled out. A plant purified the air.
In one corner stood an asymmetrical sofa with textured cushions. Nearby, a small bar displayed exotic drinks and energy drinks.
Hikaru surveyed his coweavings. Thought about refining that spiderbot. A twinge in his shoulder interrupted the thought. Kuso. He needed a shower. He went to the bathroom and let the water run over his tired body. When he came out, he froze.
A shadow from the past awaited him. It had been a solar cycle since their last encounter.
Saymon was soaked from head to toe. Covered in blood. A trail of reddish water snaked across the floor, leading from the upper part of the room.
Kuso. How had that bastard gotten in from above? Hikaru was certain the entire area was impenetrable. The windows. The entrances. The security nanosystems. And yet, there he was. Damn it. This guy again.
Saymon wore a red smile. Cuts marked his face and neck. His golden eyes sparked among purplish bruises. His torn coat exposed deep wounds on his arms. He limped slowly, favoring his right leg.
What the hell had happened to him? Even in that condition, his intoxicating aura enveloped Hikaru. The nanoengineer backed away until his back met the wall.
The metallic smell of blood mingled with the mercenary's citrus scent. Saymon approached. Leaned over him. Then raised his hand. He held a soggy cupcake. "Tanjōbi omedetō, Hika-chan," he whispered beside his ear, Happy birthday.
His husky voice retained that seductive cadence Hikaru would recognize anywhere. Tension vibrated in the air. Then the pressure eased. Saymon collapsed.
Hikaru stood still for a moment. Then he had to act. He bathed him. Cleaned and treated his wounds. Tended to what he could.
When he finished, he settled Saymon into bed and sat on the sofa. Confused. Perplexed. So many scars. And those tattoos? What did they mean? What story did that man carry on his body? And, by all the hells, what did it mean to have Saymon sleeping in his bed?
Hikaru stayed there for hours, trying to understand something. Eventually, he fell asleep on the sofa.
When he woke, he was in bed. A hand rested heavily on his waist. He turned his head. He had to be dreaming. No. It could very well have been a dream, but it was real. That guy was still there. More than that. When the hell had Hikaru ended up in bed?
Saymon's fingers tightened around his waist. A shiver crossed the nanoengineer's body like lightning. Hikaru slipped out of the embrace and got up. His heart beat out of rhythm.
Saymon opened his eyes. He was awake. His golden eyes gleamed, bright, amused. His gaze met Hikaru's and lingered on that uncertain expression.
The mercenary dressed slowly. Before leaving, however, he approached again. Close. Too close. Hikaru felt the air leave him.
"Hmm… a black-eyed kitty showed up in my dreams today." Saymon smirked. "What could that mean?" His smile was a dance of provocation. His eyes, silent fires. "Think you'll like the visitor coming later." And he left. Cruel. Indifferent.
Hikaru sank into a chair. Tried to untangle his thoughts. The cupcake. The blood. The scars. The hand on his waist. The fucking dream. The visitor.
Chikushō. This guy.
Late afternoon
An explosive energy burst through the door. Inoue swept through the library like a hurricane. "Baka! Is this where you've been hiding? How could you betray me like this?" The old man's voice brimmed with indignation. And something wounded. "I only wanted to be alone for a few hours, not an entire solar cycle!"
Hikaru tried to explain. Explained again. And again. Hundreds of times, it seemed, but nothing could soothe Inoue's indignation.
The old man eventually returned to Japan, still furious.
Over the course of that solar cycle
The scene began to repeat itself. Once. Then again. Lunation after lunation.
Saymon appeared late at night. Bloodied. Wounded. Sometimes barely able to stand before passing out.
Hikaru bathed him. Cleaned off the blood. Treated his injuries. Settled him into bed. Then lay down on the sofa. And fell asleep.
When he opened his eyes, he was in bed again. In Saymon's arms. The mercenary woke. Got up. Left. In silence.
Always the same cycle.
Honestly, why did Hikaru still get frustrated with that shit? Why did he keep expecting something different? Even he could not quite understand the tickling sensations in his heart. Much less the irritation Saymon's coldness provoked in him.
That fucking irritation. Why did he care? Damn it.
Tanu appeared carrying a cup of coffee. "Master, why's this guy always acting… like he's the only one who matters?" The raccoon dog's bright eyes studied Hikaru. "He doesn't even say thanks!" His thin voice rose. "Just because he looks at you like that, like… I don't even know how to describe it…" Tanu adjusted his gray sweater. "You're an idiot, that's what."
Hikaru took the cup and sipped. The hot coffee went down his throat, but it was not enough to warm the tightness in his chest. He narrowed his eyes. "Quiet, Tanu." His voice came out firm. Cold. "Have you done what I asked?"
Tanu wrinkled his snout. Turned away, grouchy. Began walking off, grumbling. "I'm going, I'm going… pretend all you want…" His mechanical ears swiveled discreetly. "I can sense your heartbeat when you're near him, sucker."
Hikaru remained silent.
Tanu continued, "Did you look into that painting at the Aether Federal Court? The zeniths call the anonymous artist the Artist of Chaos. From what we saw that day on the island, I think I have a few guesses about who he really is."
The raccoon dog's metallic footsteps faded, but his words remained. They echoed in Hikaru's mind like a poorly tuned engine. He wanted to ignore them. Wanted to forget. But he knew escaping that forever was an illusion.
His fingers tightened around the cup. More than he intended. The coffee trembled inside it. And inside Hikaru, something did too.