Chapter Text
A foggy swell of smoke and ash encompassed Pouf as he stood within the pierced and pummeled central tower. Debris scattered about, and all the while, his gaze rested on a busted, broken gungi board. The object of his King’s recent and unwavering interest.
‘That was it, wasn’t it? He just wanted to play silly games. Insignificant games.’
Pouf, paralyzed and anguished, scanned his surroundings as if he were lost in a dusky dream. He felt numb, all his screaming silent, all his fearful tears suddenly stilled. The sizzling smell of charred wood and scorched linen clung to the air in suffocating waves, embers flickering faintly in the corners of his sight. Destruction. Collapse. He breathed in deep, inhaling the smoldering scent of his failure.
No, depressingly, it was never just a game the King was attracted to. The thought hung limp in Pouf’s mind, dangling defiantly, taunting his broken psyche as if it were a crudely suspended corpse. What sick fate had ushered him to this point? What callous phantom had scooped him from his precious place at the King’s side and abandoned him now, alone and in the crumbling ruins of a palace once perceived as paradise?
It was that woman.
He clenched his fists tightly, his manicured nails digging deeply within his pristine, violet flesh. Teeth beginning to grind and vision red with seething rage, Pouf’s mind conjured the petite blonde’s visage. The ground beneath him shook, turbulent tremors mimicking his quivering breath.
‘How could you not know where he is?’
A Royal Guard, the first line of defense, and Pouf wasn't there when it mattered most. How could he honestly call himself a Royal Guard? Was he even worthy anymore?
‘Nay,’ he swallowed hard, his throat harsh as desert sand, his lungs burning as he inhaled another thick cloud of dark dust. His vision blurred as the walls seemed to fog and close around him in a foreboding embrace, the grip suffocating and claustrophobic.
Somberly, he admitted, ‘You fail as a Royal Guard!’ Salty tears slipped between his quivering lips, mixing with his own blood as he bit into the side of his cheek.
‘It’s that simple.’
His mind flashed back to the first time he saw the dim silhouette of the King, a germinating seed confined within their mother’s womb. He was a writhing mass of tissue and blood, of chaos and unmistakable power. Even then, staring at nothing more than the King’s abstract, burgeoning form, Pouf knew he would die if it meant his master’s successful rule. Of that there were never any doubts, never any second guesses. His purpose – his very reason for existing – was merely to be used as a tool for a superior being. One whose abilities and talents would undoubtedly dwarf his own.
Yes, when the rose that was his King finally bloomed, so too would Shaiapouf. It was, in the guard’s mind, sheer ecstasy.
Yet, he was not by his master’s side now. His life’s purpose hinged on servitude, and somehow, he had failed. Embarrassingly so, at that.
Silent sobs drowning his mind, delicate features contorted in melancholy regret, Pouf's heart began to drum faster, the tempo increasing as he felt his flesh seemingly crawl along pulsing veins. He tried to hold back, but it was impossible. He swallowed back a sharp stab of pain before succumbing to his grief.
With alarming force, his thoughts erupted in a dynamic swell. An auto cannibalistic chorus clattered and clanged, bent, and buckled. Breathing hitched as a technicolor torment of tumultuous taunts echoed throughout his fractured psyche! His thoughts sang venomous lyrics, the world turned a blurry gray as his eyes slammed shut.
‘So, Pouf…former Royal Guard, incompetent fool! Dimwit! You fail as a Royal Guard!’ His observations turned frantic as he continued to berate himself mercilessly. ‘Now where will you go?’
A manic cackle reverberated against the winding walls of his mind, ‘Oh, you have no idea?’ His judgments dripped with poison and disgust, the rhythm frenetically unhinged. ‘If the King isn’t where you head to you will be less than incompetent!’ His clenched grip grew impossibly tight, veins ready to burst at the throbbing pressure.
‘No…Pouf, you scum of the earth!’ he wailed, ‘You just don’t want to admit it!’
‘You don’t want him to be with that woman!’
His tears seemed to boil against his torrefied flesh. His heart drummed wildly within his aching chest.
‘An absolute King…feeling concern for a lowly human…lowering himself to visiting the chambers of human scum by choice!’
The dam once holding the brunt of his madness at bay broke, the Royal Guard falling to one knee in defeat. His vision drowned in a thick, sorrowful surge, gaze seeming to swirl and churn like a wicked whirlpool, swallowing him leagues into its agonizing depths.
“Such a thing should never happen!” Gushing tears rained against the frill of his shirt, the fabric darkening as each helpless drop clung.
‘But,’ he morosely paused, finally avowing a genuinely terrible truth, ‘that’s probably where the King is.” His stomach churned, disappointment bubbling up his throat like dense, sour bile, “I knew that before I got here.’
After all, it wouldn’t be unprecedented. He had protected the girl against that bird; he, the almighty Chimera King, had saved a deplorable animal, a blind pig, when he should have let the burden perish! How many times had he gone to see that frail waste of blood and bone? How often did he sully himself, utterly debase himself, by visiting that repugnant human?! Willingly!
‘You’re a traitor, Pouf. You’re lower than an insect! You’re beneath trash, and of course, you shouldn’t expect anything of yourself now!’
His tears slid and pooled within his parted mouth, the salty tang tainting his tongue.
‘Therefore, you must expect nothing from the King!’
The rancid acidity of defeat stained his palate.
His ideals, bittersweet longings, crashed in a cacophonous chorus, his mortal-bound hell coaxing him near with warm, sinister melody. Was this where he was destined to perish? To linger here in this torturous abyss, a lonely yet jarringly loud void birthed from a merciless, once unspeakable, nightmare.
No.
Pouf felt his heart nearly explode in his chest. The bells of atonement echoed against the last crumbling walls of his psyche, a bright light cutting through the darkness and illuminating the altar at which his soul was always prophesied to worship. Reminding him of his god!
‘You must devote yourself to the King! I live for the King!’
Yes, that was it. He understood now. He knew what he had to do. Where he had to be. All of this could be remedied, all this nonsense could be but a memory - a shrill, forgotten lullaby - if he were just better. A true Royal Guard!
‘For the King! For the King! For the King!’ He howled his mantra over and over in his mind, the bells harmonizing in violent slams. Yes! This was it! A wild rush flooded his veins, adrenaline spiking, spiraling throughout his body. His purpose! His calling! His very reason to exist!
‘FOR THE KING!’
With that last fanatical declaration, Pouf’s mind finally ripped free of the discord he had nearly succumbed to, clinging itself to the very last piece of foundation, his most vital truth! Tears streaming down his cheeks, he inhaled, his nose badly running from his outburst. This was no way to present himself to His Majesty!
An instinctual calm overtook him, and the decrescendo of his mania finally bowed its last haunting note.
“I must go to the King.”
Turning on his heels, the butterfly chimera came face to face with an unexpected intruder. There, standing merely a few meters from his exhausted form, stood a human with a rather large hammer.
No, upon closer inspection, what the white-haired invader had perched atop his broad shoulders was an enormous pipe. ‘How unnecessarily garish.’
“Yo!”
In no mood for whatever mentally stunted game this human had planned, Pouf immediately tried to take flight. His technicolor wings unfurled, an iridescent shimmer flashing boldly amongst the muted rubble. However, he soon found that something blocked his way. A barrier of sorts, alive in how it whirled, and veined throughout as if it were clotted from a gray, clabbered smoke. Pipe smoke.
“What must I do to have you let me out?” He inhaled part of the cloud, the smell toxic as it burned within his lungs.
“Oh, I’m not letting you out.”
“I see…”
The butterfly chimera inhaled again, deeper than before. Annoyed and tired, he clenched his teeth. The King was surely wondering where he is. This interloper, this human, would need to be dealt with.
For the King.
“I bet my life.”
Her words. A vow uttered by a creature impossible to predict.
The King’s eyes narrowed; the movement too slight to betray his abstruse musings. Still suspended from the serpentine dragon of gold and fire, he watched as the landscape unfolded in waves, the long and desolate desert undulating from deep valleys into hazardous plateaus and bold, rocky protrusions. This human was indeed taking them somewhere far from all other life.
Life. That is what she bet that day, sitting there before him in a palace he had procured through overt violence and brawn. No threats could sway her. Nothing could extirpate her incorruptible resolve. The only creature to ever jar him, to stalemate him, to momentarily render his physical paramountcy undeniably useless. His opinion of Komugi had been undeservedly paltry.
If the peril of sudden death could not persuade an individual, then what could? Arms crossed, his grip tightened on his left bicep, a limb the King felt he did not merit. Could he have raised the ante as she had? Could he bet his entire survival instead of an insignificant appendage?
He could not.
His hubris was his undoing in that moment. The source of his unaccustomed shame, a harsh upsurge of emotions that boiled and bubbled forth from his gut, nearly causing him to choke. He had offered her anything if she defeated him, not even considering that she could demand his life as her prize. The absurd cerebration had not even flitted through his mind. After all, humans are inconsequential, dimwitted, and indubitably of no menace to himself or to the reign that is his birthright. How was he to know this one human, awkward in mind and even defective in physicality, was in fact so remarkable?
His grip tightened as he continued to reflect, the stars seeming to smear along the outskirts of his vision, the terrain sweeping by in a muddied blur. Yes, his arm truly was undeserved, and if it hadn’t been for Komugi’s conviction and steadfastness in the face of certainly horrific death, the King knew he’d still be without it today. What a sincere tragedy that would have been. To not feel the soft cream of her flesh beneath his palm, to never fully embrace her as their bodies intertwined. He needed this arm. To touch her, to hold her…to protect her.
‘I should have done more to ensure her safety.’ He felt his teeth grit together and grind.
Komugi was cognitively remarkable, but corporeally she was so uncommonly weak, even by unsatisfyingly low human standards. He knew that, had felt the frail weight of her bones as he caressed her body and pressed it firmly against his superior construction. Yet, she was still harmed while under his care. Shamefully, he had even been at her side, regrettably too lost in his hunger to thwart the threat from above.
She deserved better. This human, his human, was an exception to her species in so many ways. While many of her ilk sought to guilefully carve out an undeserved path, Komugi had not only accepted her lot in life, but had found a purpose within her bleak reality. Furthermore, she used what little power she did wield in ways aiding the existence of others.
That ant. That tiny, trivial creature perched atop the tip of her outstretched finger. The way she nestled the insect within the hollow of her hand, shielding its minuscule form from a behemoth with little regard for its existence. There was no doubt he would have crushed it there at the picnic, flicking it aside before promptly forgetting it ever shared his world. Had it not been for Komugi’s strength, that weak and insignificant life would have been snuffed out without so much as a flicker of remorse.
‘What good is unparalleled power if I can’t protect a life such as Komugi’s? She deserves to live.’
His fingers clinched onto the firmness of his exoskeleton, his thoughts replaying the moment he held her in his arms, the moment he saw the wide wound of splayed flesh and felt the thumping of her heart fading beneath his palm. His chest tightened at the memory, eyes darting to the side as though he instinctively needed to seek her out, to prove to himself that she was not lost to him forever.
Yes, he had failed to save her then, but all would be made right. Just as that ant was shielded by Komugi, so too would Pitou preserve the safety of his most precious treasure. Once this obstacle – this human – was dealt with, their reunion was inevitable.
Pitou will protect her.
Feeling her stomach knot in worry, Pitou watched as a narrow blade passed against the ureter of Komugi’s damaged kidney, the precision slice tearing through fleshy tissues as though they were damp paper. Survival was something the cat chimera could grant Komugi, but an entirely intact body was not. There were limits to her powers, and sadly certain organs had to be sacrificed for the body to live. This kidney, seared through and smelling of burnt pork, was one of the pieces Komugi would need to carry on without. Swallowing, the chimera hoped the King would understand why these compromises were unavoidable.
Aside from the boy seated to her side, and the very real possibility of the King’s disapproval, there was something else bothering the guard. Some thought twisting and writhing in the corner of her mind, positively unavoidable as it flailed about in its tortured dance:
How could the King not eat Komugi?
Even now, as Pitou crouched before that unhinged, human terror, somehow encased in the flesh of a mere boy, the cat chimera couldn’t help but notice how enticing Komugi smelled.
Contrary to what most would assume, it wasn’t the roast kidney. It was something else. There was a sweetness to the woman’s blood, the aroma fragrant and alluring. One could even say intoxicating.
She had noticed it that night as Doctor Blythe stitched up each wound wrought by the eagle. She had even reminisced on the meaty fragrance as she sat perched atop the east tower, sadly lamenting the fact she’d never be able to sample the salty fat of Komugi’s flesh herself. Komugi was, after all, human. She was merely food.
Komugi had unlocked Nen, and that quality surely tempted the King. It absolutely must have. Pitou had watched as the King devoured rare humans, severing their spines from their limp forms, and prying open the hard skull encasing their inferior yet delectable minds. The ultimate seasoning, the most perfect umami, and the King somehow sat there across from this culinary siren for hours, never once peeling flesh from the girl’s fragile bone.
She could have survived without a leg. She could have kept playing without one of her soft, doughy hands. Even a single useless eye could have made what Pouf called an “amuse-bouche,” a tantalizing treat to hint at the meal yet to come, the feast to follow his inevitable gungi win. It’s impossible he isn’t starving. He hadn’t fed in seven days, not since before he met this woman. How could he control his hunger like that?
‘Because the King cares about her.’
It was so matter of fact within her mind, so plain, so obvious. Imagining the pained look in his eyes as he told her to heal the human, Pitou couldn’t help but relate to the obvious need in His Majesty’s gaze. She, as a Royal Guard, would give her very existence to ensure the King’s survival or even simply his happiness. Why then, would this be any different?
The King, as the guards had feared for so long, had indeed claimed his mate.
And yet…
Glancing at the wan face of the patient before her, Pitou grimaced. This creature was so weak, yet the King so obviously desired her above anyone else. Would he ever grow tired of her? Cast her aside in favor of new concubines, new conquests?
One mate for a chimera king is too few. Unprecedented. Inconceivable, even. After all, the guards knew well that given the establishment of the King’s infallible rule, his secondary function to their species would need to be met. He needed to breed. Often, and with the most fertile and genetically superior specimens the kingdom could provide.
This chimera king, their King, was nothing like the unwavering tyrant whom they’d expected. Did he even want to rule over everything in creation? Did he even care if their species’ numbers ultimately dwindled because he was too stubborn to impregnate dozens, if not hundreds, of suitable mates? They had no idea how long they would even live now. Years? Decades? Mere months? It was hard to say now that humans were a part of their genetic frameworks.
Much like Pouf, Pitou had always known, deep in her gut, that letting the woman die would be the best course of action for their species. Still, something always held her back. Something she didn’t quite understand. Yes, the King’s order was part of it, but there was another emotion tugging at her collar, willing her to acknowledge and accept it.
She thought back to the day of the flood. How she had found Komugi quietly dozing atop a gazebo roof, a still drenched towel clinging to her body as the sun slowly dried her flesh. It was odd how she genuinely didn’t want to wake her, to interrupt the peaceful dream she must have been having. Ending such a blissful smile, for some inexplicable reason, seemed wrong. It was confusing, especially how that odd emotion felt so foreign, yet so very soothing and warm.
Now, watching the scarlet blood seep into the cloth of Komugi’s shirt, Pitou felt that strange feeling again, the one she had felt while watching Komugi dream. This time, however, a deeply unsettling sadness lingered there, too. Silently, she promised, ‘when this is all over, I’ll find you the best human dress in the entire country. Just a little while longer, Komugi.’ Her brow furrowed, ‘the King...he needs you.’
And with a pained and selfish thump within her chest, Pitou nearly realized how badly she wanted to save Komugi, too. Reaching forward, she sought to grasp the human's fragile hand within her own.
"Don't move."
Pitou froze, her palm suspended over the human's, her eyes wide as she suddenly remembered the war she was in.
"Only that monster moves. Touch her, and we're done here."
The cat chimera pulled her hand back, gripping the shoulder of her broken arm instead. Swallowing back an odd feeling in her throat, she nodded, never turning to face the beast behind her.
This battle had only begun.