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Michinaga’s hand stings. Catching a sword wasn’t ideal, but it’s not like he had the chance to dodge. He wasn’t prepared for Tycoon’s new form nor the extent of his bloodlust. Michinaga was ready for Keiwa’s hatred, sure, to stay out of sight until he was called for while Ace schemed and reshaped the world. Worst case scenario, he figured he’d stomach some bruises as Keiwa blew off steam and hopefully get him restrained and calmed down until someone better at this stuff could talk to him.
Instead… Everything went to hell.
Tycoon slashes another flurry of finishing strikes. And while Buffa is well-practiced in surviving shit he shouldn’t, even he has his limits. His transformation drops as he falls backwards.
Michinaga’s ears are ringing. Is Keiwa talking? It’s hard to tell with Tycoon’s helmet obscuring his face, and the high-pitched noise building with the pressure inside his head. He definitely heard the word “zombie” spat out – so Keiwa’s probably pissed Michinaga still isn’t dead yet, which, yeah, tracks. Also, get in line, take a number, and good luck: again, it’s not like the bastard himself has much self-preservation instincts left.
Keiwa was never this blood-thirsty, never this vengeful. If killing Michinaga fixes a sliver of this fucked-up situation, who is Michinaga to deny Keiwa? Not that he could do more than vocally protest in this state. No, it’s better to die, if that’s what will bring Keiwa back to his senses.
Tycoon removes his new buckle. His face is oddly contorted, a baffled sneer on his lips. “And let you rest? No, you’re going to suffer for what you did to my sister.”
Keiwa kicks him in the head. Compared to the sword slashes of the Bujjin Sword, it's nothing. Sure, blood fills his mouth as his teeth are forced to cut his cheek, but that's a familiar pain. Plus his ears aren't ringing anymore.
All in all, a fair reaction.
Time moves in odd bursts, like film reels with whole sections cut out. Keiwa reaffirms his wish, Michinaga peels himself off the pavement, there's a one-sided fight with Kekera and Beroba - because apparently the prerequisite for acquiring stronger, more annoying forms is that they have to test drive them on the world's most stubborn zombie.
Somehow he ended up at the Lounge. He's halfway through bandaging up the worst of his palms - a nasty slice on his right hand. Winn is up in his face for some reason, flashing a penlight into his eye.
Michinaga squints and pulls back. "The fuck are you-"
"Mild concussion," Winn declares, shutting off the light. He must've been hanging out with Geats too much - he's got a smug little smile on. "Still a glutton for punishment, ey, Buffa?"
Michinaga leans against the bar (seriously, when did he get here, and why'd he decide the old drink bar was better than the infirmary?). He picks up the bandage trail, finishing up what he can’t recall starting.
"The others?" He asks.
"Out looking for Tycoon. Apparently, he's out to kill Daichi."
Michinaga huffs, trying to stand from his seat - trying being the operative word, because one Hallelujah Winn invades his space and presses down on his chest, keeping him in place.
"What-"
"Mild concussion," Winn reiterates. "Judging by how you limped in here, probably a sprained ankle, too - and don't get me started on those hands. I know I'm not as good of a nurse as Tsumuri, but trust me, man: you are no help to anybody right now. Take five."
"We don't have Tsumuri, Ace still doesn't know the full extent of his powers, Tycoon's working for the Game Master, and the two homicidal sponsors got some high quality power-ups. Oh and Daichi's still turning people into Jyamatos right? Did I forget anything else?"
Winn falters at the bitter list. Michinaga pushes himself up straighter, ignoring his body's protests. He gives up on the bandages, tying them off and calling it good enough.
He feels for his Driver and Buckle – still in his jacket pocket. He lets out a breath. Good, at least being on autopilot didn’t fuck him over completely. He feels along the Driver, letting the weight reassure him.
Tycoon’s right. Michinaga can’t rest. Not when there’s so much work to be done. He grips his Driver and-
No. No, that can’t be right.
Michinaga pulls out his Driver so he can look at it in the harsh Lounge light. In the center is his ID Core. And right along the orange eyes of his icon are a single set of cracks.
“That doesn’t look good,” Winn breathes.
Michinaga roughly shoves the Driver back into his pocket. “It happened before,” he mutters. “It’s fine.” Does that sound convincing? Does he keep the tremor out of his voice?
Winn still looks uneasy.
“Alright,” he says, unsure, “how about this then: take care of that and rest up for a while. Ace is on Daichi’s tail, which means he’s got him and Tycoon covered for a bit. I’ll dress up your arms, then get back to digging up dirt on our dear old Game Master - wherever he is, our wonderful Navigator is sure to be.”
Michinaga rolls his eyes. Incidentally, they land on his already unraveling handiwork of his sliced palms. There’s no world in which he can get past Punkjack in this state, is there?
“Do what you want.”
“Alright, let’s rock and roll!”
…
He takes a moment to breathe. It all goes to hell.
Michinaga stalks to Tycoon’s den. It’s not like these Rider Gangs are being subtle, and well, Michinaga’s youth gave him plenty of experience in how to send a message to the boss. He doesn’t bother transforming - just flashes his Driver in front of the punk lookouts, says his piece, and then starts bashing heads. By the time he’s gotten sick of swinging the metal pipe, the man of the hour appears.
Contrary to popular belief, he did go in with a plan. Make Tycoon take a good hard look at his current allies. Bring up the fact Daichi’s plan wasn’t fool-proof. Be smart and rely on his battle instincts, because, supp’ed up Buckles or not, Michinaga’s been a rider longer and he’s been a scrappy fighter even longer than that. (Seriously though, is he the only one willing to get backed into a corner if it means his next hit collides right where it needs to? The only one who remembers that you don’t need a second Buckle to revolve your setup and get a split second of flexibility? Or maybe it’s because he’s so picky with his gear, he learned to make the most of it rather than switching it out all the damn time.)
He makes his points. Hangs in the fight longer than their audience is certainly expecting - but the difference in sheer power is still too great. Tycoon lands a finisher and, even without the rough descent from the balcony, it’s game over. But Michinaga did what he set out to do, so it’s fine.
Tycoon isn’t swayed from his path, but who’d allow himself to get persuaded by his sister’s murderer? Dragging Keiwa back wasn’t going to happen. Michinaga was stupid to think there was even a chance of doing that. But maybe, he distracted Tycoon’s focus away from less deserving targets. Maybe he laid the groundwork for someone like Geats to snap Tycoon back to his senses.
Tycoon turns and starts walking away.
Michinaga hears a familiar cracking. It lasts only a second. This isn’t dying. This is just pain. Mind-numbing, gut-wrenching agony, but still. Only pain. He’ll be okay.
His vision goes black.
…
Michinaga doesn’t wake up on the floor of the arena. He doesn’t wake up in what was once the DGP Lounge either. No, he wakes up in an off-white service passageway. If that wasn’t eerie enough, the fact that there’s rope bindings along his arms and legs certainly makes his heartbeat pick up.
Then there’s the matter of the figure descending the staircase.
“Tycoon? What the hell do you think you’re getting at?!”
Keiwa stops and stares, looking at Michinaga with naked disdain but also curiosity. No, it's more like he's trying to unravel a knot that won't come undone cleanly.
"You don't die when I kill you, so I tell you to live, and now you're thinking you can get off easy?"
"What are you even-"
Tycoon holds up Buffa's ID Core. Michinaga freezes on reflex.
"Oh? Don't worry. I'm not the one who can crush ID Cores." Keiwa tosses the core into the air, then lazily catches it. "Though that's not something you can do anymore either, is it?"
Keiwa throws the ID Core once more, this time to his prisoner. Michinagha has to move his arms harshly against the rope bindings to catch it.
Michinaga looks over the Core. It's nowhere near as bad as it was when he died. Just four small fractures. They barely break into the plastic of the Core.
"You really think you can pull one over on me?" Keiwa hisses.
"You're overreacting. I'm not going anywhere any time soon."
Keiwa stalks over to him and lifts his chin.
"You better not. I promised you suffering for every breathing moment."
Keiwa glares, removing his hand and straightening back up to his full height.
"Forgive me if I don't trust the words of a murderer. See, I have to make the world I want with my own two hands."
…
Time passes. Nothing happens. Michinaga does not see Keiwa again. Like a prisoner left alone in solitary.
It takes too long, but he forces the rope to break - a combination of gnawing through and ignoring the bloody rings left around his arms from pulling violently to and fro. His legs are on a separate length, so he uses scrapped up fingertips to undo those. Then he scrapes up what reserves of adrenaline he can and runs up the staircase.
Tycoon is waiting for him, just next to the door. Already transformed into that dark armor. He holds out a familiar Driver in one hand and the Zombie Buckle in the other.
Michinaga grips his ID Core tightly. The rest of his gear gets tossed to his feet.
The fight is a blur; its ending predictable. Michinaga doesn’t fall immediately, but his fall is inevitable. Raw power is nothing to sneeze at.
Tycoon watches another small crack get added as Buffa can't keep up his transformation. He retrieves the Driver and Buckle back (not without resistance, though it made little difference).
"You don't get these anymore."
He leaves behind the ID Core, perhaps as a taunting reminder. Perhaps because it doesn’t matter.
Michinaga blacks out. When he wakes, his bindings are metal chains.
…
Michinaga doesn't know how long it's been since his fight with the gang leader. Surely enough time for Ace and the others to know something's up, right? Then again, it's not like he's particularly punctual about check-ins, and Neon and her family had been targets of some plot - they're probably still taking care of that. Or maybe they're hunting down Tsumuri. Getting back a stolen goddess should be pretty high on the priority list.
All too quickly, the room starts to fill with ghosts. The monotony of his captured existence must draw them in like a magnet. Sara stands out against the white backdrop first. Toru's never far behind.
Michinaga reminds himself to ignore them. He reminds himself to stay focused. Think of some sort of plan. But bulls aren’t known for their cleverness, are they? No, Michinaga is an act-first type of person. That’s the reason he’s in this whole mess.
He didn’t wait for backup at the crime scene, he didn’t think over Beroba’s strange comment, he didn’t consider being anything but brutally efficient-
“So you killed me,” Sara calls. Her work clothes are still wet from the rain of that day.
Toru laughs. “Of course he did. He can’t save anyone. But destroying them? He’s really good at that.”
…
Keiwa starts visiting again. At least, Michinaga thinks Keiwa does.
It’s hard to tell.
…
If Keiwa’s really here, that’s a good thing. It means he’s not out hurting anyone else. He’s not plotting with Beroba or Kekera or Jiit. He’s not torturing powerless Neon or abducted Tsumuri.
So Keiwa can scream at him. Break a few bones. Draw some blood. It’s fine.
He’s not doing anything all that terrible then.
…
Keiwa may or may not be sitting on the concrete floor. He may or may not have Michinaga’s head in his lap. It may or may not be bleeding, and Keiwa may or may not be running his fingers alternatingly through Michinaga’s hair and the fresh wound.
“That goddess is still holding on. You all believe Geats’ lies so easily now. Did you know he was out saving Daichi of all people when Jiit started molding her? His so-called sister? He’s saving murderers over family.”
There’s… pain, so this must be real, right? But there’s also an overwhelming numbness. Michinaga’s certain his limbs wouldn’t move even if they were on fire. So maybe it’s a nightmare then.
Keiwa may or may not twist his neck so he’s forced to look up. Either way, there’s a sensation of pressure there, kicking up an odd ache.
“Hey. Do you still believe in Geats, that he’s going to make everything perfect? Is that why you won’t fully break?”
Toru may or may not look at them, a smile bouncing on his lips. “He’s not good at listening. You’ve told him before: zombies don’t die.”
Sara may or may not place a hand on Keiwa’s shoulder. She may or may not be about to cry. “It’s unfair really. I can’t think of anyone less deserving of life.”
“It’s not through lack of trying,” Toru teases.
More pressure on his neck. Michinaga would scream if he had enough air.
“Pay attention,” Keiwa hisses. “Geats can’t do anything . He’s let my sister die twice, and all he has for me is empty words. You used to know better, Buffa. Wake up from his brainwashing.”
The potential suffocation leads to a lack of breathing, which leads to the very real result of passing out.
…
Time stops working. It goes backwards instead of forwards, skipping around here and there. It’s unpredictable and terrible.
It's hell, plain and simple.
…
… Fuck. He's really going to die here, isn't he?
Toru smiles. "That's too good to be true. But I'll be waiting for you. It'd be nice to be together again."
Sara shoots him a pitying look. "Unlikely. But going crazy? That's allowed. I hope the grief drives you mad."
Michinaga pulls against his chains. Not to break them - he's not that foolish - but to bring back the stinging sensation of fresh cuts. He's here, in this liminal space, a hidden dungeon of Keiwa's design. Don't forget that, don't get lost, don't drift-
…
Keiwa pulls on his hair. It's a cold sort of pain, but it's the only thing keeping Michinaga upright.
Keiwa pokes at his throat - at the ID Core covering it. When did that happen? When was it placed on a necklace chain? That had to have been Keiwa’s doing, but why?
"I told you not to die," Keiwa says. "We haven't even fought."
Keiwa sighs. Or maybe he snarls? It's hard to tell when Michinaga's vision is already swimming.
"Maybe the cracks reflect your mental state," Keiwa teases, pulling tighter on the strands of hair.
Wincing takes too much effort so Michinaga stays still. Tries to make the room stop spinning.
Keiwa tuts his tongue. "I don't know why I bother. You're poor company nowadays, Buffa."
Keiwa lets go and it takes all of Michinaga's dwindling effort not to fall. Keiwa turns away, already thinking of leaving.
Michinaga whines.
His hair gets grabbed again, harsher this time.
Keiwa eyes him strangely. Only for another moment. He drops his grip again, takes a step back-
Michinaga repeats the sound. It doesn't use a normal part of his voice, so it doesn't come out cracked and strained like words tend to now.
Keiwa grabs his chin. "Definitely cracks in your brain."
But he doesn't leave.
…
Being alone is the worst part. He can't be alone. He can't, he can't, he can't-
…
Michinaga's lying on the floor. His shirt's halfway off. Keiwa's keeping him pinned by kneeling on his lower torso.
"There you are," Keiwa purrs.
He puts their lips close together and bites, drawing Michinaga's blood.
"Hey, Michinaga," Toru calls out. "I know you've got bad taste, buddy, but this guy wants you dead."
"My brother's only as bad as your friend made him," Sara immediately defends.
Michinaga pushes into the kiss, chasing the little bit of grounding pain. It's not enough, but it's better than nothing.
…
Michinaga's head is in Keiwa's lap again. It's late - or, well, he thinks it's late. He's tired, at the very least. But falling asleep with company means waking up alone, so he does his best to ignore it.
Keiwa's hand traces Michinaga's teeth. He started with the front one and moved pretty quickly onto the canines.
"I'm going to fight Ace tomorrow," Keiwa declares. "Once he's taken care of, we'll have enough power to do what needs to be done."
"Won't work," Michinaga slurs. "They're using you."
"Wasn't it the same with you and Team Jyamato," Keiwa states coldly. "Mutual manipulation, I think you called it - but you're still dressed in Beroba's chosen outfits, aren't you? I don’t think you get to lecture me on allies."
Keiwa closes his eyes and takes a steady breath.
“I have to save her. I have to.”
It’s a chant Michinaga knows well. It’s the reason he can’t hold any ill will towards Keiwa.
He could offer more advice that’ll only be ignored. Plead with Keiwa to have that same trust he held towards them back when he first became a plaything for the DGP and its audience. Say what’s already been said.
“If it’s what you really want,” Michinaga states slowly, “then give it everything you’ve got.”
It’s not a statement Keiwa was expecting to hear. It’s not a statement Michinaga was expecting to give.
Keiwa pulls at a back tooth, slowly uprooting it.
“You don’t make any sense. I’ve been killing you slowly - you understand that, don’t you?!”
With a sharp twist, he separates the tooth from the gums. Predictably, blood starts pouring out. Keiwa brandishes the red-stained canine as if Michinaga needs a physical reminder.
Michinaga lets his tongue run along the wound.
“Having mutant plants take root in your organs hurts like a bitch at first, then it ebbs to a crawling sensation,” he says after a long moment. “It stings every inch of your skin. Your sister probably felt that all at once and then some. Her mind probably got drowned out in the pain, if she could even stay conscious during it. So this is… this is nothing. This is fair. Whatever you want from me is yours to claim.”
The tooth falls to the ground.
All at once, Keiwa moves, pushing Michinaga’s face into the concrete.
“Shut up. I’m going to kill Geats. I’m going to get my sister back. And you’re going to be nothing.”
Keiwa stands, stomping twice on Michinaga’s back to make his point stick. He leaves in a huff.
Michinaga is alone again.
…
Some time later (or maybe before, does time really matter?), there’s more snapping sounds by his throat. He looks down and sees a myriad of cracks over his Core. It’s a miracle it’s holding together.
“Don’t tell me you forgot how bad it’s gotten,” Toru says lightly. “You’re really on borrowed time now, Michi.”
“When Geats gets through to Tycoon, he’ll set the world back.”
“Your Core first got cracked before that."
“Yeah,” Michinaga mutters, trying to keep his eyes open. “But I’ll have enough time to find Daichi and make him undo everything. That'll make Keiwa come to his senses. He and Geats... they'll take care of the rest.”
“Then you’ll come home?” Toru pleads. “I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Michinaga nods. He stares at his ID Core, as if that’ll keep it together longer.
…
“Come on, Geats,” Michinaga whispers. “Save him.”