Chương 10: A Strange Power

Kurisu sat cross-legged on top of his unrolled sleeping bag, forming the cosmic mudra by resting the back of his left fingers inside his right palm, his connected thumbs pressed against his navel. The concrete foundation and walls muffled the distant street traffic, so only the hum of the water heater vibrated through the ground. Eyes closed, he exhaled a slow breath to ease his physical tension. As Kurisu cast his focus into the surrounding darkness, a tingle uncoiled at the base of his skull.

His Zanshin spread outward, the spherical perception expanding inch by inch, bleeding up through the floorboards to trace the physical layout of the house above him. The individual fibers of the living room carpet sharpened in his mind, his awareness tracking the wood of the door frames down the hall and feeling the ambient heat of the rooms. The steady thud of Steven's heart echoed in the primary bedroom, distinct from Charlotte's lighter pulse beside him.

Across the hall, the shallow breathing of Ace and Kellevra pinpointed their locations through the silent wash of his awareness, a shiver taking him as that same sense washed over a spider crawling through a vent—creepy little things. Satisfied with the clear house, he stretched his awareness further. The invisible net spilled past the exterior walls, brushed over a stray pebble on the driveway, and drifted into the cul-de-sac.

His awareness pushed through the neighboring properties, mapping the solid shapes of the world around him. The slow heartbeats of a couple slept next door, a dog curled at the foot of their bed. At two hundred feet, his sweep captured a stray cat pacing along a wooden fence, the exact arch of its spine visible alongside the vibrating pulses of squirrels tucked inside the hollows of oak trees. Expanding to a full three-hundred-foot radius encompassing nearly a dozen homes, he traced the spatial map in his mind.

His perception snapped back inward. Eyes closed, he took a few breaths to center himself, held still for a moment, and took one more breath before diving inward. Beneath the muscles of his stomach, his focus centered on his Tanden. Gently squeezing the organ, he contracted it like a second heart that processed his physical and spiritual energy, and the stagnant Ki jolted into motion. A comforting heat bloomed in his gut, thickening and swirling as it ignited into electrical plasma.

He flexed harder, easing the energy outward from his Tanden through his Keiraku. Warm lines traced down his arms and legs as the current forced the meridians open, the pulse in his wrists and the back of his knees matching the physical rhythm of his pulsing blood. The energy spread through his extremities, bringing the heat of his Tanden throughout the rest of his body.

He let out a sigh; for months he had clamped down on his power to hide his spiritual presence from Grahk, only letting bits and pieces out at a time, but now the circulation of his Ki let the accumulated tension drain from his body. He uncrossed his legs and lay flat on the sleeping bag, fatigue pulling him down into sleep as the crackling warmth of his Ki continued to flow through his Keiraku as naturally as his breathing. Locked away like a prisoner in his mind, Kurisu screamed.

He wept as he watched his physical body move on its own, committing atrocities he wouldn't wish upon his clan's enemies. His boots crunched across a street paved in shattered cobblestone and splintered wood. Through the falling ash, his right hand shot forward, locking his fingers around the neck of a defender wearing iron plates. Kurisu lifted the soldier over his head, his fist tightening to squeeze an armored neck until it gave way with a squelch.

Hot blood dribbled over his fingers and dripped onto his face, his facial muscles stretching wide, pulling to his ears as the irises of his eyes were swallowed by dilated pupils. Dropping the ruined corpse, he stepped forward, kicking through the remains of a wooden door to enter a home. Charging from the hallway, a man swung an iron mace, but Kurisu caught the weapon barehanded to halt the swing, twisting the civilian's wrist until the bone shattered.

Kurisu drove his left fist through the man's solar plexus, air and blood rushing from the lungs in a gasp as the ribcage caved and the lungs ruptured. Before the man's body went limp, he ripped his fist free, ribbons of blood and ruined tissue trailing from the shattered chest cavity to slop against the floor moments before the corpse. His legs carried him deeper into the home, stopping at the edge of a woven mat. A screaming woman threw herself into his path, placing her body between him and a wooden crib.

Kurisu continued forward as the woman raised her hands to defend the crying child behind her. Inside, Kurisu hammered his fists against the invisible barrier of his mind, ripping chunks of his hair out as he pleaded for control, watching his physical hands reach forward. His fingers plunged through the woman's skin and muscle, snapping through the ribs around her sternum as he gripped the bone like the iron handle of a tetsubin kettle, lifting the mother above his head. No! No, no, no, don't do it! NO!

He slammed her down onto the crib, shattering the wood and silencing the crying in the room beneath her as a red pool expanded beneath her corpse. Beautiful, Grahk cooed in his mind. His voice dripping with an unsettling intimacy as it echoed inside Kurisu's psyche, making his skin crawl. Do not look away, little weapon. Ripen for the harvest... this is your purpose. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Curled in the fetal position in a corner of his mind he wept, watching as his physical form vaulted backward, launching into the smoke-choked sky before hovering above the city. An orb of crimson energy erupted from his palms, expanding into a pyroclastic shockwave that washed over the city below. The blast peeled the flesh from the screaming civilians in an instant, vaporizing the structures and reducing the cobblestone streets to ash. Throwing himself backward, Kurisu scrambled across the concrete.

His chest heaved as he struggled to gulp down air, choking on ragged wheezes as his ribs expanded and collapsed in snaps. His hands grasped the hilt through the silk bag, pulling the steel against his chest as his eyes darted across the darkness to track the shadows. He swallowed, struggling to slow his breathing. The smell of his own sweat filled his nose. Dampness soaked his shirt, his heart hammering against his ribs. Gripping the sheathed sword, he pulled his knees to his chest.

"Merely a nightmare..." He stared down at his trembling hands, his breath hitching as phantom blood coated his fingers. He could still feel the life leaving their bodies, the wet snap of bone against his palms causing him to squeeze his eyes shut, before he forced air into his lungs and blinked. His hands were clean. The shaking remained as he struggled to ground himself in the basement.

"This is Earth," he whispered.

"There are no enemies." Standing up, he walked to the center of the room. The sword hissed from its sheath as he shifted his weight into Senryū no Kamae, sinking his weight onto his back leg in a low cat stance, his lead foot resting light and ready to snap. His Zanshin pushed outward, expanding the spherical radar a hundred feet in every direction to engulf the house.

Mimicking a dragon hiding beneath the water's surface, he kept the katana at waist level, the pommel pointed forward while the blade tracked backward behind his hip, holding the oblique posture in the dark. Kurisu pulled a draft of air into his lungs, his chest shuddering as he forced the exhale through his teeth. He jerked his head to the side, shaking off the lingering image of the blood-soaked crib.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to dispel the nightmare, but the snap of bone and the feeling of their flesh parting around his hands continued to echo through his mind, syncing with the accelerating tempo of his heartbeat, slamming like a hammer against his skull. Beneath the pounding rhythm, a whisper scratched against the inside of his thoughts. Korose.

He wanted to scream, to carve the demon's influence from his psyche, but he knew that surrendering to the terror would fracture his mind and hand his body back over to the monster. As the hours in the dark began to exact their toll, the muscles in his back thigh twitched under the strain of his posture, but the burn in his legs was a distant afterthought compared to the war raging in his skull.

Using the physical ache as an anchor, he breathed through the strain to untangle his identity from the voice echoing in his head until his rigid exhales smoothed into more normal streams of breath. Eyes darting around the basement, he continued to regulate his breathing. The memory of the mother throwing herself into his path flashed across his vision, and he forced his spirit to endure the helplessness of the moment. Then came the ash.

The phantom smell of burning thatch and scorched timber from his ruined land filled his nose, dragging him back to the first time the monster had seized his limbs and reduced his home to cinders. He confronted the carnage, forcing himself to witness the blood on his hands as the only shred of atonement he had left to claim. Morning light crept down through the corrugated steel of the egress window well, casting a glow across the concrete. He found a stillness within his mind.

As the first rays of the Denver dawn pierced the glass, the psychological grip broke. A rush of heat flooded his body. The ambient air charged with electricity, bringing an odd silence that swallowed the sound of the water heater as a blue-tinted ripple emanated from his skin, clinging to his frame like a flaming suit of armor. Kurisu lowered his sword, stepping out of the stance. The space around his arms distorted, warping the sight of the concrete wall, but the dark strands of his hair caught his attention.

They lifted into his peripheral vision, drifting upward in the air as if he were standing at the bottom of a pool of water.

"What phenomenon is this?" he whispered, his voice vibrating with a metallic hum. Turning his focus inward, Kurisu traced the heat to its source. At the base of his spine, he discovered a spinning red ring. At the center of the rotation, a set of interlocking, clawed teeth had retracted a fraction, revealing a pinprick of an opening. The Ki pulling from his Tanden diverted through this gap, accelerating as it passed through the spinning threshold.

The current flooded his Keiraku with an electrical pressure, fueling his physical form while leaving his meridians intact. His clan's ancestral scrolls held no record of this overflow. He flexed his hands, feeling the Ki surging through his forearms as his body moved unburdened by its weight. The exhaustion of the night vanished, leaving his mind awake. Sheathing the sword, he pulled his duster from the floor beside his sleeping bag, and headed for the wooden stairs.

Upstairs, the kitchen window let in the light of the sun. Steven leaned against the island counter, a steaming mug of black coffee in hand. He looked up as the basement door clicked open, freezing for a second. He blinked. To Steven's eyes, the air surrounding Kurisu warped like heat rising off asphalt, the boy's hair lifting off his neck and floating around his shoulders in the kitchen air.

"Morning, Kurisu," Steven said, his voice rising in surprise.

"You... you look like you had a week's worth of sleep in one night. You're glowing." Kurisu walked to the sink, reaching for a glass, his arm gliding through the space in a motion that poured the tap water before Steven could track the shift in his posture. Kurisu stared down at his palm, his voice still carrying that metallic undertone.

"My body is as the wind." Footsteps thumped down the hallway as Ace walked in, stopping in the doorframe as he stared at the teenager.

"Uh, Neo?" Ace asked, stepping backward.

"You're doing some weird... vibrating thing. And your hair is floating. You okay?" Kurisu looked at Ace, feeling the Ki pulse beneath his skin, the energy eager to overflow. Eyes closed, he took a breath, reached inward to the base of his spine, and mentally grasped the spinning ring, forcing it to slide shut. With an exhalation, he let the focus go. The blue ripple retreated beneath his skin. Gravity reasserted its hold, dropping his hair against his collar.

"Is this acceptable?" Kurisu asked, opening his eyes.

"Yeah, much better," Steven said, shaking his head.

"We should get to work. The sooner we get unpacked, the sooner we can head up to Lookout Mountain to check out the museum, 'course we've got enough crap it'll probably take all day, and we'll go tomorrow."