Laylah (![]() ![]() @ 2008-10-20 12:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | *shin megami tensei nocturne, author: laylah |
"So Much More" (Nocturne, Isamu/Hijiri)
Title: So Much More
Author: Laylah
Rating: worksafe, some language
Warnings: SPOILERS through the end of the Amala Temple & the Fourth Kalpa
Word count: ~500
Prompt: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne - Isamu/Hijiri - exploitation - "You're way out of your depth"
Summary: He still has a use for people he doesn't call friends anymore.
When the stupid fuck starts ranting at Naoki about how he should be the one, that's it. Isamu's had it. He reaches out through the network -- it's part of him now, or he's part of it, self-sustaining and whole and light years away from anything Hijiri understands -- and pulls. Shouldn't have said something like that with your hand on a Drum, Hijiri. You can't keep secrets like that. And if you're going to backstab people, you should keep your ugly mouth shut until you've already done it.
The network opens up in Asakusa, just the way Isamu tells it to, and drags Hijiri under like a riptide made of power, pulsing bright and impossible to resist -- and when the dumb bastard is in there, Isamu has to laugh.
You want the power of creation? he almost asks, because the idea is that fucking ridiculous. You aren't even real, and you think you could shape a world?
He hangs suspended in the network for a little bit, thinking about what to do next. Summoning his god is going to take a lot of magatsuhi, and Hijiri was at least useful enough to figure out where there's a good stash of it. But it'll also take a, what was the word from chemistry class -- a catalyst. You have to strike a match to light a fire.
The Amala temple isn't far away. Nothing is far away, from in here. The flow of magatsuhi wells up there like a spring, and Isamu moves through it, with it, his body coalescing into human shape again when he steps out onto the bare cool floor. It's strange to be limited like this. He's become so much more than only human.
There, he tells the network, turning back to watch the rising flow. Leave him right there. And it does, holds Hijiri in place suspended in the red current and ready, waiting.
"You don't have enough power here to summon a god," Hijiri says, the shithead.
"I'm not worried," Isamu says. "Naoki's going to help me."
Hijiri shakes his head. "He doesn't give a damn about Musubi. Why would he help you?"
Isamu smiles. From out here, Hijiri looks human enough, but he can't think of the dumb fuck that way, now that he's actually seen -- that stubborn, blind soul clinging to a borrowed body, hiding in a cocoon of spun power. "Because he's not any brighter than you are. He's on his way right now. I bet he thinks he's rescuing you."
"Tch," Hijiri says. His brow furrows. It's convincing. "Doubt it. He's more demon than you are."
"That wouldn't be hard," Isamu says. He's no demon himself. "Maybe he's just curious, then. But he's coming here." He reaches out to touch the network's open end, encourages Amala to lash tight around Hijiri's puppet body. It jerks, and thin red threads of magatsuhi spin off to get swallowed up into the whole. "I can still use you both, at least one more time."