“Zion?” Kaori called, and he turned to his friend, trying to keep the chimera still.
“Instead of answers, the forensics brought more questions.” He struggled to maintain his composure as he gripped the chimera's collar tightly. “The genetic material collected at the attack site doesn't match any known creature—not even Kiara's DNA. The researchers at Yamamoto laboratory believe we're dealing with a different type of chimera, something very different.”
“What do you mean?” The gorgon shifted anxiously on the sheets. “Are you telling me they created a chimera worse than this one?”
The creature snorted, indignant.
“Worse? Oh, great! Now this hairless rat is insulting me.”
“I think it's best if I send you the report folder. It's a long story,” Zion said, trying to tune out the chimera.
“And the funeral—has it happened already? I wanted to be there.”
Her voice sounded defeated, and the general pressed his lips together as he remembered the countless losses. Every night when he lay down, he wondered if he could have done more for the dead soldiers. Still, looking at his friend, he thanked the divine for managing to save her.
“Not yet—it's on Sunday. We were waiting for you to wake up.”
She managed a pained half-smile and leaned back on the bed, staring at him in silence. Zion shifted his weight and glanced at his wristwatch. He was clearly uncomfortable, even though he was grateful to see her well.
“Kyller should be arriving at the hospital soon. She's anxious to meet you.”
“I'm anxious to meet her too.” Kaori didn't sound very convinced.
“You'll see—she's an incredible doctor!”
“I'm sure she is—as incredible as Zion Voluz's partner would have to be.”
The words hung between them, charged with electricity like the summer storms of the Drute forests. Her face was raised, chin lifted, back arched in a way that left no doubt: this was a challenge. The general shook his head, feeling like an imbecile.
“Listen, Kaori…” They had both moved on from what happened between them. But he'd been far away before, and neither of them had been in contact with Kyller. Now things were different, and he felt the need to address the changes, in case the gorgon still harbored some resentment. “Can we talk…”
“No,” she interrupted, admiring the flowers in her hand. “We don't need to talk about it. It's fine.”
He watched her for a moment and felt as dirty as a man who takes a girl's virginity and then turns his back on her. Not that Kaori had been a virgin—much less innocent—when it all happened. But she had been his friend since he'd set foot in Interion at ten years old, carrying only the clothes on his back. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Yet even though they'd given enough time for the hurt to turn to dust, the words that had been spoken still lingered. And the unspoken ones, which had waited for the right moment to be said, ended up trapped in memory. Every now and then they broke free, making them both stumble over the past.
Zion still remembered the day he discovered the partnership. Most of all, he recalled Kaori's expression seconds before she vanished from that basement, the wounded slave cradled in her arms. And then, the worst part: returning from the hospital and having to tell the gorgon that the Drutes girl had survived and was his partner.
Partner. The word fell between them like a curse.
He spent an entire hour making excuses for something that wasn't his fault while watching Kaori's gaze shift from disbelief to rage. They would be forced to end their relationship, but the gorgon would have rather killed him. Zion kept explaining, and she kept arguing, growing more and more agitated. Their voices rose until the conversation became a shouting match. The general's explanations made sense, but she didn't want to listen. His words were clear, but she didn't want to understand. Zion was telling her they couldn't stay together, that he had a partner, that everything between them had to be forgotten.
Past, present, and future were ripped from the gorgon's chest. And then buried—as Zion would need to keep them from that point on.
He also remembered her trying to seduce him one last time, just like at the beginning, when she'd managed to ensnare him. Zion pulled away from her advances and told her he had a partner. She was his destiny.
The gorgon lost it, argued, even insisted that having a partner didn't mean he had to stay with her. But no agreements, tears, or emotional appeals were enough to shake Zion's sense of honor. The second-in-command tried to grab his arm when he turned to leave. They froze, hearts thundering in their chests. With no other choice, he uttered the second statement that would shatter not only their romance but her heart as well: “Even if I didn't have to stay with my partner, even if I never do, I can't be with you, Kaori. Not like this.”
After a year apart, time let the dust settle. At some point during those five years, the two became friends again and set aside the painful past, but Zion still caught glimpses of hurt in the second-in-command's eyes.
Now, in the hospital, today was one of those days, and he would rather swallow liquid fire than witness the grief in her eyes. Kaori cleared her throat, as lost as the general.
“I bet the two of us will get along great.” She forced a half-smile and sniffed a hydrangea. “Thank you for saving me… again.”
Zion felt strange. Kiara wouldn't stop growling her warnings, and everything seemed wrong in some stupid, inexplicable way.
“Some things never change. We swore we'd always rush into battle if the other needed us.”
Over the years following Akira's death, guilt consumed Zion's heart like a degenerative disease. He tried to fill the void the young man's loss had left in Kaori, and it only made things worse between them. First he tried to be a friend, then he became a lover, and after Kyller's arrival, something close to a brother.