As Yukie lingered beneath the moonlight, her gaze fixed upon the pale glow above, a sudden presence brushed against her senses.
Her head turned sharply to the right, then downward. There, below her, stood a man.
Dressed in immaculate black formalwear, his silhouette was unmistakable.
It was the same man from earlier. The one who waltz alone at the center of the stage.
He had returned. Or perhaps, he never left...
Kiss X Reaper
Chapter 9: Ebony Frail
Silence enveloped the Grand Opera House.
Yukie stood on the second floor balcony, posture straight, eyes steady. Below her, at the heart of the stage, the man remained motionless, standing tall beneath the dim lights.
His eyes were closed. A faint smile rested upon his lips. It was not mockery.
Nor was it warmth. It was joy, quiet, genuine, and deeply unsettling.
Slowly, he bowed.
His upper body inclined forward with practiced elegance, his right hand opening and resting over his chest in a gesture of courtesy.
"I bid you a most grand evening, Ancient Eye of Snow,"
he spoke calmly, his voice echoing softly through the empty hall.
"I am deeply grateful… to stand within your presence."
The words were polite.
Reverent, even. Yet something about the way he spoke them
At his words, Yukie fully turned to face him.
For a brief moment, her eyes glowed faintly- cold, piercing. Her expression hardened, as if frost settling into her gaze.
"And who might you be?" she asked flatly.
"Perhaps you are allied with that… peculiar woman from earlier?"
The man straightened and tilted his head slightly to the side, as though amused.
"You should refrain from addressing such a lady, an ally of mine, with such harshness, milady," he replied calmly, his tone polite.
That same unsettling joy lingered on his lips.
Yukie fell silent.
Then, without another word, she turned her body away, casting him a dismissive glance over her shoulder.
"You seem… insignificant,"
she muttered, before beginning to walk off.
"Oh-right!"
His voice cut through the stillness.
Yukie halted abruptly. She was only a few feet from the balustrade now.
"I should properly introduce myself," he continued. This time, his voice sounded closer. Stronger.
She turned slowly.
He was no longer at the center of the stage.
Aakil now stood upon the balustrade itself, mere meters away from her. His posture was bowed, head lowered in exaggerated courtesy, his right hand resting over his chest.
"I am called Aakil Hlyfe."
As the name settled, he lifted his head.
Then, without warning, his hands rose and gently framed Yukie's face, palms pressing against her cheeks, fingers cold and deliberate.
Yukie froze.
Her eyes widened slightly, teeth clenched in shock as her breath caught in her throat.
Aakil, however, smiled wider than before.
A grin stretched unnaturally across his face.
One eye was pitch black. The other burned crimson red. Leaning in close, close enough for his breath to brush her skin, he whispered--
"I am… the Ebony Jester."
The scene held still.
Yukie's face remained trapped in his grasp as he stood poised atop the balustrade, the tails of his suit fluttering in the night wind and his pocket watch swaying gently at his side.
Swiftly, Yukie's eyes hardened once more-narrowed, sharp, her expression turning alert. She stepped back, creating distance between herself and Aakil's hands… and his presence.
"A threat..." she thought.
"Just like that woman."
Vasilisa's sudden appearance flashed through her mind- the way she had materialized between herself and Makoto without warning.
Aakil's expression softened back into that unsettling, cheerful calm. Slowly, he straightened his posture, still standing atop the balustrade as though gravity itself were optional to him.
"I am not here to battle," he said lightly.
"I am merely a messenger within this premise."
His eyes opened just enough to be seen clearly. The left, pitch-black; the right, crimson red.
"The Maestro Hunt will begin after Lady Vasilisa's encounter with the legendary hunter, Shirogane Makoto," Aakil continued, his tone composed, almost playful.
"The hunt itself will be… a mystery."
He tilted his head slightly, smiling.
"But if you wish to protect the citizens of Osaka," he added,
"then hunt the Maestro."
A brief pause followed.
"And in doing so," he concluded calmly,
"the answers you seek shall be revealed."
Aakil let out a small wink, then closed his eyes once more, that same joyful smile returning to his lips.
"The Maestro… Hunt?"
Yukie's thoughts echoed sharply, her gaze fixed on him, brows drawn low in wary focus.
"But until then-"
A shrill, metallic screech tore through the air.
The sound didn't come from the hall.
It came from him.
From Aakil's back, massive metallic structures began to emerge slowly- grotesquely, unfurling as though a malformed tree were forcing its branches outward. They were not wings in the natural sense.
They were metallic claws.
Each six "feathers" or fingers, were needle-thin blades, jagged and cold, the wings shaped like enormous, open hands-unnatural, skeletal, and wrong.
As the dreadful wings fully spread, Aakil stepped backward and let himself fall from the balustrade with eerie grace. His bangs fluttered, the tails of his suit trailing behind him as the metal appendages curved inward.
As they closed around his form, he whispered softly-
"We shall meet again… hunters and deities alike."
His smile remained, but it looked quieter now. More natural and, more terrifying.
The metallic wings sealed shut.
Everything went black.
The scene cut back to Yukie.
She stood frozen for a moment, breath shallow, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of her face. Slowly, she approached the balustrade and looked down. There was nothing. Aakil was gone.
Completely.
"And that's what happened," Yukie said.
The scene returned to the present, she and Makoto seated at the very edge of the stage. Only two feet separated them, their legs hanging loosely above the silent orchestra pit below.
"Essentially," she continued,
her voice calm but weighted,
"we appear to be entangled in a mystery, one that may not directly threaten us… but will certainly endanger this city."
She let the thought settle.
Makoto turned forward, his gaze lowering as he reflected.
"So many anomalies," he thought.
"Two unfamiliar figures. A hunter capable of wielding Dark Energy. And now… this Maestro Hunt."
He tilted his head upward, eyes tracing the moon as clouds drifted lazily past.
"I wonder how they're doing," he mused quietly.
"Cecilia. Ryuuka. Noctis."
A faint smile touched his lips. "This would certainly pique the interest of the three of them."
They remained like that for a moment, both staring upward. Yukie glanced at him from the side, then turned fully toward him.
"You know," she said softly,
"My presence will not be insignificant in this undertaking. As it turns out--"
She raised her hand and opened her palm.
A blue-white spiral of Natural Energy formed above it, small yet broad, rotating slowly like a gentle whirlpool. The air around it felt cold, refined, immense.
"I can still harness and utilize the Natural Energy within me,"
she said, a faint smile forming.
"Even without my true power."
Makoto looked at the spiral, then back at her.
"You are an Ancient Eye," he replied evenly.
"One should never refer to themselves as useless. You still bear responsibility over the coldness of this entire world itself."
"As far as I understand, Ancient Eyes are deities tasked with overseeing the fundamental aspects of this world,"
he thought, his eyes narrowed, caught between fascination and quiet seriousness as he cast a sidelong glance. "Should your power be fully restored, your authority over cold would be sufficient to freeze the entire planet, down to its very core."
But- Their eyes met. Both smiled faintly, an unspoken understanding passing between them- followed by a quiet hm of acknowledgment.
From a distance, they appeared almost serene, two figures seated upon the stage, close yet composed, sharing the silence of the Grand Opera House as the night carried on around them.
Faint, hurried footsteps echoed from the distance.
Then-
Slam!
The door burst open, snapping both of their attention toward it.
"Hauf… hauf… hauf…"
The voice came out breathless, damp with exertion. Moist breaths escaped between hurried inhales as sweat rolled down her face.
As the camera drew closer, the figure came into focus. It was Mira Hansen, Makoto's assistant. Her eyes were slightly widened as she struggled to steady herself. Still panting, she lifted her gaze and froze upon seeing the two seated together.
"…Mister Shirogane…"
The words slipped from her lips in a hushed murmur.
The scene shifted.
Makoto, Mira, and Yukie now stood within the office, their heads drawn close together, almost like siblings huddled in shared tension- staring down at an open folder spread across the desk.
Printed clearly at the top:
"Orchestra Registration Directory."
A single bead of sweat traced down the side of each of their faces.
"Hm..." Their voices hummed.
Chapter ends!