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Under the moonlight, a crisp breeze grazed both the water's surface and Spectre's face. It was a familiar sensation, one that he'd grown very accustomed to over the past few months spent largely on this very yacht, the de facto headquarters for the Knights of Hanoi. And yet… tomorrow was set to be anything but familiar.
The Tower of Hanoi's reactivation was imminent.
What a surprise it had been to hear Ryoken detail his idea to use the Tower as a scanner, a functionality entirely different than its original purpose! Clever, as his plans always were. That newfound application required significant alteration to the original code, however, and it was for that reason that Spectre found himself at Ryoken's door—that of the "command room," of a sort—at such a late hour. At Ryoken's request, the other three lieutenants had already retired for the night, but that, of course, meant that Ryoken alone was still hard at work on rewriting his portion of the program. How very like him.
Two quick knocks were met with permission to enter.
There, diligent as ever, sat Ryoken at his desk, face illuminated by the persistent glow off of his laptop. As Spectre made his way into the room, Ryoken looked up.
"I had a feeling that I'd see you soon."
"Oh?" Amused smile painted on his face, Spectre asked, "Have I become too predictable?"
For just a moment, Ryoken's demeanor nearly matched Spectre's own as he teased, "Only a bit." He then returned to his laptop, tapping away as soon as his eyes met the screen once more. "I also have a hunch as to why you're here—but this won't take much longer."
Two for two on his predictions, not that Spectre was surprised. If there was anyone who could read him, it was of course Ryoken, but it hardly took familiarity to surmise his intentions in this particular instance, given the late hour. Rewriting much of the Tower's code certainly seemed an arduous task. Had he greater programming and hacking ability, Spectre would have offered his assistance—but that was never his line of expertise among his fellow Knights, and it was unlikely that Ryoken would have accepted such an offer regardless. No—this task seemed quite personal to him. So personal that he hadn't even allowed himself a moment's rest since returning from Link VRAINS.
"If I may," he began, "the stars are particularly visible tonight, if you care to join me."
"Are they?" A faint smile just barely graced Ryoken's lips, as fleeting as the ocean's waves. "It's a tempting offer—if only I weren't in a race against the clock."
"Ah," Spectre began as he took a step closer to the desk, "you expect the others to finish their part of the deal soon? I have my doubts," he shrugged. "They certainly won't be quicker than you—even with a short break."
A snort of amusement only barely escaped Ryoken, eyes never leaving his laptop. "You underestimate Playmaker and his allies."
"…Perhaps."
Spectre had never fully understood Ryoken's respect for Playmaker's abilities. A duelist who had been caught unawares by the Ignis? A duelist who still had reservations about fighting those same Ignis, even after Ryoken had exposed their insidious plans for humanity? He simply couldn't understand it… but he didn't have to. If Ryoken felt that Playmaker and his merry little band of do-gooders were up to the task, then he would simply accept that to be fact.
Were it not for the steady rhythm of fingers hitting the keys, the room would have subsequently fallen into a near complete silence as work on the modified version of the Tower of Hanoi programming continued—not that it bothered Spectre. If anything, he was perfectly content simply standing quietly in Ryoken's presence. The only side effect of the silence that bothered him was the fact that it left his mind free to focus on the real issue at hand. Spectre's gaze landed firmly on Ryoken, on his usually-sharp blue eyes dulled now by fatigue. Ryoken was, of course, not the type to complain, and he was able to hide that weariness from anyone else, perhaps even the other Knights—but not from Spectre.
"…Spectre."
"Yes, Ryoken-sama?" After a fleeting bow, their eyes met as the typing ceased.
"Once we scan Link VRAINS and determine the location of the Ignis, there's no turning back."
Moving ever closer to the desk, he traced his fingers along the surface's spotless edge. "Has there ever been?" Spectre mused. At Ryoken's smirk of agreement, Spectre continued, "If anything, this makes things much simpler than in the past when we were hunting down the Ignis." Though it relied on the cooperation of their (temporarily former) enemies, this method—Spectre had to admit—put Ryoken in much less immediate danger than with the Tower's original functionality. That alone made the current plan an enticing way to finally eliminate the rogue Ignis… even if it meant enduring the company of Playmaker's self-righteous party.
"Nothing will be able to hide from the Tower, but"—Ryoken rested his chin atop his hand and leaned forward—"that's exactly why you should be making preparations instead of worrying yourself over me."
"'Preparations?' You're worried about—"
"—Judgment Arrows," Ryoken finished for him. "Unless your deck has an answer to that, you have better things to do than to keep an eye on me."
"I appreciate your concern, but I've already got that thorny issue under control."
As Ryoken let out an intrigued "oh?" in response, Spectre responded with only a smug grin. It was no mere bluff; he intended to hold both his proverbial and physical cards close to his chest until it came time to play them, but he took the impending battle quite seriously. Certainly serious enough to pour over footage of a certain captivating duel from months ago, all to pick up a new trick: the elusive Extra Link. If he could emulate that brilliant play of Ryoken's, it would be possible to steal Judgment Arrows away and smite the Ignis with their own weapon. Completing an Extra Link would be no small feat, of course, but the possibility of following in Ryoken's footsteps, all to crush his adversaries… Spectre relished the thought.
Ryoken studied Spectre a brief moment, as if he somehow hoped to discern the latter's strategy in doing so. Finally, he gave up. "I'll take your word for it." With a sigh, he added, "And that being the case, I suppose that I have no choice but to let you play babysitter, do I?" He seemed almost vaguely entertained at the thought.
With another quick bow, Spectre explained, "I simply wish to ensure your well-being—and I know that your own priorities lie elsewhere. But if my presence is too much of a distraction…"
"No." Ryoken's voice was firm. "It's fine, I—" If he had any further thoughts to add, however, they were left unspoken as he pinched the bridge of his nose in discomfort, eyes shut tight all the while through a barely audible groan.
It was just as Spectre observed earlier—that all of the events of recent days had taken a toll, no matter how hard Ryoken tried to hide it. Ever the type to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, mind constantly at attention… but even a person as strong as he needed downtime every once in a while. Perhaps his earlier dealings with that ungrateful Soulburner had been the tipping point…
Though he would never voice aloud the comparison, seeing Ryoken in such a state brought memories of the comatose Dr. Kogami to the forefront of Spectre's mind. Ryoken grew less like his father with every passing day—and his father's affliction had been anything but natural, of course—but the physical resemblance between the two in such a context made Spectre uneasy. Tense. It was always such a strange feeling. A feeling born out of concern for the person who mattered more to him than anything else in this world. A feeling that would have made his skin crawl were it directed toward anyone else.
Spectre rounded the desk to stand at Ryoken's side and watched as the latter slowly withdrew his hand and opened his eyes. After motioning toward the small couch that sat a short distance away from the desk, Spectre pressed his index finger to his lips and noted, "If you would like to rest your eyes for just a moment, that can be our little secret."
"And when did you become so stubborn?" Ryoken asked with a silent laugh, equal parts resigned and amused.
"I learned from the best, of course."
The two exchanged a playful, knowing glance before the stalemate was broken, its end heralded by Ryoken finally pushing his chair out from the desk in order to begrudgingly find a new seat: the couch. In the battle of stubborn wills, Spectre had emerged victorious. He was always quite content to follow Ryoken's lead, to heed his wishes. More than content—to do so was his very purpose, after all. On this rare occasion, however, he was pleased that his attempts at persuasion had proven successful.
Ryoken sank into the cushion, reclined with a leg crossed before he was joined by Spectre, who carefully took a seat beside him, upright. Spectre tilted his head to watch Ryoken close his eyes. Even if he hadn't completely surrendered to it, it was a relief to see Ryoken finally ease into a much-needed moment of respite.
"…Who could've imagined that the Knights of Hanoi would enter an alliance with the Dark Ignis?" Ryoken mused, eyes still firmly shut despite the fact that he clearly had no intention of falling into slumber. He crossed his arms in thought.
It was certainly a shift in tactics compared to how the Knights had operated for years—how they had operated when the late Dr. Kogami had stood in the network alongside them. Spectre wondered if that very thought played on Ryoken's mind, that question of what his father would think of this temporary truce with some of the very creations he'd vowed to destroy. Whatever the man would have thought mattered little to Spectre himself, however. Kiyoshi Kogami was dead and gone. As simple as that.
"If it's what you've decided, then I have no objections against siding with the Dark Ignis," Spectre said. "The enemy of an enemy is a friend—for now," he added. "Isn't that right?"
The answer was satisfactory, if the way the corner of Ryoken's mouth curled upward ever so slightly was any indication. "The Light Ignis and the Wind Ignis… Their arrogance led them to play their cards too early—and made our job much easier in the process," he scoffed, casually rolling his head along the back cushion to glance over at Spectre in the process. "This time… we'll finally put an end to them."
There it was: that resolute glint that Spectre so admired, the shimmer of determination that always found its way back to Ryoken's eyes when his mind was set. Not even exhaustion could extinguish that light. It practically gave Spectre goosebumps. He was so entranced that he nearly failed to register Ryoken's voice as he continued on.
"I'm looking forward to seeing whatever strategy you have planned. It's been a while since you've been able to really let loose, hasn't it?" Brow furrowed ever so slightly in concern, he added, "But… be careful, Spectre. Don't take the Ignis lightly. They have no intention of playing fair—especially not at a numbers disadvantage."
"How unfortunate for them," Spectre smirked, "that I also don't mind getting my hands a bit dirty." He clasped his hands together in his lap. "So, you see, there's no need to worry about me. And I will do my utmost to live up to your expectations."
"You always do."
Though his expression remained steady, Spectre's fingernails nearly clawed into the backs of his hands, only barely able to contain his pleasure.
"And now"—Ryoken began, both feet firmly back on the floor as he made to stand up—"I have some expectations of my own to live up to."
It was clear that Ryoken had decided to cut short their little recess—if one could even call such a fleeting moment of relaxation a "recess"—but Spectre's body moved on pure instinct to stop him. Before he even realized it, Spectre leaned over Ryoken and placed a hand on his chest. Gently, he pushed him back onto the cushions, all before his mind—and better judgment—caught up to the rest of his body. The two simply remained in that position, Ryoken's countenance largely inscrutable with his lips parted ever so slightly, as if in curiosity.
Spectre, however, found himself even more confused than Ryoken appeared to be. What had possibly possessed him to act in such a manner? What right did he have to apply force—no matter how faint—to the man to whom he owed everything? To defy the relationship between a leader and his subordinate? Eyes averted, he slowly withdrew his hand.
"That wasn't like you." Ryoken's voice was quiet, muted. To Spectre's great relief, there wasn't a hint of annoyance to be found in his words. Instead, he simply sounded... surprised. Perhaps even a tad intrigued…?
Spectre sat back down, reclaiming his seat next to Ryoken. "My apologies."
"There's no need to apologize," Ryoken replied. "Clearly, I need to take back what I said about you being 'a bit' predictable earlier." Reclining once more in the process, he continued, "Resting my eyes a bit longer isn't a bad idea." His chest rose with a deep breath before he exhaled to settle into a calm, steady breathing pattern—it was almost hypnotic. "And this time, I mean it," he added, eyes shut once more as proof.
To Spectre, it also served as proof that their relationship remained untarnished by his careless actions. That such a concern even crossed his mind, he supposed, was a disservice to Ryoken, the one person in this hideous world who ever truly understood him. It was for that reason that he served as his shield. It was for that reason that he sat there beside him, the only place he belonged.
"Spectre?"
"Yes?"
"I'll be counting on you. As always."
And there it was, a declaration that always sent a chill up his spine. To be useful—more than that, to be needed!—by the one who gave his very life purpose… For him, Spectre would walk through even hell itself with a smile. If he could erase those Ignis who had been a constant plague upon Ryoken's life in the process, all the better. Just the mere thought brought a devilish grin to his lips.
He couldn't wait to show the Ignis what he had in store for them. And yet, for now… He was where he needed to be—for as long as he was needed.