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Unsure of how he’d made it back home in the first place, Fuwa collapsed onto his bed, a torrent of emotions flooding his mind and robbing him of any chance of falling sleep, despite how exhausted he felt. His neck was sore from the repeated choke holds, and if he closed his eyes and brought his hand to his own throat, he could almost see Horobi closing in on him, like a predator playing with his food. But strangely, Fuwa had felt no fear, not when the Humagear had touched him so gently, uttered such kind words, with a tenderness Fuwa didn’t believe the androids capable of.
With one hand tentatively closing around his neck and the oher beginning to rub his groin, he thought back to what happened earlier that day.
In what had once been a sacred place of worship, Horobi buried himself to the hilt inside Fuwa, hips pressed flush against the human’s ass, and as he emptied himself inside he felt the man clench around him, saw him come between their clothed bodies, heard his obscene screams turning into sobs of resignation. After a moment of hesitation, Horobi leaned forward, looming over a trembling, dazed Fuwa, and brushed dark curls aside to press a long kiss to his forehead.
Never in his life had Fuwa felt so warm, so welcomed. Perhaps even loved.
Then Horobi held his face between his hands and kissed him one last time before muttering against his lips, ‘Your body accepted me so readily, but your mind is not yet made up.’
Fuwa froze. Words failed him and he could only watch as Horobi, with a grave expression, pulled away, leaving him on the dirty floor as he returned to the chancel where he originally stood.
‘You will return to your world and seek out the answers for yourself. You will see that I spoke only the truth. And then you will come back to me, in search of salvation, and I shall give it to you. As is the will of the Ark.’
Horobi’s words rang in Fuwa’s ears as he loosened the pressure - meager as it was, compared to the Humagear’s strong hold - on his own throat, and through the haze of endorphins he felt hot release splattering against his stomach. He had no time to feel guilty, though, as soon enough the fuzzy afterglow - both of the rush of oxygen to his head and the orgasm it induced - gave way to a deep slumber.
Over the next few days, Fuwa made several discoveries that only seemed to lend credibility to what the rogue Humagear had revealed. The first was that he had, indeed, been considered a casualty of the Daybreak incident. The catastrophe that decimated a once prosperous town, wherein thousands of Humagears had gone berserk, destroying everything in sight. Not even a school full of innocent children had been spared. Fuwa was only 15 when he’d been declared missing - and most likely dead -, his name buried among countless others in a list that was soon forgotten, sealed away from the public.
The second was a series of medical records, dating back to not long after his reappearance after the incident, that showed Fuwa’s body was a little different from most people’s. Although outwardly he appeared to be an entirely ordinary human being made of skin and muscle, what those documents revealed was a number of sophisticated prosthetics replacing tendons and bones. All components found in the very machines he had grown to detest. If what Horobi had said was true and it really was him who’d fixed his broken, weakened body, then there was some irony to be found in the fact that those enhancements gave him the strength necessary to fight the Humagears.
The final discovery was undoubtedly the most harrowing of them. After digging through dozens of boxes stashed away at the AIMS archives, Fuwa uncovered classified documents containing a secret that made his blood run cold. According to those records, the rookie Fuwa Isamu had caught the attention of the higher-ups through not only his determination to fight rogue Humagears, but also his unparalled combat prowess and nearly superhuman physique. They suspected the soldier was hiding a side not even he himself seemed aware of, and decided to promote him in order to keep him under surveillance, so that he could be used as a weapon to further their own agendas.
For years he’d been kept in the dark, his own past a secret hidden inside a few boxes in a basement, covered in dust.
Fuwa felt like his entire world was crumbling.
Despite the warnings from his former tech advisor Yaiba, from the mysteriously revived Horobi, and even from his own weakening body, Fuwa had no choice but to continue using the Assault Wolf Key. Metsuboujinrai.net may have been dealt with, but new threats had emerged to cause mayhem in its stead, and Fuwa couldn’t afford to use his basic gear if he wanted to keep up with the Hiden CEO in the fight against berserk Humagears - or, incidentally, humans.
Each time he used that damned key, he could feel that glowing red light looming at the back of his mind, growing bigger and bigger until he began to sense its presence even when he wasn’t transformed. It whispered to him, reminding him of that evening in the old church among the remains of Daybreak Town. And every time it surfaced he would unconsciously push it to the back of his mind, some part of him refusing to accept the gracious offer made by his once sworn enemy.
Until that day when, after coming home from work as he always did, wanting nothing more than to simply pass out on his warm bed, he’d been frozen in his tracks on the way to his room, feeling an incredible pressure behind his eyes, his gaze lost and mouth parted, appearing as a Humagear does when malfunctioning. Static filled his thoughts as a thin trail of blood leaked from his nostrils onto his lips.
The Ark was calling to him. Urging him to make a decision.
Fuwa wasn’t a fool. Having uncovered the truth about his past and assessed the strain Assault Wolf put him under, he concluded that everything Horobi had said was true, after all. If things continued the way they were, he would certainly die sooner or later. He would die fighting an unwinnable war, miserably, when he instead could live forever as a champion.
He didn’t need a reminder; at some point in the past few days, Fuwa had made up his mind. Yet his stubborn, reckless human half still resisted, banishing the thought, trying to stave off the inevitable.
As he regained his senses, Fuwa decided then; he wouldn’t keep Horobi waiting any longer.
It was hard to navigate the Daybreak remains at night. The inky black lake stretched as far as the eye could see and, apart from the massive electric fence that surrounded the area, and the moon shining meekly in the sky, there were no lights to lead him to his destination. But Fuwa was nothing if not resolute, and as though guided by instinct alone, soon found himself standing before the old church he’d visited only a couple of weeks earlier.
With no illumination except for the moonlight that seeped through the cracks in the walls and the broken stained glass window, the inside of the building was especially dark. Nevertheless, Fuwa could tell the person he came to see was nowhere to be found. His heart ached at the thought of having been abandoned - could it be that Horobi had given up on him? Could it be that Fuwa had put off seeking the Humagear for so long, he was no longer deemed worthy of redemption?
Dejected, Fuwa walked around the aisles, looking for a relatively intact pew he could sit on. Spotting one that seemed solid enough, he sat down and, with a sigh, hid his face in his hands. Part of him was scared of what he’d come to do, what he would put himself through. Yet another part felt that, at the end of the day, Horobi might have been the only person who kept no secrets from him. No, he’d told Fuwa everything he needed to know. The Humagear was many things, but a liar was not one of them.
He trusted Horobi’s judgement. And ultimately, trusting Horobi meant trusting the Ark. That’s right - he had nothing to fear. He was doing the right thing. He couldn’t see it at first, but now he knew. His entire journey - from a simple teenager struck by a terrible calamity, to a dedicated soldier bent on eliminating those who had caused it, to a disillusioned, broken man who found himself turning on the very ideals he’d upheld his whole life - was all in accordance with the Ark’s grand plan. And Horobi, its faithful prophet, had said he was destined for much more. He couldn’t be allowed to simply expire without having fulfilled his duty, and there was only one way he could be saved. He needed only give himself to the Ark.
The sound of perfectly timed footsteps echoed off the walls, breaking the sepulchral silence that filled the stale air. Fuwa had been so lost in his own thoughts that at first he barely registered them. However, sure enough, from the corner of his eye he could just make out a shadow entering the church, and as his gaze shot up he saw Horobi walking right past him, as if he hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. The Humagear crossed the entire nave without so much as glancing at Fuwa and stopped at the chancel, before what remained of an altar - a rectangular stone slab that must have once been about a metre high but had been broken and lost some of that height over time - just as the first time Fuwa had found him in this place.
Gaping, his heart thumping in his chest, Fuwa slowly got up from his seat and made his way to where Horobi stood. He stopped in the middle of the steps, just within reach of the priest-like figure in front of him, and he felt incredibly small. Even more so when, drawing a shaky, deep breath, he knelt down, resting his hands on his thighs and keeping his head bowed low. He didn’t see Horobi turning around to look at him, as his gaze was fixed on the floor.
‘Speak.’
Horobi’s voice was as thunder bouncing off the walls and the ceiling, a single word uttered carrying so much power it sounded almost as if artificially amplified. Fuwa dared not take his eyes off the floor. Horobi’s imposing frame towered over him, posture regal with arms behind his back and face bearing an expression that could only be described as saintly. In all honesty, as one of the oldest and most powerful Humagears, he was magnificent. Fuwa kept his tone humble and low, knowing that even so Horobi could hear him perfectly, with enhanced hearing that could pick up even the slight way his heartbeat sped up at the sound of the Humagear’s voice.
‘I failed to see the simple truth that was laid out before me. The wickedness of men, the corruption and destruction they bring, all for the sake of greed. I was blind to it and my ignorance is inexcusable. I was a fool to try and destroy those who are destined to inherit the world, those ordained by the Ark to carry out its will, that is the extinction of humanity, so that the planet may once again prosper.’
‘That is true. You were quite the stubborn one, although your resistance was not unforeseen. You were but a child when we first took notice of you. And indeed your strength in the battlefield is no laughing matter, and you gave us no end of trouble for it. But you have no cause for concern, for the Ark is all-knowing, and has already forgiven you, and accepted you, and welcomed you as one of us. A herald of a new era.’
‘Thank you.’
Fuwa’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘Tell me what you want, Fuwa Isamu. I will give it to you, if you so desire.’
The human choked back a sob.
‘I want to be saved.’
‘I will give you the salvation you seek, as indeed is the will of the Ark. However, in order to embrace the Ark, you must shed your weak human shell. I told you how your body cannot handle the strain for much longer. The burden you carry is too much for you to bear, but it needn’t be so. I will make you whole and perfect, if you so desire.’
Losing his composure, Fuwa’s hands suddenly grabbed onto Horobi’s dark robes, as though his body would begin to fall apart then and there, in the middle of the decrepit church they had profaned, and only the Humagear’s presence would put him back together. He finally lifted his gaze and met Horobi’s intense yet patient eyes, which had been locked onto Fuwa’s small, kneeling figure the entire time.
‘I don’t want to rot away...’
‘You won’t. I will make sure of that. For I am but an emissary of the Ark, and if the Ark wills it, then by my life I shall make it so. You need only have faith in me. Do you have faith, Fuwa Isamu?’
Horobi held out one hand, palm facing down. Fuwa fell silent. Trembling, he gripped the Humagear’s hand and, as he shut his eyes, brushed his lips against calloused knuckles. Horobi might have despised humans, but he knew well what this gesture meant. Absolute devotion - to their cause, to the Ark, and, more importantly...
To him.
And when Fuwa opened his eyes once more and looked up at Horobi’s triumphant face he felt chills down his spine. As a human, he was still innocent, still lost. But Horobi was kind, and saw his potential, and decided to show him the way. Heavy lidded eyes that seemed to carry all the knowledge in the world locked with Fuwa’s and a smile creeped into the prophet’s face. A smile that, to an outsider, seemed to drip poison and malice, but to Fuwa - after being choked by Horobi, kissed by Horobi, fucked by Horobi - oh, it was just the most beautiful sight in the world.
‘Rise, Fuwa Isamu.’
Fuwa did as he was told, stepping forward until he was at the same level as Horobi. The Humagear delicately framed Fuwa’s face with his hands and tilted his own head ever so slightly to brush their lips together - perhaps, as a mockery of another ancient human ritual. Their deal was sealed.
‘You made a wise decision. The Ark is most pleased with you, and you will be rewarded in kind.’
Fuwa swallowed. He hadn’t missed the glint of metal concealed beneath Horobi’s sleeve, the stinger unit that attached to Horobi’s left arm when transformed. He must have summoned it before arriving at the church, in preparation for the solemn ritual they were conducting. The same equipment that made the terrorist leader such a deadly opponent, which had nearly taken Fuwa’s life once, now made him feel strangely at peace.
‘You’re sure I won’t suffer too long?’
Horobi stared into Fuwa’s eyes intently, bringing his hands down his arms and taking the human’s hands. A reassuring smile crossed his face, and the sight of it, a beacon of hope illuminating the ruins, nearly made Fuwa shed tears of elation. ‘On the contrary, my dear... you need not fear anything. I will make it good for you.’
A flexible chain extended from the device on Horobi’s arm, wrapping itself around and climbing up Fuwa’s arm like a snake, and his eyes fluttered closed as the tip of the stinger grazed his cheek, as if caressing him, chasing away any insecurities that he might still have. And without warning or delay, it struck his heart, injecting deadly venom in his bloodstream, making him scream from the hot pain that shot through his veins. The chain quickly retracted back to its original position, and before Fuwa’s stiffening body could fall like a log, Horobi caught him in his arms, lifted him effortlessly off the floor, and gingerly placed him on the broken stone altar.
The most beautiful sacrifice he’d ever made to the Ark.
Horobi made quick work of removing inconvenient layers of clothing and preparing Fuwa’s body. After all, he didn’t have much time if he wanted to take the human one last time before his heart stopped. The venom was potent but its effects were not instantaneous; if he acted swiftly, he could still give Fuwa the privilege of spending his last moments in ecstasy rather than pain. He could still lose himself in that inviting warmth, indulging in a pleasure that, as a Humagear, he did not require, but which he craved nonetheless.
Fuwa’s mewls and gasps were like a hymn to his ears as he pushed his tongue past the entrance, stretching the tense muscle as much as possible before easing a finger coated in artificial saliva inside, then another, curling and pressing and thrusting. Although Fuwa’s body was paralysed, tingling at the extremities, unresponsive to his commands, he could feel Horobi prodding at the sensitive spot inside him insistently, and he only wished he could move his hands so he could do something about his neglected cock.
Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult by the time Horobi decided he was ready. The Humagear spread Fuwa’s legs and pushed himself all the way inside, without ceremony, drawing a whine from lips that grew numb that was quickly silenced in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pounded away hard at Fuwa’s ass, slamming his cock inside again and again, having seemingly discarded the possibility of going easy on a dying man, instead thrusting into him roughly and without restraint. And if the way Fuwa’s eyes widened and he moaned against Horobi’s lips, trying despite the paralysis to return the kiss, was anything to go by, the dying man was enjoying it, too.
Fingers finally wrapped around Fuwa’s length and began to pump in earnest, tipping him over the edge just as the Humagear reached his own completion, and even with most of his senses shut down, Fuwa could feel the Humagear’s release filling him up, bliss cutting through the haze that numbed his thoughts. Perfect teeth suddenly sank into Fuwa’s shoulder possessively, as if to brand him, muffling a low groan of pleasure that escaped Horobi’s throat. As his lungs gave out and his heart fell out of rhythm, darkness crept into Fuwa’s vision and robbed him of the sight of his saviour shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, his systems undoubtedly overloaded, looking extraordinarily human in that moment.
Before his mind faded to black, Fuwa felt fingers run gently through his curls, a low voice soothing him into slumber, the last of his human life.
‘Sleep now, Fuwa... when you wake once more, you will be as new, beautiful and perfect... ready to take your place as a champion in the new world we will create... as is the will of the Ark.’
He simply let his eyes flutter closed and allowed the darkness to wash over him.