"So what did you want to say?" Luthier demanded, although not uncivilly.
Kinson took a deep breath. "I'm aware we don't have the best of relationships…"
"That's an understatement," Luthier snorted.
Kinson nodded. "That's what I mean. You know that I need your permission to work with the team in the deathdream again. I wanted to talk and see if we could clear things up again. If we both have a better understanding, we can build a better relationship. Are you willing to give that a try?"
Luthier shrugged. "That depends on what you have to say. But I'll listen, at least."
Kinson nodded once more. That was good enough, so he went on to deliver a phrase that would have brought a tear to the eye of his communications professor. "I personally don't have many hard feelings against you. Would you help me understand why you don't like me?"
"Ha, that's it?" Luthier leaned back. "It's like a said. You're arrogant, self-centered, and completely ignorant of the world around you."
Frustration and denial surged within him, but Kinson managed to contain his emotions and suppressed his rebuttal. After a few deep breaths, he even managed to regain his calm.
"What causes you to think that?" Kinson asked evenly.
"I've seen plenty. Most notable are your recent actions with that transport ship. By allowing yourself to fall into the deathdream, you destroyed it. Although you gained some valuable information, who knows what we could have harvested by repeatedly studying its contents? That's why I say you're ignorant of the world. Your way, and desire, are not the only way. Beyond that, you treat many people as means to an end. That end is only for you to know, but it seems to revolve around getting stronger and becoming more important. You recklessly flirt with danger regardless of the consequences."
Kinson's eye twitched, and his face tightened with each further accusation. Luthier's comments didn't seem particularly malicious, and Kinson couldn't help but see some truth there when he honestly evaluated it. He bowed his head, deep in thought.
"I… see where you're coming from. My actions can often be immature and shortsighted. I never really considered the consequences, and have assumed the cost was mine alone to bear. I think talking with Kael really helped me see that that isn't true," Kinson explained honestly.
"Do you deny that your motivations are selfish? Let me guess, 'I fight for my friends!' Turns out, I read that one too," Luthier laughed, although his face lacked any sign of mirth.
Kinson hesitated. "Not really. Although protecting people is important to me, I mostly just don't want to be helpless. I've run away from things my entire life. Hard work, responsibility for my actions, and the nightmares. But when I took this job, I decided I was done running."
Luthier raised an eyebrow. "So you're being selfish, then?"
"If that's what you define selfish as, then yes," Kinson admitted.
"Interesting." For some reason, Luthier seemed impressed.
"Any other problems you have with me?" Kinson asked.
"Hmm, let me see. Although I think I understand you better, I still don't feel like you're ready to go into a deathdream. Every time we've brought you along, you've ended up walking. I simply can't take the risk," Luthier explained, looking over Kinson's shoulder.
Kinson followed his gaze and saw Aina reverently touching one of Andres's medals, a large purple heart, which lay on his desk. The older man had a gentle smile on his face as he explained what each one was for.
He turned back just in time to see Luthier hide a sad smile. The emotion lingered in his eyes for a bit, though. The scene made Kinson sit back and reflect.
"You didn't like me from the very beginning. What about me gave you a bad first impression."
Luthier sighed, long and hard. It seemed as though he were debating within himself. After a while, his expression firmed in resolve. Kinson leaned forward in anticipation as he began to talk.
"You remind me, too much, of my older brother. He had similar confidence, one that bordered arrogance. After my parents were gone, he raised Aina and me with only limited support from our extended family. The day I awakened as deathdreamer was the happiest and saddest. I knew I was destined to follow his path."
"What do you mean?" Kinson asked as Luthier fell silent.
"He… was also a deathdreamer."
Kinson didn't fail to notice the past tense. He decided against prying anymore. They weren't that close.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know."
Luthier rubbed his eyes. "Like Kael said some time ago, you're not him. It's just that I have to keep reminding myself of that. Whenever you act recklessly, I can't help but remember him. It infuriates me you act so casually about something so fatal. I don't know much about your family, and don't care, frankly, but imagining they might have to endure what we have is unacceptable. That's why, until you prove yourself, I can't allow you into the deathdream."
"Then how can I prove myself?" Kinson asked desperately.
"Show me your dedication. Reach class 4, then come and talk to me," Luthier sat back.
"What? But it's impossible for me to get any stronger right now! I've been working harder than anything for the past few months, yet the only time I improve is in the deathdream!" Kinson gasped, eyes wide.
"Not my problem. If you want it, find a way," Luthier said callously.
"But…" Kinson began to protest again.
"You heard him. I'll be curious to see what you can accomplish," Andres interrupted, leading Aina back to them.
"I believe in you!" Aina flashed him a thumbs-up.
Kinson rolled his eyes. "So you're on his side?"
"I think it's a sound judgment. From now on, I don't expect to see you two being uncivil, either," Andres said firmly.
Kinson felt that something bad would happen if he disagreed, so he just meekly nodded. He was marginally surprised to see Luthier do the same.
"Excellent. Now, Aina's been begging to hear some stories. Why don't you tell her about your deathdreams," Andres asked Kinson. "But give her the censored version.
"I'm tough, I can handle it," Aina protested.
"Idiot, he's talking about confidential information," Luthier lightly tapped Aina on the head.
"Oh, I knew that," she blushed.
His talk with Luthier had lightened the burden on his shoulders, although it had added another. As he spent the next several minutes narrating his escapades, Kinson pondered on things he could do to increase his training. Although he could probably find other places to deathdream, like a private investigation practice, he felt an urgent need to remain at the BPI. Something told him he would only be able to accomplish his dreams here. Unfortunately, he still lacked any concrete plans by the time night fell.
With nothing else to do, he threw himself into his training with Griffon, refusing to squander a single moment. Griffon brought in a special guest to train with them a week later.
"Rachel, what are you doing here?" Kinson asked in surprise.
The old lady sat in a padded folding chair in the corner, watching as Griffon worked him half to death. Her skin seemed especially pale under the cold white light, and deep shadows danced around her wrinkles.
"From now on, you're going to spend some time exercising your soul. It seems to me that your soul grows the most from being under intense stress, so we're going to do just that," Griffon said simply.
Rachel smiled, sending chills down his back. "I happened to be on a series of studies which researched what helps a psionic increase his soul's strength. The safest and most effective method was mediation. That is, however, extremely slow. It shows results only after extended periods. You seem unafraid of risk, so I thought, perhaps, I'd introduce some of the other methods to you."
Kinson gulped. "What do you mean by risk? I'm willing to do what I have to, though."
"Perhaps your training with Griffon has eroded your brain," she muttered to herself. "Just as you meatheads force your muscles to the limit to increase their strength, you can do the same to the soul. The biggest problem is that a soul is much more delicate. You can pull a muscle and recover just fine. But a mistake here can cripple you for life. Are you sure you want to proceed?"
Kinson recalled Luthier's words and pondered on the matter. Rachel simply waited, watching him with steady eyes until he raised his head.
"Yes, I think so. With you overseeing it, I'm sure nothing will happen."
"Ah, good answer," Rachel nodded, pleased.
"Very well, I'll leave you to it," Griffon said.
He exited the room, allowing the door to close with a snap. Kinson half raised a hand, but let it fall to his side. Although he couldn't exactly put his finger on it, he didn't feel entirely comfortable being alone with Rachel. Perhaps it was her grin, which drew the line somewhere between cruel and grandmotherly.
"Now then, shall we begin?" Rachel asked, stretching her joints. A few unnatural creaks echoed around the enclosed room, and Kinson shifted a bit.
"Sure, I guess" he replied.
"Excellent," she grinned. "Then just relax. When you feel pressure, resist it."
Although unsure of what she meant, Kinson leaned back against the wall and watched her closely. The elderly woman closed her eyes, but nothing happened, at least, that he could see.
Barely a second later, he felt a stifling pressure on his soul, making him feel as though he were underwater. As a class three, his own soul was something he could feel with ease. It was like an extra organ to him: present, though invisible. He reflexively pushed back against the force, but it refused to give. After only a few moments, Kinson's forehead was beaded in sweat, and his lungs gasped desperately for air. No matter how much air he sucked in, the suffocating feeling wouldn't disappear.
He wanted to scream, and ask Rachel to stop whatever it was she was doing, but the words jammed in his throat. The weight of a mountain pressed down on him, dragging each moment out and rarely letting it slip by.
As a final defensive measure, Kinson retreated within his mind, allowing his body to resist subconsciously. That wasn't much better, as the pressure had a similar effect on his thoughts as it did his body, making him feel like it was a grape in a wine press.
Finally, the heavy weight on his soul lifted, allowing him to collapse to the floor. His vision was blurry and his head spun. Only after furiously rubbing his eyes did Kinson recover any sort of visual sense. What he saw surprised him.
Rachel slumped over in her chair, faintly panting. Her eyes were unfocused, and her face beaded with sweat. Her characteristic smile was nowhere to be found. After Kinson finally managed to control his breathing he got up to check on her.
"Rachel, are you alright?" he asked tentatively.
She didn't respond, but he saw her eyes beginning to focus on him.
"I thought you were a master of the soul? Did you somehow overexert yourself?" he asked.
Finally, he got a response. "I…may have… overdone it," was all she said, each word slurred out painfully.
"Overdone it? Will you be alright?" he asked with a little concern.
Her voice was much more fluid this time. "I should be, after a little rest."
"What did you do?" he asked, curious about what could put them both in such a state.
She didn't respond right away. When she did, her tone was surprisingly soft. "It's a trick I learned some years ago, from a friend. They spent every waking moment until the day they died perfecting a method to train the soul. Ultimately, die they did, and from using this method, at that."
Kinson gasped. "Wait, so this method is fatal? Why would you risk it then?"
"Death no longer means the same thing to me, anymore. But a legacy… that's something worth dying for. I have so many friends, just waiting for me to cross that last line.." Rachel trailed off, a distant look on her face.
Kinson shook his head. He had seen enough death to know he wanted nothing to do with it. Then, a thought crossed his mind. What was he, then, doing in the deathdreams? Luthier's words about unnecessary risks crossed his mind once more, breaking his confidence.
He changed the topic, uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were headed. "How long did that go on for? It was hard to focus on anything, much less the time," he admitted.
She looked at Kinson sideways, then pulled out her phone. Kinson's phone suddenly felt very heavy in his pocket.
"About two hours, or so. I think I set a new record," Rachel chuckled gleefully.
"Two hours! No wonder you passed out!" Kinson cried, shocked.
"I was good, wasn't I," Rachel preened.
"No one is complimenting you! Didn't you just tell me that people can die from doing that?"
"Sure, but you're hardly the one to lecture me on risks. If you go into danger for your desires, why do you think I can't do the same?" Rachel asked, a slightly condescending smile on her lips.
"Yeah, but…" Kinson paused, unable to address her comment. She was right, after all.
"Heh, just as I'd expect from you," she smirked. "Now, let's see your soul."
Kinson shivered as her powers once again touched him, caressing his soul ever so gently. Her tortuous "training" was still vivid in his mind, and he had no desire to undergo that ever again, particularly now. Fortunately, she didn't seem to have any nefarious designs, and withdrew after a minute.
"Just as I hoped," Rachel nodded, pleased.
"What? Am I rank 4?" Kinson asked, flabbergasted.
"Of course not, idiot. If that's all it took, I'd have lines from here to Luna begging me to help them. But there is a noticeable increase. I'd say we have only a few weeks and you might break through," Rachel explained.
Kinson's face twisted. "I have to do that a few more times?" he asked, horrified.
"Of course not. It will be way more than that. We'll have to do it several times a week for the best results.
Kinson's stomach fell in disbelief, dragging his spirits down with it. "A few weeks?"
"I just said that. Pay attention," Rachel rolled her eyes.
Kinson felt too tired to even consider what he would need to do. However, one thing was certain. He would do what he needed to, no matter the cost.
"Very well, when can we do it next?" he clenched his hands resolutely.
He looked up, but found Rachel breathing shallowly, her eyes closed. After a deep breath, she said, "Oh, now that's the spirit. Unfortunately, I may have worked harder than I anticipated. Let's do this again next week."
"Are you sure this is okay? I don't want to get better at the cost of you," Kinson shifted on his feet worriedly
"Believe it or not, this method helps the trainer as much as the trainee. I, too, see an appeal to greater strength. I used to be only in class 3, you know," she said with a wink.
Although he didn't completely buy it, Kinson nodded. As long as she was sure, he would go through with it.
"Now, let's get out of this cold, dark basement. My bones complain more with every passing second," Rachel muttered.
Kinson helped her up, noting her trembling body. She seemed much more exhausted than even him. "I'll help you to the lobby," he offered.
"That's sweet of you," Rachel said, semi-sarcastically.
Kinson opened the door and led her to the elevator. "No, really, it's the least I can do. Without you, I'd never reach class 4."
"Ah, a transaction. Very well, I accept."