Chapter 19: The Lingering Ember of a First Kiss
Five relentless orbits of the sun had slipped through the shifting tapestry of time since I first forged my bond with my sword—my shimmering companion of arcane resonance, whom I christened Kiya, named for the scintillating blue psionic aura she hums with an ancient, haunting melody that feels like the sigh of a dying star.
Today, my sparring partner was none other than Kimchi, who had become a daily fixture in the sacred ritual of our dueling dance ever since I had arrogantly deemed myself a 'master' of the basics some two years prior. Of course, mastery in this eternal game is a cruel myth, a whisper of hubris doomed to be shattered by the brutal kiss of reality.
As nostalgia thickened the air like a dense fog, my mind drifted—eyes glazed with the soft haze of remembrance. And, as if sensing my momentary weakness, Kimchi's strike came swift and merciless—a cruel and calculating kick that sent me hurtling across the room. My face collided with the unyielding wall, a sharp crack ripping through my senses as my nose shattered beneath the impact.
"Son of a—" The words caught in my throat as I instinctively snapped the broken cartilage back into its rightful place, the sickening crunch resonating like a cursed rune in the silent chamber.
Kimchi, ever the paradox of tender brutality, strode over and crouched beside me, her voice laced with concern that was almost—almost—maternal. "Are you all right, dear? It's not like you to get distracted, to leave yourself so exposed during our sparring."
I blinked, shaken out of my reverie. "Yeah. I'm fine," I lied, voice rough and raw. "I just... felt a strange tide of nostalgia crash over me. I don't know what possessed me."
We abandoned our duel early that day, retreating instead to languid hours spent conjuring and twisting psionic energies—a far more subtle and intimate battle. After some time, Kimchi's gaze shifted, and she ventured the question, her voice a cautious whisper: "Are you hungry at all, dear?"
A shiver ran down my spine at those words, an unexpected spike of tension twisting my insides. It was time. The day I had dreaded and anticipated was drawing near. I was about to turn twelve—a milestone that marked the end of my childhood dependency, and a promise I had made to myself long ago to sever the nourishing tether I still held with Kimchi.
Not just the simple feeding, but the deep, primal bond—a bond that had sustained me through infancy and early growth. But with puberty erupting violently within me last year, and my height shooting to an imposing 5 feet 8 inches, the old ways had to end.
"Kimchi," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil beneath. "A long time ago, I asked you and Crystal to stop feeding me the way you have been. Now that I'm about to enter my twelfth year, I've promised myself I will no longer consume from you. I'm no longer a child."
For a heartbeat, she stood frozen—her expression crumbling into something I had never seen before. Slowly, crystalline droplets welled in her eyes, cascading down like liquid sorrow. She blinked furiously, desperate to stem the flow, but the flood was relentless. The tears carved silent rivers down her cheeks, a testament to a sorrow as deep and old as the hive itself.
She couldn't comprehend why this pain clawed at her, why her body betrayed her with tears. She was the nurturer, the giver of life, and now her love, her chosen, was pulling away from the sacred nourishment she offered. She understood, of course—she knew the hive's ancient law: most prey species stopped nursing their offspring far earlier than this, but she had held onto the old ways, clinging to hope.
And now, that hope was shattered.
She collapsed into sobs, a trembling heap of raw emotion. I did nothing but hold her close, feeling the tremors of her grief shake my own heart. It was a sacred moment, one where words would only diminish the weight of her feelings. I could only be a silent fortress, an immovable pillar of quiet support.
After what felt like an eternity and a half—twenty minutes of ragged sniffles and shaky breaths—Kimchi lifted her head, voice cracking with fragile apology. "O-Orchid is terribly sorry for the outburst just now, dear Irvine. I hope you can forgive me."
I wrapped her tighter in my arms, a fierce protective embrace. "Don't be ridiculous, my love. There's nothing to forgive."
In a moment of reckless courage—one I had sworn to reserve for years yet stolen in the tide of raw honesty—I gently cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet mine.
"Look at me," I murmured, then pressed my lips softly, reverently, to hers.
There was no hunger, no desperation in that kiss—only pure, unfiltered love. Care. Understanding. The slow, sure beat of two souls intertwined in the silent language of affection.
When we finally parted, Kimchi's eyes remained locked on mine, wide and shimmering with a tumultuous storm of emotions. She knew what a kiss was now. She understood why it was so overwhelmingly powerful, a cascade of feelings so intense it nearly consumed her—so much so that, if not for the cold grip of dread, she might have overwhelmed me in passion then and there.
The dread was real: a dark, suffocating weight rooted in fear of the queen's wrath. The hive's unyielding law decreed that the queen must receive my first affections, my first kisses, once her new body was ready. Kimchi had broken that sacred pact, and the thought of the queen's fury sent icy shivers down her spine.
Noticing her wide-eyed stare, I cracked a teasing smile. "I thought the kiss would be good—but not this good."
Realizing she'd been caught staring, Kimchi shook off the dread like a bad dream and clung to my gene-enhanced frame, nearly crushing me beneath her fierce grip.
"The kiss was wonderful, dear Irvine. I want to do it ten thousand more times. It felt so good."
She caught herself before spiraling too deep into her prey's longing and sighed softly. "But you said you want to change your diet. No problem, Orchid will find a solution."
Hours later, I lay sprawled on my back, my loyal bed bug curled beneath my head like a living pillow, as I watched a psionic replay of an ongoing invasion flicker across my bio-pad. The footage was about twelve seconds behind real-time, yet I furiously barked strategy suggestions into the hivemind's collective mind—a battle raging across the desolate, fire-scorched plains of a contested planet.
The defenders were the yellow-skinned Ker'mins, a hardy, galaxy-spanning species who had been the hive's main sustenance for a century. Towering at six feet on average, their bodies humanoid in shape but adorned with epidermal clothing they controlled with their minds, the Ker'mins were enigmatic—head rounded, ears pointed, devoid of a nose but blessed with piercing green eyes that gleamed with fierce intelligence.
They matured rapidly in just three years, laying hundreds of frogspawn-like eggs that formed the hive's closest approximation to an agricultural stockpile. Yet, despite their abundance, the hive's true origins remained shrouded in cosmic mystery, hidden by an unimpressive triple brown star system utterly overlooked by all who scanned the skies.
I was deep in tactical thought, directing an agitator to hit a vulnerable left bunker—exploiting its predictable ammunition shortages—when a heavy weight suddenly landed on my chest, disrupting my focus.
Looking down, I saw not a threat but a solid block of meat—an offering, a peace treaty on a plate—from Kimchi's smiling face.
"So, I take it this is my new food?" I asked, eyebrows raised.
"Yes, dear Irvine," she replied with a playful smile. "Although not nearly as efficient as my milk, your enhanced body will absorb all the nutrition it requires from one of these a day."
A chuckle escaped me. I had half-expected her to stall, to hesitate, but no—she was ready to let me sever that final umbilical tie. I raised the meat block, paused, and then asked cautiously:
"This doesn't contain anything I'd consider sentient, right? I might be okay with you lot dining on Jim or Jane, but I'm not keen on the idea of being a cannibal."
Kimchi's face flickered with something between shame and relief as she took the meat block back. "I—I'll keep this one, just in case. But I'll fetch you another made only from what you consider animal prey."
Her swift retreat made me laugh softly. I realized I'd never truly seen her eat; she always nourished silently while I slept, her body engineered so flawlessly it needed sustenance only sparingly.
Turning back to the bio-pad, a sudden wall of fire erupted on the battlefield footage. "What happened?" I muttered, sending a psionic query into the hive's neural web.
The reply came quick: "The prey defended the bunker fiercely, employing fire explosives and powered suits to halt our advance. Your strategy pierced their defenses, but artillery forced a costly pause. Still, the elite caste's arrival will weaken their hold."
I nodded, the gears in my mind turning. "A tactical entrapment… I underestimated their artillery support. Lesson learned."
Kimchi returned, confirming the meat was free of anything I deemed sentient. The flavor was bland, but I didn't care.
Suddenly, she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief: "Now that you refuse to feed from Orchid's breasts, should I remove them and reinforce that space with thicker armor instead?"
I choked on my bite, spitting food out in a spray. "DON'T YOU DARE!!!"