An Assertion of Identity and Names

“I am Kyo.” 

Virus’s smile stretched wider than any living being, human or experiment, that Markus had ever seen, forcing their cracked eyelids to crinkle. The deterioration was advancing faster than he had predicted, faster than it ever did when Virus was still nestled in the safety of their home. Their sclera had turned black, and the cracks dripping down from their eyelids now stretched down to their cheeks. In some twisted recognition of the real Kyo’s fate, a spiky, holographic halo hung around their head.

“Please- Please, not here. Not like this.” He held his arm out, blocking Zyles and Ione from getting any closer.

“Then where? When?” Their eyes flashed from green to red as they took a step forward. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, my dear father, but I don’t have a lot of time. I’m sure you can understand me asking for a bit of yours.”

“Father?” He didn’t bother turning to see Zyles’ face; the surprise in their voice was enough.

“Oh? Did he not tell you?” Virus’s body moved unnaturally, mechanically in Zyles’ direction, jerking like a short-circuited robot. “Daddy dearest here was Ky- my father. But but but, something happened, didn’t it?”

“Virus! Enough! What are you here for?” He was just buying time now, time he desperately wished Zyles would take advantage of.

“Not a story you want to share?” Broken eyes looked between the three of them, lingering without expression on the frail form of Ione before returning to Markus. “Fair enough.

“I want a body- a better one. My old one, perhaps-”

“You don’t mean-”

“AND!” Their voice grew far too deep, far too loud. It rang inside of Markus’s bones, echoed against the cluttered walls.

Then, as though it were just a quick rumble of thunder, returned to normal. 

“Time. Time to live, and breathe, and find meaning in all this … junk.” They made a vague gesture around the room.

“You wish to study here? With me?” His voice shook, the persistent roots of hope wrapping around his words.

Virus said nothing, expression unreadable. Then, in a voice far too familiar,

“I just want to live.”

Memories swept Markus away, memories of grade-school experiments and basic chemistry sets. Of chicken soup with dinosaur-shaped noodles and setting the table for two. Of a house and lab and life filled with love and laughter, only for it all to go cold in an instant. An Earth-shattering, fucked up instant.

Suddenly, it was not Virus standing there, but Kyo. Kyo, his scared and confused and desperate child, begging their father for more time to live. To what ends would Markus not go for them? What lengths would he not go? This was his child. Different from before, but still his child, forever and always. It was all he could do not to rush over and hug them, promising to never let go.

“I can do that. We can do that.” He barely registered how his vision was blurring from the tears, or how his arms went from protecting Zyles from Virus to being outstretched and inviting them in.

“Good.” The humor was gone, replaced by a seriousness that chilled Markus to the bone.

Of the two pieces, it was only Virus that remembered Kyo. If he really wanted to save his child, it would be through them. He loved and cared for Hibiki as his own too, of course, but they were their own person. No traces of Kyo ever shone through those purple eyes.

As if sensing his discomfort, Virus’s face stretched wide into that horrible smile.

“Then let’s get to work.”