#telling him what happened between them and trying to get Fushimi to talk to him

[ridiasfangirlings]

not sure if you've answered this before, but what do you think would happen if pre-ROK but post missing kings Fushimi got hit with a memory strain and suddenly his memories go back to before the betrayal ? How would yata (or anyone else for that matter) react?

This I think would be interesting since presumably he would go back to Homra but he wouldn’t be going back to Mikoto’s Homra, he’d be going back to Anna’s. Like imagine he gets hit by a Strain that wipes all memories up until like a couple months pre-betrayal. Say he was on patrol undercover before this too so he wasn’t in his S4 uniform, and it’s raining so his hair gets all in his eyes and he doesn’t even really notice the way it’s parted when he comes to, he just pushes it back into his middle school style haircut. Fushimi doesn’t recall how he got here but assumes it’s some stupid Homra mission, clicking his tongue as he pulls out his PDA. He’s immediately suspicious due to the S4 logo and puts it back in his pocket, deciding he’ll just find Misaki on his own. 

Yata’s at the bar with everyone else, discussing the current situation with jungle, and imagine the silence that settles over the whole place when Fushimi walks in as if he belongs there. Yata’s on edge and immediately jumps in front of him, not sure if he should be angry or if this is a good sign, maybe Fushimi’s showing up because he’s willing to accept Yata’s thanks for helping with Anna. Fushimi looks at him like why are you acting so weird and Yata decides to try and thank him again, Fushimi has no idea what he’s talking about. Yata’s like ‘huh?’ and then Anna steps forward with her marble. She stares at Fushimi hard for a moment and says ‘Saruhiko doesn’t remember.’ Fushimi’s like what don’t I remember and Yata, Anna and Kusanagi all share a look. Kusanagi sighs and says he’ll call Awashima. 

Fushimi isn’t stupid so of course he’s aware right away that something’s up. I imagine Kusanagi would want to tell him the truth, at least about him going to S4 and Mikoto and Totsuka being dead, however Yata’s more conflicted about it. I think his initial desire would be to not tell Fushimi, to just enjoy having his best friend back, and if this was pre-S1 he would probably do just that without even thinking hard about it. Now though he’s unsure because he feels like Fushimi would probably want to know the truth and maybe they can still have a conversation, here where that bitterness hasn’t had a chance to fester yet, and Yata can understand Fushimi instead of trying to make Fushimi be someone else. While he’s debating though imagine Fushimi decides to stop at the restroom and he’s aware that his chest has been itching. Fushimi stands there in front of the mirror and opens his shirt and there he sees it, the destroyed Homra tattoo, and Fushimi just gives this crooked smirk like oh. 

When he comes back into the bar Yata decides to take him aside and explain everything, he knows this is gonna be a big shock for Fushimi so Yata wanted this to come from him. Imagine Yata doing his best to explain what he still doesn’t understand, that Fushimi left Homra and went to S4 and Yata still doesn’t know why but he wants to. Yata just lets it spill out, everything he’s wanted to say to Saruhiko for months now but that Fushimi never lets him finish, wondering if Fushimi was ever even happy in Homra and he knows that Fushimi can’t remember leaving but even so maybe he can explain some of it, of why he left. Fushimi listens to the whole thing quietly and then just scoffs, so that’s it. Yata’s all ‘huh?’ and Fushimi pulls down his collar, he was wondering where this came from. Yata stumbles over the words, because he didn’t mention the scar that’s still super painful for him to remember, and Fushimi stands to go. 

He says if Yata can’t figure it out for himself then no wonder his ‘future’ self didn’t see fit to explain it. Yata grabs his arm like wait and Fushimi wonders if he should burn it more, there’s still too much of this pride of yours left. Yata quickly tells him no, like Saruhiko can’t you just let me understand, and Fushimi shakes his arm off and says he’s going back to S4, ‘since apparently that’s where I’m supposed to be.’He says it’s fine anyway, since it’s clear Homra’s crumbled and Yata’s just clinging to him because there’s no more Mikoto. Yata fiercely says that’s not it at all —Homra is still here and Mikoto is still there too, in the memories Yata carries. This isn’t about Homra or Mikoto to Yata it’s about Fushimi, the one person he hasn’t managed to understand yet. Fushimi coldly says if Yata hasn’t understood yet then he never will, pulling away from Yata and moving to leave the bar. Once he’s outside he starts scratching at the burn scar and murmuring ‘so that’s why I did it…I should have done this sooner.’ Meanwhile back in the bar Yata just collapses into his chair, fists clenched as he quietly says he still won’t give up, he’s not going to give up on understanding Fushimi no matter what.

[ibarap]

[Scout] White Bear / Pure White Diary 1

Leo: Merry Christmas! Are there any naughty kids here~? Santa-san will gobble all of you up~. ☆

Hiyori: Yahoo, thank you for waiting! Is everyone here?

Adonis: No, we're still waiting for Tsukinaga-senpai.

Tsumugi: Hiyori-kun, please take this hand warmer.

Hiyori: Thanks. It feels like it's getting colder today, so I appreciate it. While you're at it, I want a hot drink!

Tsumugi: Ah, I'm sorry. I figured we'd leave as soon as we're done with our meeting, so I hadn't prepared any.

Yuzuru: I'll prepare the tea. Please wait a moment.

Aoba-sama, shall I make enough for five people?

Tsumugi: Yes, please. Thank you, Fushimi-kun.

Leo: Merry Christmas! Are there any naughty kids here~? Santa-san will gobble all of you up~. ☆ [1]

Adonis: Tsukinaga-senpai, Santa Claus won't do that.

Hiyori: Exactly! It's not good to ruin other people's dreams. Also, it's too early to be saying Christmas greetings!

Tsumugi: Fufu, and isn't Santa-san still getting all the presents ready?

Anyways, Fushimi-kun returned with the tea, so let's start the meeting now.

Once again, thank you all for volunteering to represent your agencies at ES.

This time, we're in charge of a consolation visit at a hospital. We'll be holding a Christmas party there, where we'll sing songs and give presents to the children.

I'll be acting as the contact person between us and the hospital staff. Please feel free to tell me at any time if you encounter any trouble, okay?

We'll be going to the hospital soon to greet the children and ask what kind of presents they want for Christmas. Do you guys have any questions?

Adonis: You said we'll be singing a song to them. Is there a specific one we'll be singing?

Tsumugi: I was thinking we'd go with classic Christmas songs.

Leo: Ehh~, I'll write a Christmas song then, since we're putting in all this effort anyways.

Hiyori: Yes, yes. Since I'm a part of this, going with the 'classics' would be boring.

If we're going this far, I'd want to bring it all to a climax with an original song! Because we're idols, who exist to grant everyone's dreams!

Adonis: Hm... This is difficult. Tsukinaga-senpai's suggestion is appealing, but if we go with the classics, then the kids can sing along with us.

...Alright, what if we sing both?

The kids would get to sing together too, so we'd have a reason to join them as idols.

Leo: I like the sound of it, let's go with that!

Tsumugi: Ahaha, it's turning out to be a fun Christmas party~.

But I'm a little worried about Fushimi-kun. The timing of this happens to be at the same time as his Shuffle Unit project, so I'm wondering if it'll be a burden on him...

Fushimi: There's no need to worry. As I am also an idol, I shall try to match everyone's pace.

Tsumugi: I understand. Then I'll tell the hospital staff we'll be singing a classic Christmas song and an original song. Do you guys have any other questions?

...Seems like that's a no. Well then, shall we head to the hospital?

<A few hours later, in the hospital lounge.>

Leo: —Mmhm mmhm, you want a toy kitchen set?

Okay~, noted! Don't worry, we'll tell Santa-san about it. ☆

Adonis: ...A makeup set? Hm, so there are makeup kits for kids.

Got it, we'll get one ready for you. I hope you're looking forward to the Christmas party.

Tsumugi: Hello~, would you like to tell me what you want for Christmas?

...A hero figure? Heh~, is that kind of thing popular with kids nowadays?

Okay, we'll have Santa-san grant your wish.

Next—...

Yuzuru: Aoba-sama, it seems one of the staff is here.

Allow me to take over for that girl you're talking to.

Tsumugi: Thank you. I'll take you up on your offer, then...

Staff-san, did you come to see how things were going?

Yes, it does help that all the kids are being cooperative. I think we're almost done asking everyone...

Hiyori: Tsumugi-kun, do you have a minute?

There's a backpack with a white teddy bear inside it on that chair there. I'm sure someone lost it.

...Hm? What is it, Staff-san? ...The teddy bear isn't lost?

Tsumugi: It's one of the patients... What do you mean by that?

...I see, so a bedridden boy at this hospital looks after the teddy bear.

And Staff-san brought it here to act as a stand-in for him, since he can't leave his hospital room.

Hiyori: There's a letter inside the backpack?

It says, "To: Santa" on the front. And the present he wants is...

...

Tsumugi: Hiyori-kun, what does it say?

Hiyori: ...There's only one sentence.

It says, "I want to go outside for Christmas"...

Notes:

Are there any naughty kids here?: Leo's referring to a Japanese New Year's ritual involving Namahage here. The oni visit homes to scold children for acting naughty.

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[emilycollins00]

A3 Actors! Knight in shining armour

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Omi Fushimi x Reader

Themes: Love-longing / Subtle / Bitter / Hope

“Nah, it can't be”

“I swear on my life”

“No way!”

“I'm telling you Kazunari, it's like that every time” 

The summer member laughed at the seriousness of your voice, leaning back on the couch of the dorm. Frowning at the lack of support you weren’t expecting, you opened your mouth when the bell from the entrance rang, the strong voice of the main cook of Mankai annunciating his arrival. 

Seeing this as an oportunity, you raised an eyebrow at the blond “Watch” 

Turning both of your heads towards the kitchen, you saw Omi entering with hands full of shopping bags. 

“Welcome back, Omimi!” 

“Hey, Omi” 

“I’m back. Oh, Y/N” he smiled as he left the food on the table “Didn’t know you were coming today. I decided to go buy some things on sale and time flew by” 

You paid no mind to his apology. You had been the one to come unannounced after all “It’s fine. Hey Omi, I like you, want to go out with me?” 

“Mhm?” Omi turned to you, blinking for a few seconds before he nodded, a warm smile on his face “Well, I don’t see why not, it’s early. That new camera shop you told me last week, right? I’ll leave my things and we can go” 

As the university student left, you didn’t even bother to look at Kazunari, moving your hands tiredly as if to say ‘what did I tell you’ 

Startled, he looked at you both confused and fascinated "What the…? That was high-key so-” 

Whatever he was about to say didn’t get to leave his mouth, the loud voices of other autumn members arriving from the hall. Banri was commenting something about stances as he pointed Taichi’s script when he noticed you, glass of soda on the table next to a bag of chips. His expression changed from a focused one to entertained. 

“Ah, If it isn’t the person who doesn't live here but it’s startin’ to look like it” 

You greeted them as if you took off an imaginary hat, not bothering to bite back “Hey there Mr. Joker, Taichi” 

Banri scoffed, heading to the table to steal the food as the red-head cried indignantly “Man, why does Ban-chan always gets to be called that? Y/N, I also want a cool nickname!” 

You laughed.

“Why would you want to be even called something by them?” Banri asked, taking a few chips. Frowning, you took the bag of chips from him and pinched him in the ribs “Hey!”

"Jerk"

“You say that because you got a badass nickname!”

“Whatever. Did you finally do something about Omi-san or what”

“Come on, not you too. I was talking about the same thing with Kazunari here two seconds ago!”

You had been Omi’s classmates in the photography club since your first year of university and falling in love with him was not something you had really planned. You were supposed to be friends. Nothing in between.

Easier to say than do, considering the boy’s personality and looks. Ever since his eyes kept locking warmly with yours, taking time to visit new places for panoramic shots or having lunch together to discuss your favorite ways to take photos at dawn… You knew you had pretty much fallen for that lovable and gentle giant.

He was kind, generous and was always a huge help whenever anyone had any kind of trouble. By the time you really started trying to show your feelings, you also discovered the reason why someone like him was still single.

"Why does everyone think I'm not doing anything?” you raised your arms, groaning tired “I’ve tried everything, he’s just the thickest person I've ever seen in my entire life! It's like God put all the good things to show him off and went ‘Hah, let's see who can crack this one!’ Can you believe yesterday he…”

You kept ranting. You were the first one who didn’t know how he had gotten so much into your heart. His obliviousness drove was driving you crazy. 

By the time you finished talking, everyone in that room was speechless. Banri, Kazunari and Taichi looked at each other. 

“I’m back” Omi appeared carrying a jacket and his camera “Ah, did you guys finish practicing? We were about to go out, if you guys want to join- everything okay, Y/N?” 

Even though you were mentally facepalming, you lifted your head and nodded. Taking you bag, you waved as you headed towards the main door. Omi watched your back and started to follow you when Banri called him out. 

“Omi-san, might wanna tell your significant other about tea, they seem more on edge than usual” 

He laughed, as if Banri had said some kind of joke “They do look tired, right? Anyway, I’ll try to be back before dinner. If I'm late there’s some stew on the pot so everyone can heat some rice to go with it” 

After closing the main door. The autumn members and Kazunari stood in silence processing what had just happened again. 

��                               ……………………………………

“You were right, they had so many new adaptable lenses, I think I'll come here to buy the new stuff they told us they'll receive next week” 

After visiting the camera shop- which was true you had wanted to go- you and Omi wandered around Veludo Way. 

“Do you mind if we go to the park before we leave? I like the light it has around this time” he turned to you and watched you shrug, indicating you didn't mind. 

“Sure, you’re the boss now” 

He chuckled, and your heart skipped a beat at the sound. He was so not fair.

Arriving at the park during dinner time meant the playground was mostly empty. Just a few kids playing here and there and birds chirping along in the background. The sky was turning a warm toasted orange tinted with red, with the wind howling between the branches of the trees, as if it knew that in the world there was no sweeter music than that of the sounds surrounding a sunset.

You loved sunsets.

“That’s a great smile right there” 

You rolled your eyes as you saw Omi’s camera focusing on you. You tried to look mad, but knew the smile that was on your face said otherwise “You really need to stop doing those things. I already fell for you” 

Omi laughed turning and taking some other photos around you two. You lowered your gaze to the ground.

“Omi”

“Mmm?”

“I like you”

“Uh, me too?” 

“I know. I also have an important question” 

“Sure” he put the camera in front of him, focusing on the sun hiding behind the buildings. Your eyes followed his movement longingly.

Omi was kind, compassionate, diligent. He was something brought out of a fairy tell. The knight in shining armour everyone wanted. You pursed your lips together. You loved him. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?” 

But maybe he didn’t need someone like that at the moment. 

From the corner of his eye, Omi peeked at you, putting the camera down and staring at the view in front of him. None of you spoke for a while, the only sound heard being of the birds and cars in the distance.

“You… are an amazing person, Y/N”

You tried not to let the lump on your throat be noticeable and laughed, sitting on one of the empty swings around the place “I should be the one saying that”

He shook his head “Unlike me, you are not afraid of saying what’s on your mind, and you act on it. It’s... admirable”

As you gripped the chains of the swing, you thought about the concept of knights in shining armour again. 

They looked perfect, but perhaps they were like that because little things could truly find a way through their armour, hiding a self that was vulnerable and damaged.

“Will I be a bother… if I ask you to let me stay with you?”

The smile he had a few moments ago was replaced with a sigh when he looked at you “You know, my siblings used to say I always looked like a big tree, big and dependable” he chuckled “Don’t know were they got it from but I-”

“What do you feel like?” 

Omi scratched the back of his head, thinking about it for a few seconds “Sometimes I imagine myself as a leaf leaving a tree, you know. It… falls upward first, then slowly towards the ground” 

It was as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs and now floated in the air “Will... that leaf ever fully fall?”

“I want to” he looked up at the horizon once again “One day”

You smiled. You didn’t mind waiting.

“One day”

__________________________________________________________

I love Omi so much, he deserves everything good. I truly hope at some point he understands that too.

Hope you liked it! Have a wonderful day 💕

[a3hihi]

a script reading (pre-Mankai)

Oneshot

Fushimi Omi & Nachi, original characters 

also on AO3!

Summary

“Okay,” Nachi drawls, slipping off of his bike in one go.

He looks everyone over. “I’ve got you here today to hear part of my script reading. If you like it, you can tell me. If you don’t like it, then you can run before we catch you.”

The Wolves behind him flash their teeth at that, grinning.

The Mad Fox could throw a punch. The rival gang didn’t think he could deliver lines, too.

Dai’s running like he’s never run before.

Like how his friends warned, stepping on the Wolves’ turf was a terrible idea.

The streets in Tokyo are lit yellow, blue, and red that evening, but they’re blurred in Dai’s eyes. The river beside them, separated from the road by a fence, flows quietly, masking nothing. Dai can hear himself panting, the stomps of his team following behind him. His boots slip on the asphalt and he’s lucky to catch himself.

What was their leader even gonna say once she heard about this?

Dai whips his head around frantically. His other members’ eyes are wide with fear. They’re stuck.

They all turn a corner to lose the people chasing them, heaving.

They’ve covered enough ground, he thinks, until he hears screeches from tires and hoots from their rival gang. Amid the chorus of their engines revving, some of them mimic wolves’ howls, whooping with laughter as they skid to a stop.

They’ve caught up.

One of the Wolves’ leaders, Nachi, laughs the loudest.

He takes off his helmet and sets it aside, boasting a shock of bright green hair. He stands out from most of his gang, members dark-haired and dressed in leathers.

“Okay,” Nachi drawls, slipping off of his bike in one go.

He looks everyone over. “I’ve got you here today to hear part of my script reading. If you like it, you can tell me. If you don’t like it, then you can run before we catch you.”

The Wolves behind him flash their teeth at that, grinning.

Dai backs up until he sticks to a brick wall, crinkling with posters and dried gum. Some of his teammates still stand, while others are startled into falling.

“We’re not scared of you,” one of them says. “Our leader’s gonna know any minute now. She runs this part of town.”

“Really? What’s her name?” Nachi asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Chiyo—"

“Ah. Say, Omi, didn’t we break her arm here a week ago?”

Dai and his friends gulp.

One of the taller members slides off his bike and ambles to where Nachi stands. Next to Nachi’s bright hair and smiling face, this guy looks plain besides his build. He scowls at Dai and the rest.

“I remember.”

The taller one, who Dai assumes is Omi, looks at his partner, frowning.

“What did you wanna do?”

"Try something new, that’s all.”

His voice rings out as the gang gawks at him in confusion.

Nachi reaches into his jacket and takes out a printed-out script, clearing his throat.

“A monologue from As You Like It, by William Shakespeare. Act two, scene seven, line one hundred thirty-nine."

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

Nachi takes two steps forward. The other members scramble further away, their backs pressed to the wall behind them.

Nachi’s gestures and position change as he speaks. He brings his arms out during certain phrases.

“They have their exits and their entrances,”

He controls his voice with ease, shifting his facial expressions and moving from one word to another.

“And one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.”

In the minutes that pass, it happens smoothly, like he’s practiced it many times before.

"Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

"...Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion,"

He swipes at his face.

Dai's friends look on, but Nachi doesn’t say anything more.

“So? How was that?”

Everyone else looks like they’re stunned into silence.

“Nachi! That was awesome!” yells a silver-haired boy to Nachi’s left.

“Thank you, Ryo,” he says before he smirks at Dai's friends.

“Well? Any feedback?”

They’re quiet.

“No?” Nachi mutters, raising a brow that makes them flinch.

One of Dai’s fellow members pretends to cough.

“Your emotions were nice, I guess.”

What the hell was going on?

“Okay, I’ll work on that. Anyone else?”

Nachi’s holding back a laugh.

“You kinda freaked me out during that last part," another member squeaks.

"Got it. It was intended, I’ll give you that."

No one talks.

Dai speaks up from his crouched spot by the wall.

"You could take some more pauses."

Nachi looks him dead in the eye. “What makes you think that?”

Dai swallows. “Makes it easier for us to get the story. I think.”

Nachi stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Alright. Thank you all for cooperating,” he calls out.

“Now, I’m going to count to three.”

He backs up until he’s in line with the other Wolves.

“If you’re not gone by then,” he chuckles, “well, you know what’s comin’.”

“One.”

Dai and his team shoot up.

“Two.”

They scatter in all directions.

“Three.”

Street’s empty.

Near midnight, the streets in Tokyo are still lit yellow, yellow, blue, and red, shining on two lumbering boys. No other Wolves or motorcycles in sight. One has a lollipop in his mouth; the other is silent. The river still masks nothing.

Still quiet, too, save for bikes’ engines.

Omi barks out a laugh, and the rest of them join in.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Omi asks.

Nachi takes a breath. “I just thought it would be interesting.”

“Huh?”

“If you do something different, people remember you,” he shrugs. “Plus the Wolves found it fun.”

“No, no. I get that.” Omi frowns.

“But you don’t just pull… speeches out of thin air like that. Things like this need a lot of effort.”

Nachi faces him, lollipop pinched between his fingers. “You’re right. They do.”

Nachi makes jazz hands at him. “Acting.”

“If word of me pulling that stunt comes out,” he continues, picking at his bracelet, “Then I’ll make sure people don’t come after them.”

Omi crosses his arms.

“‘S long as I’m here, no one lays a finger on the Wolves. Or on either of us. Listen, it’s not about rumors.”

Nachi doesn’t answer, so Omi stops walking.

“Hey.” Omi punches his shoulder.  “I’m serious. I won’t laugh at you if you’re into that stuff. The others won’t either.”

Nachi allows himself a wry smile and slings an arm around Omi’s shoulders.

“Well, I have your support. That counts for something.”

Omi beams at his best friend.

Trash cans clang from a nearby alley. The both of them come to a halt.

“Was that a cat?” Nachi asks.

Omi cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think so.”

Dai stumbles out from behind the wall, nursing a bruise where he must have hit a trash can. His eyes land on them.

“I... I was just on my way home,” he yelps, breath catching in his throat.

Omi squints. “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing. I swear.”

“Let me take care of him,” Nachi says, stepping forward and rolling his sleeve up.

“Nah.” Omi catches his friend's arm.

“He can send a message back to Chiyo.”

His voice is light, saying that, like he isn’t threatened in the slightest.

“Let me make this simple.” Omi sets his eyes down to Dai's level.

“Because I’m not an asshole, I'll let you go for now.”

Dai’s frozen in place.

“I take it your house isn’t far from here?”

Omi's face doesn't change as Dai nods, trying his best not to stammer.

“Try not to show your face around here again. Then we’re out of your hair.”

Dai tightens his jaw and runs off til he’s out of sight.

“Omi!! You gotta teach me how to do that sometime!”

Ryo runs up to them, catching his breath. Two, then three, then five more of the Wolves follow behind him on the road.

“I thought you all went home.”

Ryo wheezes. “We wanted to see you before heading back!”

Omi grimaces at that, rolling his eyes.

“Suit yourselves. I just don’t want you to start something stupid and then regret it.”

Ryo’s eyes sparkle. “Do you have more lollies?”

“What.”

Ryo smiles until Omi sighs and pats his pockets, searching for something, finally fishing out lollipops.

“It wouldn’t kill you to have a salad every once in a while.” Omi grunts, shaking his head. "If you idiots don’t take care of yourselves, I swear I'll—”

"You'll what?" Nachi teases.

His partner smirks. "I'll blow all your houses down."

"That was the lamest thing I've ever heard."

"Go jump in the river."

"If you ask nicely, maybe I will."

Nachi shouts an "OW!" as Omi shoves him.

The rest of the gang snickers.

“Where’d you learn to make those lollipops anyway?” Nachi asks.

“My mom taught me.”

Omi smiles, looking at them all. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh.” Nachi purses his lips and pats his friend’s back. “Teach us how to make them?”

"I guess."

As the others crowd around them, Ryo tugs at Omi’s jacket.

“Nachi could do another one of those script things.”

“Script readings, Ryo.”

“Yeah, yeah!”

[the-currian]

Can I request 23rd angst prompt for Omi please? But like, Omi saying it, Welp, hope you understand this request and keep up the great workkkk❤️

Hi, anon! Thanks for the request. Hope that this is what you asked for ahaha

23. “So you believe them over me?”

Of all things to happen during your first year of university, you never would have expected that you would encounter the Wild Wolf, Omi Fushimi, again – much less end up befriending him.

You knew about his reputation from back when you were schoolmates in high school. You’d never had a direct encounter with him, but you were a victim of his gang’s antics. Obviously, finding out that he was in the photography club that you intended to join made you extremely anxious.

Your fellow club members seemed to have no issue with him, however, so maybe he had a change of heart. Unfortunately, knee-jerk reactions to seeing a face you associated with unpleasant high school memories don’t go away that quickly, so you decided to act neutral but avoid him when possible. Spending time in the club, you made your best efforts to calm yourself whenever in his presence, but he obviously knew that something was up, based on the fact that his attempts to strike a conversation with you were becoming more and more infrequent. Eventually, he stopped trying altogether, and you were quite relieved (but maybe also a bit sad?) that Omi Fushimi – the Wild Wolf (or whatever persona he went as nowadays) – was finally leaving you alone.

That all changed the day of your first photo exhibit. You could barely contain your excitement! But that was nothing compared to the feeling of your heart being crushed when some upperclassmen had some nasty comments to say about your work, going as far as interrupting your conversation with one of your guests and taking down your hard work, telling you to leave the exhibits to “the talented ones”.

It was then that Omi materialized out of thin air, a murderous look on his face. Scared of what was about to happen, you run away from the exhibit. Later, Omi finds you in the club room, sobbing your heart out. Wordlessly, Omi sits down next to your slumped figure, and listens to you cry out your sorrows.

From that day forward, the two of you are practically inseparable. The two of you would study together in the library, eat lunch together, and give critiques on each other’s works. Months pass, and the Wild Wolf of the past is nothing but a distant memory - your head now filled with the gentle and kind friend that is Omi Fushimi.

The doubts start to creep into your head again, however, when you catch up with your high school friends at a trendy café. As you head out of the restroom, you spot Omi with an obscene amount of sweets in his hands. Curious, you go over to him and strike up a conversation. He tells you that the sweets are for his dorm mates, much to your amusement. When you walk back to your table, your friends are regarding you with suspicion in their eyes.

“Was that… the Wild Wolf that you were talking to?” one of your friends asks, eyes shifting uneasily between you and the door that Omi exited from. Hearing his old moniker, a frown forms on your face.

“Omi is a friend from my university photography club.”

“Oh. So he picked up a hobby besides wreaking havoc on people’s lives, then?” she replies, rolling her eyes.

“It may be hard to believe, but he’s changed. I can guarantee that.”

Your friend tuts, a sympathetic expression on her face.  “My dear friend hasn’t caught feelings for the biker gang delinquent, have you?”

Feeling your face flush, you focus instead on the latter half of the question. “I’m telling you, Omi is a genuinely nice guy! Sure, he made some mistakes in the past, but he’s trying his best to put that all behind him. You should give him that chance, too.”

“You sure do tell a different story from what I saw the other day, then.”

You feel ice run through your veins. “...What do you mean?”

“I saw him with some shady looking people along Veludo Way the other day with an older man and some high school students. It looked like they were in a serious fight.”

Abruptly you stand up from your seat. “I don’t need to stay here and listen to you trash him.”

But the memories of the Wolf gang plague you that night, and you start distancing yourself from Omi again. Things are awkward again between you two, and you don’t know how to fix it. 

It seemed that fate decided to take matters into its own hands, however, and the two of you are paired together for your next photo exhibit. As soon as your club meeting is finished, you shoot up from your seat and make a beeline for the door but Omi stops you by grabbing your wrist. He waits for the club room to empty before addressing you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He says softly.

You remain silent, quite honestly feeling a bit terrified by the pressure on your wrist. You struggle to remind yourself that no, Omi isn’t that kind of person, not anymore.

“Whatever it is that I did, I’m sorry.”

At this, tears begin to fall from your eyes. “No.” you manage to croak out. “It’s just me being stupid.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

And just like that, with that simple question, the dam breaks. You tell him about your past with the Wolf gang. You tell him why you were so wary of him at first. You tell him about what happened with your friends that day at the café. With every confession, Omi’s frown gets deeper and deeper as your heart sinks lower and lower.

When you finally finish, Omi is silent for a long while. Figuring that was the end of that, you stand up. Before you can make it out the door, he says, “So you believe them over me?”

You flinch at the subdued anger in his voice, at the glint in his eyes that you can’t decipher. Your mind flashes back to the awful memories of high school.

“I… I don’t know what to believe.”

“I thought you knew me better than that.” He says, the broken tone of his voice making you glance back at him. You’re startled by the anguish on his face, a complete 180 from the anger his eyes held earlier. Confused, more than ever, you turn back again to leave the club room.

“I thought so, too.”

[chilly-territory]

K Case Files of Blue 2, chapter 4 (part 2 out of 2)

Case Files of Blue 2 by Miyazawa Tatsuki

Chapter 4 (part 2/2) (volume 2, pages 224-246)

†

The one to make contact with her target first was Awashima Seri. When she opened the door to a big hall meant for wedding ceremonies and such, on the other side of the door she found Nakamura Gouki sitting cross-legged in the middle of it, drinking sake from a bottle and making no attempt to be shy about it.

Recognizing her, the giant man said, "Oh, so it's you who came for me, eh? How about a drink?"

He turned and held his bottle up in Awashima's direction. Awashima let out a small sigh.

"I'm on the clock. But even if I weren't, I'd only drink with people I have rapport with." "So with me you don't?" Nakamura Gouki asked after barking out a short laugh. "You," Awashima replied icily, "are somewhat lacking in delicacy." "Hmm," Gouki intoned, stroking his chin. "I personally like you quite a bit though. Like your strong will so atyical for a woman. Your brute strength, too. You shattered that cage all by yourself, without any help, right? For what it's worth, it was made in such a way that even a gorilla wouldn't be able to break it. Which makes you stronger than a gorilla, ain't it ri---" "I suppose I am," Awashima interrupted in a powerful tone, making Gouki bite his tongue. Her expression tightened and she drew her saber. "Against you, I have no slightest intention to pull my punches. I'm sorry to say but there is no room for that. For that reason, if you make a bad move, you might wind up getting severely hurt. Thus, I sincerely urge you to surrender."

Awashima took her signature battle stance with one leg bent in front, the other extended behind her and the tip of her raised sword pointing downward. Gouki narrowed his eyes at her.

"Good gracious. In the end, we both can only settle this by brute force, eh." Still relaxed, he kept sipping his sake. "But before that, mind telling me just one thing?" "What is it?" Awashima kept staring down her opponent, not letting her guard down. "What kind of man is Munakata Reishi? What is he to you?" Gouki's face when he asked that was earnest and serious, and one that Awashima had never seen him make before. "C'mon."

Awashima flushed a little.

Gouki went on. "At first, I only thought of him as nothing more than a man Zen'ichi is weirdly obsessed with. But you know, as this whole story unfolded, I started finding myself taking interest in him, too. Just like with you, I sure want to share a drink and a talk with him. So..." he repeated his question again in the same very serious tone. "What kind of man is Munakata Reishi?"

"..."

Technically speaking, Awashima was under no obligation to answer that. But, being a honest and serious person that she was, she couidn't help giving the question some careful deliberation.

"Let's see," she finally spoke up. "To me, he is my king." "What I want to hear is not a shallow general description like that..." "No," Awashima cut him off flatly. Relaxing her stance, she elaborated, "To me, that person really is my king. And to me, that's everything. This is the only way I can find to describe it." She looked Gouki straight in the eye.

Hearing the weight and gravity in her tone, Gouki refrained from saying anything. Awashima suddenly smiled.

"Captain and I met before he had his awakening as a king. The plane we both happened to be on was hijacked by terrorists, and I helped Captain suppress them. It was like something straight out of movies. But some explosives we didn't know about blew, opening a big hope in the plane's airframe and sending it plummeting down. It was at that moment that he had become a king. All to save the passengers who were on that plane with him. And I witnessed it with my own eyes." Her every word was permeated with strong conviction. "For a long time, Captain searched for an answer to the question of who he was, and in that instance he'd had a realization that becoming a king was his destiny. If that's how it was, then I thought that my destiny must have been to support and help him. So I became his first clansman." "..." "Nakamura Gouki. Now, it's my turn to ask you something. Why do you support Kounomura Zen'ichi?" "Hmm." The giant scratched his bald head. "Sadly, unlike you, I don't have any special reason. It's just..." He flashed his pearly whites. "To me, Zen'ichi is a friend I have rapport with. If I must name one reason, that itself is the reason," Gouki asserted. "...I can't believe you..." Awashima breathed out a sigh. "I had my suspicions, but you really are one strange person, just like Kounomura."

"My oh my, what an honor!" Gouki's shoulders vibrated as he laughed. And then he added, "It's never boring around him." He looked like he was having fun. "...Thanks to that, I even awakened this amusing power."

Getting up slowly, he took the front double biceps pose that bodybuilders do, flexing said muscles. Following the swell of both sets of his well-developed biceps, Gouki's power spiked. In the air between the two tension hung.

"Something's been bothering me for a while. Initially, you were simply Kounmura's friend who became a strain only after Kounomura had started scheming to usurp Captain's throne, isn't that right?" "Ain't you well informed?" Gouki took a side chest pose next, putting his perctorals on display. "That's right. While participating in that grand plan of Zen'ichi's, at some point I had an awakening as a strain. And that fact itself backed up Zen'ichi's theory." "...What theory?" "That the Slate has a uniform response to a person's will. If you want power, you will get power. That is..." Gouki finished his performance with the abdominal and thigh pose. "If you want to become a king, you just might steal that seat and become one if you wish for it strong enough."

For a while, Awashima contemplated his words. Then she let out another long sigh. "You're beyond help." Quietly, she moved to take her battle stance properly again. "That's nothing more than a conceited and self-serving wild delusion. I shall correct it for you." "Oh well," Gouki grinned, "I guess that fits me just fine. Now, c'mon!" he rushed towards her. "Time to talk with our fists!"

Awashima met his dash with a battle cry.

†

About the time the fierce clash between Awashima and Gouki unfolded, Fushimi encountered Marumoto. This run-in, however, didn't escalate into anything as passionate as Awashima and Gouki's.

If anything, it was more of a game of tag where Marumoto, throwing lines like "Why do you resist opening up your heart so much?! Just become my friend! I know you're lonely!", "Eh? You don't have any social network accounts? Then how do you call out to your friends when you have a barbeque party?" and "I'm gonna chillax at a hole-in-the-wall bar with a group of good friends who chase their dreams together, wanna come too?", specially designed to get on Fushimi's nerves as much as possible, tried to run away and hide, while Fushimi did the chasing, clicking his tongue tirelessly.

Marumoto may not have possessed a sliver of fighting prowess in a direct physical confrontation, but he didn't specialize in reading minds for nothing either, excelling in seeing right through Fushimi's thought processes and hiding in his blind spots with exceptional dexterity. Changing hiding places from behind a fire fighting panel to inside a ventilation fan to beneath a sofa, he ran screaming out throwaway lines in the same vein as those mentioned above.

And each time the shutter of his camera clicked, taking yet another photo, it grated on Fushimi's nerves immensely. Fushimi swung his saber, chasing after him.

"Tch!" Tongue-clicking was only a natural response.

Fushimi had a sickening feeling that all he did lately was being dragged into these stupid games of tag. Except, both he and Marumoto knew that it was coming to an end. Through ingenious positioning, the Scepter 4 operative managed to block Marumoto's escape routes and drive him into a dead end. Of course, Marumoto knew what his opponent was trying to do, but through Fushimi's strategic maneuvering that looked random at a glance, he was running out of places to escape.

Marumoto's voice sounded strained with panic. Trying to find a way distract Fushimi, he'd resorted to alluding to Fushimi's family and the clan he was affiliated with previously, but ultimately it proved useless as, despite Fushimi's face turning bitter, his steps never faltered.

'I already was going to punch him once, guess I'll make it 2 or 3 times now,' those were about all Fushimi's thoughts on the matter. That is, for all intents and purposes, he was not rising to Marumoto's bait.

Until one particular statement from Marumoto.

"Why don't you respect your boss more? You should be more of a team player, you know!"

When he heard that screamed out at him, for the first time Fushimi paused in his steps.

"Say," surprisingly enough, Fushimi sounded thoughtful, "why do you follow someone like Kounomura?"

Silence fell.

After a short while, an answer came from a shadowy corner of the hallway.

"Well, because I respect him a lot. Kounomura-san is a great man!" "..." Fushimi sensed something in his tone. Marumoto continued, as if enraptured, "You see, until a little while ago, I was a volunteer at an orphanage that Kounomura-san operates. Kounomura-san is a very busy man, yet he finds time to remember the names of each kid and is always very kind to them. I look up to him and dream to be a person like him some day." "Then you're being tricked," Fushimi cut off bluntly. "Eh?" "Mooooron." Fushimi smirked mockingly. "Do you really believe a guy like him who's only interested in achieving his own dream would give a damn about some kids?" "Wh-what?" Reading his opponent's state of mind like an open book, Fushimi cut to the quick, "You're just being used as a handy tool. As if he'd so much as glance at you if you weren't a strain." "T-Take that back." "I'll say it as many times as it takes. You're being duped by him, dude. Poor schmuck." "Take that back, this instance! Kounomura-san is not that kind of man!"

Suddenly, Marumoto's form emerged from a shadowy nook of the hallway. In his indignation, he left his hiding place without thinking. By the time the realization of what he'd done hit him, plastering the expletive of "Crap!" all over his face, it was already too late.

Kicking off the floor, Fushimi covered the distance between them in one mighty leap and tapped the handle of his saber against the back of Marumoto's neck lightly once. The blow that could be described as gentle and almost soft didn't fail to hit the vital spot with precision.

"D-Damn it!"

Tears in his eyes, Marumoto collapsed on the spot, out cold. Fushimi sneered.

"Is it really that much fun to dream up an idol, put him on a pedestal and worship him blindly?" Then, in a dry mutter, he added, "...That's probably why I disliked you from the start."

With that, Fushimi slouched, taking his leave.

†

Awashima and Gouki clashed violently. These clashes of absurd power and speed repeated again and again. As far as raw power went, Gouki was winning by a small margin, but in speed Awashima held an overwhelming advantage. Both dispensed of tricks and tactics, fighting fair and square and only relying on their skills. Gouki wasn't holding back despite his opponent being a woman, and Awashima, in turn, put all her might into the slashes she unleashed at him.

"Nhaa!"

Lariat that Gouki launched at Awashima along with a throaty shout was blown away.

"Ha!"

After gaining splendid acceleration in midair, a backspin roundhouse kick landed on Gouki's cheek, sending his kicked-in molars in the air. He lost his clothes, Awashima lost her saber, and the battle came down to hand-to-hand combat.

"And theeeere!"

Easily gathering Awashima into his arms, Gouki threw her violently against the floor.

"Ugh!"

Twisting her body like a cat to absorb the force of the impact, she swept her leg, catching Gouki just below the knee.

"Gha!"

He hit the back of his head on the floor.

"And there!"

Still, he reached his thick arms to try and catch her, but Awashima managed to leap from the spot and avoid his hold by a hair's breadth. Then both put some distance between them, watching each other fixedly.

"Fufu." "Haha."

For some reason, they both chuckled.

Their faces were sweaty, they both were breathing hard and bruises and minor hemorrhages blossomed here and there on their bodies as a sort of decorations. Despite that, the two's fighting spirit wasn't dampened in the least. An unspoken understanding that the time to settle this once and for all was upon them was shared between them.

"If I may be so bold."

With a gesture betraying deep respect, Gouki stepped forward. Awashima came a step closer as well.

"Haaaaa!"

Gouki threw a right straight punch with all his might. Awashima's movements were free of hesitation. Resolved to the possibility of getting hard-punched in the face, she dodged to the side only at the last possible moment. Only, it was a feint.

"Gotcha!"

Gouki grinned and elbowed the crown of Awashima's head now that it was perfectly within his range, hard. The downward jab was like a blow of a giant hammer and packing enough power to be instantly lethal for a normal person.

Except in the end it was Awashima who emerged victorious in the contest of predicting the opponent's moves. The elbow attack was well within her expectations. She had confidence she could weather it and made her calculations based on that. Crossing her arms, she took that bone-shattering killing blow head-on. Unable to absorb the whole force of it, her legs trembled and a grimace of anguish crossed her features.

And yet, despite the pain, that was where her ultimate chance lay.

Gouki's expression changed, reflecting a "Oh, crap!" reaction. Awashima didn't pause. Taking one more step forward that brought her infinitely close to her opponent, she tensed bodily, gathering all her spirit and strength and putting it into a piercing blow to Gouki's solar plexus. If Gouki's attack was like a falling hammer, then Awashima's like a sharp stab of a saber.

"Ugh!"

It managed to pierce even through her opponent's thick abdominals.

"Bah!"

Gouki's eyes rolled back, and his body folded down. Awashima didn't let that momentary opening go to waste. Setting Gouki's head that, until now was too high for her to reach, on her shoulder, "And with this..." she said and lifted the body of her opponent up. His massive giant body.

"Orryaa!"

The throw she executed was so-called Brainbuster from professional wrestling. It was a power technique that you normally wouldn't see outside the ring where you lift your opponent upside down high overhead and then throw them right down.

"Ghaaaaa!"

Landing on the floor on the crown of of his head, Gouki screamed. He tried to get up but it was beyond his ability.

"Fu, fufufufu." His shoulders shook. "You really are strong," he said to Awashima who was breathing hard but stood over him as the winner, looking down at him. "It's such a pity that you're a woman."

Awashima snorted coldly. "You were pretty strong yourself. For a man, that is."

The snapback made Gouki chuckle again.

"Listen," he said when he was done, "I've got a request. You and Munakata Reishi. And me and Zen'ichi. Can we share a drink together some day?" "Well," Awashima replied as she was searching for her saber and then returning it to its place on her hip. "I don't mind giving your request some thought. But asking Captain about his wishes comes first." "I see."

Once he'd heard her reply, Gouki closed his eyes, seemingly content. "Can't wait then... Really."

And with that, he was out cold.

Awashima took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and turned away from Gouki, intending to head to the hall.

Her dashing profile was a testament to the strength of her resolve.

†

Kounomura Zen'ichi was in the wedding chapel on the top floor. Seated on the altar for taking the oath, he was swinging his legs as he talked to his wife.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," he was saying into the PDA. "That's right. That's how it is. Yeah, I'm serious. No, I'm telling you," he persuaded in a soft voice, "I can't come back for a while longer. Yes, right. Yes. Yeeees."

Carefree as ever, he hung up the phone. Spinning around, the short man faced the other side.

"You were gracious enough to wait for me to finish, eh, Munakata-kun?" he called, grinning all the while. "You seemed to be busy with a call."

Munakata Reishi who smoothly appeared in the spot of light, too, had a smile on his lips. His frame, clad in a blue uniform complimented with a sword, was set off quite nicely by the special atmosphere of sacrality reigning this particular space. On the other hand, Kounomura Zen'ichi, not blessed with height or dignified stature and looking quite dull in an oversized jacket and tawny slacks, was out of place there.

The two's appearances couldn't have been farther apart: Munakata with his clean-cut features, well-formed and perfectly-proportioned frame and the undeniable air of refinement and elegance, and Kounomura, with a bulky body of a penguin and plain though not without a certain charm features, who couldn't be called attractive by any standard.

Nevertheless, the two men had something about them that made them similar.

In was in their gaze that observed all phenomena of the world with utmost attention, more carefully than anybody else yet for some reason remained distant and detached as if they weren't watching at all, and in their free way of life that transformed sadness far removed from the realm of normal into amusement. But what made them seem alike more than anything else was a calm smile always playing on their lips. That was what the two men so different had in common.

"I have to say it is quite strange. This is my first time meeting you face-to-face, but it does not feel like it," Munakata spoke up unhurriedly. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he continued, "The reason may be the fact that I've gone through massive amounts of information related to you in the course of this affair." "This is my first time meeting you in the flesh, too, I guess?" Kounomura spread out his hands. "But y'know, I made a poster out of one of the photos of you that I'd taken secretly and pinned it up in my room." He closed his eyes. "So if I just shut my eyes like this, I can see your image in all its minute details in my head right away. All your data are etched into my brain, y'see."

Munakata answered with a wry smile. Kounomura opened his eyes.

"I did it because I wanted to become you so bad, Munakata-kun. Because..." he was not shy about his word choices, "Blue King, I thought you were beautiful." "Please tell me just one thing," Munakata asked. "Why did you choose this particular method to dethrone such a king?" "Hm?" "Why did you choose to trick and trap my subordinates instead of going after me directly?" "Hmmm," Kounomura took some time to think this question over. "Why, to tell you the truth, I didn't put much thought into it. It's just when I wondered what it was that made one king, I thought maybe the answer was one's retainers." His face suddenly turned serious. "No matter how much one claims to be king, so long as no one recognizes and acknowledges that claim, one remains but a naked emperor, y'know. So I thought maybe the Dresden Slate would revise your status if you were to be cut off your followers. Then again, it was just one out of currently 12 strategies that I'd come up with, and from now on I'm planning on testing out the other 11. And rest assured, among them there are some that involve cornering you specifically."

Munakata chuckled. "So you're set on trying again, I take it?" "Yup." Kounomura's reply was flat as a child's. "I totally am."

Munakata heaved a sigh, still smiling. Kounomura made a serious face again.

"Munakata-kun, I think you've already realized this without me telling, but..." His voice sounded low. "The Dresden Slate. It's very dangerous." "..." Munakata said nothing to that. Pushing up his glasses with a finger, he changed the subject. "You cannot escape any more, and I trust you are aware of the fact, yes?" "..." This time it was Kounomura who kept his silence. And then he said peevishly, "I've prepared a few means of escape. But the decisive factor that got in my way and prevented me from making use of them is this awful weather." "Your friend," Munakata spoke calmly, "said one interesting thing to me. According to him, apparently, when you get down to it, all coincidences are but inevitable. So wouldn't you say your running out of moves is some sort of fate at work?" "Munakata-kun, you..." "You do realize already, don't you?" The way Munakata said it reeked of eerieness. He was slowly drawing closer.

That was the first time when a shadow of fear slid across Kounomura's face.

All of a sudden, he did an about-face, dashed to hide behind the altar where he took a detonator out of his pocket and pushed the button.

With a thunderous roar, the chapel blew up.

†

When Kounomura made it to the roof, the sky was covered with dark clouds twisting like dragons as far as the eye could see. From time to time, flashes of lightning pierced them.

The torrential downpour, cutting and violent, beat his body mercilessly, and the accompanying gale made him stagger. His face was a sticky mess of sweat and dirt. His hair, thin even under the best circumstances, stuck to his forehead, and his clothes showed tears. Having crawled into the emergency exit made beneath the altar, it took him quite some time to get out.

Kounomura turned to take a look at the rubble that only a few minutes ago was the chapel, and the expression that crossed his face then could be interpreted as despair, fear or maybe even delight.

"...I knew it, Munakata-kun, you're simply..."

There stood no other than Munakata Reishi. Around him the blue globe of a barrier was projected, and despite being in the immediate vicinity of an explosion, not even a hair was out of place on him, to say nothing of injury. Munakata was getting closer, step by step, smiling with grace and refinement all the while.

Kounomura felt fear seizing him. And as Munakata was drawing closer, indivertible in his approach, the reason for this fear dawned on the short man.

For the first time in his life, Kounomura Zen'ichi and his carefully made plans were about to fail. Here, at this very moment.

There were things forever out of his reach, and he was made to realize he could never become someone like the person in front of him no matter how he tried. Between the two men there existed a wall that could never be scaled. In that instance, both Kounomura and Munakata sensed it.

'So this is what destiny is, huh? In the end, I never even stood a chance.'

The moment he thought that, a wave of exhaustion swept over him so bone-deep that he could barely stay upright. His long past its prime body had hit its limit long time ago, and the spirit that kept it going just barely after it had broke that instance.

Kounomura was ready to collapse then and there. But just then...

"That wouldn't do, Kounomura-san."

A quick and strong yet gentle arm suddenly caught him. The wind and rain stopped. Kounomura realized he was drawn inside the barrier projected around Munakata. When he looked up, he found Munakata smiling at him from above.

"He who aspires to be king must never take a knee."

That determination was overwhelming.

Kounomura's first ever failure triggered another strong reaction, and another feeling, new to him, was born on the heels of it. On instinct alone, Kounomura groaned. And then...

"It's okay."

Freeing himself from Munakata's supporting arm, he took a knee before the other man, of his own will this time, and said reverently, "I admit my defeat. You are the true king, Munakata Reishi."

In that instance, he found a new goal for himself, a new someone who he wanted to become.

Munakata, though almost imperceptibly perplexed, kept on smiling, and Kounomura, as he looked at him, couldn't help thinking of him as 'beautiful' once again.

[happythexceed]

Translation: “Mothers” by Yellow (GoRA)

Decided to translate the whole short story since most of it was done. Sorry for the grammar errors. 

“Misaki, can you accompany me to buy some flowers?”

Anna asked Yata stopping by a florist in the street.

“Flowers?”

Yata questioned in doubt unconsciously in his rowdy tone. His voice caught the attention of the male florist who was watering the plants in the florist.

The shop was full of flowers. Out of which, Yata could not name nine out of ten of them while Anna could not make out anything other than red flowers.

“It’s the florist’s favourite season of the year. There are many colourful flowers.”

Yata spoke even more softly than usual as Anna stepped into the florist. Yata followed after her. The florist was taken aback by Anna who resembled a delicate beautiful doll surrounded by flowers, his tone became gentle as he greeted her.

“Buying flowers for your mother?”

Yata who was always overlooking the English words finally noticed advertisements and billboards with “Mother’s Day” written everywhere.

There was also a drawing of red carnation that stood out through Anna’s eyes.

“Today is the day, isn’t it?”

The second Sunday in May.

“You can choose any colour you like to make a bouquet. We have red, white and orange to choose from. Purple is rare but it’s in fashion. Which colour does your mother like?"

“Which colour?”

Anna looked lost. She did not know what to do with the large pail of flowers before her.

Although she used to be able to control enormous power of fire as the Red King, she was still a normal twelve years old girl who liked flowers.

Perhaps she did not have experience in selecting flowers, with that in mind, Yata said out loud to bail her out of this situation.

“Red, all red!”

“When comes to carnations, of course we have to choose red! “

“Er… this is… there’s no problem, but pink is more common, there are also other kind of flowers which are popular…” The florist suggested. “As long as it’s red will do.” Yata raised his voice, “Give us a bouquet of red carnations!”

“There’s no need to raise your voice to scare him.” Anna chided.

“This is so embarrassing.”

Yata lowered his head muttering under his breath. It had been three months since the destruction of the Slate. HOMRA was no longer a gang of hooligans hanging around the street.

“But still, thank you, Misaki. I’m very happy.”

Anna smiled looking at the bouquet of red carnation she carried on her arms. It was not a bouquet Anna could not hold on to despite its size with ten stalks of carnations bundled nicely together.

“Let’s give this to Izumo when we get back, shall we?”

Anna suggested in a whim. How would Kusanagi who was always standing behind the bar counter react if he received the bouquet? Yata could not help but to shiver thinking about it.

“Er… er… if… if we see Kusanagi-san as mother, he will certainly reprimand us for messing with him.” But since it was a present from Anna Kusanagi would still be happy… he guessed. Yata on the other hand would most likely be beaten up for this.

“I see… then let’s give this to Rikio’s mother, shall we?”

“Oh, I think that should be okay, his mother will be happy to receive this.”

During the period Kusanagi had shut down his bar and went abroad (Yata was the only one who didn’t know Kusanagi’s objective was left alone in the bar), Rikio’s mother was the one who had been taking care of Anna.

“How about Misaki? Aren’t you giving flowers to your mother?”

“Me? Forget it. My mum will prefer dumpling instead. Or should I say she will prefer to have dumpling for dinner.”

Before Minoru matured, Yata had been racking his head every year just to think of a gift which would please his mother. As his brother grew up, his little sister was born, he was still having headache about it. After that Yata went into rebellious stage and he washed his hands off such matters as he found this ridiculous. He had ever folded some paper flowers for his mother as he could not afford the real carnations. His mother accepted them happily. She was not just happy with the flowers she received but rather she was happy with his effort to please her.

Yata finally understood now that she was touched by his sincerity back then. Since he left home with Fushimi when he was fifteen, he could count how many times had he went home to visit with his fingers… He decided he would not give her the flowers.

Rather than giving her flowers, she would be happier if he’d find some time to visit them back home.

“…Eh?”

Something caught Yata’s attention as he was considering of going home. He turned his head.

Major roads in both directions were lined up with cars, it was a person in a well-polished Mercedes-Benz which just passed by a high-end boutique that caught his attention. The first thing that came to his mind was Fushimi’s name, why would he think of him suddenly. They were two different people, isn’t it?

“Ahh!” Yata finally realised something and his gaze was fixed on her once again.

Yata threw out his skateboard as a reflex and went after the car.

“Misaki?”

Yata left Anna who let out a surprise voice behind. The honks by the cars were loud enough to burst his ear drum as he sped in between the cars.

Yata was only focusing in catching up with that car. In order to catch up with the person in the car, he stopped the car.

The chauffeur looked very shocked to see a person appeared so suddenly before the car. He stepped on the emergency brake abruptly and the car was stopped with the force coming from Yata when he stopped the car by pressing on its bonnet with his bare hands. The chauffeur with white glove alighted from the car.

“You, you, are you alright? How can you rush to the front of the car like this?”

“Ah… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine…”

“But, what about the force I felt earlier?”

Yata retracted his hands from the bonnet of the car as though nothing happened, his line of sight fell on the person at the back of the car.

A lady with high heels, stockings, tight fitting dress alighted from the car. She gave her order to the chauffeur calmly, “Contact the police immediately.”

“We can’t have the President’s car getting involved in an accident.”

“It will only worsen things if we keep this a secret. Let the kid on the car and take him to the hospital immediately.”

“Ah, I’m really not injured. I’m stronger than normal human now. Rather, you are… Saruhiko’s mother, right? Fushimi Saruhiko’s…”

The lady widened her eyes as she scanned Yata’s face. At the same time, Anna had come to Yata’s side running all the way from the overhead bridge.

“Ah, you’re… I remember you.”

The lady had a surprised expression initially had reverted to her usual self.

“Yes, I’m Yata. … Long time no see, Aunty.”

Fushimi’s mother took them to a hotel lounge making them comfortable.

Yata’s eyes popped out just looking at the menu. Even the normal coffee cost 1,300 yens at least. Anna on the other hand had ordered a seasonal limited edition of “Cherry Parfait” that cost 2,300 yens a set. The parfait was presented before Anna in a short while. It was indeed a luxury … 2,300 yens… yeah as expected Yata could not accept that kind of luxury.

“How can hotel lounge charge something this expensive?”

“There is no difference with what Izumo is charging…”

Anna whispered to Yata while glancing at the lady sitting opposite them, She is called, Kisa, right? Fushimi Kisa. Yata had remembered clearly, this was how Fushimi’s father addressed her.

Yata went to Fushimi’s place to play often during their middle school days but Fushimi’s mother was rarely at home. Fushimi was always trying very hard to prevent him from meeting his father, hence he hardly saw his father, but still compared to his father, it was even harder to see his mother.

“How are you doing now? Are you still in school?”

“Me? I… I’m working part-time… Ah, but Saruhiko has a full time job, he is working for the government. Near his place, there is a gate that looked really grand, isn’t it? He is working there, working really hard with enthusiasm. Even though he is the youngest member there, he is already No. 3, they will entrust him with important mission…”

Yata was sharing with Kisa earnestly about how Fushimi is doing currently but was interrupted by Kisa abruptly.

“Is it? Although I didn’t ask about how is that kid doing?”

Yata was shocked by Kisa’s cold reaction. He lowered his head to the cup of coffee in front of him before raising his head abruptly.

“He, he is your son, isn’t it? I’m saying he is really awesome and really active, won’t you feel happy for him?”

“I have no right to praise that kid, because I have not done much for him.”

Yata was shocked at her cold tone. He did not know what should he say next despite feeling a sense familiarity.

“As for who has the right to praise him, they have to be those who are truly close to him. You can continue to praise him as though you are doing it for yourself. You are the one who has the right to compliment him, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t just me alone. That guy was complimented by many. His supervisors acknowledged him. Maybe, I’m saying maybe, even his subordinates admired him a lot!”

“I didn’t say I don’t believe you. Why are you trying so hard to tell me all these?”

“Compared to my compliment 100 times, a compliment that come from his mother could be much more special to him, I feel.”

Kisa was too stunned to talk after hearing Yata was saying so passionately.

I thought he was the kind who would say this, this was why I found this familiar sensation but in actual fact, he didn’t.

He said this before but I feel.

Even though he resembled his father a lot, inheriting most of his feature but actually, as expected he also took after his mother.

“President, it’s about time.”

The chauffeur who was not there earlier had appeared behind Kisa carefully spoke up.

Kisa sighed and stood up.

“I have other work arrangement and have to go. You can take your time to eat.”

At this moment, Anna stood up and ran after Kisa who was about to leave.

“Please, please accept this.”

Anna held out the bouquet of carnations.

“Because it’s Mother’s Day.”

“I have no reason to accept this.”

“Because Saruhiko is a friend I’m proud of… I’m giving this bouquet to his mother.” Raising her head and holding out the bouquet with two hands, Anna looked up to Kisa with her bright and clear eyes.

“……Is he? Thank you.” There is a tinge of guilt seen in her eyes when she accepted the bouquet.

The sound from Kisa’s heels faded with the rhythm of the music playing as she left the lounge. She wanted to tell her more about Fushimi and wanted to hear more from her to tell Fushimi about, but she was unable to say anything meaningful.

Anna came back to her only spoon of parfait left.

“The flowers we’re supposed to give to Rikio’s mother is given out.”

“That lady, she is a person who needs more flowers to decorate herself… even though the bouquet is gone, if it’s Rikio’s mother, she will be happy if we help in her shop, right?”

“Yes, she will be really happy. She will be really happy with Anna around.”

Yata returned to his senses and smiled warmly.

“Let’s eat. It would be a waste not to finish up the very expensive parfait. After that let’s head to Rikio’s place.”

“We had met your mother today, ah, really it’s a coincidence. Anna is around as well too.” Yata stopped typing halfway through his smart watch.

Compared to when he was 15 to now when he was 20, Yata’s opinion of his mother had changed. Fushimi who hated of his parents back then probably changed his opinion about his parents now right?

Because his father had left for another world, at least his relationship with his mother will improve, right? Yata thought.

“Mind your own business!” He would scold him angrily this way, he definitely will… “

Yata could imagine clearly how pissed he would look clicking his tongue.

“But she was still his mother right?” I just don’t get it!”

Trying to understand Fushimi based on his own assumption was not the way to go. Because he assumed this way back then, they had missed one another for so many years. Guess that guy would still need some time.

Yata reactivated his watch and deleted the earlier draft. He started a new message.

“Hey, come to think of it, you ate a green pepper when we had a meal together last month. You are awesome!”

Yata came up with anything that came to mind as long as he could compliment him, on behalf of his mother, let him praise him 100 times.

“I’m busy working overtime, don’t send me a meaningless message like this!”

“Oh?” It was a quick reply. Fushimi was typing vigorously on his keyboard quickly before his PC at work.

“Even if it is meaningless…”

Yata turned his head and noticed there is another line at the end.

“You are too slow with your compliment.”  

[norihisahyuga-archived]

Temperance ishinobu

Mizuta will never be used to this. He’s made this drive a thousand times over the last few years it seems, or at least it feels like that even though he knows the number must be well under a hundred. Still, the familiar anxiety that comes with sitting in this exact parking spot and waiting on Ishigaki to come outside and join him never fades or lessens in intensity.

He had been as supportive as he could be, though, and at least he can hold onto that. He might not be able to fix anything— not with the wrong words and the wrong gestures and not really knowing the extent of what Ishigaki had gone through— but he can always make this drive. Ishigaki used to drive himself, but the sessions with his therapist are emotionally draining and in the end the drives back home had become too difficult for him to handle with any kind of ease. So Mizuta had volunteered to drive him even if it meant not knowing how he would be when he came out of the office building.

Being so nervous is unfair, of course. Ishigaki deals with so much worse than Mizuta could ever imagine, and he hardly has it in him to be reassuring after having to lay out his emotions the way he does. So Mizuta does his best to contain it so Ishigaki does not have to worry.

“He’ll be fine,” Mizuta tells himself even though he knows this is not always the case. “And if he isn’t, I’ll just… Find some way to make him feel better. Like I always do.”

He doesn’t, is the thing. Not always. Depending on what mood Ishigaki is in, Mizuta has either succeeded in helping him feel better or failed uselessly in doing anything more than holding his hand or being his shoulder to cry on. This is not always his fault, and he knows this, but he always feels just a little bad about it just the same. If he can’t fix the past so that Ishigaki can have a more carefree future, then he should at least be able to help in the present.

His eyes, trained on the doorway, don’t miss the shift of movement behind the glass front or the moment when it swings open and Ishigaki steps outside. Winter had swept through Kyoto with a vengeance though Ishigaki has left his gloves sticking out of one pocket and only has his scarf hanging around his neck, not wrapped securely around it. His face, at least, looks dry.

Mizuta knows better than to breathe a sigh of relief, though, not yet. Instead, he cleans over the center console and pushes open the passenger side door just before Ishigaki reaches it so he can sit inside. Up close, his eyes are not bloodshot or rimmed in red, and there are no visible tear tracks on his cheeks. Not that this means anything, of course. There are other ways to empty yourself emotionally that have nothing to do with crying, and Mizuta knows all about it.

“Good session?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light and easy.

“Long,” Ishigaki answers, and Mizuta bites down on his tongue, trying to read the thoughts passing through Ishigaki’s eyes when his boyfriend turns to look at him. “Nobu, I…”

He stops and closes his eyes, and for a long moment he says nothing. Mizuta almost thinks he might have forgotten what he wanted to say and dozed off— that would be preferable, actually, he would live in suspense forever if it meant Ishigaki could rest— but the tension lines around Ishigaki’s lips speak more words than his mouth ever could. When he finally sighs and opens his eyes once more, Mizuta is gripping the steering wheel so tight it bites into his fingers.

“It was a good session, all things considered. We talked about a lot of hard subjects, is all. That happens a lot.” Ishigaki tries for a smile and doesn’t quite make it all the way there, but the thought is all that counts. “We talked about you a little bit, too, actually.”

Mizuta blinks at him. “Me? What’s there to say about me to your therapist? Did I do something?”

“Not everything we talk about is bad. He just found out today that you’ve been driving me to these sessions since I can’t really drive myself anymore.” Ishigaki words it carefully, but there is still the slightest weakness in his voice. Shame, probably.

“It’s not really that hard or long of a drive, so. And it helps, right?” Mizuta waits for Ishigaki’s small nod before stretching out a hand, resting it on top of his knee, and squeezing in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “So I’m happy to help if I can.”

“I know that.” Ishigaki laughs and pulls his scarf off, winding the fabric around his fingers, pulling it taut. “We talked about that specifically. The ways you help me and what you do for me that I can manage things better. Because he asked if you did other things for me, too.”

Mizuta does. Ishigaki has hard days where rolling out of bed and getting to class on time is difficult enough without juggling the other details of his life. So there are days when Mizuta takes care of making sure he actually eats breakfast before leaving the apartment— “I’ll get something on the way to class,” always turns into “I forgot,” without fail, so home cooking is just easier— or texting him when he knows Ishigaki is between classes to ask him how he is, or if he remembers he has another class that day. Little things to make sure he can manage easier.

Still, the thought Ishigaki had been discussing this with his therapist is strange to think about. “Is there a reason he asked that, or was he just making conversation?”

Ishigaki laughs and shakes his head. “No, no he had a reason. He gets onto me about things and wanted to make sure that I was showing you proper appreciation.”

“You always do.” Maybe not in the ways another person would consider to be appreciative, but Mizuta gets more out of Ishigaki curling up next to him after a long day and just leaning on him and whispering “thank you” than he does out of any grand gesture. “Did you tell him that?”

“Do I?” Ishigaki asks, and the light and playful tone drops immediately.

Mizuta stares at him for a long moment before he turns around in his seat, reaching for both of Ishigaki’s hands, twining their fingers together so Ishigaki knows he’s serious. Too often, he lets things slide as jokes, but not this time. “Ishiyan, you always let me know that you appreciate what I do for you. There’s never been a time when I haven’t felt that.”

“Are you sure?” Ishigaki looks uncertain; his eyes drop from Mizuta’s, a sure sign this conversation is intimate and making him uncomfortable, but he finally drags his gaze back up and makes himself focus. “I just don’t want you to think that you have to do these things for me. It helps, but I really do need to learn to do them all for myself.”

That’s fair. Ishigaki needs to learn how to live his life without other people there to make things easier for him, a concept Mizuta understands well because he knows as well as anyone else that there is no real guarantee someone will always be there. One of his kouhai back at Kyoto Fushimi high had been alone once, after all, a story Mizuta remembers being uncomfortable when he listened to it because he, himself, has never been without someone there. His family, and then Ishigaki, and of course Midousuji in his own weird way. Someone has always been there, and so it had been easy for Mizuta to pick up little ways to make Ishigaki’s life easier.

“I understand the sentiment,” he says, running a thumb over Ishigaki’s knuckles soothingly, “but you aren’t alone right now, y’know? You’ve got me here and I like being able to help you.”

Ishigaki sighs, and this time his entire head drops. “I just… I really do appreciate you helping me the way you do. Even if it’s just something like a car ride because driving home was so hard sometimes, especially when I was so tired I just wanted to curl up in a hole somewhere.”

Mizuta remembers those afternoons, remembers looking up from his homework or cooking or the television or video games to see Ishigaki stumble in with bags under his eyes and looking as though every last drop of energy he had had been drained from his body. He also remembers how grateful Ishigaki’s eyes had been, how he had gripped Mizuta’s hands so tightly with both of his, when Mizuta tried to casually mention he wanted to drop Ishigaki off himself.

The excuse then had been that he might need the car. He gave up the illusion a few months later when it became clear he had no intention of dropping the task itself.

“I know you do.” He tries to mean it as much as he can, to put as much sincerity into his voice as possible, and wonders how effective it is. If he sounds as serious as he feels. “I really do know. You do show a lot of appreciation and it means a lot to me.”

Ishigaki takes one of his hands back to run his fingers through his hair, and he looks tired now, looks like he wants to slip between their sheets back home and catch a nap. “I’m glad to hear that. I just… I’m not trying to excuse my behavior. There’s a line between symptoms that are hard to manage and quite literally letting myself become a burden on you.”

“You’re right. There is a line.” Not sugar coating the truth is an important fact that Ishigaki had brought back with him from one session and one that Mizuta tries to adopt because he thinks it might be helpful for Ishigaki to know that Mizuta is aware of the truth. “But you haven’t crossed it. You really haven’t. Like, what’s the worst that happens so far? I talk to you a little more during the day or we eat together. Driving you here hasn’t negatively affected me at all.”

The smile he receives from Ishigaki is warm and soft and it makes his stomach flutter in a way that little else to nothing can make him feel. It seems like just yesterday he had been a stupidly naive kouhai bouncing around behind Ishigaki during their days on the Kyofushi cycling team, trying to win his approval and appreciation without ever realizing why. If he knew they would get this far together, he would have stopped and analyzed his actions sooner rather than later.

Ishigaki yawns, then, smothering the sound with a hand before flashing Mizuta a guilty smile. “Sorry, sorry, it was just a lot in one afternoon. Is there anywhere you want to stop by before we go home?”

The question is an unusual one; Ishigaki almost never asks unless he wants something specifically, and even then he mentions it directly. He must have brought this question with him from his session, an attempt at not just making this trip about him. “Nope. I’m ready to go home. It’s too cold out to do anything anyway.”

He pushes the center console up when he turns back around and is unsurprised when Ishigaki leans across the middle seat, his head resting on Mizuta’s shoulder. The weight is a reassurance in more ways than one and at a red light, Mizuta leans his cheek against the top of Ishigaki’s head to show him that he can feel him there, that he hasn’t forgotten his presence. As if he could ever do such a thing.

They might not be perfect, and things might be more difficult for his boyfriend than they have any right to be, but Mizuta finally finds the ability to relax before he pulls onto their street.

At least, for today, Ishigaki is okay.

[nohappinesscomeswitheggsandmilk]

Ship: Reisaru (Reisi Munakata/Saruhiko Fushimi)

Series: K

Rating: M/R/NC-17/NSFW

Warnings: Post Season 2. Sex/smut. ;3

Words: 1,704

~This is for Reisaru week 2017, (Nov.13th, 2017) Day 1 Prompt: Firsts~

Diving in Headfirst

Jeanette Diaz Michel

There were still lots of adjustments to be made after the Dresden Slate had been destroyed. Work around Scepter 4 had not become any easier or any less complicated. This was something that could also be said about the relationship between the Captain and his third in command.

After his infiltration to Jungle, Munakata had Fushimi debriefed. Fushimi had protested to this, of course, he didn’t want a damn shrink analyzing him. For the sake of avoiding an argument, Fushimi humored his Captain. Munakata took the time to do the same. It was only fair; he didn’t want Fushimi to think it was just his own psyche that had been affected by what had happened.

When Fushimi had found out, he’d only clicked his tongue. The brief session with the shrink, though they had proven to be both capable, also told them both something that they’d felt and known for quite some time but had never had the chance to think about or accept.

Fushimi avoided Munakata the first day back from the shrink. He hated how much he’d talked and how much it had affected him to realize that Munakata could have died and how much that genuinely affected him. Of course, he knew that Munakata could see right through him; that he knew there was something bothering Fushimi, but he never asked, and that infuriated Fushimi to no end. His Captain and his damn courtesies and respect.

The tension didn’t last long. Fushimi noticed the way his Captain looked at him, but he tried to tell himself that it was all in his head, that his Captain didn’t feel the same way. Then he started to second guess himself when Munakata seemed to be doing things that could only be described as courting. He brought Fushimi coffee, insisted on walking him to his room after long days at the office.

Then came the soft stroking of his cheek and hair after dropping him off to his room late at night. It made Fushimi’s heart hammer against his chest. The courting continued, and Fushimi let it albeit cautiously. Munakata asked to see him off hours on days they didn’t work. They met and had breakfast or lunch, and it was strange to see the Captian outside of his uniform doing normal things—as normal as Munakata can do anything, it was safer to say doing things in what was normal for Munakata, anyway.

Months had passed and they had finally come to this stage. Fushimi had found it strange, when they began to hold hands, to kiss, but he found that he didn’t dislike it. And he could see that Munakata was always watching in case he needed to tune it back. The kisses were light at first, but now they were more enveloping.

They had discussed sex. It had made Fushimi bright red to talk about it, and he wondered how his Captain could say such things without losing any composure. They were here now, and Fushimi was still conscious over the fact that they were both naked. He tried not to think on it.

Face red, he stared up at Munakata. They were both panting softly, and Munakata smiled down at him tenderly. It made Fushimi’s heart jump and he glared. Munakata carefully pulled his two fingers out, and Fushimi let out a small whimper of protest.

Munakata smiled again and leaned down and kissed him softly. Fushimi held onto his shoulders, his legs were spread, and his thighs where trembling from anticipation and the pleasure he’d felt only a moment ago. Fushimi’s heart jumped and his toes curled when he felt Munakata’s erection press against one of his thighs softly. Fushimi gasped softly.

“Fushimi-kun… are you ready?” Munakata stared at him, his purple eyes dark, pupils dilated dark with need.

Fushimi shivered and stared back, “Just go…”

He said irritated. He moved his hands from Munakata’s shoulders to feel the muscles of his back. Munakata smiled, and Fushimi would never admit to him that it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Munakata pushed in carefully, and Fushimi gasped again at how much his length and girth stretched him. He gripped tighter to Munakata’s back and couldn’t help but throw his head back, his muscles tightened around his Captain until he was all the way inside.

Fushimi’s thighs trembled more, and his heart pounding, all Fushimi could hear was his blood against his ears. It was a strange feeling, to have the Captain inside him. Thinking about it again made him turn red.

“Are you okay, Fushimi-kun?” Munakata’s voice was soft, and Fushimi could feel him staring. “Does it hurt?”

Curse him and his consideration. He opened his eyes to look at him. “I’m okay, go.”

They had spent so much time on foreplay and preparing him, of course it didn’t hurt, it was just strange. Munakata studied him a moment and nodded. He carefully pulled out and then pushed back in. Fushimi let out a soft groan and held onto his back again. It kept him grounded to be able to feel him. He threw his head back and concentrated on not getting lost to the pleasure so quickly. Munakata seemed to think that he was still in discomfort, because he leaned down and began to kiss his neck.

“Fuck..!” Fushimi breathed.

Munakata pulled away and pushed in again and he found a steady rhythm. Toes curling again and legs shivering, Fushimi moved them to wrap around his Captain’s waist. This seemed to encourage him and he began to quicken his pace slightly.

“Ah--! Captain!” Fushimi’s voice hitched.

Munakata let out a soft chuckle that came out almost like a purr. “Munakata.” He corrected, and moved to kiss another part of Fushimi’s neck.

Fushimi only nodded, not able to think clearly. His whole body was trembling now, the way Munakata was sucking on a vein made him see white and lose all of his inhibitions almost as much as the smooth motions of his hips pounding against his ass.

“Fushimi…” Munakata murmured his name huskily, and it made Fushimi moan.

Munakata shifted closer, and Fushimi’s body tensed slightly. His muscles tightening around his cock. Munakata groaned and quickened his pace again, going in deeper. Fushimi couldn’t moan any intelligible words now, but when Munakata hit his prostate he arched his back into Munakata. His nails digging in deep into his back and gripping onto him.

“Ahh yes!” Fushimi couldn’t help but scream in succession each time Munakata thrust inside him.

Munakata smiled. If Fushimi knew what he was saying… Munakata nipped at his jaw and purred in his ear. “Fushimi-kun… I’m close…”

He wasn’t sure if Fushimi registered the words, because his only response was an agreeable whine. Reaching with one hand, Munakata took Fushimi’s erection and stroked him in tune to his thrusts. Fushimi let out a startled whimper at that, but only pulled Munakata closer to him.

Smiling gently, Munakata let the tension build in his lower abdomen. He quickened his pace and thrust deeply into Fushimi to give him as much pleasure possible until the end. Fushimi’s moans, his expressions, it was music and art personified. Reaching his limit, Munakata’s hand stroked Fushimi faster and rubbed his tip with his thumb. Fushimi was leaking precum, and that sent Munakata over the edge.

With a small grunt and last push inside, Munakata stilled and ejaculated his hot seed inside him. Just then, Fushimi’s muscles around him tensed and he came too. The two panted and were still. Their bodies covered in sweat and each other’s semen. Munakata stared at Fushimi’s post orgasmic face. His eyes were closed, trying to catch his breath. It made Munakata smile. He leaned in and pecked his lips softly before pulling away.

Fushimi let out a soft whine, but then he leaned into Munakata when he lay next to him. Munakata wrapped his arms around him and held him close. He could feel the heat of Fushimi’s cheeks against his chest when he blushed. Munakata could now feel the scratches on his back and knew it would be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He kissed the top of Fushimi’s head.

They were quiet for a while longer. Each taking and drinking this in in his own way. Fushimi’s heart was calming down now, but only slightly, and he was able to think properly. He could feel his Captain’s cum inside him and some dripping out of him. His thighs were wet. He wanted to take a shower, but he also didn’t want to leave Munakata’s embrace. When he looked up, Munakata was staring at him and his heart jumped. He wondered how Munakata could stare at him like that, like he was the only person in the world.

Munakata reached over and tenderly stroked Fushimi’s cheek and jaw. “How are you feeling?”

Fushimi wanted to scoff. “Fine, tsk.”

Munakata chuckled, which irritated Fushimi slightly if it weren’t for the fact of what they had done and how much Fushimi had enjoyed it. “Okay.” He kissed the top of Fushimi’s head again.

Unable to resist, Fushimi nestled himself closer into him. He could feel Munakata’s heartbeat, and he loved the small rise and fall of his chest. After a moment he could tell that his Captian was asleep. Fushimi closed his eyes to follow. It was scary. This was their first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. But Fushimi knew they still had plenty of firsts to go. Fushimi knew that Munakata already wanted to tell him those big three words. ‘I love you.’ But the idea frightened Fushimi so much, and Munakata could read him like an open book that he was holding back. Then there was the use of their first names… Munakata would say his first, no doubt. Of course he would. All of this frightened Fushimi, and he realized that Munakata was going at his pace. The man was to considerate, it irritated Fushimi to no end, but it swelled his chest, because he knew… At least he could admit it to himself, that he loved him.

[amisbro]

Camus: Good evening Joshua

Joshua: Good evening Your Excellency. I trust that yo are ready for Tuesday when the big event starts and we see whom will be worthy of attaining your services this time are you not?

Camus: I am and I am looking forward to seeing who will win it. Its a shame you will not be in the event but I understand why with your schedule

Joshua: Well thank you...I have a feeling though this wasn't the only reason you popped on by on this Monday

Camus: You're correct *holds up a pair of women's heels* These were left in our room. I know you don't wear these so should I assume its our rather androgynous friend in Yukari?

Joshua: You know...I never thought of him in that way before...I guess I should have since...well give me a second first

(Joshua gets up from his chair and takes the heels from Camus before walking out of his office door and making a decision only he could make in a situation like this)

Joshua: Mishakuji-Kun *Holds up the heels* I believe I have something that belongs to you!

*5 minutes later*

Yukari: I apologize for that Joshua and Camus. I was rushing to get changed from a mission and well...yeah! I do apologize for that and I will try to make sure it never happens again

Camus: Its alright it was an honest mistake. I was wondering why they were in there and I forgot that you do work for them "undercover" as it were. Just TRY to remember next time to at the very least leave a note for Joshua so he knows what is going on otherwise we run into this situation

Yukari: Understood sir. I can tell you that in the time since the two of you have been away Eiji has been helping out Fushimi with the paperwork and also they picked Nagi's brain for a strat on taking out JUNGLE for this past mission. It was his idea actually to have me dress that way actually

Joshua: Nagi...suggested that you crossdress for a mission? What else has this child been doing?

Yukari: Oh it worked out wonderfully Curtis-kun! He also suggested that Seri and I go out shopping for the clothes and that was a lot of fun too! In a way even Lieutenant Awashima wished you could have been there but I told her that wasn't going to be a good idea if for the only reason that I know you think I look good in anything

Joshua: *raises hand* GUILTY! Dress or a Tux you have turned many a head whenever we go out and I have to curse myself that my sword has to be left at the entrance. I swear you outdo yourself everytime

Yukari: True...but when you have to keep up with the Count of the Silk Palace that tends to be expected

Joshua: *Looks at Camus* You two been having fashion competitions since I've been away?

Camus: ...Kind of. What's been happening is for some reason certain members of HEAVENS have wanted to see who was the better dresser between Yukari and I since they know of the "unique" situation you have and the running joke is that the loser has to pay for the Winner's date. Well we never have to worry about that cos its always a tie!

Joshua: ...HOW?!

Yukari: Nagi stays out of judging and it always ends up a 3-3 tie

Joshua: Does Nagi stay out because he wants to be impartial or cos he knows he might have helped in picking out one of your outfits?

Yukari: Kind of both. He does help a little so he disqualifies himself but he also wants to remain impartial and he thinks if he voted he could be swayed in some way. We mutually respected this decision

Joshua: Ahh I see...know what sucks? Since I've been busy the past two Birthdays for myself I haven't been able to spend time with you on it...gonna see if I can get off this year though. To make up for that though I do need to spend some quality time with Boss Man and I hope you understand that Yukari.

Yukari: I do and I hope Camus will allow you to come see me on your birthday. 37 is it? I am somewhat shocked

Joshua: No kidding...here I thought you were the older one in the relationship. Well Gents I would love to chat some more but Camus needs to get ready for his big event and Yukari do me a favor and keep Sukuna out of trouble with Anna...don't need him getting her upset and then he becomes a charred kid you know?

Yukari: Agreed and I told him to mind himself around her...I also told him if I ever bring him around Camus that he has to behave himself and he has promised to do so. Camus good Luck with your event and Joshua its been wonderful talking to you...and I'll take these with me too *holds up the heels that Joshua had earlier*

Joshua: *laughs* Very good Yukari and Boss Man have fun this week! Take care you two!

Both: Good Night Joshua!

[ridiasfangirlings]

i geniunely just feel like hurting myself w this anyw pre rok yata dead au fushimi finding his diary full of sad stuff

Remember: the best way to hurt yourself is to hurt everyone else reading this too :D Imagine how sad this would be though, Yata dying before he and Fushimi can reconcile and then Fushimi really getting to read and understand how much Yata missed him and that Yata never left him behind at all. Like say Yata gets randomly killed by some Strain, not even a super strong one or a King or anything, just a regular old Strain and Yata’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. Obviously in the aftermath Homra is dealing with things and Fushimi’s trying his hardest to act like he’s not affected when he’s really dealing with all these complex emotions. When Homra goes to clean out Yata’s place Kusanagi suggests Fushimi come along, Fushimi refuses but Anna shows up at S4 later holding a book in her hands. She gives it to Fushimi and tells him Misaki would have wanted him to have it. Fushimi bitterly denies that, why should Yata want to give anything to his enemy, but Anna just looks at him silently until he nods and takes the book.

It sits on Fushimi’s desk for a couple days before he can finally bring himself to open it, wondering why he would want to read Misaki’s stupid diary that’s probably all about how awesome Mikoto is. Instead the very first line on the first page is ‘Saruhiko left today.’ The entry goes on, ‘Totsuka-san said it might be good to write things down when I feel upset, so I guess I’ll try that. I’m not good at writing so this won’t be fancy or anything. I dunno what to write.’ And then a big space between paragraphs and at the bottom of the page: ‘I miss Saruhiko. What if he doesn’t come back?’.

Fushimi turns the page and there’s another entry, something random this time about all the fun Yata had that day in Homra, but then once again at the bottom of the page: ‘I’m glad I didn’t have to go back to the apartment until it was late. I miss having Saruhiko there.’ Fushimi wants to just shut the diary but he keeps reading, fingers clenching on the pages as he reads about the first time he and Yata met post-betrayal. Yata’s talking about how Fushimi’s such an asshole, such a traitor and Fushimi grins all ‘that’s right,’ but there’s still that last line: ‘why doesn’t he just come back already. I miss the old Saruhiko.’ Fushimi mutters to himself that Yata doesn’t understand if he’s still asking that, turning the page.

Yata’s diary talks about how he had to move out of the old apartment, ‘it feels too empty without Saruhiko. I dunno what to do with the stuff he left. I took the kotatsu but it stopped working again and I don’t know how to fix it. I brought Saru’s stuff along anyway, I put it in the closet. If he comes back, I’ve got it.’ Fushimi suddenly remembers Kusanagi asking him to come clean Yata’s place and he clicks his tongue, wondering why his vision is blurring suddenly and muttering that the low light is making his eyes sting. He keeps on reading and there are so many entries, a lot of them are about Homra but even more are about him, Yata wondering if Fushimi’s eating right (‘he just looks so skinny okay, what are those assholes feeding him at Scepter 4,’), worrying when he hears someone at S4 got hurt in a mission (‘why the hell should I even worry about that bastard…anyway I bet he’s fine, right? Saruhiko is strong’), talking about old memories and wondering what happened to make things turn out this way (‘Did I do something? Did I make Saruhiko leave? I just want him to come back and be my friend again’). Soon Fushimi’s been up hours and imagine him finally just shoving the book in his desk, hiding his face with his hands and trying to tell himself that this doesn’t matter, it’s fine isn’t it, everything broke anyway so it’s fine that he left, even though he’ll never see Misaki again it’s fine.

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Six

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 6/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

They found another sun charging spot in the south, after an annoying amount of time spent flying from building to building and a just-in-case reapplication of Yata’s invisibility spell. Generally it lasted all day, but the sun was setting by that point and sometimes twilight and dawn messed things up. It was only a pinch for each of them, and he still had a good supply stowed away in a glass jar in his kitchen, so it was better not to take chances.

More urgent than that was the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. The remains of the hangover had long-since passed, and it was getting hard to focus on anything outside of the pit of emptiness in his belly. The day had shifted to twilight anyway, which made chasing sunlight harder – and it was gonna be a while before there was enough moonlight to be worth chasing. So overall, there wasn’t much else to do besides return to his apartment so he could eat.

Besides that, he damn well needed to. It was probably gonna be a long night.

“This fucking sucks!” Yata groused, kicking the door shut behind him after letting both of them inside. The apartment was still as he’d left it: everything shoved out of the way with the remains of his summoning circle on the floor, reminding him that he still had that to deal with too. “How many hours of the day do we gotta spend on this crap? It takes forever to find anything!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “If it wasn’t an annoying task, I doubt the Captain would’ve bothered to force it on us.” His expression was an odd blend of resignation and disgust. “He’s the type who’ll give you something troublesome to deal with just to see what you’ll do with it.”

“Yeah, sounds like him.” Yata toed out of his shoes and aggressively pulled his shirt on, letting out a soft ‘ch’ to vent his irritation, before stepping in toward the kitchen. “Fucking sadist.”

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” Fushimi muttered, sounding just as put out as Yata felt.

Somehow, the fact that they were equally miserable actually made him feel a bit better. Yata paused for a second with his hand on the fridge door. “So you don’t eat, right?” Without waiting for Fushimi to answer – they’d talked about it only a few hours ago so he knew the answer – he went ahead with, “Want anything else?”

Fushimi had picked up one of the chairs that had been moved aside the night before, shuffling it back to the table that was crammed off to the side. “Coffee,” he responded, sitting down and materializing his laptop again, “which you’re out of. So, nothing.”

Yata shot him a scowl. Sorry I asked. “Yeah, whose fault is that, huh?” He turned back to his fridge, yanking it open with maybe a bit more force than necessary and busying himself with studying the contents. There were leftovers from the night before, but considering the purpose behind that meal, he wasn’t sure about bringing them out right then. “Hey, if you’re not busy, wanna move that table back away from the wall? It should go in front of the kitchen.”

The now-familiar click of Fushimi’s tongue answered him. “I’m not your maid.”

“You’re living here rent-free!” Abandoning the fridge for the moment, Yata stalked across the room and grabbed the edge of the table. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

Fushimi was quick enough to pluck his laptop from the table as it was dragged out from under him. He raised an eyebrow as Yata shuffled the furniture to get it back into place. “That wasn’t exactly my idea. And it’s not my fault your apartment is a mess.” The corners of his lips edged up slightly in a tiny smirk. “You should be more hospitable to your guests, Misaki.”

That froze him in the act of straightening to head back to the fridge. “What the hell did you call me?”

He got another raised eyebrow for his trouble. “Your name?”

“My name is Yata.” He glared in response, feeling that pit of annoyance in his stomach start to swell again. Coming to terms with his first name had been… a process. He was fine with it now, more or less – he could introduce himself without embarrassment, at least – but no one called him that. Except his mom. And Anna.

He didn’t feel like making another exception for this guy, that was for sure.

“Yata Misaki,” Fushimi clarified in a low drawl. That smirk was edging onto his face again. “Right?”

“We’re not on a first name basis here, asshole!” Yata snarled back at him, clenching his hand into a fist against the table without thinking about it. “Nobody fucking calls me that!”

“Your seer called you that, back at the bar,” Fushimi pointed out, unmoved. He tipped his head forward, studying Yata through his lashes again. “What difference does it make? I’m already inside your head; that’s about as close as you can get. Or” – his smirk widened marginally – “is there something in particular that bothers you about that name?”

That struck a sore spot – one that hadn’t been prodded at for quite a while. At least not since he’d started trying to consciously tune out the shitty voice in his head telling him that the combination of his girly-sounding name and bedroom preferences somehow said something about him. It didn’t seem like that was what Fushimi was getting at – more like he was just picking up on Yata’s anger and deliberately fueling it – but Yata glowered back anyway, making an effort to shove that old baggage to the back of his thoughts. “None of your goddamn business!” He pushed away from the table, letting out a sharp ‘ch’ from the side of his mouth. “Just don’t call me that – got it?”

“Whatever you say,” Fushimi responded blandly. He rose from his seat without hurrying, shifting the chair toward the table again before reseating himself and settling his laptop in front of him. “If we’re lucky, it won’t matter for much longer anyway.”

Yata snorted in response, moderately appeased. “Don’t have to tell me.” He turned back to the fridge, swinging it open again. “It’s only been a day and I already can’t wait to get rid of you.” Another survey of the contents reminded him that last night’s leftovers were basically it unless he felt like cooking or ordering takeout. Neither one sounded appealing. But still… “How long d’you think this shit is gonna take, anyway?”

“At our current rate?” The sound of rapid typing accompanied Fushimi’s voice. “A week at the very least. Probably longer.” He clicked his tongue. “There’s always some complication that comes up…”

In other words, it was use it or lose it with the leftovers – a week or more in the fridge, and he’d probably be throwing them out. Yata scowled to himself. Whatever, not like he didn’t already smell the caraway. Who gives a shit what he thinks, anyway? He pulled the covered plate out and closed the door sharply before he could rethink it, pulling off the wrap before stuffing it into the microwave.

The distinct smell started to waft out after only a few seconds of heating, and Yata shifted on his feet, tossing a self-conscious glance in Fushimi’s direction. He seemed entirely focused on his work.

Right, good. He didn’t need any commentary on his choice of spices.

That ended up being wishful thinking, though – when he retrieved his warmed food and moved to grab the other chair to sit at the table, Fushimi glanced up, his eyes lidded and the beginning edge of a smirk on his lips. “Caraway and cinnamon, huh? Are you hoping for something?”

Yata scowled back, feeling his cheeks head. Shoulda known. “They’re leftovers, okay?” He dropped into his seat with an agitated huff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hmm?” Fushimi drew the hum out in a way that could’ve been either mocking or suggestive – possibly a mix of both with the way he was eyeing Yata across the table. “If you’re looking for prosperity and sex, I could think of better requests for a demon than company.” His gaze was penetrating. “What exactly was your goal last night, anyway?”

The memory of that frustration, longing, and aching loneliness was still sharp enough to cut through Yata’s thoughts; he frowned against the rush, turning his eyes deliberately to his food. “None of your business.”

He could still feel Fushimi’s stare piercing into him for a long moment after he started in on his meal, but no response came. Just as the silence was starting to become unbearable, Fushimi clicked his tongue and the sound of his typing started up again.

They ate and worked without acknowledging each other again after that. Yata had the chance to wolf down his food and wash his dishes before the last traces of sunlight started to fade into evening and the familiar sense of the moon started to rise up at the back of his thoughts. It was a welcome distraction from the awkward atmosphere between the two of them.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly, heading over to step into his shoes without waiting for a response.

He heard Fushimi heave a sigh behind him. “You’re so impatient,” he mumbled, sounding irritable. The sound of the chair sliding against the floor indicated that he was getting up to follow all the same.

Well, not like he had a choice if Yata was leaving. “You wanna get this over with, right? C’mon.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, stepping closer. “I heard you the first time.”

“Yeah, well, hurry up then.”

It was noticeably cooler out than it had been earlier, though the feeling wasn’t too unpleasant – summer solstice was less than a month away, so the weather was pretty warm overall. The sky was lightly clouded, and Yata could feel the humidity in the air even as he rose above the city. The wind had died down completely, and he had to beat his wings more frequently to keep up momentum and height.

Somehow, it wasn’t as annoying as it had been earlier. The stronger presence of the moon had the weirdly conflicting effect of calming his nerves and exciting the rest of his senses. Yata shut his eyes briefly against the exhilaration that shuddered through his body. It wasn’t as strong as it had been – the full moon had passed already – but he could get intoxicated if he let himself.

Not now. He opened his eyes, forcing himself back on track as they landed on the roof of the next building. So far, there had been three duds, but this…

Ah… it’s here, huh? There was definitely a stronger source illuminating him at this place. Yata breathed in deeply, instinctively letting his head and body adjust to the rush. It felt good, but not in the same way that the sunlight had. That was more of a personal feeling: soothing and grounding. This was almost a seductive call, like a lover’s touch.

Not exactly what he wanted on his mind when he turned to look back at his companion – and it didn’t help to have a visual to go with it, either. Moonlight complemented Fushimi’s coloring, accentuating his pale skin and setting attractive highlights in his dark hair. His grey-blue eyes seemed to glimmer behind his glasses, and the lines of his face and body were stark and smooth. The span of his wings, the gleam on his horns, the whiplike length of his tail… It all added to the dark mystery that wrapped itself around him effortlessly in this lighting.

Fuck. Yata sucked in a sharp breath and turned his head, swallowing an embarrassing little rush of attraction. It was worse now with the moon above him and his senses heightened; he couldn’t deny the sly tug of arousal the sight generated. Goddamnit, why the hell is he like that?

Fushimi let out another of those low hums, clearly amused. Even the sound of it was like a siren’s call in that moment, the timbre and pitch of his voice feeding into the mood deliciously. “It seems like this is the right place,” he drawled.

At least the irritation had a grounding effect. Yata clenched his teeth, shoving aside that set of urges. Too damn close to the full moon. At least it had passed; things would probably get easier as it waned. “Yeah, great, so get it going already.”

“You really are way too impatient.” Even without looking, it was possible to hear the smirk in Fushimi’s tone. “I have the stone out – that’s all I need to do, right?” He let out a soft, amused hum. “I seem to remember something about ‘leave the finding and charging to me’…”

At that, Yata did turn, with a scowl already formed on his face. “Yeah, thanks, asshole – I remember what I said, okay?” After a brief glare at Fushimi’s frustratingly sexy face, he turned his gaze to the stone. “Let me get a sense of this guy, and I can handle it.” Trying to focus on something a little safer, he reached out to tap a fingertip against the smooth surface.

The reluctant feel of the sunstone’s absorption became more prominent as he did. Yata let his touch linger for just a second longer, getting the sensation settled in his head so that he could tell without reaching out when the breaking point got closer. That sluggish, almost half-assed charging felt similar to the moonstone from before.

This guy’s gonna be just as difficult, huh?

Fushimi’s hand twitched under his, as if on some impulse, and their fingers brushed.

The sensation of warm skin under his was electric. Yata glanced up, startled, and caught sight of Fushimi’s eyes widening just a little, his expression charmingly unguarded. For a very brief moment, something seemed to tighten in Yata’s chest. The sight of that pale, beautiful face illuminated by moonlight and looking refreshingly honest for a change stirred a surge of sudden, intense longing to life within him. It was difficult to even breathe properly.

It didn’t last more than a second or two, and then Fushimi’s gaze was flickering off to the side, head turning and mouth twisting down as he clicked his tongue softly. “That’s enough, right?” he mumbled, deliberately shifting his hand away. “Don’t block the moonlight.”

“Huh? I…” Yata blinked, momentarily dazed by the sudden shift in the mood, and then shook his head in an attempt to clear the fog of moonlight-induced stupor. “I wasn’t!” He felt his cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as clarity struck and turned away himself, letting out an agitated ‘ch’ and reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “I know what I’m doing, all right? Get off my back.”

“I don’t remember getting on your back,” Fushimi drawled, low and throaty with that blend of suggestive and superior. “Although… somehow I doubt you’d be saying that if I did.”

Yata’s fingers clenched behind his neck, strands of hair catching and pulling in his grip. “Fuck off,” he muttered, frustrated with himself over the twinge of arousal that came with the imagined scenario. Once again, he was uncomfortably aware of being half-naked under that intent gaze, and he could feel the earlier warmth spreading down his neck onto his chest.

They’d only known each other for a day, and somehow Fushimi had the ability to read him like a book, prodding at all of his sensitive spots with uncanny accuracy to evoke the right reactions. It was as exciting as it was irritating, a power that ignited his interest like nothing else and pissed him off at the same time over that helpless reaction.

He seriously had to get rid of this guy, and fast. This was messing with him way too much already.

“If you say so.” Fushimi’s tone was airy and mocking, lined with a certainty that made Yata want to punch him. Mercifully, he didn’t follow up on the subject. “Judging by the first time we did this and assuming that sunstone and moonstone behave similarly, charging shouldn’t take much more than an hour. That should leave us with plenty of time to locate more charging points.”

Yata shot him an irritated look. “Yeah, fine, except that I need to sleep at some point. I gotta work tomorrow, remember?”

Fushimi frowned back at him. “If you’re assuming that I don’t sleep, you’re wrong.” He reached up to adjust his glasses. “I just think it’s more important to get this over with while we can. Anyway, you probably don’t even have a place for me to sleep properly, so what’s the point of making a fuss over it?”

“I have a futon at least, goddamnit! Just because I’m not rich doesn’t mean I can’t have guests!” Yata felt his eyebrow twitch, annoyance building within him. “Anyway, did you seriously just ask what the point of getting enough sleep is? What the hell is wrong with you?” He squinted at Fushimi. “Are you like one of those office workers that tries to run on coffee and energy bars?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, offering an unimpressed frown in return. “Says the idiot who got drunk and performed a summoning before passing out on the floor and waking up hung-over. Do you really think you have any high ground to judge someone else’s lifestyle from?”

“I don’t do that every night! Anyway, that’s not the point!” Yata braced his hands on his hips, setting his stance firmly. “I’m not pulling any all-nighters for this shit. No fucking way.” Before there was any chance for a response, he ploughed ahead with, “And I’m not skipping work to do this all day, either. I got bills to pay. My life doesn’t stop just ’cause this shit is happening.”

There was a stark moment of aggrieved silence, and then Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “Do what you want – not like I have a say here.” His stare was flat with irritation. “Are we at least agreed that we’re not going to waste time idling when we could be getting this out of the way? Basic needs and bills aside, there’s no point in screwing around.”

“No shit. Why the hell would I want to screw around with you?” Realizing the double meaning behind his words a fraction of a second too late, Yata immediately blustered on. “Right! But! Anyway, we’ll look around more tonight for a while! And tomorrow when I finish up work. Got it?”

“No excuses,” Fushimi muttered. His eyes were sharp.

“Yeah, yeah.” That went without saying as far as Yata was concerned. He met that cool-eyed gaze with full seriousness, feeling a little bit like he was making another contract. Of a different kind. “No excuses.”

[mistleto-3]

Awakening: Part 3

When another crisis looms, Mikoto has to learn to navigate a world of Kings as a regular man.

AU in which Mikoto and Tatara survived the Colourless King incident.

Pairing: Mikoto/Tatara

1,371 words. CW for canon-typical violence, mentions of depression and other mental health issues.

Previous part | All parts | Next part

AO3 | Ko-Fi

“I’ve identified the one from Jungle who attacked Mihashira Tower- Mishakuji Yukari, a former vassal of the previous Colourless King, Miwa Ichigen,” Saruhiko explained.

“Colourless and Green…” Reisi mused, inspecting a puzzle piece between his fingers. “Someone like you, who uses two colours? I’m impressed that you learned so much in such a short time.”

“I was asked to assist on another matter. I was doing research on it and by chance, there was a connection. Jungle is a unique clan that has wide presence on the internet. Through downloadable apps, they have access to unspecified numbers of clansmen.” Saruhiko walked over to the desk, showing Reisi the screen of the tablet he had been working on. “Please take a look at this.”

A video played: grainy CCTV footage of a masked figure dressed in black, passing through a portal of green light that emanated from a wall. The figure was carrying a girl in a red dress over their shoulder, and dragging the semi-conscious body of a man in a dark jacket, who had his hood up.  

“Higher-ranking clansmen possess the Green Clan’s manipulation ability. They can alter the laws of physics, and have far greater strength than the average man. In particular, this masked clansman…”

Reisi interrupted him with a smug chuckle. “Hmm, they’re a ninja. Very interesting.”

“…This masked clansman uses the manipulation ability, and as you can see, they can pass through walls. As a result, the security at Mihashira Tower is meaningless.”

Reisi chuckled again. “This is just like a ninja passing through walls.”

Saruhiko adjusted his glasses. “This masked-…”

“This ninja,” Reisi cut in.

Saruhiko cleared his throat. “This masked clansman is probably, like Mishakuji, highly skilled.”

“No, this is ninjutsu,” Reisi said emphatically.

“In any case, this is the real problem,” he said zooming in on the figure over the Green clansman’s shoulder. “The girl is the Red clansman, Kushina Anna, and the man is former Red King, Suoh Mikoto.”

Reisi’s face fell, and his expression became grave.

“The reason behind their kidnapping is not clear, but it can’t be for any good purpose.”

“I see…” Reisi reached for his phone, and took a brief look at the missed call notification from Totsuka Tatara, then turned the screen off and set it back on his desk. “I now have an idea of the enemy’s intention. It seems we have no choice but to act. What about coordination with the other agencies.”

“Completed, sir.”

“Good. Well then, it’s time you get going. By the way, who was it that asked for your assistance?”

“…Am I obliged to tell you, sir?”

“Not at all. I trust your work. Please inform Awashima-kun and the rest of the Special Task Force of this information. I have a phone call to make.”

“Yes, sir,” Saruhiko said, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Reisi sighed deeply as soon as the door was closed, then picked up his phone and dialled Tatara’s number.

“Munakata…” Tatara’s voice was hoarse, as though he’d been crying.

“Totsuka-san. I apologise for not contacting you sooner. As it happens, I have just been made aware of your predicament.”

“You know about King and Anna…?”

“Yes. I was just informed by Fushimi-kun that they have been filmed by CCTV within Mihashira Tower, held captive by a ninja-… a high-ranking Green clansman. Though I believe your clan already has this information- Fushimi-kun told me he discovered this whilst being asked to assist on another matter. I presume the one who asked for his assistance was your Yatagarasu?”

“Yes… He’s on his way there now.”

“Surely he and Kamamoto cannot hope to perform a raid alone?”

“Kamamoto was injured in the initial kidnapping. But no, Yata isn’t by himself; the Silver Clan are helping us- the Black Dog and that cat strain. There seems to be some personal conflict between the Black Dog and the Green clansman Mishakuji Yukari.”

“I see. The Blue Clan are also willing to offer you our assistance- the kidnap is a clear violation, and as such, Sceptre 4 is at liberty to take action. As we speak, my clansmen are on their way to Mihashira Tower to reinforce the perimeter, and I can offer additional fighters to assist with the raid itself.”

“That’s okay, Yata-chan wouldn’t fight alongside Blues, no offense. But a perimeter in case they try to disappear again like last time would be appreciated…”

“Understood. We will do our utmost to ensure Suoh and miss Kushina are returned to you safely. I will remain on hand at the scene in case the assistance of a King is required.”

“Am I the only one getting déjà vu? Asking you to make sure he doesn’t die.” The humour in Tatara’s voice was weak.

“There is no need for any talk of anyone dying, understood?”

“Okay…”

“By the way, I have reason to believe that your strategist may have returned to the country.”

“Kusanagi-san is back in Japan? How do you know?”

“I overheard Awashima-kun on the phone to him earlier, speaking about his trip to Germany in the past tense. It may be worth giving him a call.”

“Okay. Thank you for your help.”

“Take care of yourself, and try not to worry,” Reisi told him, then hung up the phone.

Tatara let out a deep sigh as the line went dead and slumped back in his seat. He’d been holding back tears the entire conversation, though to be honest, he’d been holding back tears since he’d first broken down against Rikio’s shoulder earlier that day. But he didn’t have time to break down again right now.

He thought he’d recovered from the stress of last year, but now that Mikoto was missing, the fault lines were opening up again, and through the cracks, flashbacks to the way he’d felt when he wasn’t sure he’d ever see Mikoto alive again were shoving their way into the forefront of his mind. It made him want to throw up. He hated having to worry about Mikoto, hated the thought that Mikoto probably felt as helpless as he did. And more than anything, he hated that this was sort of his fault. If he hadn’t gotten shot, Mikoto wouldn’t have had to abdicate, and then maybe he could have defended himself…

He shook the thoughts from his head, knowing they weren’t helping him, then looked up, noticing Rikio was looking at him in concern. The two of them had stayed behind at the bar after Misaki had rushed off, knowing they’d be more hindrance than help.

“Are you okay?” Rikio asked.

Tatara nodded stiffly.

“Did Munakata say Kusanagi-san is back in Japan?”

“Yes. I’m going to call him now.”

Tatara drummed his fingertips against the table as the phone rang, and when Izumo answered, the familiar sound of his voice sent a wave of relief through him. He didn’t think he’d ever needed his friend more.

“Hello?”

“Kusanagi-san… You’re back in Japan?”

“Yeah, I figured I’d got as much info as I was gonna get, and I heard about the attack on Mihashira Tower, so I got the first flight back. I was tryin’a ring Mikoto, but he ain’t answering, as usual. I dunno what I expected. I was just about ta call ya; I’m in a cab from the airport right now.”

“Kusanagi-san…” Tatara’s voice wavered as he spoke.

“…Is everythin’ alright?”

“King and Anna… Some Green clansmen ambushed us… They took them…”

“They were kidnapped?”

“They’re being held at Mihashira Tower right now. Yata-chan and the Silver clansmen are on their way to try and rescue them.”

“The Silver clansmen?”

“The Black Dog and the cat strain. They were with us when we were ambushed, and they wanted to help.”

“Do Sceptre 4 know?”

“They’re tightening the perimeter around the building.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. You holding up alright?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Is someone there with you?”

“Kamamoto. He was injured in the initial attack, but it’s nothing life-threatening.”

“Were you with them? Were you hurt?”

“I got kicked in the chest. Maybe I cracked a rib, but I’m fine.”

Izumo sighed. “I’m about ten minutes out. Hang in there.”

“Please hurry.”

[pinkcupofcherrytea]

[Fic] Bewitched [MikoMisa]

Title: Bewitched Summary: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica!AU. If possible, Yata would instead wish for more time. Character(s)/Relationship(s): Suoh Mikoto/Yata Misaki Rated: T Warning(s): Implied character death, time jumps. Author’s note: This is my contribution for the second day of K Project Rare Pair Week, with the prompt being Alternate Universe/Universe Alteration. 

i.

Yata’s board slammed hard against the concrete, its user already up in the air kicking down the colourful creatures in his way. The town was ridden with parasites, crawling around the streets in the form of green, monstrous birds or hysterically laughing foxes. They were slowing Yata down, and he’d been pissed from the start. Now he beat the familiars down with badly controlled fury, crushing them beneath the wheels of his skateboard; burning the birds feathers to ash before they disappeared in a huff of green smoke.

The closer he got to the centre of Shizume City, the more vicious creatures came after him.

Witches.

They saw the protruding flames, licking around his board and roaring in Yata’s clenched fists and scrambled closer, eager to consume.

As if he would let them.

“Beat it, Bitch-Witch!” Yata sent out a ball of fire towards the small, greyish green being standing in his way.

“I don’t have time for bugs like you!”

Mikoto-san.

His fire hit its’ target. Yata didn’t stop to pick up the Grief Seed the witch left behind, instead opting to hurry over the rooftops to reach his goal faster. Yata barely made contact with stone before he jumped to the next, buildings flashing beside him. It seemed like the whole city was spinning. And he was running against the stream.

“Dammit,” Yata swore when a new wave of desperate rage welled up, “dammit!”

This wasn’t supposed to happen!

ii.

The loud crunch when the alien-rabbit’s neck broke was wholly satisfying, yet it did not ease the pain at all. Yata still felt like falling to the ground, screaming and crying and hitting his fists on the concrete until the street was smeared with blood. But it wasn’t his own blood that needed to be spilt, and that fact alone kept him up. That, and the rigid back of Suoh Mikoto as he crushed the disgusting little liar against the brick wall.

Kusanagi stood in front of Anna, his body in the way of her seeing the white fur going red and the eyes of Kyubey losing its’ unnatural shine. Kusanagi didn’t waver, he watched it all, and the rest of Homura stood silent as Mikoto threw the thing as far as he could. They didn’t say anything, but their bodies shook with barely concealed rage, their eyes wet and jaws so clenched that it hurt.

“So it’s true, then?” Yata kept his eyes on Mikoto, even when Kamamoto started talking. “About… about the witches and-“

Totsuka-san.

Yata tore away from watching Mikoto’s shoulders – going up and down in sync with laboured breath – to look at Kusanagi and Anna. The panic and horror when seeing Anna’s pale hands clenching around Kusanagi’s dark jacket almost broke him, her red eyes wide, unblinking and staring right ahead.

She would end up like them too. They all would. They’d been tricked, played for fools. Cold still trickled in Yata’s veins from when the cool suspicion had turned into cold facts. Weeks ago, they hadn’t been made heroes.

They’d been made sacrifices.

iii.

Yata flew across the long bridge, leading right into the large school surrounded by dark trees whose shadows stretched ominously across the grass. When Yata raced past them they shrank away from the light. They disappeared completely closer to the large, white building. The school was empty; its students hiding in the City Hall, the stadium, or in their homes to escape the ongoing storm. Lucky for them. A light – an extraordinary fire – pressed up towards the dark sky. As if wanting the burn the stars themselves away.

If it was Mikoto-san, Yata was sure he actually could do it.

There.

A figure stood in front of the onslaught of fire, deathly still. One couldn’t see his features. Not like Yata needed to.

“Mikoto-san!” He cried and jumped of his board, started to run the last few metres stretching between them.

A wave of relief and happiness hit him as the man winced and turned around to watch Yata’s arrival.

iv.

“Colorless is predicted to reach this town in just a couple of days.”

Yata frowned. His baseball bat was heavy and comfortable in his hand as he looked at the visitors through narrowed eyes.

He deliberately avoided the blue-clad leader’s left side, where he stood. Without a doubt watching Yata and trying to tease him.

The leader pushed up his glasses and gave Mikoto a meaning look that he just answered with a shrug.

“So? Deal with it yourself if you want to.”

Kusanagi leaned against the wall smiling gently against the woman by Munakata Reisi’s side while listening closely. Totsuka stood next to him with his hands crossed, head tilted and a slightly worried smile on his otherwise freely optimistic lips.

“I’m quite sure we have the capacity to take care of it,” Munakata closed the file he was holding, “we merely decided to inform you should there be need for-“

“Assistance?” Kusanagi said.

“Preparations.” Munakata slides the file containing the information over the table, Mikoto doesn’t even glance at it. “And simple precaution.”

“As you might know, Colorless is known for conquering large areas. The city would be at risk should we let it roam free.” The woman’s voice was steady and cool as she gave the opposing side a condensing look.

Fushimi clicks his tongue. Yata has to rein himself in less he hits the smug bastard in his stupid face.

“Do whatever you want.” Mikoto seemed to finally have had enough and put out his cigarette on the table before throwing it carelessly to the floor. When he rose Yata, Kusanagi, and Totsuka followed behind. When he reached the door, Mikoto looked over his shoulder and smirked.

“If the witch reaches our turf I’ll burn it. Until then I leave it in your capable hands, Munakata.”

v.

“Mikoto-san!”

“…Yata.” Mikoto’s voice was raspy, as he’d been shouting. Or as if he was tired.

(Yata could feel it. A deep, heavy weight in his bones, it all flowing to rest in the Gem placed in his pocket by the collarbone. Pulling him down.

He ignored it. Had got used to ignoring it by now.)

Finally, finally reaching him, Yata allowed himself to stop. The beat of his heart soared. His skin was damp with sweat after rushing through the city in search of Mikoto, and now Yata’d finally got here. He had half a mind to call up Kusanagi, tell that they were both waiting at the school, that they were both okay. Yata didn’t, and perhaps that was the first telltale sign that something seemed wrong. Odd. Like a fire without smoke. Like a sky without stars.

vi.

The thought of people- no, those he loved, his mother or siblings or friends, wearing a Witch’s Kiss was enough to startle the ever burning sparks inside Yata’s chest. Instead, there were now the lurking danger – the surety – that his comrades would either end up dead because of a witch like Totsuka or dead by becoming one, like the boy from Blues’.

The fact was as crushing as it was agitating.

vii.

“Mikoto-san?”

Yata steps closer, reach out a hand to- lay it on Mikoto’s shoulder? Hold him? He wanted to have Mikoto close. The omnipresent urge to be as close as possible ever so strong.

But Mikoto took a step back and Yata froze, hand still hovering awkwardly in the air before he raised it to scratch his neck instead. Yata chuckled quietly and tried to smile, but Mikoto still didn’t say anything. His shoulders sagged and he looked at Yata with inexplicably empty eyes. A trickle of fear leapt down his spine. Yata quickly erased whatever worried frown that surely graced his face with a larger grin.

“The- the witch is gone, right? The others will be here soon, I sort of ran ahead but they-“ Yata choked on his own words as Mikoto closed his eyes, his features twisting a little as if annoyed. Or in pain.

“- they’ll be here soon…” His mouth felt dry, Mikoto just stood there, the still bristling flames behind him illuminating his face.

“Yata…”

Ah, he was looking at him now. Yata took a step closer. “Mikoto-“

“You need to leave.” Mikoto sounded too calm, behind the words there were hints of strength, of ongoing battle and already predicted loss. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Yata blinked. Confused. He stepped closer and Mikoto finally – finally – touched him: taking hold of Yata’s shoulder to make him stop. To not get any closer. Mikoto was breathing hard now. Yata could feel the heat of his palms through the jumper.

Hadn’t it been so strange, Yata would’ve acknowledged the smoke accompanying Mikoto’s breath. As it was, it seemed oddly fitting with the flashing background. Mikoto looked every inch a king. As always.

“Yata.” Mikoto said again, and Yata’s head spun. Still not completely over how his name sounded in Mikoto’s mouth. Despite all this time. “Yata.” Mikoto stroke his rough thumb over his jawbone and Yata unconsciously leaned against it.

“I’m not gonna leave!” Yata reached up to grabble at Mikoto’s arm. “Why is-? What’s going on, Mikoto-san?”

Yata couldn’t help the small traces of panic starting to show. Why hadn’t the fire subsided yet? Why didn’t Mikoto-

Yata looked away from Mikoto’s face, to his hand where he suddenly held up something, something small and familiar. The realisation felt like stone. Stone in his belly, stone in his lungs, cold and hard and ugly. Mikoto’s Soul Gem, usually so intense and shimmering, was pitch black.

viii.

“Something’s happened.” Kusanagi’s voice cut through the somber atmosphere in the bar, and Yata looked up from where he’d been resting his head between his arms.

Kusanagi lowered the hand holding his phone.

“One of the Blues’ Soul Gem broke.”

ix.

“The Grief Seed!” Yata bellowed, head twisting furiously around the yard, “where is Colorless’ Seed!?”

Yata hadn’t taken any of the Seeds harvested with him. Too busy and panicked with finding Mikoto to care.

Idiot.

Mikoto just shook his head, holding Yata still with a firm grip on his shoulders.

“It’s too late,” he said, and Yata watched his Soul Gem crack, the darkness inside of it twisting and turning like dark, mindless worms.

Yata felt sick.

“No!” He took a hold of Mikoto’s shirt, stretching it taut as he pulled himself close enough to feel Mikoto’s breath against his nose and mouth. “There is a way! There must be a way to fix this somehow!”

“I’m afraid there isn’t.”

Yata jumped, turning but not letting go of Mikoto to stare in desperation as Munakata walked closer. Hand on his sword.

Without noticing it Yata started to shake his head, glaring at the advancing man with a hostile expression.

“No.”

“Yata…”

“No!” He turned back to Mikoto, his fingers turning white with how hard he held the other man’s shirt. “No.” He said, quieter this time.

He knew what happened to the guy. The guy from Blues’. No details but he didn’t need those...!

In a sudden fit of motion, Mikoto pulled Yata close and tucked his head beneath his chin. Yata’s arms uselessly against his sides first, then he hugged Mikoto back hard, pressing as close as he could. Skin against skin, Yata finally noticed how hot Mikoto was. His skin felt almost scorching against his. Mikoto had always been warm, but not like this.

Another crack, this time Yata felt it against his back where the Gem lay in Mikoto’s fist, and he clenched his teeth less he started screaming out loud. For now his mind was howling enough, and Yata’s lips were pressed hard against the thin skin just over Mikoto’s collarbone.

“Mikoto.” Yata said anyway, sounding muffled.

“I’m sorry,” Mikoto held him completely still, his hand coming up to cup around Yata’s head as the other tightened around his waist, “tell Anna that I’m sorry.”

You should tell her yourself. His mind was in hysterics, yet Yata couldn’t move, could barely think outside the feel of Mikoto’s boiling skin under his lips, the feel of strong arms around him.

The thought of Mikoto disappearing.

“It’s not over yet.” Yata got out and heard a defeated sound coming from Munakata behind him.

But Mikoto shakes his head. He pushes Yata back far enough so that he can get a clear view on his face.

“The point of no return,” Mikoto said, smiling now, his eyes black coal and red embers at his lips, “I already passed that long ago.”

Mikoto leans down and press their lips together. 

Oh.

Hot, dry, holding no promises but an end in fire. Yata could forget about the pain burning against his lips should Mikoto keep kissing him, instead he was shoved back against Munakata, stumbling until he hit the other man’s chest.

“Take him away from here,” Mikoto said, and despite Yata’s thundering “NO” Munakata nodded.

“Fushimi-kun, take Yata Misaki as far away as you can.” Yata hadn’t even noticed, but Saruhiko quickly stepped closer, his eyes flickering from the fire, to Yata, to Mikoto, and to Yata again before settling on Munakata, a stern expression on his face.

“Understood.”

“You got a couple of minutes, at most.”

“Stop it! I’m not leaving!” Yata yelled as Munakata kept him from running back to Mikoto.

Without a word, Saruhiko pulled at his arm and Munakata let go. Yata tried to break free but Saruhiko’s thin arms were surprisingly durable, holding him back. The exhaustion from the sprint here, and everything that happened in the minutes between, made it hard to move. Yata was adamant to fight back anyway.

“Don’t be foolish!” Saruhiko hissed, but his voice lacked its’ usual bite, and with that he finally managed to throw Yata of his footing, and started to run in the direction of the gate. Away from the blazing inferno that only seemed to grow bigger and bigger.

Even through all the noise, the sound of Munakata drawing his sword was deafening.

“Mikoto-san!”

xi.

“Totsuka-san!” Yata cried out.

Just as the witch’s sharp teeth snapped down around Totsuka’s soft neck.

xi.

Kusanagi didn’t want him to go, Yata remembered as he was forcibly pulled away by Saruhiko. He threw Yata like a sack over his shoulder and started to run.

Did Kusanagi-san know?

They were over the bridge now, and with a practiced jump and a surge of blue power Saruhiko brought them both over to the roof of an abandoned building. For the first time Saruhiko looked back towards the school, just in time for the roaring stream of fire to explode. The school building disappeared immediately behind blazing light, for a moment it seemed like the night turned to day. Then the light sank back, dripping down from where it shot off high in the sky.

It looked like the stars were

falling.

Yata hadn’t stopped screaming since Mikoto’d let him go, now it was sharply cut of as there was no air in his lungs, no beat left in his heart. There was a fire, an explosion, then it was all quickly cut of, leaving nothing but silence and cold behind.

In the distance, Yata thought he could her Anna’s shrill scream echo in the coming dawn.

xii.

Dusk. The air started to turn chill as the streetlamps was turned on one by one. The main streets were emptying, but the alleys which Yata moved through were already deserted save from rats and one or two shady characters sneaking around. Yata moved quietly, and without missing a beat leaping up a rusty ladder screwed tight into the concrete wall. He climbed fast, reaching the roof in no time. The night was coming quickly. His Soul Gem seemed to gleam in the increasing darkness before Yata pocketed it.

He ran to the other side of the roof. Peering down, he saw the girl hiding behind a trash can. She was looking in the direction of one of the busier streets, eyes trailed on the food stands a little further down. She didn’t even notice him watching her.

With a snap of his fingers, a rod appeared. Yata took a hold of it firmly and made himself ready. The girl had gone tense, obviously noticing the sound with her sensitive ears. It was her, no doubt. Her dress was white, just about covering her thighs with lace and frills. No gloves, no shoes or hair ornaments, but a long, white tail trailed behind her, now completely stiff as she listened closely.

“Hey.” Yata said, because he was not about to do a surprise attack on a younger girl.

And even if she ran, he would follow.

She jumped and whipped her head to look at him. Her eyes wide, taking in all details while her stance immediately turned defensive. But Yata simply stared back, weighing the rod in his hand while leaning to rest on his knee, stopping just before tipping over the edge.

“Are you the Magical Girl that’s able to manipulate time?”

[sonneka]

Oh sorry, my bad... I was talking about the hurt/confort dialog meme...

Don’t worry!!!! ♥ Here it is :3

5. “You’re burning up.”

As soon as Yata places hishand on his forehead, Fushimi realizes there is no way out from that situation.

“Seriously, Saru. You—”

“I’ve got fever, Iknow…” he sits up on his bed, brushing away Yata’s hand. His best frienddoesn’t stop looking concerned but Fushimi only wants the world to end. “Ijust have to rest, nothing to be worried about.”

“Could it have been…W-When did you start feeling like this?”

Silence. It’s all prettyobvious actually, but it’s also too much to ask for Yata to notice.

Yesterday it was theirinitiation for Homra. Which even though it can sound exciting for someone likeYata, Fushimi’s side of the story was still kind of painful to remember.

The thing was that they hadto shake hands with the Red King, Mikoto Suoh. Fushimi remembers clearly how heextended both hands towards them and they were on fire.

They’d been warned aboutthat, so it shouldn’t have felt that surprising. However, Fushimi couldn’t keepcalm during that moment. Fire wasn’t something he enjoyed, and it still isn’t.

Even so, Yata was enjoyingthe moment and didn’t seem to be afraid whatsoever. Fushimi had no choice, hehad to do it because Yata was happy and that should mean everything would turnout for best, didn’t it?

And like that, Fushimi fakedconfidence and grabbed the King’s hand alongside Yata’s.

If the redhead had felt likeburning or sick during the initiation, he would have probably ran away and evencried like a little baby, so it really impressed Fushimi when it didn’t turnout like that at all.

In fact, Yata was happilyshowing his new Homra mark to everyone, while Fushimi felt like his blood wereboiling within his veins and his head was spinning like he were about to sink.

What did go wrong?

There are just two clear factsabout the initiation: Or you proudly are alive after it, without any hint pain…

Or you die incinerated.

Fushimi can’t understand whyhe didn’t fit in any option, what’s wrong with him?

It was so weird that hedecided to let it aside. After all, he is still alive…

What he certainly wasn’texpecting, although it should have been kind of obvious, it was being sick.

He decided to stay in bed,just resting. The best he thought he could do was not to make anyone know abouthis condition. How much of pathetic he has to be to have fever after theinitiation?

Is he really that weak?

“Hey, idiot! I’m talking toyou!” Yata snaps him out of his thoughts. Fushimi just shakes his head and rubshis eyes with the back of the hand. Oh, right, since he have been resting hedoesn’t have his glasses on.

“I feel awful, Misaki. Youshould stop screaming for once…” not even caring about Yata still seated nextto him on the bed, Fushimi goes back to his attempt of sleeping.

“Okay, I’m sorry…” at leasthe lowers his voice, “I just… I was wondering if you feel this bad since… you know.”

Fushimi groans and turnsaround so Yata can’t see his face, clearly not wanting to answer that question.However… “I woke up this morning feeling like this, end of the story.”

“But…”

“That’s it.” No moreexplanations.

And he can actually feel hismuscles relaxing when Yata sighs, giving up on him, and stands up. He mutterssomething Fushimi doesn’t reach to hear and then the apartment door opens andcloses, leaving the sick boy alone in the place.

He has to admit that hedoesn’t like that outcome at all. Where is the Yata that always looks out forhim? Is he really gone?

At one point Fushimi feelsfree but, in the other hand, he kind of wanted Yata to insist a little bitmore.

Just, that… As he has always done.

Utterly disappointed, Fushimishut his eyes in an attempt to sleep and forget about the throbbing pain in hishead and the weakness he feels throughout his body.

He is all alone, so he has nothingto be worried about…

Until he hears the entrancedoor opening up again. “Hey, Saru… Are you sleeping?” It is even kind ofhilarious how Yata started with a shout and ended up whispering, realizing thatmaybe his best friend is really sleeping.

Even though Fushimi firstthinks it’s a good idea to ignore the redhead’s voice, it’s just impossible forhim.

He twitches a little bit andbefore he could even start opening his languid eyes, he feels some kind ofcloth cold and wet over his forehead. “W-What?” his voice cracks a little bit,he doesn’t even have the energy to think about what’s happening by himself.

“’What’? I’m just trying tohelp you, dumbass…” so Fushimi certainly has a towel on his forehead and Yata’shand is trying to place it properly. “I went to Homra because I thought thatmaybe someone there had painkillers or something—”

“You’re such an idiot,they’re gangsters and you go to ask them for medicine?” although he isn’tfeeling like asking any questions, he just can’t ignore Yata’s stupidity.

“Y-Yeah… Some of them seemedconfused,” he rubs at the back of his neck while chuckling. “But, at least,Totsuka-san made the situation less shameful, you know? And so I told him thatyou—“

“You told him what?” Insteadof acting like he still wants the world to end, he should tbe happy that,following Yata’s story, only Totsuka knows about his condition. “You know what?Nevermind…”

“Okay…”

However, there’s stillsomething wandering inside his mind, and it has to do with the little amount oftime between Yata leaving the apartment and coming back.

For Fushimi, it felt likehe’d been alone for just five seconds. Maybe he actually ended up fallingasleep without noticing, or maybe Yata went pretty quickly to the bar.

He prefers to think it wasthe last option.

100 points…

Or 0…

This time he prefers doubting,not sure if knowing the answer to his questions will be for best or for worse.In the end, he likes thinking Yata really cares about him and went that fasttowards Homra.

“Take this.” Yata offers hima glass of water and the painkiller. “And you should take a cold shower too…”

“I get it…” Fushimi sighs andmaking a really big effort he manages to sit on the bed again to drink the damnmedicine. His best friend is seated just in front of him, still lookingconcerned. “What?” he asks after swallowing, his voice sounding hoarse.

“Nothing really,” Yata looksaway, Fushimi can tell he feels nervous. “It’s been a while since the last timeyou felt sick, you know? That’s weird.”

“Yeah…” It’s not that weird, actually…

“Do you want to eatsomething? I-I can cook anything you like!” Yata regains his usual cherish selfpretty fast.

“Not hungry…” he’d like to beright now. In fact, it can be a good chance to eat something prepared by Yatawithout vegetables in it! But he just can’t, his stomach is completely shut.

“Then…” Yata suddenly getsoff the bed and violently moves all the sheets in the process. “Let’s play somevideogames!”

He seems really excited. Somuch that he prepares the little TV they own and places it near the bed asfastest as he can. Fushimi doesn’t have any choice and he ends up sitting  in a way that he can comfy watch what’s on theTV screen. It didn’t take long for Yata to bring the two joysticks and evenchooses a game he knows Fushimi will enjoy.And he appreciates that so much,Yata will never know how.

Having a smiling Yata next tohim, cheering him up even though he’s feeling awful physically andemotionally…

What if he really doesn’tbelong to Homra? What if he just was lucky not to die but, actually, he shouldhave to?

However, he kind of forgetthose negative feelings when he sees that Yata is there with him, that both ofthem even share the same red mark now. Maybe it really means something, maybeit means that he must stay by Yata’s side even though he doesn’t quite belongwhere the other does.

Isn’t it safe staying withthe person he loves the most?

Fushimi doesn’t know muchabout happiness, he just know that he feels something when Yata’s there withhim. Everything’s so bright when he smiles and shows how happy he is, itactually lights Fushimi’s heart up.

So, although he is stillunsure about his fate with Homra, he knows that following a happy Yata willmake him happy too. He chooses not to tell him the true reason why he’s sick,he doesn’t want him to be concerned. Everything is getting better and betterfor them, they don’t need to ruin that precious small world they’ve built withso much effort.

Fushimi takes his controllerand starts playing against Yata. He wins, the redhead complains about it, andthey play over and over again…

It’s so typical of them, it’sso comforting.

Even though Fushimi is sickand isn’t the best company, Yata is there for him instead of leaving him behind.So he has to do the same as a return.

Fushimi senses Homra is notas good as the other thinks, but Yata is happy there.

If the person he loves ishappy…

He should be too, right?

[words-are-like-colors]

Title: Tattooed To Misaki {4} “Why Should I Apologize? I Didn’t Really Mean to do Anything Wrong”

Originally Posted On: August 5, 2016

Word count: 

Rating: M

Relationship: M/M

Parts: 4/11

Tags: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, Suoh Mikoto/Totsuka Tatara, Fushimi Saruhiko, Yata Misaki, Mikoto Suoh, Tatara Totsuka, Tenkei Iwafune, Nagare Hisui, Tattoo, Saruhiko is a tattoo artist, AU, Misaki is part of Homra gang, Jungle, Fluff, Cathedral, Slowish Build

Summary for Chapter 4: Stuff goes down in this chapter. Sorry in advance for people who love Misaki’s happiness. [if you haven't realized, I'm not good at writing summaries.] This chapter is mostly in Saruhiko’s POV. Enjoy.

Notes: At the end due to spoilers. 

Fushimi didn't even turn around, knowing exactly who was at the door—it was the three regulars who were constantly demanding that he give them free stuff. The men always seemed to think that it was easy to pick on Fushimi, just like Hikawa did.

“Fushimi. We're back.”

“Go away.” He finished the transfer for the money and glanced at the men. “I've already told you no. Can't you just stop?”

Misaki had stopped spinning. “Oi! Who are you guys?” He jumped out of the chair, ready for a fight.

The men were impressively tall, taller than Fushimi. The one in the middle stepped forward, tilting his head. “Oh? You don't know us, punk?” He towered over Misaki, putting him in an impressive shadow, but the shorter man didn't even flinch.

Fushimi put his hand under his coat, his fingers closing around a few knives. “Get out! Now! I have no business for you.”

The other two faced the artist and smirked. “That doesn't mean we don’t have business for you.” Both men surged forward. Fushimi swiped his hand up out of his coat. Light glinted off of the three blades as they glided into the air and right into the left man’s arm. Fushimi was reaching to grab another knife when a hand closed around his throat. Shit. He desperately tried to pull the blade out before his hand was roughly grabbed and pinned next to his head. Fuck. His other hand was busy grasping at the hand around his neck, his nails digging into the flesh.

This was his nightmare. His nightmare were always the same thing.

One day, little 13 year old Fushimi had gotten pissed off at the world. He hadn’t known what he was doing, but he had destroyed some of his father’s most prized possessions. He had instantly regretted his actions and hid, but Niki had found out quickly. That was the angriest he has ever seen his father. Niki had always worn a smirk and acted quite cruelly, but he had never looked so livid—or beaten his son. When he found out, he had screamed himself hoarse at Fushimi and pinned him to the wall, rendering him useless while he ranted about how he was “worthless” and “just a monkey that always gets in the way.” The whole time he had been holding onto Fushimi’s throat, his grip getting tighter and tighter, not letting him take a single breath….

“Saruhiko!” A scream snapped him out of his daze. Luckily, the man holding his throat had also turned around to find the source of the noise. Fushimi took his chance and kicked his leg up. He hit the man right in the hip, knocking him off balance. The artist ripped the hand off of his neck and took a breath of air.

A red flame appeared behind the man, making him only a silhouette. Misaki lifted up his skateboard and hit the guy in the side of the head with a loud crack. The guy fell like a rock, revealing a fuming Misaki. His aura was on full force, lighting up the whole room. Misaki swore and kicked the guy in the head, as if to make sure he was knocked out.

Fushimi slowly sank to the floor. He didn't know why, but he was trembling. His heart beat wildly as if it was bursting out of his chest. Fuck.

Misaki killed his aura and dropped down next to Fushimi. “Hey? You okay? You’re shaking really badly.”

“No shit,” he spat, his eyes now wandering around the room, taking in the damage. The three guys laid unconscious on the ground. Eric was pulling out the knives from one of them. The whole place was now a mess.

“Yeah….” Misaki turned to look at Eric too. “Eric? Can you bring the guys outside? The floors are hardwood and they’ll be stained.”

“Alright. I can do that.” Eric started to drag them out.

Misaki turned his attention back to Fushimi. “Are you okay?” he asked again. “Did he hurt you?” He reached up and gently pulled down Fushimi’s collar a little to see if he was injured.

The artist slapped his hand away. “I'm fine.” He shakily stood up and walked over to the bloody knives.

“No. You're not. Come home with me,” Misaki said stubbornly. “Obviously, the guy holding you against the wall isn’t the whole problem. I don't think you should go home alone to—”

“I'm not a child Misaki. I don't need your coddling.” Fushimi rounded on him. “Got it?”

“I know you're not a child.”

“Then don't treat me like one. I can defend myself.”

“No you can't.”

Fushimi gripped his knives tightly in his hand. “Shut the fuck up. I can.” Knowing better than to keep holding them and accidentally hurt Misaki, he put them away.

“He could have crushed your throat and killed you just now. How about that? How do you think I'd feel if you died?” Misaki pointed to his chest.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? You’d really care if I died? Why do you even care? Or a better question—why do you even like me?”

“No reason.” Misaki shrugged.

Fushimi took a step forward. “Liar.”

“I'm not a—”

“You're a liar. It's quite obvious that you like me. Do you really think that I'll like you back? You probably thought a lonely tattoo artist would be a perfect boyfriend. Well, you're wrong. Do you even think about what I might be feeling? Hell, do you even realize how annoying you are, bouncing off the walls at the mere whisper of my name? Do you think I want a boyfriend like that?” Fushimi let out a growl, now unable to stop whatever shit was coming of out of his mouth. “Do you really think that I liked that phone call last night? ‘I like the sound of you breathing.’ Yeah. I don’t want a boyfriend that thinks creepy stuff like that. You probably listened to your dad breathe and thought the same thing.”

Misaki’s eyes went wide. “FUCK YOU,” Misaki screamed, his aura flaming up again. “YOU KNOW NOTHING.” The normally cute, smiling face of Misaki was suddenly full of rage.

For some odd reason this made Fushimi smirk with glee, adrenaline back in his blood. “Oh? Try me.”

Misaki whipped his hand, creating a line of flame that lashed out at Fushimi. He ducked and threw a knife at him; it flew through the air, breaking the line of flame. Misaki kicked the knife into the air and caught it.

Fushimi’s heart was beating fast and hard. He was reaching for more knives when someone jumped between them. “Yata, stop. Fushimi, you stop as well.”

“Tch.” Fushimi didn't put his knives away but watched as Misaki’s aura died down.

“I'm leaving.” Misaki roughly pushed past Eric and walked out of the door, grabbing his skateboard off of the ground. Eric shot Fushimi a glare before following. They left the artist standing alone in the middle of the messed up shop.

Fushimi started to shake violently. What had just happened finally started sinking in as the adrenaline and excitement wore off. He had messed up. He had hurt Misaki. All of the memories that had resurfaced during the fight had shaken him up so badly that he had just snapped. All of it was a lie… just a lie meant to push Misaki away. He had hurt him so badly, and it was only to get him to leave Fushimi alone. And then to fight him, after saying all those awful things. He really looked like an asshole now--an asshole who doesn't give a single shit about anything or anyone.

“Shit,” Fushimi said aloud. “Shit,” he muttered again, collapsing to the ground. His chest heaved and he looked around. For the first time in his life he didn't know what to do. He reached for his PDA laying on the ground next to him and opened it up. He at least had to tell someone what had happened to the three men outside and get them taken care of.

He clicked on the JUNGLE app and it opened up. There was only one person he had contact with other than Misaki. It was Mikoto. He quickly sent a message.

King. Come to [address]. Don't let Misaki know.

He shoved the PDA into his pocket and sat there for a moment, catching his breath before standing up and heading over to a mirror to see if he really was hurt. He squinted at his reflection. No injury, that was good. A bruise was already starting to form on his neck, but it didn't look too serious.

Fushimi went to go clean up when he did a double take at the mirror. A familiar face was staring back at him. His father was staring back at him, his hair styled the same way as Fushimi’s. Niki smirked and fear tingled down Fushimi’s spine. “Fuck you,” he growled at the mirror, before he heard footsteps behind him. He whipped around to see Mikoto standing at the doorway, lazily smoking a cigarette.

“What you need?” Mikoto glanced around, someone else appearing behind him.

“What's up King?” A skinny boy stood next to him. His tan hair and earring glinted in the glare of the store lights.

Fushimi looked at both of them. He didn't really know what to say, so he just told them about the three men who had beat him up, leaving out the part about Misaki getting pissed.

Mikoto raised an eyebrow. “Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Someone got upset after the fight.” Mikoto leaned against the wall. “I can tell.”

Fushimi sat down in the discarded rolling chair. “Misaki and I got into a fight. It's nothing.”

The kid was looking around and picking stuff up as the other two talked. He perked up when he heard about the fight. “You guys got into a fight? What was it about?” The artist clamped his mouth shut. Nobody needed to know about what he had said and done. The kid seemed to understand, so he nodded. “You can tell us later. Everything will be alright.”

Mikoto had stepped outside.

Fushimi didn't know why he was sitting on the couch at Homra bar. Everything about last night was a mess. The fight, Mikoto coming over. He remembered that the kid—Tatara Totsuka was his name—had dragged him here, saying that he should rest up.

Totsuka had pushed him into the spare bedroom upstairs and told him to try to sleep. He assured Fushimi that he and Mikoto would clean up what had happened, and Fushimi had actually gotten sleep for once. He had woken up remembering a dream, (one he’d rather not talk about to preserve the little bit of pride that he had left) but it had been all about Misaki’s smiles and the smell and taste of his food.

So now Fushimi sat on the couch downstairs, the blanket he had dragged down wrapped about him, waiting for the two gang members to wake up.

“Fushimi? You down here?” The light voice of Totsuka sounded as he walked down the stairs. He hopped down the last two steps before walking into the bar area. “Oh. You're here.” Fushimi shrugged a little. The man smiled, seeming to not mind that the artist was seeing him in just his boxers and a four-sizes-too-big T-shirt. He turned and called up the stairs, “King, found him.”

A rough grunt came from above, making Totsuka laugh softly. “So…. Fushimi.”

“What?” He looked at him. Early rays of sunlight shone through the window, sending streaks across the ground and over Totsuka’s face.

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” He sat down next to him, pulling his knees up to his chest before slipped his T-shirt over his skinny legs to keep himself warm.

Fushimi frowned and pulled the blanket around him more. He didn't answer at first, then said quietly, “I got pissed off at him because I didn't want him taking care of me. I was fine the way I was.” The artist didn't look at the gang member, but being near him gave Fushimi an odd calming feeling so he kept talking. “I said some mean things to him. Asking why he even likes me and if he really thought that he could.”

Totsuka nodded. “By the looks of your shop and what you told us, I don't think it's your fault that you got mad at him. You were pretty shaken up. It's not like you could really think straight at the time.” He continued, “Is anything else bothering you?”

Fushimi glanced at him; Totsuka was looking at him like he could tell that something was wrong. This gang is messed up, he thought, considering the fact that 1- there was a little girl with them, 2- their leader was named King, 3- everyone seemed to be able to tell that Fushimi was hiding stuff from them, and 4- one of their members was much too cute (he blushed inwardly at the thought) and happy to be in a gang. It would be surprising if they had never been told they were weird. Once again he tried to hold back, but let what he was thinking spill. “I hate how I look. I also hate Niki.”

“How so?”

“I look like my father, Niki.”

“Oh….” Totsuka went quiet for a moment and said, “I don't know how to help you with that, but I think you should apologize to Yata.”

“Why should I apologize? I didn't really mean to do anything wrong,” Fushimi countered.

Totsuka sighed and sat back, letting his legs out of the shirt so that his feet landed on the floor. “I mean, you don't have to directly apologize to him. Maybe do something for him, or take him out for lunch or something. Just do something that he’ll like and he might forgive you. Some kind of an apology might work, even if it's only an ‘I'm sorry’. Yata isn't the kind of person who would stay mad unless you had hurt him really badly. From what you said, he’ll forgive you.” Fushimi looked at him doubtfully, so he added. “Everything will be alright. You guys’ll work things out.”

“Yeah….” Fushimi looked up to see Mikoto coming down the stairs. He was carrying a pair of pants and he tossed them in Totsuka’s lap when he passed them to get into the kitchen.  

Fushimi stood up. “I'm going to get going now.” He flew up the stairs before Totsuka could tell him to stay. He pulled on his knife harness and coat before heading back down, and was going to walk out the door when a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” the deep voice of Mikoto sounded over his shoulder.

Though the artist’s senses were telling him to run as far away from Mikoto as possible he stayed put, masking his fear and unease with a straight face. “To my apartment—”

Mikoto cut him off. “Totsuka, we’re taking Fushimi home.”

“—alone,” he mumbled as Totsuka bounded over, sliding his jacket on so that he looked halfway decent.

During the walk back to his apartment, Fushimi asked a question that had been bothering him since yesterday. “Mikoto?”

“Hm?”

“You messaged me on JUNGLE. Why?” Fushimi looked at him.

The stronger man shrugged. “Why not?”

Fushimi stopped walking, causing Totsuka to bump into him. “Could you at least answer this, the both of you? Why does everyone at Homra want Misaki to be with me?”

Mikoto took out a cigarette and lit it. “It's obvious.”

Totsuka smiled. “Yeah. It is kind of obvious. He likes you—shouldn't that be enough? If he wants this then we are going to encourage it. It's not like it's a bad thing. He's happy. And…” Totsuka’s smile fell a little bit. “He's been a little off lately. Yata hasn't been himself. Probably since… ” he paused, then continued, “... since I almost died.”

Fushimi looked at him, confused. He looked rather healthy, so he couldn't possibly of nearly died from illness unless it was something genetic. Mikoto spotted his confused look and clarified. “The Mari Shootings. You might of heard about it.”

Fushimi did remember it. Last year, a girl named Mari Isana had gone on a shooting spree, killing dozens of people. When the police found her, she had killed herself after proclaiming that she was the “Colorless King”. Afterwards, there was a video sent out that had spammed every PDA and TV in the city. The video was of the girl shooting a man who had just been trying to look at the stars. Later that night, a report went out talking about Mari. Apparently she was a mental patient who had been in the hospital her whole life due to some kind of illness.

“... You were the one in the video.” The artist connected the dots. “And she is Yashiro Isana’s sister.”

Totsuka shrugged a little. “Yeah. I was the one in the video. Thankfully, I lived but… it really hurt some people. Yata was the first one to get to me. I think it broke him a little.”

“But something good came out of it.” Mikoto exhaled some smoke and grabbed Totsuka’s hand with his free one. On both of their hands there were matching rings that shone in the sunlight.

“This didn’t come out of that. It was going to happen anyways.” Totsuka rolled his eyes and took his hand back. He glanced at Fushimi. “Engagement rings.”

Fushimi looked at the both of them. Mikoto’s cheeks reddened a little; he grabbed his fiancé’s hand and started to walk again. “Fushimi needs to get home.” He was clearly embarrassed but trying not to show it.

The evening light shown down on the skater and his friend. A light breeze skimmed over the air, making Yata’s hair move slightly in its wake.

Yata angrily sipped his juice box, crushing the box a little in his hand. He had been in a pissed-off mood ever since last night.

“Yata. Could you calm down a little?” Kamamoto sighed. “What's bothering you? You've been like this all day.”

“Nothing.” Yata let out a huff and tossed the empty box into the trash can. “I'm fine.” He dropped his skateboard and hopped on it.

The fatty frowned. “Oh, come on.”

“I'm perfectly fine,” he said again, kicking off the ground a few times to get into a walking pace.

Kamamoto walked next to him. “Why don't we see that friend of yours?”

“He's not my friend.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We got into a fight, okay? I'm fine, so stop asking. I don't want to see him anymore.” Yata kicked off the ground again, putting space between him and Kamamoto.

Kamamoto frowned, but kept following him. “Well…. you like video games, so do you want to go to your place and play some? Would that help?”

The skater thought for a moment but shook his head no. “I need to find a new job.”

After some silence, Kamamoto said, “There's a coffee shop that just opened. It's an Internet café so it's always open and probably looking for some jobs.”

“Take me there.”

Kamamoto lead Yata to the café. “You want me to leave?”

“If you want.” Yata picked up his skateboard and headed inside. He glanced around. The place was mostly quiet and didn't look half bad. The front of the café looked like a regular coffee shop, but instead of talking amongst themselves, most of the people were minding their own business on newspapers and laptops. The back room had a few rows of computers. “This isn't bad,” muttered Yata as he headed to the front counter.

A man stood behind the counter, scowling at the coffee machine. Yata watched him for a second before saying a soft “excuse me.” The man noticed that he was at the counter and walked over. “Hello. What can I get you?”

“I was just wondering if you guys had any jobs open.”

The man grinned. “Yeah. I have some papers—” he bent down and grabbed some from under the counter— “right here. Just sign and you’ll be ready.”

Yata looked at him in surprise. “You don't need background checks or anything?”

“There are only a few people working here so every person helps. You want a background check?” He leaned on the counter.

“No, sir.” Yata grabbed a pen and, sitting down at one of the desks, started to fill out the paperwork.

Halfway through, his PDAWatch buzzed. “What do you want?” he asked under his breath, and glanced at the name. Saruhiko. “Nope.” He swiped away the text without even reading it and went back to the paperwork.

His PDAWatch buzzed again. Another text from Saruhiko popped up. Yata glared at the watch for a moment before looking at the messages.

Meet me at Homra at 11:00am.

Or I'll get you myself.

Yata ignored the texts.

Yata didn't go to the bar the next day. He didn't want to see Saruhiko, yet he still wanted to know what the texts meant.

A sudden knocking made the skater jump. He glanced at the time and saw that it was noon. He flipped off the door and picked up his game controller. He didn't need this guy’s bullshit. Obviously he didn't give two shits about Yata or his feelings.

“Mi~sa~ki. I know you're in there.”

“Stalker!” Yata yelled at the door.

“You know your door is unlocked,” the voice on the other side of the door said bluntly.

“No it isn—” The door swung open to reveal a smirking Saru. “Get out of my house!” Yata leapt to his feet and grabbed the baseball bat from next to the couch.

“I'm not in it,” he said shortly again, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Saruhiko was, in fact, not in his house, just standing right outside of it. Yata rolled his eyes. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don't want to see you anymore.”

“Well, I wanted to see you.” Yata watched as pink spread across his cheeks. “And I'm gonna take you somewhere.”

Yata was suddenly interested, his hands now loose on the bat. “Where?”

“You wanted to do to the JUNGLE party, so we’re going to go.”

The bat hit the floor as Yata’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” All traces of his past grudge seemed to disappear. “But it isn't until like a week or so.”

“Doesn't mean we can't get ready.” The taller man scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly.

Yata smiled brightly. “Thank you Saru!”

“I'm not doing this for you,” Saru mumbled.

Yata didn't care. He quickly grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and slipped his shoes on before bouncing out of the house and locking the door.

Notes: Hello! I can tell that you all are wondering who Mari is. No, she is not an OC or an made up character (kinda). If you remember in episode 2, Shiro lies to Koruh that he has a sister named Mari Isana that has been hospitalized for her whole life due to illness. Ok. Yes she isn't a real character in [K] but I didn't want to get into the mess with the Colorless King so I remembered that he had a “sister” and I decided to play on that since they could’ve looked alike if she was real. This is not a fanfic that goes on the same plot as the manga/anime but I'm incorporating events/facts that happened in the real [K]. Also, sorry for people who don't ship Mikototsu. I'm not going to put too much of them together into this because I know not a lot of people ship it. Mikototsu is happy but very sad concerning that he died in the anime.