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captainaikus · 3 years ago

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TEACHING THE TOMAN BOYS TO SKATEBOARD

Mikey, Draken and Baji

Tags : crude language and mentions of blood

Pairings : Mikey x reader, Draken x reader and Baji x reader (Baji's is fem!reader indicated)

They are in their third year

Here's part 2!

Mikey :

"Ne (Y/N) chan... let me ride that" mikey said as he pointed at your skateboard. "Do you know how to skate?" you asked as you looked from his pointed finger towards his face. "No" he responded as his eyes didn't look away from the skateboard beneath your feet. "Mikey... you could get hurt since you don't know how to use the board" you said in a calm and assuring tone. "But I still wanna try it" he half yelled in a childish manner as he turned his face away from you in an angry pout.

Thinking about it while placing your chin in your hand, what was the worse that could happen? You knew if he broke your board he would buy you a new one, but he was careful with your things to make sure that they remained in an intact condition.

After giving it some thought, you decided to let him ride your skateboard.

“Alright, but before we start” you said as you grabbed his hands, “we need to get you a helmet, kneepads, elbow pads and maybe gloves?”

“You’re so cute (Y/N) chan. But I don’t think I would be needing any of those… I know what it feels like to be hurt. I am a part of a gang after all” he said as he let go of your hands and pick up the skateboard. Using his foot, he kicked the ground and pushed the skateboard. You were mesmerized watching him skate. He didn’t seem to be a novice. Perfect balance, position and he also seemed to be having a decent speed. As he approached the rail, he was able to grind on it with the board. Sure, it wasn’t perfect… but it still surprised you to see how he was able to pull it off. You had seen a fair share of people failing at their sixth and seventh attempts or more while trying to pull off the grind rail.

“Leave your mouth open and you might catch flies in them (Y/N) chan” you heard a teasing remark come near you ear.

“How did you learn to do that” you said as you turned around to face Mikey.

“A leader never shares his secrets” he said as he placed a finger on his lips and smiled at you.

Bonus : Mikey likes sitting on the skateboard while moving it back and forth on the wheels. He also tells you or Draken to push it from behind. He has fallen asleep on/with your board several times when you both laid against the grass and stared into the sky, hearing the revving up of bike engines at a distance.

Draken :

“Oi. Why did you call me?” Draken asked in a loud voice as you flipped the skateboard with your foot. “Kenchin!” you said in surprise as you turned around to see the tall man behind you. “Don’t call me that!” he said as he titled his head in anger “Why’d you call me out here (Y/N)?”

“I thought we could skate? but if you don’t want to… we could do something else…” you mumbled as you pushed your skateboard back and forth with one foot. Draken noticed your softened eyes as you stared at the skateboard deep in thought. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have called him. He runs a gang for fucks sake. He doesn’t have time to put with your antics’. Your thoughts came to a halt as you saw a hand pick up the head of your skateboard.

“Yaruze” he said in a monotonous tone as he placed the skateboard under his foot. Grabbing the extra helmet, you brought with you, you shoved it into his hands.

“Hai hai. But before that we need to make sure that you’re secured and don’t have any injuries. Have you skated before?” you asked as you reached high to place the helmet on his head. He held you by your forearms and smirked down at you.

“I work in a gang woman. I know what it is like to get hurt” he said. He got on top of the skateboard and stood still, looking at you for further instruction.

“Okay… so… uh” you said shakily as you pointed towards the ground “put one foot on the ground and keep the other one on the board”

Draken put his left foot on the ground and kept his right foot on the board. “Now… use the foot on the ground to push the board”

Draken did as you told and pushed himself using his left foot while making sure to steady his weight on the board.

“Okay… now place your foot back on the board and relax your shoulders” you said as you jogged alongside him. He had wide strides as he skated. He had also picked up a fair speed which wasn’t bad for a beginner. “Yata!” Draken said with a smile as he continued to do as you told. You smiled and laughed beside him as you continued to run.

“Alright. I’m gonna do the hop” he said as he got ready to jump with the skateboard.

“Kenchin dame!”

Bonus :

You glared at Draken as you picked up your broken skateboard. He looked away in embarrassment as his cheeks turned pink.

The next day, you found a (f/c) skateboard wrapped in (f/c) ribbon on your seat.

“Evening 6:30. Don’t you dare be late” the note said in a scribbled handwriting. Chuckling you placed it folded into your pocket.

Baji

“Why the hell are we here?” Baji said as he looked at you with half lidded eyes.

“To skate Kei” you said with a laugh as you held your skateboard close to your ribs.

“I got that but why?” he said as he said as he titled his head and gave your skateboard a questioning look.

“Cause it’s fun?” you said in an inquisitive tone.

“Not for me. A skateboard can’t give me the adrenaline a bike gives. Neither can it give me the thrill of being hit back” he said in a monotonous tone.

“Not everything violent has to give you satisfaction Keisuke. Riding a bike needs fuel and an engine. The only thing you’re in control of is the handle, speed and balance. Skateboarding is different. You just have your feet and your body to do the math” you said as you held out your skateboard. “Why don’t you try it and see for yourself?” you asked with a small smile. He looked down at the skateboard in your hands before taking it into his, using his index finger to toy with the wheel. He looked at you with a bored expression.

“If you want it to be that thrilling, then don’t wear a helmet. I’m sure the ground can hit you as hard as any other opponent” you challenged him with a smirk.

“I’ll make sure you eat those damn words (Y/N)” he said as he tied his silky black hair into a ponytail and put the skateboard on the ground. Keisuke was not new to the concept of skating. He had seen them in playgrounds, may have grabbed one of them and used it as a weapon… it was complicated. He didn’t have a particular fascination with them as he merely viewed them as a child’s toy.

“Okay keisuke. Have you skated before?” you asked as you were ready to give him a set of instructions.

“Nah” he said as he kicked the skateboard, dragging it back with his foot.

“Alright. Keep one foot on the ground and the other on the board” you said while pointing at his feet and the ground, “whichever foot you’re comfortable with pushing goes on the ground”.

He did as you told.

“Now push” you said as he lifted his left leg and began to push.

“Okay… uh. Rest your shoulders and place one foot at the back of the board” you said as you ran by side. Unknowingly, Keisuke put the skate to stop by leaning too much of his weight towards the end of the skateboard and fell on his palms facing forward. You rushed towards him to make sure he was okay. Squatting beside him on the ground, you took one of his hands into yours and winced at the sight of broken skin and blood.

“Kuso” he smirked as he stared down at his palm.

“Told ya. You didn’t have the best start at this, but you did try" you said as he glared at you from the corner of his eye.

"Tell you what, meet me tomorrow at 9:00pm here” you said as you got up from the ground.

“For what?” Keisuke sneered as he looked up at you.

“You’ll see” you said as you gave him a peck on the cheek and got on your skateboard, heading towards your home.

“What in the world was she talking about…” he said as he walked off.

Keisuke waited for you at the designated spot.

“What the fuck is taking her so long” he said as he stared into the dark sky. “Kei!” he heard at a distance as you waved under the streetlight. You didn’t have your skateboard with you. You had a black one and it seemed to be old… but refurbished.

“(Y/N). You kept me waiting for 20 minutes. Now quit screwing around and show me what you got” he said as he glowered down at you.

“Calm down Kei” you said with a chuckle at his impatience as you set the skateboard down on the ground.

“Stand back” you said as stood a good amount of feet away from the rail. Keisuke gave you space by moving behind.

His eyes widened as you railed your skateboard and created sparks on the concrete brick.

“Wha-” he said as he stared you held the head of the skateboard and walked towards him.

“Had this customized and before you ask, yes. I can create fires too” you said as you smirked.

“Get better at skateboarding and maybe I’ll be willing to give you this” you said as you raised the skateboard.

“Koiyo”.

Bonus :

“Can you-”

“No keisuke. You can’t use knives to customize your skateboard” you said as you took a sip of juice.

“How about-”

“No”.

Notes :

Yaruze : Let's do it

Dame : Means Don't, no

kuso : Fuck/ shit (it's varying to be honest)

koiyo : Bring it on!

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1-lightofjustice · 4 years ago

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Justice for Awashima Seri

One of my latest posts made me want to re-watch K Project Return of Kings, especially Scepter 4 segment. And damn, there are so many things that happened to Awashima and frankly she didn’t deserve it. I’m not talking about GoRa’s overly disgusting fanservice attempts on Seri, although that’s indeed something that must be protested. I’m talking about how she was kept in dark by her two megane colleagues (mainly Munakata) even though she’s Second in Command of Scepter 4 and someone who has been working besides them for years. After I finished rewatching..... wow it’s worse than I remembered. My heart truly breaks for Seri, and I’m super glad that in the end she got her happy ending (by punching Munakata’s face). Like first, we know how worried she was about Munakata’s state, and after Reisaru’s fight in episode 8, Seri was so worried about Fushimi’s wellbeing and his bedding. Then at the very beginning of her role in episode 9, we have this :

For almost anyone besides Seri, maybe they will not think too much about the fact that they can’t understand what the hell are on Munakata and Fushimi’s heads, after all they’re not the easiest people to understand. But for Seri, it’s quite a new unpleasant territory for her. There’s a reason why she’s the Second in Command after Munakata, why she can easily command the rebel Fushimi without many protests from the said rebel, and why she can work alongside cryptic geniuses like Munakata and Fushimi. From R:B novel, we know that she’s an all-round achiever, but one of her main virtue is she’s goddamn observant. She more or less can understand Munakata’s unique mindset, and she mostly can see right through Fushimi’s bullshit. She more often can hit ‘100 point mark’ regarding the enigmatic Munakata and the ‘absolute tsundere’ Fushimi than any other human being except each other. Like on Munakata’s case, we have this :

Yoshino continued. “An ordinary man would have an interest in nude females, I think, but this is the Captain we’re talking about… How is it for him, what do you think?” She looked up at Awashima.

Awashima’s lips curved into a stiff smile as she took her time to think.

Then she drew a breath and, “I haven’t given that subject a thought until now. But well, if I had to answer…” She shook her head. “This is what I think: in the Captain’s case, it’s entirely possible that never once in his life he has so much as opened that kind of magazines or, alternatively, stores an entire thousand book collection of obscene materials in his room, and I won’t be surprised in the least in either case. Would this suffice as an answer?” Munakata Reishi’s right hand woman and Lieutenant, Awashima Seri, said with an even more strained smile.

Case Files of Blue Chapter 1 (and looking at how eager Munakata asked Hidaka to show his collection, suffice to say that Awashima is absolutely correct about her answer).

Awashima: But, well, for the Captain it’s probably of equal value. Fushimi: Of equal value? What is? Awashima: Protecting this country’s peace and fulfilling his promise to a kindergartener.

Optician Drama CD

And on Fushimi’s case :

“…It might not be a misunderstanding, you know. What if I were in cahoots with Homura?” he retorted, lips pursed.

For a moment, Awashima’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing to slits as she humphed letting a slight smirk tug on her lips. “Suppose there really is a traitor who’s trembling while covered in cold sweat; I’d say at the very least it’s safe to assume he’s not switching sides because he likes it. It’s time for your report. The materials are ready, I hope?”

The King and The Traitor

“It’s hard to call realistic, I have to agree with you on that. And on the off chance that it indeed is a strain’s doing, there is hardly any ground to claim harm sustained from the act. It’s the rainy season, after all. So I do find the idea of wasting time and manpower on investigating this possibility unreasonable, especially considering that we hardly have any to spare, but… if it’s an order from my superior officer, I will look into it though?”

It was said curtly and emotionlessly, but Awashima let out a little chuckle, hearing Fushimi’s answer. “Then look into it for me. Since like me, my competent and capable subordinate, too, seems to be concerned with this matter.”

Endless Rain

Also in anime, she noticed Yata’s worry for Mikoto and informed him about Mikoto’s condition to calm him. After breaking Sarumi’s fight, instead of asking apology, she demanded Fushimi to show her the result of his investigation, knowing full well that Fushimi already did some digging before he confronted Yata. She made the remark about only a King can attract another King. Heck, she already deduced that the reason why Munakata kept Zenjou-san on Scepter 4 is to kill Munakata one day, even though Munakata understandably never told anyone about it. During ROK, I kinda got feeling like Munakata and Fushimi were purposely ‘ghosting’ her, but looking at how observant she is, it’s quite understandable why Munakata and Fushimi kept Awashima in the dark to preserve their secret mission (still jerk move for them though).

I think that’s one of the reason why Fushimi gave the hint about his secret mission only to Yata. Not only Yata is his best friend, but he also can count on Yata’s insensitiveness, having been the victim first-hand in the past. Like, Fushimi who is surprisingly responsible and dutiful for his job maybe thought “it’s fine to give Misaki a hint, it’s not like he can pick it up anyway”, so he can feel ‘less guilty’ for endangering the secrecy of his mission. Not that he’s wrong though, I mean Yata you’re a good guy but I have to say you really have a fine thick-head for not noticing and still saying that Fushimi betrayed the Blues, Fushimi jumped from sinking ship after Fushimi uttered such a vague sentence and after knowing that Fushimi secretly asked your brother to quit Jungle. Thank God Munakata gave him clear explanation later. Instead for Awashima, she only got this :

In that brief moment of silence, Fushimi let Awashima knew 3 things :

1. He joined Green clan and willing to attack his ‘former’ clansmen for them.

2. Not only joined Green clan, but he’s now one of J-ranker of Jungle. You know, the true Green clansmen, the one they have to be most cautious like Sukuna and Yukari.

3. He allied with one of Green clansman who participated on Anna’s kidnapping and former Scepter 4′s prisoner.

And he didn’t give Awashima and Kusanagi anything except complete silence and green-laced knife-throwing. Mission accomplished! The monkey succeeds on fooling the strong-willed and observant Lieutenant of Scepter 4. Just like the phrase “To fool your enemy, fool your friends”, there’s no way Awashima can perceive that except as complete betrayal. Haha.

(Truly, Fushimi was so good at executing his job. Too good, actually).

Then, after that shocking revelation that can shake someone’s mentality, she still had duty to report it toward her superior. Look at her reaction after Munakata said things about biting the giver’s hand.

(OMG watching that scene after knowing about Fushimi and Munakata’s secret mission made me truly itch to punch a certain King’s beautiful sparkly face).

She blamed herself for failing to look after Fushimi. I read some posts about Fushimi’s betrayal speculation before ROK episode 11 was aired, those who predicted that Fushimi joined Green for real, almost all expected Yata to stop Fushimi and made him go back to Scepter 4 (or Homra). While I understand the potential Sarumi heartbreaking angst and their another flashy fighting scene, I can’t help but think, can Yata do it? Not that I doubt strong bond between them, but Yata and Fushimi are equal in power. Okay, Yata is stronger in raw power, but Fushimi proved himself can accommodate his power effectively to match Yata. We know from their fight in Ashinaka Gakuen that Fushimi’s dual-color status can pass Yata’s defense, just like an attack can pass the defense from the same aura. Then Fushimi got his Green Aura. I didn’t say that Yata surely would lose to Fushimi on that situation, but it’s understandable if he lost and no one will blame him. But Seri? She’s canonly stronger than Fushimi, she’s usually can keep Fushimi on check in Scepter 4 and Seri is his direct superior after Munakata. I think if indeed Fushimi joined Green clan, the ones that have a chance to win battling him are Seri, Kusanagi, Kuro, and Kings. I can see Awashima blamed herself for failing to stop Fushimi and wanted to compensate for that failure by bringing Fushimi back to Scepter 4.

So, as if that burden is not heavy enough, Munakata brought Zenjou to his side and Awashima, who already worried about Munakata’s safety for a whole season and more, got an honor to watch on front seat as this happened :

Her King had a sword pointed toward his neck, but Awashima wasn’t fast enough to even touch her saber. Munakata’s Second in Command, who just realized that preventing her King’s Damocles Down is her responsibility, was shown the fact that she was not fast enough in comparison with Zenjou. Just, let’s imagine some time between episode 9 and 11 Seri looked at her saber, lamented at the fact that she failed to stop Fushimi and she was not fast enough to fulfil her most hurtful responsibility. Imagine Seri tried to get a hold of herself, readied herself to point her sword toward her closest comrades.

Of course her torment didn’t end there. The Quack Prime Minister fired Munakata from his duty, removed him from Scepter 4. And Munakata, wordlessly, without giving any words or announcements toward his clansmen...

(SERIOUSLY GIVE HER A BREAK! MUNAKATAAAAA!!!!)

I feel like that scene is the peak of Munakata’s “ghosting” toward Awashima. Not to mention, her (and Scepter 4) next order is :

(Help! My poor clueless ducklings are trapped while their genius jerk megane superiors are carelessly walking toward suicide plans!).

Honorary mention for the rest of poor lost ducklings :

(Yes, Munakata, you can’t just leave without any words toward your clansmen. Especially when you literally walked toward your death).

(BTW the meaning of “one unthinkable thing happening after another” is Fushimi’s betrayal followed by Munakata’s resignation. Little appreciation that they thought Fushimi’s betrayal is “unthinkable thing” even though the fact that Fushimi’s status as Homra’s “traitor” is widely known in Scepter 4).

(Zenjou-san and the rest of Scepter 4 are not amused by your secret plan shenanigans, Munakata and Fushimi. Zenjou thought that those jerks truly ruin meganes’ reputation. Unbeknown to him, Enomoto thought the same).

Well, we know what happened after this. Seri and the rest of Special Squad got their first clue about what the heck is happened from a freaking TV, they rushed toward their King, the show was shifted to Silvers and Reds and NO SCEPTER 4 REUNION OR SETTLEMENT EVEN THOUGHT GORA CRAFTED SUCH A BIG AND COMPLEX CONFLICT IN SCEPTER 4.

Well, at least Seri got to punch Munakata in the face, even though in my opinion she truly deserved more after all the shits she had been through.

#k project #awashima seri #Munakata Reisi #fushimi saruhiko #scepter 4 #scepter 4 alphabet squad #the way Munakata detached himself from his clan #kinda mirrored how Mikoto detached himself from Homra before his death #Kings...#On Munakata's credit #he didn't let his clansmen terrorized an entire school as his clan's hostages #Still what he did is quite shitty in my opinion #Also Fushimi who move along with that suicide plan #knowing Fushimi maybe he thought that no one will mind if he died on the mission #and Munakata maybe thought that as long as Scepter 4 still has Seri they can survive without him #Seri-chan please knock their heads together HARD #for supposed geniuses they're so DUMB #k meta #meta

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brynne-lagaao · 7 years ago

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(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Sixteen

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 16/18

Rating: R18 (explicit content)

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.

Yata’s memory of crossing into the grove of trees was hazy and he wasn’t totally sure how he managed to navigate well enough to make his way over to his garden. By the time he got there, he was breathing harshly and his hands had clenched into fists. His vision was suspiciously blurry; he scowled furiously against the sharp sting behind his eyes.

It was stupid to get this upset over it. What did he expect?

What the hell had he expected? He was a fucking idiot, getting his hopes up like that.

Even the usually calming atmosphere in that space wasn’t doing anything to soothe the hurt throbbing within him. Yata felt his breathing become labored, as if the air was too thick. His throat seemed to burn with each intake. It was like his emotions were ruling the area around him, powerful and untamed, warping it from a relaxed and seductive place to something dark and twisted. He could barely see the plants he’d carefully cultivated, everything seeming to blur together into unimportant fragments as the energy fed into his frustration and sadness.

His instincts were calling out for some action – anything to quell his pain – but he didn’t know what.

What am I supposed to do now? He didn’t have any answers.

Soft footsteps behind him interrupted those pained thoughts, and he heard the familiar sound of Saruhiko's tongue clicking. “You didn't have to run off like that.”

Last person in the world he wanted to see right now. Yata clenched his teeth, a surge of anger flaring up through the ache. “Go away,” he gritted out, struggling to keep his temper in check.

It was starting to hit him just how much Saruhiko had been fucking with him over the past few days. Every time – every single fucking time he'd stopped to question what that unexpected rush of feelings meant, he’d been interrupted, sidetracked and misled. The cool, unapologetic and methodical way it had been done was almost enraging.

The only reason he was even trying not to get up in Saruhiko’s face over this shit was because he knew it probably wasn't personal. It may have been cold, but this was never supposed to be a thing in the first place. They weren’t dating or anything, just two adults having casual sex. It wasn’t really Saruhiko's fault that Yata had caught real feelings, and if he didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout, well... he wasn’t the fucking first.

What the hell is wrong with me, anyway? He always did shit like this, letting his emotions get the best of him. It figured that the first person he'd fall in love with for real would end up not returning it. And not just that, but also being actively bothered by his feelings.

It really was going to be better for everyone when this contract ended, even if thinking about it now made him feel like his stomach was hollowing out into some kind of pit of despair.

It was over before it really started, huh?

He expected Saruhiko to click his tongue again and make some cutting remark, but all he heard instead was a sharp sigh followed by a mumbled, “You know I can't.”

Right, and then there was that. Fucking pain in the ass contract! Without looking, Yata clenched his fists harder and snarled back, “Then turn the fuck around, you asshole!”

If he couldn't be alone, he at least didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

Saruhiko did click his tongue then, though it seemed to have a half-hearted feel to it. “I don’t know why you're making such a big deal out of this,” he muttered, sounding unexpectedly resentful. “It’s not like you don’t have other options, so there's no point in getting fixated.”

At that, Yata did spin around, fixing him with an incredulous stare. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded.

“It’s obvious, right?” Saruhiko’s arms were crossed over his chest almost defensively, his gaze dark and a frown on his lips. “There’s no one in this plane who could be with you for your entire lifespan, so of course you'd get attached to an option that would.” He raised an eyebrow almost challengingly, tone beginning to take on that condescending drawl. “The answer to that is obvious, though. Just pick another circle from that book of yours, and you're bound to get a demon who will be willing to – ”

Sudden and overwhelming rage had Yata moving before he could stop to think, reaching out with a wordless snarl and grabbing a handful of Saruhiko’s shirt to pull him in roughly so that he could fix a desperate and furious glare on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growled. “I’m gonna punch you in the face, you goddamn asshole!”

Saruhiko’s lids lowered, a little spark of something that Yata couldn’t place lighting in what remained visible of his eyes. “What? Isn't it the truth?” His lips curled in a small, mocking edge of a smirk. “You summoned me because you were lonely – isn’t that right, Misaki?” The name drew out slowly and deliberately. “Wouldn’t you have jumped at the chance to have anyone fill that gap? It doesn’t matter who it is in the end.”

The anger coursing through Yata's veins was so strong that he was shaking with it, fingers clenched so hard on Saruhiko’s shirt that they were white and trembling. “You don't know what you're talking about!” he snapped back. “Don’t mouth off about shit you don't even understand! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He seriously thinks I'm just that desperate? Behind the fury that was driving him, Yata could feel the unmistakable hurt that was making his throat seem to close up and his chest constrict. Worse than a rejection, this was the person he’d fallen for brushing off his feelings as if they meant nothing. Dismissing them like he could just turn around and point them at someone else.

If only it was that damn easy...

"Don’t I?" Saruhiko was still offering him that hateful smirk, eyes lidded. “Or maybe I’ve just touched a nerve.” When Yata gave his shirt a rough tug, he swayed easily with it, a breathless little huff of laughter escaping him. “Explain to me how you were expecting a random summon to give you someone who’d ease that loneliness if you were planning to be selective about it, then. Hm?”

“You…” The word came out as a growl again, rage and pain mingling in his belly. Yata glowered back, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You think I expected to summon up a boyfriend? Hah!” Somehow, he managed to huff out that last word, sneering back without humor. “Yeah, I was lonely – so what? Think I couldn’t find someone if I was that desperate?” Even just saying it now, he could feel the truth of it clicking into place in his head – a reality he’d been aware of despite not quite having it clear in his conscious thoughts. “What the hell do you think my problem was, then? Why d’you think I couldn’t even get a one-night stand? I've got standards, damnit – I don’t just fuck any old asshole, and I sure as hell don't date them either!”

Saruhiko's expression had started to change partway through the rant; he was frowning by the time Yata paused for breath, looking uncharacteristically baffled. When the pause came, he clicked his tongue. “Then why – ?”

“Why’d I summon you?” Yata shook his head, letting out another humorless bark of a laugh. “Good question! I was drunk and frustrated and lonely...” Recalling that moment, he could feel some of the righteous fury start to drain out of him, the ache in his core spreading out to the rest of his body. It was hard to keep meeting Saruhiko's gaze, but he kept it up stubbornly, determined to at least make his feelings understood. Even if they weren't going to be returned... Well, he was gonna manage this much, at least. I’m not letting you off that easily! “I thought maybe I’d get a sprite or a familiar or... something.” At that, he huffed, managing a small rueful smile. “My instincts led me to you.”

He could feel it as well as hear it when Saruhiko sucked in a sharp breath. Even as Yata watched, those grey-blue eyes widened, that endearingly startled look taking over his face. For a moment, he seemed unable to respond, caught without words as he stared mutely back.

“Look,” Yata went on, before he could collect himself and break the mood somehow, “I may be lonely, yeah, and sure, I’m gonna... outlive everyone here.” It was still painful to say, the words seeming to lodge in his throat, but he swallowed hard and pushed on. “But I still get to pick the people I wanna get close to.” He released the front of Saruhiko's shirt, stepping back to brace his hands on his hips and offering a sharp frown. “I won't be happy with just anyone, got it?”

Saruhiko was staring at him as if he’d just suddenly sprouted a second head; after a brief second, he clicked his tongue and looked away, eyebrows still furrowed and eyes unfathomable. It was an expression of clear frustration. “Why me?” he muttered, so low that Yata almost didn't catch it.

At least that one was easy. “Seriously?” Yata felt like laughing, almost giddy with the sudden relief that came with the honest question. “How can you even ask that? You’re so smart that I can barely look away from you – it’s like you can explain anything.” Once he’d started on the subject, he found it easy to keep going, following the instinctive flow of his emotions. “And even though you act like an asshole, you have this way of saying things, it’s so cool! You’re hard to keep up with, but you still try to explain shit to me, and even though you act like you don’t care, you put in all this effort to help me sort things out.” He shook his head, a little bit of the earlier warmth of those freshly realized feelings coursing through him and drawing out a reluctant smile. “Plus, you can make me laugh – and every time we talk, it just feels so easy, like we’d never run out of things to say to each other.” He could feel his throat start to clog up again, and forced himself to finish, tone husky. “Why wouldn’t I fall for you? You’re awesome, Saruhiko!”

His voice broke a little on the last of that, and Yata finally couldn’t stand it, turning his gaze aside hastily as that ache started again in his chest. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck to cover the moment of weakness and cleared his throat again. “I get it if you don’t feel the same, y’know," he managed, painfully forcing the words out against the pang of hurt as his heart seemed to squeeze in on itself. “You don’t have to pull all this bullshit out of your ass to make it okay to reject me. Just do it, say it – get it over with, all right? Don’t write my – my feelings off like that.”

There was a moment of tense silence between them, the air seeming to grow thicker with each passing second. The pounding of Yata’s heart felt loud in his own ears, and he had the uncomfortable impression that it was echoing out in the air around them, constricting further and further as they stood there.

He swallowed, ready to break that awkward moment by any means, when Saruhiko suddenly breathed in sharply, and let out a soft, dark chuckle. “The one who doesn't understand is you, Misaki,” he mumbled. When Yata glanced up sharply, he found himself being fixed with an unexpectedly expressive gaze, Saruhiko’s eyes seeming to burn into his with an intensity he'd never seen before.

For a moment, it felt like the breath had been sucked from his lungs. “Saruhiko...?”

“Me too,” Saruhiko cut him off, something of an uncontrolled edge in his voice even though the tone of it was low. “How would you expect me not to? Do you have any idea what it’s like being in your head?” He didn't wait for Yata to respond. “I've never felt emotions like yours before. You’re headstrong and thoughtless, but I can’t get enough. When you run wild, when you’re being yourself without holding back... I don’t know how you do it, throwing yourself into things you shouldn’t even care about so wholeheartedly. You’re so passionate and bright, it’s blinding. I can’t stand it, but I can’t get enough of it. It’s so annoying. I don’t understand – ” He cut off there, making a small, frustrated sound. “How does someone like you exist? How do you do it so easily, smiling like that and acting like that and just... being you. Why?” At that, his face seemed to twist in on itself, eyes taking on a desperate, lost edge. “Why am I so addicted to your emotions? To you? It’s like you're a drug and I never had any chance after I was exposed.”

The outburst left Yata stunned, Saruhiko's outward show of sudden and passionate emotion almost more surprising that the words. He felt his heart flutter wildly in his chest, like a bird trying to bust out of its cage, and stared back, mesmerized. He thinks of me like that? All those moments of trying to rein himself in, trying to curb his crazy, uncontrollable, stupid emotions... And all along, Saruhiko had liked it.

It was almost too much to believe. Too much to hope for, at this point.

The pause didn’t last long. Saruhiko’s eyes were intent, almost frenzied; when he spoke next, it was with a conviction that bordered on madness. “If you’ve really fallen for me, then prove it, Misaki.” He spread his arms expansively. “Leave the contract as it is. Keep me here.” An almost manic grin was building on his face. “Show me how much you’re demanding of me. Make me yours without holding back.”

Maybe part of it was the air in there, thick with magic, urging him to give in and indulge his every whim, or maybe it was the recent emotional storm he’d weathered taking its toll. Maybe both. Regardless, the command seemed to cause something in Yata’s brain to snap; he was moving before he was fully conscious of it, surging forward and into Saruhiko’s arms, a growl on his lips and fire lighting every nerve on his body. As he pressed forward against Saruhiko’s body and leaned up to aggressively capture his lips, he could hear those words repeating again and again in his head, like a mantra. “Make me yours… make me yours… make me yours… Misaki…”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Just the idea of it was burning within him.

It was so delicious that even the edge of wrong that clung to the moment felt good, an erotic and tantalizing sense of forbidden passion that he couldn’t have resisted if he wanted to. Saruhiko’s lips were on his, the unmistakable scent of him clouding Yata’s senses and making his body tense with desire. The way they clung to each other, mouths joined and tongues clashing erratically, was desperate and clumsy. Their hands caught on each other’s clothing, arms tightening as they tried to draw closer and come into as much contact as possible.

He would’ve done anything Saruhiko wanted in that moment. All that mattered was the insistent, intoxicating need that had consumed his thoughts. He didn’t even want to think, just… feel.

They ended up backed onto a tree, with Yata insistently pressing Saruhiko against it and groaning low in his throat as Saruhiko responded to his aggression by rolling his hips forward, gripping Yata’s ass with both hands to hold him in place so their clothed erections ground together.

The sensation was incredible with the rush of adrenaline still strong in his veins. Yata pulled back hastily, chest heaving as he reached down to tug his shirt roughly over his head and then leaning back in against an already shirtless Saruhiko, eagerly widening his stance so that his knees could brace against the bark and they had leverage to thrust freely against each other.

Saruhiko made a soft thrumming noise against his mouth, fingers skating around Yata’s hips to tug meaningfully at his fly. There was an unmistakable tremor in them, eagerness seeming to make him clumsy. Yata brushed his hands aside and made quick work of removing the rest of his clothing, breaking their kiss in the process. They were both breathing heavily as they fumbled with Saruhiko’s pants as well, a cloud of heat seeming to form in the air between them.

It was fast, impulsive, thoughtless… He didn’t want to think. He wanted to feel Saruhiko’s body against him, moving inside him, the two of them becoming one.

Saruhiko being his.

It felt wrong on so many levels, but right to his most base desires, and Yata wasn’t interested in anything outside of those at the moment. The need to join together, to claim, was surging through his veins and consuming his every thought. His body ached for it, every nerve on edge. When Saruhiko’s fingers ran over his skin, he trembled with overpowering want, his own fingers tightening hard enough to leave more bruises on Saurhiko’s pale, supple arms and shoulders.

If the moan that vibrated against his lips was any indication, Saruhiko loved it as much as he did.

They sank to the ground when the last barrier of clothing was removed, Saruhiko’s back braced against the soft moss at the base of the tree and Yata straddling his hips. In this position, he had the advantage of height for once and used it without any hesitation, sliding the glasses off and setting them aside before bringing both hands to cup Saruhiko’s head. His fingers buried in that soft dark hair as he tilted it up further towards him, initiating another deep kiss.

The pleasant, throbbing ache in his body was so consuming that he barely noticed the telltale pain in his back until Saruhiko made a soft noise against his mouth, startled rather than aroused this time, and broke the kiss. When Yata blinked hazily at him, uncomprehending, he was staring in dazed, lustful wonder at some point beyond. His fingers slid up from the small of Yata’s back to brush along the line of his spine and out, along his –

Oh.

“Your wings,” Saruhiko murmured, as if it wasn’t obvious by that point. His gaze shifted back to meet Yata’s, dark with lust and a kind of possessive affection.

His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, and the sight of him caused something in Yata’s chest to squeeze, pleasure and pain blending within him delightfully. “Didn’t do it on purpose,” he managed to mumble back, resisting the urge to lean in and capture those lips with his own again.

“Mm.” The acknowledgement was almost a moan, Saruhiko’s fingers trembling against the point where the wings emerged from his back. He shifted forward, allowing a bit of space as the batlike wings and smooth horns emerged smoothly on his own back and head.

There was something undeniably hot about doing it like this; Yata couldn’t quite hold back the little involuntary noise that rose unbidden at the back of his throat. He lowered his hips so their erections could come into contact, a tiny jolt of pleasure rewarding the action, and his fingers tightened in Saruhiko’s hair.

“Misaki,” Saruhiko murmured in response, soft and heated and desperate, and their lips bumped and realigned, mouths opening to each other again as they shifted against each other’s bodies in a frenzied search for more contact.

It was weird to feel his wings curl inward as they did, instinctively circling the two of them, but there was something freeing about it. He felt wild and powerful, driven by instinct and desire, taking what he wanted without a care for how messed up it might be. The small circle created by both sets of wings and the solid backing of the tree felt like its own world, a place just for the two of them where nothing else mattered and they didn’t have to deal with any problems.

Saruhiko’s dick was hot and stiff against his, and Yata could already vividly imagine the sensation of it sliding into his body, setting his mind into a frenzy of need. He was ready to use whatever was on hand to make that happen – too far gone to care about the logistics that would’ve mattered outside of this space – but before he could quite act on it, Saruhiko broke their kiss again, pulling back far enough to have space to murmur, “How much do you trust me?”

“Huh?” Yata stared at him, confusion piercing the heady fog that had settled over his brain.

“With this,” Saruhiko clarified, freeing one of his hands and turning it so that a clear gel could manifest in his palm.

“Fuck.” The expulsion was out of his mouth before he could think, throaty and affected. Yata couldn’t help the grin that spread on his lips in response, a little shudder of anticipation running through him as he leaned down to mumble, “I trust you,” against Saruhiko’s lips.

They weren’t patience with the preparation, but it hadn’t been that long since they’d last fucked, so only the bare minimum was necessary anyway. Saruhiko penetrated him right away with three slick fingers, not bothering to be gentle, and Yata pulled on his hair in response, that intoxicating mix of sting and satisfaction coursing through him. They exchanged short, heated kisses as Saruhiko coated his erection, and when he was done and the head of his cock was positioned, Yata lowered himself onto it slowly, shutting his eyes and savoring that thick, delicious burn as their bodies joined yet again.

Saruhiko breathed his name a second time, voice breaking in the middle and fingers tightening on Yata's hips, and the rush of arousal that triggered within him amplified the pleasure even further. Yata moaned low, opening his eyes to take in Saruhiko’s hazy, clouded gaze and slid his shaking fingers up to cup that beautiful face, thumbs running along the line of flushed cheeks.

Mine.

A wild rush of possessive energy overtook him as he sank to the base of Saruhiko’s dick. With their positioning, he was in more or less complete control and he took advantage of it shamelessly, lifting his body to allow most of the thick length to slip free and then sliding back down indulgently. It felt amazing to draw out the sensation of penetration, and it seemed to drive Saruhiko crazy; as Yata watched hungrily, his eyes slid shut and he made a breathy, helpless noise, almost like a mix between a whine and a moan.

You’re mine…

It was intoxicating. Yata curled his fingers around the curve of Saruhiko’s head and began to lift and drop his hips in earnest, leaning in to capture those swollen lips with his own again and parting them insistently with his tongue. Mine, he thought again, with each motion that caused Saruhiko's cock to thrust into his body. Mine, mine, mine... You're mine, Saruhiko...

He was lost in the pace and the pleasure, moaning into Saruhiko’s mouth with unrestrained abandon, when he felt the telltale tightening as he hit the tipping point between the gradual build and the rush to climax. Instinctively, he shifted to change the angle as Saruhiko had done frequently before so that his prostate was brushed by the head of Saruhiko’s cock. The rush of sensation had him tensing up, their kiss breaking as a wild cry escaped his lips, and it only took another two desperate, clumsy thrusts before he was coming in a rush, body quivering and voice breaking with the pleasurable release.

Saruhiko squirmed beneath him, a breathy whine escaping him as he thrust his hips as much as he was able, drawing out the sensation to something almost unbearable. And then he stiffened up and began to come as well, his cock twitching and the rest of him trembling violently as he spent himself fully.

Yata let his head drop to rest his forehead against Saruhiko’s as they rode out the last of those shivers in the aftermath, the high of the moment starting to gradually fade. In that instant, he could let himself remain blissfully thoughtless, pleasure still dominating his brain and body.

Only for that one instant.

With the adrenaline rush gone and clarity starting to cut through the haze that had overlaid his thoughts, that sense of something wrong was returning full-force. Yata released Saruhiko’s face, bracing his clammy hands on the bark of the tree behind him as he shakily lifted himself so their bodies would separate. Their eyes met, mutually befuddled as the rush from their orgasms wore off.

His head was a mess of conflicting emotions. That fierce, possessive streak hadn’t entirely faded, and he couldn’t help but feel the urge to lean back down, to claim. But at the same time he felt a growing pit in his stomach, a sick feeling that he couldn’t shake. He felt gross and weary, heart aching in a way that he couldn’t help but interpret as a very clear message.

This isn’t right.

Even as he stared down at Saruhiko’s flushed face, a terrible understanding growing in the clouded gaze they shared, he thought he could pick the exact sticking point out of the chaos of his own thoughts.

“Leave the contract as it is.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled out loud, completely certain of the response despite the dazed tone of his own voice. He could feel it in his bones, even if he couldn’t place why just the thought of keeping the contract between them made him feel like his heart and soul had been painfully poisoned.

Saruhiko shut his eyes, breathing in deeply before reopening them. That passive wariness seemed to have slammed back into place, but the resentment in his gaze was still as clear as day. “There’s nothing to talk about, then,” he muttered, bringing up his hands to carefully but firmly push Yata to climb off of him.

Yata complied numbly, feeling bereft as he rolled to sit on the mossy ground. Before all this, it had felt like his heart was breaking – now, it felt like it had been yanked out of his body. He folded forward over his knees with his wings tucked in close, closing his eyes against the sting behind them as Saruhiko moved sharply to clean himself and pull his clothing back into place.

Neither of them said a word. Like Saruhiko had told him, there didn’t seem to be anything they could say.

“Sometimes disagreements run too deep to just talk out.”

#k #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

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hyacinthetic · 8 years ago

Note

You've interested me with potential Reitotsu from your "swimming, swimming, swimming" meta. Please expand on this. More detail about preventing territorial blowout, how would Totsuka achieve this? Seri and Kusanagi haven't done it.

i’m going to answer you a bit backwards – first by talkingbriefly about how awashima and kusanagi were bad fits for bringing peace,second by discussing why totsuka would bother, third by addressing reitotsu andwhy it interested me in 2015 but i don’t see it working out too hot.

as a preface: let’s be clear that the full context of my original sentence was “totsuka tries to overcome all his fears of a s4 v. homra territorial blowout” (emphasis added). for various reasons,* his odds of succeeding were always going to be shit. but i do believe that (i) it’s within his wheelhouse to have tried something; and (ii) he’s better-positioned for it than awashima + kusanagi combined. let’s take those points backwards.

( * it’s mikorei. when in doubt, i am always talking about mikorei. )

RE: WHY AWASHIMA AND KUSANAGI FAILED TO RESTRAIN THEIR KINGS

this point makes sense largely if you consider totsuka’s service to his king v. kusanagi / awashima’s services. our most extreme example comes in s1, when mikoto goes hurtling headlong to his death and his childhood best friend—the one who knew him best before he ascended—stands by and tells the empty night, “you were the best king we could have asked for”, knowing perfectly well that suoh mikoto never wanted to be king. similarly, awashima never brings up her concerns with munakata directly in s2: she only confronts him after he comes back and he’s made his own choice. both fall into supporting roles; they don’t tell the kings who to be, they only work to ensure that the kings meet their own goals.

totsuka, by contrast, is a kingmaker in a very real sense. the post you mention quotes snippets such as totsuka’s enthusiastic cry to “make this a great kingdom!” and to convince mikoto that he’s a protector. kings do not default to violence and territoriality – see ichigen miwa, who lived alone in the mountains and picked up an apprentice almost by happenstance. totsuka tells mikoto what being king means, and mikoto takes his cues to lead. munakata and mikoto may have philosophies at odds with one another, but totsuka’s the reason their conflict’s ongoing. so if you were going to change mikoto’s path without developing any of his canon relationships, totsuka would be the go-to option. he’s done it before, and it’s not out of bounds to think that mikoto’d be willing to change again at totsuka’s word.

RE: TOTSUKA’S MOTIVATIONS FOR STEPPING INTO THE FIGHT

assuming that totsuka has the capacity to change things, the question becomes motivation. we know that totsuka enjoys playing the weakling who acts only by influencing others (see: that time he took homra out to an amusement park to force mikoto’s hand in scattering a bunch of thugs following anna), and that others consider this his role in homra. (“We’re a breed of team where power is like our meanin’ for existence. And on top of that, we’ve got a bunch of guys together who let the blood rush to their heads. Someone who, within that, won’t let them drown in their power… who’ll keep everyone together using a method that isn’t forceful, is needed.”) so what would drive him to push suoh mikoto, the man he’s only ever wanted to follow?

the end of my “swimming, swimming, swimming” post was a throwaway joke, but not out of line with how i’d answer the question seriously: totsuka acts according to his own interests. he started following mikoto in middle school, not for any serious purpose, but because he thought that mikoto had a kingly air and he wanted in on that. so if he thought that munakata was (physically) interesting and he saw an advantage in ingratiation, it doesn’t seem to be a stretch to suggest that totsuka might try to involve himself with munakata to bring peace to the homra-s4 conflict from the other side.

i’m going through totsuka’s motivations in some depth because i can’t, in the end, answer your question positively: i don’t believe he’d win the day re: bringing peace. totsuka’s advantage with mikoto is that mikoto accepts other people for who they are (provided they aren’t actively hurting others), and uses his own strength to protect them. totsuka held onto peace for as long as he did by making sure that mikoto had people to protect. this is not a tactic he could use with munakata, whose core philosophy is that humans need structure and a just system. his power comes from working within the system to bring justice. if there’s one thing we know about totsuka, it’s that the system doesn’t suit him much. he can’t even stand the consistency of keeping just one hobby. and i don’t buy that totsuka would charge in where he didn’t think he had good odds for success.

RE: REITOTSU AT LARGE, or a study in fucking around with paragraphs that have no topic sentences; don’t do this at home, kids.

i’d argue there’s some leeway for at least a superficial friendship based on both their interests and the the way they deal with the relationships between ‘being king’ and ‘being human’. you don’t need canon to tell you that totsuka definitely has at least five 3-D puzzles and three books on japanese tea ceremonies propping up a table somewhere. further, unlike mikoto, munakata seems to feel the gap between humans and kings as an actual loss. (see: various remarks throughout canon in which he tries to assert a connection with people who don’t want him that close.) they have a common philosophy: a king shouldn’t need to be lonely. i’ve addressed above why totsuka would be interested in munakata; it doesn’t seem unreasonable to think that munakata wouldn’t respond to that interest to some degree, particularly in light of totsuka’s connection to the main thorn in his side.

ultimately, however, what brought totsuka to munakata’s door would likely drive them apart, too: mikoto may be a brute, but totsuka’s the one who motivates him to stay in power. let’s take a moment to remember that munakata’s main issue with mikoto isn’t that he’s an asshole – it’s that he chooses to act outside the law, and a large part of that choice derives from totsuka’s encouragement. to give them any kind of serious relationship, you’d need to address the conflict. which is difficult, because the nature of any system is that it presumes a set of baseline truths about a population. homra’s there for the people who fall through the cracks, either because the law doesn’t apply to their problems (see: yata “my mum’s new family doesn’t need me and i’m dumb, who am i even and what am i good for” misaki) or because they’re in a position where they can’t go to the law. they solve things with violence both as a deterrent and because it’s the way mikoto needs to blow off steam. you and i understand this, but munakata likely wouldn’t: at the r:b timepoint, the system is everything to him.

but let’s step back for a moment. there are three core principles to the munakata-suoh conflict: (i) suoh lives outside of the system and munakata within it; (ii) suoh and munakata have people to protect; (iii) suoh and munakata are the slate’s chosen kings.

as such, totsuka’s options for defusing the homra-s4 conflict are three: (i) bring suoh into the system and make sure he lives by it; (ii) remove suoh’s people to protect; (iii) get suoh to step down.

(i) and (ii) are instantly out of the question – (i) was contrary to suoh’s character even before he became a king;** (ii) would never be true for as long as totsuka was alive, and losing it (per s1) could drive mikoto to burn out instantly. that leaves us with (iii) – which is difficult but not impossible. totsuka’s understanding of mikoto as ‘king’ began long before the slate chose him, and arguably has very little to do with mikoto’s slate-granted powers. what totsuka wants, at his core, is for mikoto to be king and to have human bonds with others. neither of these require that he keep powers that are killing him. munakata’s in an especially good position to convince him of that.

if i were going to do reitotsu in any kind of canon setting, i’d start there.

(** i mean, there’s a workable au in which the japanese parliament sees the rising tide of strain incidents and strikes back against the gold king’s ‘shadow government’ by passing a set of laws that require strain registration and restrict travel for registered strains/clansmen. in the ensuing power struggle, shizume degenerates into territories divided between the rule of separate kings. munakata wouldn’t like it, and frankly totsuka would have to grow the fuck up before he could cope with such an au, but at least then munakata’d have to recognise mikoto as a king with specific grounds for rights. while the catalyst for s4 and homra’s constant battles comes down to totsuka + principles, their actual conflict derives from the fact that homra, in theory, falls under s4’s governance. give them a system in which they maintain separate spheres of power and negotiating peace gets a lot easier.)

IN SUM

i realise the above is very negative. this isn’t to say that i don’t find the relationship interesting in its own way. the canon theme is that nobody ever calls totsuka out on his shit – mikoto periodically sees through it (see: again, their scene at the amusement park) but really doesn’t challenge him. kusanagi’s in a similar position to see through the facades, but arguably has too much to lose by trying to change his dynamic with mikoto and homra. (remember – kusanagi thinks it’s important for homra to have a weakling + a restraint, something that only works if he lets totsuka play his games.) munakata’s as close as we get to a bystander who’s nevertheless involved enough to tell totsuka exactly how much damage he’s doing by using someone else to play kings – and more than that, how little totsuka’s doing for himself by perpetuating a system where his only role is supposedly ‘support’ when he’s capable of so much more.

as for munakata’s interest in totsuka – well. totsuka’s one of the few characters we see who’s fearless with his king. supplemental materials make munakata’s quest for just such a person fairly clear.

#hot k problems #totsuka tatara #munakata reishi #metaaaaaaaaaaa!1111

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dubredofanfics · 8 years ago

Text

Six Years

Part 26 - Recurring Feelings

"Did she throw you out of her condo?" Yasay asked. "Hindi, ako man yung umalis." Rodrigo replied.

"Na-ano lang ako," his face twitched in disappointment. "Siguro wala na talagang ano si Leni saakin kaya ganon kung makasabi siya na pinagsamantalahan ko siya, parang diring diri siya." He confided to one of his closest friends. "Baka naman nagulat lang. Adrenaline rush." Yasay tried to enlighten him but he felt so cynical.

"Okay ka lang?" Sally asked her daughter. "Naooffend yata si Rody." She expressed her anxiety. "Kung totoo yung sinasabi niya, parang ang unfair naman na concerned lang naman siya saakin tapos pinagbintangan pa natin siya ng kung ano ano." She added. "Hayaan mo na muna yan, Leni. Iwasan mo muna, palamigin mo bago mo subukang kausapin." Sally advised favoring her daughter. Leni felt so guilty for accusing Rodrigo of things, she wanted to apologize to him right away but at the same time, she didn't have the guts to face him.

Leni gave herself about two weeks to think, she gave him space. Rody has to admit that he's been emotionally battered by his love for Leni, he couldn't explain why he keeps fighting for her amidst every heartbreak she gave him, maybe he loves her that much.

—

Sana dumating yung araw na magkakabati rin kami.

She mentally spoke and rested her chin on her hand as she was alone in her office. She thought about the times she has hurt Rodrigo and she couldn't feel any more sorry for causing all the pain. Hurting him was the least thing she wants to make him feel but it seemed ineluctable.

Pero 'di ba sa love, may ups and downs talaga? Baka ito yung down time namin?

She tried to stay hopeful.

Pero ang tagal na naming ganito. What if pilit ako ng pilit tapos hindi naman pala kami para sa isa't isa?

She felt cynical again.

She gazed into the glassed Ecuadorian rose and decided to open the container to touch it's petals.

As soon as her skin touched the petal, she haltered and looked closely — only realizing it wasn't real anymore. It was a synthetic flower and not the Ecuadorian rose she used to have, it shook her.

She rushed outside her office and called her staffs and cleaning employees. "Sino sainyo yung nangielam nitong flower?" She asked with a hint of panic and anger in her voice. The staffs looked at each other.

"Hindi na 'to yung bulaklak na nasa loob. Hawakan niyo! Synthetic na 'to oh. Sino sainyo yung nagpalit?!" She demanded for an answer.

She grunted, torn between crying and yelling. "Sabihin niyo na, pwede? Hindi ako magagalit, kailangan ko lang malaman kung nasaan." She pleaded but no one knew what happened to it.

"Mam, hindi naman po kami nangingielam ng gamit niyo sa opisina." "Hindi po namin alam mam." "Hindi niyo po ba naiuwi?"

"Nasaan? Hindi lang basta bulaklak 'to, ano ba?" She triggered them but she can't squeeze out something that isn't there. She panted and headed back to her office clueless of what to do next now that she lost the most special tangible gift that Rody gave her.

With the said incident, Leni felt even more undeserving to be forgiven by him. She refused to tell him about as she didn't want to piss him off. It divided them even more up to the point that another group of months being all awkward and distant passed by.

—

Ferly looked at Leni's eyes as she spoke about how she is going to discuss their revised housing proposal to Rodrigo. "Okay na ba kayo ni Digong?" She asked, Leni chuckled faintly, she didn't expect her question would be something personal.

"Oo naman, bakit mo natanong?" She replied and sat back down to her seat. "Wala naman. Syempre alam naman ng buong Pilipinas yata yung past niyo tapos eto ka nanaman, may project na nilelead na largely involved ang president." She remarked. Leni knew to herself that it may be a tough game for her to work closely with him again. They continued working even after they messed up months ago but not this close, not this involved.

"Tsaka, ilang araw ka nang tutok na tutok diyan ha?! Natutulog ka pa ba?" She asked with a sound of disbelief. "One hour, two hours." Leni replied. "Grabe! Stress yan ha. Magpahinga ka rin, baka magkasakit na niyan. Nung Monday ka pa nakatutok diyan, magthu-Thursday na." She pointed out out of concern.

"Kailangan matapos na eh. Iaabot ko pa 'to kay Digong mamayang hapon para by tomorrow up for review nalang ng housing department." She informed her about her plans.

"Nagpapakitang gilas ka ba kay ex?" Ferly teased in jest. "Hindi noh, trabaho lang." Leni chuckled, being teased to him still makes her blush. "Tsaka kahit magpakitang gilas ako doon, hindi narin ako mapapansin non." She added. "Sus, Leni. Ilang buwan na halatang hindi ka parin nakakamove on." Ferly stood up.

"Sobra naman, nakamove on na ako. Tanggap ko na na hanggang doon nalang kami noh." She concealed her emotions with a chuckle. Ferly pursed her lips, she thought it's better to cut off the topic as it might just add up to her busy head. "It doesn't matter. Ang mahalaga naging masaya kayo sa isa't isa noon at okay kayo ngayon." She stated, Leni smiled softly. "Oo naman."

Silence penetrated the room for a moment, Ferly saw the slight misery in her eyes. "Anyway, sige tapusin mo na yan, baka nakakaistorbo pa ako. Magpahinga ka after mo ha?" She bid before she left.

Leni exhaled heavily and covered her eyes with her hands. She started to feel the dizziness and drowsiness due to lack of sleep but she can't stop. She continued working until she finished her task of revising.

She immediately headed to the palace after work to hand over the revised proposal and personally discuss it to Rodrigo but he wasn't there when she arrived. A staff informed her that he'll be back in less than an hour so she decided to stay on queue and wait for him to return.

Bong dialed up Ferly, Digong talked to her to ask for an update about the housing proposal they are working on.

"Na kay Leni po, president. Hindi po ba siya dumaan diyan sa Malacañang?" Ferly asked out of confusion. "Natapos na ba yung revise?" He asked. "Opo, ilang araw na nga puyat si Leni kakarevise diyan sa proposal. Hindi na nga ho natutulog." She shared laughing. Digong was surprised to know that they were able to finish the revision in four days, he called them up just for an update, he predicted they would finish it in a week but they finished it earlier. "Natapos ni Leni? Grabe man yung walang tulog, baka naman magkasakit siya. Next week pa naman due." He replied.

"Sabi niya idadaan daw niya ngayong hapon yung revision sa Malacañang, hindi po ba siya dumaan?" Ferly reiterated. "Hindi ko man alam. On the way palang kami sa palasyo ulit, binisita namin yung lote ng pagtatayuan nung housing project." He stated.

Leni reread the documents so she could explain well to Digong the aspects of it and the changes they made when he arrives. In a couple of minutes, he finally arrived. She stood up in respect and smiled at him with a little bow.

"Sorry mam, naghintay ka pa." He apologized and took the documents she was handing to him. "Okay lang, sir." She replied and looked at him browsing the pages of the folder.

Suddenly, she started to feel dizzy again. She cleared her eyes and smiled at him but her vision started to blur out and her balance became unstable.

"Mam, sa opisina nalang natin pag-usapan para di tayo nakatayo." He suggested but she seemed distracted. "Mam?" He asked after noticing how she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Sir?" She replied trying to shake off her instability. "Okay ka lang, mam?" He asked.

She pulled of a smile and nodded but her vision remained cloudy. "Sigurado—"

Leni suddenly lost consciousness. Out of reflexes, Digong caught her in his arms to protect her from falling down. The other staffs and guards assisted them.

Rodrigo's chest pounded strongly in deep worry. "Bong, tumawag ka ng doctor!" He demanded and asked the security to help him carry her up to one of the bedroom of the palace so she could comfortably lie down while waiting for the medical assistance.

He couldn't keep calm as he saw her all unconscious. He nagged Bong about the medical assistance he called for. "Papunta na daw, Digong. Mga fifteen minutes daw." He replied. "Sabihin mo bilisan!" He demanded.

He checked on Leni's pulse and breathing, he was grateful her stats were normal. She placed a few pillows under her feet to raise up her legs a bit.

After a couple of minutes, the doctor finally arrived and checked on Leni's vital signs. After gathering the data, the doctor concluded that all her signs are normal and there is nothing much to worry.

Digong demanded for the check uo summary. "Wala namang harmful diagnosis, president. I think it's due to over fatigue and stress kaya siya nahimatay." The doctor explained, Digong knew it may be accurate as he recalled Ferly talking about how focused Leni was in finishing the project proposal revision.

"She just needs to rest tapos ichecheck up natin ulit si ma'am." He added. "Sige, doc. Salamat. Salamat." He replied, the guards escorted the doctor as he left.

Rodrigo was left alone in the room, Bong stayed outside. He sighed heavily as he looked at Leni. She appears to be in deep sleep, it makes his heart melt.

It's been ages since he had a very close and long encounter with her and seeing her peacefully sleeping next to his eyes felt like an eden to him.

He traipsed towards her and sat at the edge of the bed. He hated how she's not taking care of herself well, it irked him more that he can no longer be there around her all the time to take care of her when she can't. He gently held her hand and frantically stroked it with his thumb while looking at her face.

He exhaled sharply, "Alagaan mo naman sarili mo mam." He uttered softly while holding her hand. He filled the gaps of her fingers as the touch of her skin made him miss holding her hands. A small smile grew on his lips, "Gagi ka talaga kahit kelan. Di mo inaalagaan sarili mo."

For quite a moment, he just stared at her and it became inevitable for him not to feel all the feelings he have for her — it was never gone, it never dwindled.

Mahal na mahal parin kita.

He admitted to himself while gazing at the face of the woman he never thought he would love that much. "Hindi na ako laging nasa tabi mo, hindi na kita mababantayan lagi kaya wag mong pabayaan yung sarili mo mam." He uttered in security that she won't even hear his sincere messages while she's in deep sleep.

He leaned towards her and kissed her temple before he decided to head out of the room and let her rest alone.

As the door closed, Leni slowly opened her eyes. She heard everything he said, tears ran down from her eyes in happiness. She thought he was completely over her; all this time, she thought that he no longer cares about her but with what she just heard, she just proved that he still sees her the same, nothing has changed and he is still the Rodrigo that made her fall in love.

That's when she knew that she's not over him yet. She keeps saying she's fine and she already accepted the fact that they are never working things out again but in a snap, she felt like she has to start fighting for him again.

To be continued...

#dubredo #series #six years

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ridiasfangirlings · 3 years ago

Note

What about a scenario where fushimi reads anna a bedtime story :D

Aw, Fushimi being a good big brother. Maybe this is like during the Homra years and Fushimi ends up babysitting Anna for the evening somehow. Like there’s some big Homra mission happening where the whole clan is going to take down some giant gang and they’re expected to be out all evening, even Totsuka is coming (staying away from enemy lines as much as possible) to keep an eye on Mikoto. Anna’s remaining behind though and they need someone to watch her, Anna straightens up and says she can watch herself. Kusanagi agrees that she’s mature but he doesn’t feel right leaving her alone even from just a safety aspect, in case someone decided to try something while she’s alone at the bar. As it happens this is when Fushimi and Yata walk in, Yata fussing over Fushimi a bit because he has a low grade fever and refuses to lie down and rest. Kusanagi asks if Fushimi’s sick and Fushimi brushes it off as just a small cold, Yata’s worried though because Fushimi didn’t eat much this morning and what if he gets dizzy during a fight. Kusanagi gets this smile as he’s like I think I have a solution here.

So that’s how Fushimi gets stuck babysitting Anna for the evening (with Totsuka teasing him lightly about who’s babysitting who). Kusanagi tries to soften the blow telling Fushimi they’re trusting him with this and Fushimi shrugs all sure whatever, watching as Yata gushes over how Mikoto is totally going to show those guys who’s boss around here. Kusanagi puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him to just make sure Anna gets to bed all right and then he can rest in the bar until they get back. Fushimi nods, clicking his tongue, standing there with Anna as everyone else files out of the bar. Once it’s just the two of them Anna stares at him and Fushimi’s like “What?”, Anna just shakes her head and says she’s glad Saruhiko is staying with her.

It’s already late so Anna goes to take a bath and get into her pajamas, Fushimi figures this shouldn’t be too bad since Anna can largely handle herself. He’s sitting at the bar playing on his PDA when Anna peeks over at him from the stairs. Fushimi asks what the problem is and Anna says that Izumo always reads her a bedtime story. Fushimi clicks his tongue and Anna keeps staring at him, of course Fushimi can’t stand in the face of that so he sighs and is like fine I’m coming. Anna hands him the book Kusanagi was reading, Fushimi doesn’t recognize it but maybe it’s like some common children’s book and Anna smiles a little as she says her parents used to read it to her. Fushimi’s like ‘parents, huh,’ with this little bitter smile because of course he has no idea about this whole ‘loving parents who read to their kids’ thing.

Fushimi starts reading the book and of course his voice is just total monotone, Anna has to stop him and tells him Kusanagi does the voices. Fushimi’s all ‘really.’, not entirely believing that but Anna is looking at him intently and he can’t argue. He sighs and tries again but Fushimi isn’t the best with voices and imagine he keeps adding little asides complaining about how stupid these characters are. Anna listens intently though and at some point Fushimi wonders if she’s patronizing him, Anna shakes her head and says Saruhiko is doing his best. The way she says it just makes Fushimi feel even more annoyed and Anna reaches over and offers to read part of it to him instead. Fushimi says he isn’t a kid and Anna smiles at him, starting to read the book. Fushimi keeps interjecting little annoyed remarks under his breath and Anna nods and responds even as she keeps reading. Several hours later Homra returns and Kusanagi’s concerned when he doesn’t see Fushimi waiting so he goes upstairs to check on Anna. Anna’s asleep with the book in her hands and Fushimi crouched by her bed still, fast asleep with his head on her blankets, and Kusanagi decides with a smile to leave them be for now (and then Totsuka leans over his shoulder and immediately hurries off to get the camera).

#Fushimi Saruhiko #Kushina Anna #Talking K #Totsuka puts that picture on the wall everyone must see it #okay maybe this turned into Anna reading Fushimi a bedtime story #but you know that's what would happen #Fushimi would be reading in the flattest tone and Anna has to show him how to do it

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brynne-lagaao · 7 years ago

Text

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Twelve

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 12/18

Rating: R18 (explicit content)

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

If anything, things were hotter than ever between them.

It hadn't started that way – in the immediate aftermath of their impulsive “session” against the kitchen counter, the period of satiation had felt almost invigorating. They'd flown out and found another charging point before going to bed even, and things felt refreshingly comfortable between them. No awkwardness or anything. Even Fushimi's usual biting remarks felt softened up by the mutual orgasms somehow; either he'd loosened up and become less of a dick or Yata had relaxed enough to let it roll off his back more easily.

Come to think of it, though, he'd started getting used to them even before they'd blown off all that tension. Fushimi wouldn't be Fushimi if he wasn't being a pessimistic asshole, and to be honest... Yata didn't mind it any more. Sometimes it was even funny.

Either way, he'd been in a great mood when he'd flopped down onto his bed and had passed out almost immediately, sleeping soundly and feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.

... Until he'd woken the next morning with another raging hard-on and the memory of his dream-self vigorously riding dream-Fushimi still vivid in his mind. For a moment as he lay there, blinking owlishly at the ceiling, he was sure that he could feel the thick length pulsing within him – and the mental image of Fushimi's flushed, desperate face had his own cock twitching with interest.

Shit.

That was the first time in years that he'd jerked himself off before getting out of bed, and there was no holding the fantasies back as he did. The imagined sensation of Fushimi squirming beneath and within him as he released brought Yata to orgasm, and even as he breathed heavily in the wake of it, he could still feel the underlying desire.

It wasn't enough. Not after last night.

Fushimi had been in the shower when Yata emerged warily from the room, which was kinda suspicious; they'd done that last night already, so there was no reason to do it again, other than... yeah. Another mental image to add to the growing collection. But, frustratingly, there wasn't even a trace of guilt on Fushimi's face when he came out.

Not that Yata had really been looking at his face - at least, not at first. He'd come out shirtless with a towel around his neck and stray droplets of water sliding down along his pale, defined collarbone. It was... distracting.

Once he'd managed to peel his eyes from that tantalizing line of moisture and up to meet Fushimi's gaze, he'd gotten a smirk and a lidded gaze for his trouble. “Where are you looking, Misaki?”

The drawling tone had brought him right back to last night, when that name had been mumbled breathily against his skin, and Yata could feel prickling heat rising right up the back of his neck. “Where the fuck do you think?” he'd managed to snark back, pulling a scowl against the embarrassment, and retreated into the bathroom so he could slam the door shut against Fushimi's amused huff.

No doubt about it: last night had made everything several hundred times more intense between them. It was like a floodgate had been opened or something.

Honestly, he should've known. Goddamnit...

It only got worse throughout the day. As hard as Yata tried to ignore it and play it cool, he could feel it every time Fushimi's gaze was on him; every time they so much as brushed up against each other; every time their eyes met. There was a kind of building energy that he couldn't deny. Last night had kicked things into motion between them, and now that they'd picked up that momentum, there was probably no stopping it.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted to – hell, it had felt great and they more or less understood each other, so why not kick it up a notch? But the pace and intensity bugged him. Things were moving really fast all of us a sudden, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself not to make stupid decisions in the heat of the moment.

Fucking Fushimi in the first place was probably a stupid decision actually, but that bridge was already crossed, and he was heading straight for 'don't give a shit' territory at an alarming speed.

It was clear again that day, allowing them to pick up another charge for the moonstone, and as the sun set and the moon rose, one of the contributing factors behind that furiously mounting tension became clear.

That night was the full moon.

Yata could feel the familiar surge in his blood before it was even visible in the sky; honestly, if he hadn't been so fixated on Fushimi, he'd have noticed way before. All of his senses were heightened with the influx of energy and power. He could feel it buzzing beneath his skin like electricity, intoxicating and fluid.

On this particular night, it always felt like he could do anything. No limits.

Glancing up over his dinner at Fushimi, who sat across the table frowning at his laptop, Yata was struck by the sudden thought that sex during the full moon would be fucking amazing.

It was probably the helpless little rush of lustful anticipation that had Fushimi glancing up at him, one slender eyebrow raising in inquiry. “What?”

Yata jerked his gaze back down to his meal, frowning as he forcefully repressed the thought and reaction. “Nothing!” he responded, voice harsher than he'd intended, and hastily began to shovel down his food.

He could feel Fushimi's eyes on him, but aside from what sounded like an impatient sigh, there was no comment.

The moonlight felt like a physical touch against his bare skin when they flew out; a seductive caress, as if to entice him into giving in to the flurry of confusing urges that flooded his body. It was almost overwhelming, and Yata had to close his eyes against the rush a few times during the flight.

He'd more or less adjusted to it – didn't have much of a choice, since it had always been like that – but the light of the full moon always brought out feelings he had trouble processing. It made him feel like there was too much power in his body for his puny human soul to manage. Every little whim and desire felt like a demand; his base instincts couldn't understand why his brain didn't want him to indulge everything. You can do whatever you want, they seemed to whisper. Anything could be yours if you want it. Do it... take it...

Shutting his eyes again, Yata breathed out slowly. No sleep tonight, huh?

It was normal. Too much adrenaline. Maybe Fushimi would be cool with hunting down more charging points – or even just circling the city. Anything, really. It usually helped to fly during the full moon; he could expend some of that excess energy, reducing the urges back to a kind of dull longing at the back of his head.

Then again, being around Fushimi was way more likely to excite longing than dull it...

That thought had barely occurred to him when they reached their target; even before landing, he could feel the strengthened flow of moonlight and just about fumbled and crashed before recovering his equilibrium. His veins seemed to sing, vibrating under his flesh in response to that brilliant, blinding glow.

“Are you going to be able to manage?” Fushimi's voice cut into that pleasant haze drily. When Yata turned his head, he got another raised eyebrow. “This is going to be a pain if you end up spacing out like that.”

That was enough to bring sharp clarity back to the front of his mind. Yata scowled back. “It's not that bad, c'mon.”

A second eyebrow joined the first. “If you say so.” Still, Fushimi reached into his pocket to draw out the sunstone.

It was like a moment from some cheesy ass movie; everything seemed to slow and focus intently on that one motion. Yata found his eyes drawn to those slender, dexterous fingers as they dove into the fabric and emerged, delicately lifting the stone free before curling and turning deftly as they lifted and opened to the moonlight.

Those fingers had been on him last night, holding his hips, undoing his fly, squeezing and stroking his balls and cock...

“Fuck,” Yata muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as he forcefully turned his gaze aside. The abrupt and unexpected surge of arousal had caught him off guard, nearly taking his breath away with its ferocity.

Fushimi made a soft, amused noise. "I'm fine with it if you are," he drawled.

That was way more tempting than it should've been; Yata swallowed back the little burst of anticipation. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, deliberately moving to the other side of the roof – a high rise with a spectacular view that he could barely focus on - and slumping down to a seat against the low wall. “Bite me.”

“I already covered that last night.”

The reminder had him swallowing again hard, and he had to physically restrain himself from reaching up to brush his fingers over the mark. It was stark against his skin, though he'd been able to cover it up no problem with a T-shirt.

He'd fucking liked it when Fushimi had done it, though. A lot. More than he would've expected.

“Well,” Fushimi drawled, moving to sit a short ways from him, “I don't mind repeating it if that's what you want.”

Tempting. Seriously tempting. Yata sucked in a breath, letting it out in a sharp rush and deliberately not turning his head. He could already picture Fushimi's face clearly, eyes dark and lidded with his thin lips curled in a smirk, and he thought he might lose it if he saw the real thing.

I fucking want him so bad... He wasn't even sure why he was holding back, other than to make sure they got the charge done first. Last night he'd let go of his inhibitions and it had been incredible. But still... there was something...

The sharp click of Fushimi's tongue cut into that thought. “Seriously? Even after last night...” The irritation in that soft mumble was a stark contrast to the earlier teasing. “Are you doing this on purpose? Even I have limits, you know.”

“Huh?” At that, Yata was startled enough to turn and stare at him, perplexed. “The hell are you talking about?”

Fushimi was frowning, although it wasn't directed at Yata; his gaze was pointed in front of him, past the hand still holding the charging stone up. “In case you've forgotten, you're not the only one impacted when you let your emotions run wild,” he muttered. “Do you do this all the time? Building things up to a fever pitch and then slamming on the brakes? I can't see how anyone would find it entertaining, but if you have some sort of masochistic tendencies...”

“What the fuck?” Yata cut him off quickly, feeling heat rising fast across his face. “I’m not a masochist, goddamnit!” The little rush of gratification he’d gotten from the sting of that bite came back to him, but he hastily shoved it back down, moving on quickly. “Anyway, it's not like I can control it! Emotions just... y'know... they just happen!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, frown deepening. When he spoke again, it was in an even lower mumble, almost too quiet to hear. “I wouldn't know.”

Yata blinked, caught off guard by that admission. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about Fushimi’s tone and posture and expression tugged at him. He felt a little ache in his chest, and had to swallow before speaking again. “Wait... so... you don't have emotions, or...?”

“Are you being stupid on purpose?” The insult came with a snort, but the cutting tone that usually would’ve come with it was absent. “Of course I have them. But they’re not like yours are.” Another click of Fushimi's tongue followed; he tipped his head back and turned his gaze toward the sky. “I’ve never met anyone with emotions like yours. It’s like you take them to the edge of what they're capable of, and then keep pushing. It's excessive. And annoying. Especially at times like this.” Drawing in an audible breath, he added with obvious reluctance, “I don't... exactly dislike it.” As if irritated by that moment of honesty, he immediately clicked his tongue again and followed up with, “But seriously, you restrain yourself at the most inconvenient times. Doesn't it bother you?”

“Ah... oh.” The new information had Yata staring again, too stunned to think of an immediate response. “Sorry...”

He knew it – of course he fucking knew it. That was a large part of what he'd been working on, after all. He was pretty damn aware that he was overly emotional, overly energetic, overly obnoxious and all the rest. He was really trying to learn restraint. And he was getting a hell of a lot better at not pushing things on other people. He was learning to understand others a bit more, and to not go with the knee-jerk reactions so much.

But yeah, emotions... They were always running wild, no matter what he did. He could control what he did about them, but controlling the feelings...

Probably impossible.

Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a short sigh. “You’re apologizing for the wrong thing,” he said drily, and then tilted his head to the side, opening his eyes slowly to meet Yata's gaze. “The emotions aren't bad – if nothing else, they're proof that you're honest with yourself." A tiny, sardonic-looking smile spread on his lips. “Most of the time, anyway. It's the times when you aren't that are annoying. What makes you think it's a good idea to hold back when you've already taken things that far?”

'The emotions aren't bad.' Somehow, that seemed to resonate with something deep within him. Yata felt an ache rise at the back of his throat – the beginnings of an old hurt that had started when he was very young and amplified over the years. Kusanagi had said the same thing to him: that his emotions weren't bad, he just needed to learn restraint over his actions. But Kusanagi wasn't in his head and couldn't feel what Yata felt. So how would he know if those feelings were good or bad? Maybe they were abnormal. Maybe he was a freak.

Maybe his mom had thought the same, back then...

'I don't... exactly dislike it.’

And then there was that.

Fushimi was inside his head, feeling everything Yata felt... and he still said it.

It felt like too much. Yata dipped his head, the ache intensifying as an accompanying sting snuck in behind his eyes and caused his vision to blur. “Asshole,” he muttered, unable to keep the emotion from choking his voice and finding it hard to care. “Can't even say something nice without bitching, huh?”

There was a moment of sharp silence from beside him; when Yata gathered himself enough to look up, Fushimi was studying him with that vaguely bewildered look that he remembered from the café. It was touchingly unguarded, a perfect counterpart to the emotions raging within Yata’s chest. For that brief instant, he found his breath catching in his throat, mesmerized.

He’s really something, huh?

Once again, as soon as their eyes met, Fushimi blinked rapidly and looked away, all traces of the earlier vulnerability fading. “I didn't do it on purpose,” he mumbled, lips turning down in a frown again.

In the wake of that unguarded moment, the petulant response had Yata grinning again, a huff of a laugh escaping him helplessly. Not honest at all. “What, saying something nice or bitching?”

“Shut up,” Fushimi muttered back, sounding irritated.

“Yeah, yeah.” It was easier to let it go with the catharsis that seemed to spread across his chest and up through his head, clearing the air within him. Yata leaned his head back against the wall and breathed in deeply, allowing a comfortable silence to spread between them again.

He felt... light. Happy. Part of it was probably the moonlight amplifying everything, causing his nerves to sing with pleasure and his emotions to rise to intoxicating levels, but he didn't really care. He could’ve sat there on that cold hard roof for hours, if it meant feeling like this.

Because of that, it felt like almost no time at all had passed when he felt the little warning quiver in the sunstone that indicated it had nearly finished its charge. Already, huh? Without thinking, he shifted closer to Fushimi, reaching out to brush a finger over it. “This guy’s almost done, I think.”

“That was fast,” Fushimi murmured in response.

So it wasn't just him. “Yeah, probably the full moon.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

The answer was so flippant that Yata looked up, fully intending to snark back, and found the words dying on his tongue before they could quite make it out.

Fushimi was close, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and he was gazing down at Yata intently, as if waiting for something. With the light of the full moon illuminating him, his pale skin seemed stark and his hair cast from shadow. His lids were low over his eyes again, but he wasn't smirking. Still, Yata couldn't help but trace the outline of those thin lips with his eyes, drawn by an impulse he couldn't fully control. The slender line of Fushimi's neck and the beginning of his collarbone were visible against the fabric of his shirt.

He was beautiful. Yata's throat felt dry just from looking, and his fingers itched. He could feel the phantom sensation of Fushimi’s face and hair beneath them, and it stopped his breath, chest constricting with sudden, almost overwhelming longing.

Fushimi drew in a breath, seeming unsteady. “Misaki,” he mumbled, drawing the name out again in a way that made Yata shudder involuntarily, “I told you before, I have limits. If you're going to pull back now...”

Something about that tone – maybe it was a hint of desperation – pushed Yata over the edge he'd been hovering around. “I got it,” he responded roughly and leaned in closer, giving in to the wild urges flooding his brain. “Not gonna.”

He felt the tremor in Fushimi's body as they came into contact, and couldn't be sure if he'd surged up or Fushimi had surged down. Maybe both. They met in the middle regardless, heads tilting to allow their mouths to meet hungrily.

They hadn't done this yesterday; somehow it was a shock to realize that they’d fucked without bothering to kiss first, but things had been kinda crazy at the time. Now, the initial contact was an overwhelmingly sweet blend of eager and awkward – a moment of stillness as they learned how they fit together before breaking just slightly. The damp heat of their mingled breath hung in the bare inch between them for just an instant before they reconnected, mouths moving to form the shape of the kiss.

The moonlight surging through Yata’s veins was just a pale echo of the pulsing in his chest at the contact. He couldn’t believe how incredible it felt to have Fushimi’s lips against his. It was crazy – Fushimi’s hand had been on his dick, and he’d had Fushimi’s come on his back, but it was this contact that felt more intimate and made his heart swell uncontrollably. Just the simple act of kissing, even without tongue.

‘Without tongue’ didn’t last long; neither of them was feeling particularly patient. Egged on by the seductive counterpart of the moon working its magic and the surge of emotion that came with the kiss, Yata made the first move, parting his lips just enough to allow his tongue room to slide out along the line of Fushimi’s mouth.

The response was immediate and satisfying; Fushimi made a soft, helpless-sounding noise and opened his mouth, the slick pressure of his tongue meeting Yata’s with matching enthusiasm. They fumbled with that for only a few seconds, adjusting to each other’s motions and momentum, breaking apart and coming back together with increasing urgency. Their breath was already growing frenzied and the contact between them gained more pressure as that sense of desperate desire intensified.

It had been ages since Yata had felt this: the hot, wet inside of someone else’s mouth under his tongue, responding eagerly to him. It was so good. And it was the full moon, and it was Fushimi…

He was already losing himself, body and mind drowning in want as the pleasurable contact continued, when the sudden trilling of the sunstone broke in through that haze, effectively shattering the mood.

Oh, right… that…

Yata pulled back with effort, forcing himself not to lean back in when Fushimi chased his lips. “Stone,” he managed to mumble, mouth feeling swollen and tender as he formed the word. His face and body felt warm, and there was a pleasurable, throbbing ache between his legs.

Fushimi stared back at him with incomprehension for a moment, eyes dark with lust behind the fog that had spread unevenly on his glasses. His face was flushed appealingly, lips plush from the force of the kiss, and looking at him made Yata’s heart ache, desire nearly overpowering everything else.

He was on the verge of deciding ‘fuck it’ and leaning back in when Fushimi’s gaze cleared. He clicked his tongue softly. “Again, huh?”

Right, that had happened last night too, hadn’t it? Yata felt a rueful smile spreading on his lips, a small trickle of clarity edging in through the haze over his thoughts. “Least it wasn’t before we fucking kissed this time.”

“That’s one point in its favor, I guess.” Fushimi shifted as he moved to put the stone in his pocket, forcing them to separate further.

The extra space brought another cold wave of clarity into the mix. Yata turned his head and leaned it back against the wall, shutting his eyes momentarily to absorb what had just happened. Maybe it was the full moon, but he felt the same thing as he had after the previous night: a complete lack of regret, and on top of that, satisfaction.

On top of that... he wanted more.

That thought had barely struck him, along with the full weight of the certainty and urgency behind it, when Fushimi let out a small huff beside him, sounding amused. “Should we go back?”

No question about whether they were taking this further; it was obvious at that point. Yata found himself grinning before he even turned to meet Fushimi’s eyes, his own going lidded without him even thinking about it, body tingling with the moonlight-enhanced anticipation. He felt that confidence and desire within him increase tenfold when met with the small, promising smile on Fushimi’s face and the intensity of his responding gaze. “You bet your ass we will!”

The flight back to his apartment was mostly a blur – a rush of exhilaration and mounting excitement. By the time they made it there, Yata was keyed up enough to grab Fushimi roughly by the arms before the door had shut completely behind them, leaning up to boldly snag another kiss.

It was fervently returned, a small pleased hum vibrating against his lips. They had to break apart briefly so Yata could kick off his shoes, but came back together open-mouthed and hungry as they stumbled inside. Fushimi’s shirt vanished somewhere in the process of backing towards Yata’s room, and Yata fumbled with the waistband of his shorts while trying to keep up the kiss. His back hit the wall next to his bedroom door by mistake just as they dropped to his ankles, but they didn’t bother to correct themselves immediately, pressing together instead.

Fushimi’s skin was warm beneath his hands, the firm reality of his half-naked body nearly setting Yata on fire internally. It felt just as incredible as he’d imagined: the pressure and friction of bare flesh against his own, the light touch of slender fingers over his sides and the small of his back, the flex of back and shoulder muscles under the pads of his own fingers... And of course, the unmistakable press of Fushimi’s hard, clothed erection grinding against his hip. He thrust forward mindlessly and caught friction from Fushimi’s leg against his own aching cock, tearing a moan from his throat as sensation washed over him.

So. Fucking. Good.

They broke apart again – reluctantly – to readjust, breathing heavily, fingers clenching hard against each other’s bodies. Yata had to restrain himself forcefully from chasing his orgasm right then and there. He didn’t want to come until Fushimi was inside him; it was gonna be fucking amazing after all this teasing, and if he blew it beforehand it wouldn’t be the same. But damn, he felt ready to lose it, gazing at Fushimi’s flushed face and catching the desperate gleam in his eyes behind his skewed glasses. He was so turned on it hurt.

In a good way, though – knowing what was coming made all the difference.

Yata could feel the breathless grin spreading on his face even as the answering smirk on Fushimi’s started; on a whim, he freed a hand to reach up and slide the glasses off carefully. “These real or illusion?”

Fushimi squinted at him briefly, then tipped his head, materializing a new set. “Those ones are real.”

The laugh that bubbled up in response was involuntary. “You fucking dick. Take ‘em off.”

“No.” Fushimi leaned in to swallow his protest with an insistent kiss; when they broke apart again, it was only by inches. “I want to see everything,” he murmured, sliding a hand from Yata’s back to reach up and take the real set of glasses from him. “Show me all of your reactions, Misaki.”

Those words seemed to burn within him; Yata felt a little shiver of arousal work its way through his body in immediate response. “Same to you,” he responded, voice coming out rough and throaty. The hand he’d left braced on Fushimi’s bare upper arm clenched hard enough to bruise; he had the feverish thought that he wanted to leave a mark right there, right in this moment.

Fushimi made another of those low, pleased noises in response, leaning in to meet Yata halfway in another urgent kiss. They were becoming more familiar with each other’s bodies already, mouths connecting with ease as they pressed into each other. Yata reached down to fumble with the waistband of Fushimi’s pants before he could forget the end goal again. “These… these are… real, right?” he managed to mumble in between heated kisses.

“Mm,” was Fushimi’s half-hearted positive response – barely a thrum against Yata’s lips. He reached down to help with his free hand as Yata got the fastenings undone and tugged the clothing down off his hips.

He was expecting more fabric beneath, so it caught him off-guard when Fushimi’s cock sprang free as his pants were lowered, flushed and fully hard against the thatch of dark hair around it. Yata’s skin prickled at the sight, a mingling of surprise and arousal, and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment, pausing the flow of heated kisses. “Wait… you… you don’t wear any…?”

Fushimi sighed, kicking his pants off as he leaned in to mouth the corner of Yata’s jaw instead. “I do,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin, breath hot and enticing. One of his legs wormed between Yata’s, creating more of that delicious friction from before. “They’re just not real.”

“Hah…” The word came out breathless; Yata instinctively tilted his head to allow for more of that pleasant touch, grinding back against Fushimi with enthusiasm. He slid his hands around to run them over the small of Fushimi’s back and down along the fleshy curve of his ass, squeezing hard and reveling in the sharp exhalation against his jaw. “Do you just… ah, fuck” – Fushimi’s tongue ran along the length of his neck, hot and slick and purposeful – “do you just get a uniform of… mm… pants and boots… or something?”

He felt the reverberation of laughter against his skin. “Something like that,” Fushimi murmured, lifting his face again to capture Yata’s lips – a gesture that Yata enthusiastically responded to.

They disengaged after only a moment or so more, reaching the limits of where they could extend the heated foreplay before passing the tipping point that would lead to an inevitable climax. Not that Yata would’ve been entirely opposed to Fushimi fucking him up against his apartment wall, noise complaints from his neighbors aside, but it was going to be more comfortable in his bedroom, and that was where his lube and condoms were, so… “Bed?”

“Yeah.”

They had to separate at least a bit to get away from the wall and into the room, so Yata took the opportunity to slide his underwear down past his hips as Fushimi set his glasses down on the bedside table, tugging the drawer open as he did to expose the contents. He didn’t immediately grab for anything inside, instead opting to hastily return to the kiss – like he was worried the opportunity would be snatched away if he didn’t keep up contact.

As if I’d stop at this point. Yata’s body was taut with arousal and he could still feel the moonlight surging around in his veins. It felt like he’d fly apart if they didn’t fuck now.

With that thought in mind, he let himself fall back onto the bed, tugging Fushimi along with him and eliciting a startled ‘oof’ as they collided. “So impatient,” Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue – but he was smiling still, eyes catching the pale light streaming in through the window as they shifted into a better position and he could brace himself above Yata.

He was fucking stunning. For a moment, Yata almost couldn’t breathe, captivated by the sight of that beautiful face and the expanse of pale skin exposed beyond it. He reached out almost tentatively to brush his fingers along the line of Fushimi’s cheekbone and then down, tracing the shape of his jaw and catching on the rough evidence of closely shaved stubble.

It was fascinating to watch Fushimi’s eyes close briefly, hear the audible shudder in his intake of breath in response to the touch. “Misaki,” he murmured, opening his eyes only a fraction to offer back one of those heated looks.

His blood felt like it was boiling. Yata swallowed hard, fingers trembling, and lowered his hand to brace it on Fushimi’s shoulder as he hooked his legs loosely around those slim hips. It didn’t quite bring their erections into contact, but he could feel the heat gathering fast in the space between them, and his anticipation rose to a fever pitch.

“Hm.” Fushimi leaned forward, almost enough to bring their faces together again, a tiny smirk curling on his lips. “Do you want me to fuck you, Misaki?”

Isn’t that obvious? Still, the question was enough to send a little buzz of excitement through him. “… You already know the answer to that, huh?”

He got back a little hum of acknowledgement, but Fushimi didn’t budge. “I want to hear you say it.”

Seriously… Well, he was past the point of any embarrassment. Yata returned the smirk, letting his eyes go to half-mast. “I want you to fuck me,” he responded, keeping his voice low and throaty – and giving Fushimi’s shoulder a little squeeze for good measure. At the last minute, he impulsively added in a drawn-out tone, “Saruhiko.”

The full-body shudder he got in response was thoroughly satisfying. Fushimi’s eyes seemed to soften and grow dark with lust, and then he was leaning down, closing the distance between them again with a desperate kiss.

The shift in position brought their dicks into contact briefly – just a light brush, but it felt like a jolt considering how hypersensitive Yata was feeling already. He moaned a little against Fushimi’s lips and felt the answering thrum almost immediately.

Then Fushimi was pulling back again, with obvious reluctance. He sat back on his heels to free his hands and reached into Yata’s drawer, retrieving the half-empty bottle of lube and a string of condoms. Setting the bottle down first, he separated one packet and tore it open. As Yata watched hungrily, he rolled the condom deftly over his flushed erection before retrieving the bottle and dribbling a generous amount of lube onto his fingers.

Their eyes met. “Ready?” Fushimi murmured, dropping his fingers to the space just behind Yata’s balls and massaging lightly.

The proximity to where he really wanted to be touched was almost maddening. Yata squirmed, drawing in a breath. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“If you say so.” The questing finger slid back, finding the puckered hole at the base of Yata’s ass and dipping inside.

Fuck, there it was. Yata let out the breath shakily. The initial sting was so damn gratifying somehow. He spread his knees further to allow better access, heels still hooked together behind Fushimi’s back.

Taking the cue, Fushimi added a second finger, pressing both all the way inside and back out before scissoring them on the next thrust. Yata sucked in another breath through his teeth, adjusting. It stung a bit more, but not unbearably so.

“You’re tight,” Fushimi observed, withdrawing his fingers after a few more strokes. “I guess you really haven’t done it in a while, huh?”

Yata scowled up at his lazily smirking face. “Thanks for the reminder, asshole.” The breath left his lungs again immediately after he’d gotten the response out as Fushimi pushed three fingers up inside him. More out of shock and pleasure than pain, though there was some of that.

The friction felt damn good – it had been way too long.

“Interesting choice of insult,” Fushimi drawled, “considering the situation.” When Yata offered him a half-hearted glare, he lowered his lids, smirk widening as his fingers flexed enticingly. “Want me to take it easy on you?”

Oh, fuck no. Yata grinned back, showing teeth. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I wonder about that…” Fushimi bent his fingers, pressing them in as far as they’d go, his eyes intent despite the lazy expression. The questing struck that familiar sweet spot, sending a jolt of throbbing pleasure up Yata’s spine, and he couldn’t help but arch his back, letting out an involuntary moan as his body stiffened. “You’d lose your chance to finally get laid if you did.”

Yata shot him a disgruntled look, too drunk on the heady shot of pleasure to be properly angry. “Fuck you.”

“Mm.” Fushimi pulled his fingers back, pouring more lube onto his hand and swiftly coating his dick. “Another time, maybe,” he murmured, raising Yata’s ass into his lap and positioning himself.

The unexpected innuendo brought out another little spike of surprised arousal – despite his preference, yeah, sometimes he did like to be the one doing the fucking – but it was quickly overwhelmed by sensation as Fushimi pushed forward. His cock penetrated the ring of resistance slowly, allowing for the initial sting to pass as Yata clenched his teeth and made an effort to relax his tense body. Fushimi was thick and hard, and it had been a while, but the pain felt deeply satisfying when it came with that slick glide deep inside him. Yata let out his breath slowly, taking it all in. He could come right then and there if he reached down and gave his cock a tug or two. It was that good.

The sting was already subsiding by the time Fushimi buried himself to the hilt. He made a low noise, not quite a moan, and reached under Yata’s legs to grip his hips with both hands, bending forward so he was nearly draped over Yata’s body. His face was flushed with pleasure, lips parted sensuously and pupils blown wide when their eyes met. “You feel so good,” he mumbled, tone unsteady. “So good, Misaki…”

“Fuck.” That voice was gonna be his undoing. Yata’s cock gave a little twinge of pleasure, and he growled under his breath, too aroused to be patient. “Move, goddamnit – fuck me – come on – ”

Fushimi didn’t seem to require any more invitation than that; his fingers tightened almost painfully just before he pulled out and pushed back in languidly, drawing moans from both of them with the pleasurable friction. With another throaty noise that was almost a match for Yata’s growl, he snapped his hips back and forward again, beginning to thrust in earnest.

That was it. Yata didn’t bother to try and hold in his voice, hands clenching into fists against the bed and heels pressing into Fushimi’s upper back as he was fucked the way he’d been craving. As promised, Fushimi wasn’t going easy on him, and the unrestrained pace was only matched in pleasure by the depth of the penetration each time. It was like he knew exactly how Yata liked it best, filling him completely without brushing his sweet spot for the early spike of pleasure. Drawing it out; making the sensation last as long as possible, until they both couldn’t stand it anymore.

The fucking best… Fragmented as his thoughts had become, that one still managed to float to the front of Yata’s mind, repeating over and over as he lost himself in sensation.

All too quickly, that point of no return approached; Yata could feel the tension of impending orgasm mounting fast in his groin and managed to gasp out a rough, “Coming!” between helpless gasps.

Fushimi let out a low whimper, expression almost frenzied, but he tilted Yata’s hips further and changed his angle, thrusting a couple times more before…

Sparks seemed to fly at the corners of Yata’s vision as that telltale spike of pleasure so sweet it bordered on pain wracked through him; without warning, his body was stiffening and he was coming hard, the sensation of release pulsating through him in heady waves as he cried out and arched against the mattress.

He was still in the throes of it when he felt Fushimi tense and shake, cock twitching within Yata’s clenching ass as he let out a long, low moan and came.

The sensation drew another violent, pleasurable shudder from Yata’s body, and then he slumped back against the bed, breathing hard. Moonlight bathed the side of his face, amplifying the satiation from his recent orgasm and revitalizing him, even as Fushimi’s weight fell over him, bending Yata’s body without bothering to withdraw his cock just yet. His nose nuzzled the underside of Yata’s jaw, a low noise escaping him as he relaxed.

Damn… Yata took in a breath and blew it out slowly, still a little stunned. That was fucking amazing. He’d never had sex like that before. He raised his hands almost tentatively and ran them through Fushimi’s hair, unsure what else to do in the moment. His brain hadn’t quite pulled itself together yet, but he felt a sudden need to touch somehow, establishing a softer connection.

Fushimi let out a little hum, and Yata felt it as his lips spread in a smirk. “Don’t relax too much,” he murmured, and lifted his head just enough to bring it above Yata’s again. “We’re just getting started, Misaki.”

Yata blinked, a little taken aback. The expression that met his was soft and lazy, but it had a definite edge of promise to it. His heart did a little jump in his chest at the sight, skin prickling. Another round? It wasn’t unappealing, despite his post-orgasm lethargy. He had a lot of energy, and there was a full moon. Tired as it was, he could feel his body starting to take interest again, too. “Yeah, okay, but I’m gonna need a few – ”

“You know,” Fushimi cut him off, voice drawling out, “demons have a certain amount of control over the energy we take in. Since it’s sustenance for us, it’s smarter to store any excess for emergencies. Among other things.” He leaned in even further, lips brushing Yata’s as he spoke again. “And one of the benefits of a contract is…”

That sentence was left hanging as he pressed in with an unexpected kiss, insistent and fierce. Caught up in the mood, Yata responded automatically – and then gasped against Fushimi’s mouth as he felt energy flood his body, faster and wilder than the moon’s light. His dick, which had softened to about half-mast, began to stiffen with anticipation. Within him, Fushimi’s cock stirred as well, growing hard.

What…?

“… being able to share that energy,” Fushimi continued, voice growing low and just a bit breathless, “in creative ways.” He shut his eyes as if savoring the moment, shifting against and inside Yata.

The sensation of being filled again so soon after orgasm had him arching against the bed, fingers clenching instinctively in Fushimi’s hair and a little whine escaping him as his overly sensitive body was stimulated again. Above him, Fushimi made a soft, appreciative noise and began to thrust again, his pace slow and sensual this time.

It was hard to even think, much less form words; the combination of bliss from his recent orgasm and the influx of arousal and pleasure from their current actions made him feel like he was overloading. “You,” Yata managed to growl out, breathless and desperate, “fucking…”

He was cut off with his own uncontrolled moan as Fushimi drove into his body again, clutching at the dark strands of hair in his hands as he was flooded with sensation. The remaining thoughts fractured and he forgot what he was going to say, heels digging into Fushimi’s back with helpless delight as he lost himself to the pleasure and the dual stimulation of demonic and moon-soaked energy.

Fushimi was in no better shape than he was, flushed and panting with his lips parted appealingly, little noises escaping him as he moved deliciously within Yata. Every little motion they made seemed to drive them both mad; Yata felt wild and untamable, chasing his next orgasm without any shame or restrain, and Fushimi whimpered above him, slim muscles tensing with each thrust.

It was slower but far more intense than the first round, and by the end they muffled their cries into each other’s mouths in a sloppy, fierce kiss, convulsing on the bed together as they came almost in tandem, pushed to the limits of that blinding pleasure.

When the final shudders had passed through his body, Yata felt his arms and legs finally give out, flopping to the side like dead weight as he focused on breathing. His vision was lined with tiny pinpricks of light, and he still wasn’t quite thinking straight.

His body felt fucking amazing, satisfaction extending even to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he was pretty sure he could’ve laid there in mindless bliss for hours.

Fushimi kissed him one last time, heavy and clumsy against his lips, and then pulled back with obvious effort, grunting as he extracted his cock from Yata’s ass with his fingers pinched around the sides to retrieve the condom along with it. “I think this thing is at its limit,” he observed in a weary-sounding mumble, quickly tying it off and tossing it carelessly at Yata’s garbage bin.

That at least gave him something to focus on. Yata managed a tired grin in return. “Yeah, that shit isn’t really made for demons, y’know?”

Fushimi lowered his eyelids, smirking in response. “It’s a good thing you have a lot of them then, isn’t it?” he drawled back, reaching out to brush his fingers down along the line between Yata’s ribs, pausing just before he reached the mess pooled on his abdomen.

The touch wasn’t an innocent one. Again, huh? Yata couldn’t imagine it in that moment, putting his thoroughly spent body through another cycle of that maddening sensation.

… But then again, that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? He couldn’t deny how good it felt. And he’d never tested his body’s limits before in this kind of situation. Even outside of the curiosity, he had to admit that he wanted to experience it – to feel every second of getting all the way to that edge.

The moon’s energy was still passing fiercely through his veins, but more than that, it was the prospect of the challenge – and the pleasure it promised – that had Yata forcing his trembling arms into motion, propping himself up enough to twist and reach into the open drawer for another condom. He returned Fushimi’s smirk as he held it up.

“I’ll buy more tomorrow.”

#k #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

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brynne-lagaao · 7 years ago

Text

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Four

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 4/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Yata was in a foul mood by the time they reached the elevator. The insignificant weight of the stone in his pocket felt like it represented the unpleasant knot of this unwanted contract and the hassle he was going to have to go through to get it undone. His patience was already at its limit; he felt about ready to kick something.

Yeah, the train is definitely out. Fuck that noise.

Fushimi moved to stand beside him, the evidence of his matching irritation made obvious in his tense posture, scowl, and directionless glare. “How long am I supposed to put up with this?” he muttered as if to himself and reached up to dig two fingers into his temple beneath the band of his glasses, shutting his eyes. “What a pain...”

“How the hell d’you think I feel, huh?” Yata responded belligerently, slamming the stop button as the doors closed. He bent down to unzip the bottom pocket of his cargo shorts, scowling to himself. “Anyway, fuck it. You’re gonna find out sooner or later, so we're doing this the easy way.”

“The ‘easy way’?” Fushimi repeated. It was almost possible to hear the raised eyebrow in his voice without even looking at him. “Also, in case you’ve forgotten, I already know exactly how you feel.”

Yata ignored that, digging out the familiar cloth pouch and opening it to grab a pinch of the powder inside. “You still wanna fly, right?” He could feel the warmth of the magic still seeped in the herbs under his fingers, fueling his confidence. “I’ll make you invisible and you can do whatever.”

Fushimi eyed the bag for a moment, expression inscrutable, and then inclined his head just slightly in acknowledgement.

Good enough. Yata reached up to sprinkle that tiny bit of powder, brushing his fingers together over Fushimi’s head to ensure that it landed properly, and then dipped back into the pouch to do the same for himself.

“I can still see you,” Fushimi remarked after he’d finished.

“You already know I’m here, dumbass!” Yata stowed the pouch away, shooting him a dirty look. “It’s not perfect invisibility, like we just vanish or anything like that. People won’t notice us, that’s all.”

“Mm.”

That sounded like a dubious hum, but whatever. Yata shrugged off his hoodie, quickly securing it around his waist, and then reached back to tug his shirt over his head.

There was a stark pause from beside him – different from the neutral silence of before. He could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him as he freed his arms from the shirt, and a wave of sudden self-consciousness seemed to wash over him. “What?”

“Nothing.” The word was drawn out, low and throaty and promising. “I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, that’s all.” When Yata turned to stare at him, momentarily confused, Fushimi lowered his eyelids, lashes veiling his gaze as his smirk widened. “Then again, we are invisible, so maybe that’s not the right word for it. Either way, if doing it in public is your thing…” He let that trail off, shutting his eyes and letting out a huff that sounded partly amused and partly smug. “I don’t know if I believe you’ll stay quiet enough, honestly – does the spell come with a ‘silence’ effect?”

Incomprehension gave way to sudden realization; Yata felt the blood rush to his face, hot and furious. “Wha – the hell? I don’t wanna do it in public, you weirdo! Especially not with you!” The last part was a useless lie – the warm twinge of involuntary interest at the suggestion and sultry look combination was going to give him away – but he had to maintain his dignity in some way. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“You were taking off your clothing.” Fushimi shrugged, spreading his hands without any sign of remorse. He let his eyelids slide just far enough open to fix Yata with a heated gaze. “What was I supposed to think?”

There was a certain amount of promise in that look: an unspoken answer to the desire that Yata was trying very hard to ignore. Fushimi was taunting him, he was pretty damn sure of that – but there was an element of something half-serious behind it; a kind of ‘just kidding… unless you want to’. If he was being honest, he’d been getting flashes of that vibe from the start, and it was confusing as hell. It was directly contrary to the contempt Fushimi seemed to have for him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that conflicting set of attitudes.

He thinks I’m a waste of space but he’d be okay with us fucking? I don’t get it.

Well, either way, Yata wasn’t so desperate for sex that he’d take it from someone he wasn’t even sure he liked that much, hormones be damned. Fushimi was interesting, yeah – clever and cool, mysterious in a way that was undeniably sexy – but he was also a dick and Yata had standards, damnit! Getting off wasn’t worth the lack of respect.

No matter how desperate for contact he was…

Shoving those thoughts aside, Yata scowled in response, deliberately turning to face the panel again and harshly slamming the lobby button to start the elevator moving. “You can keep those kinda thoughts to yourself, asshole,” he grumbled, tucking the shirt securely into the waistband of his shorts.

Fushimi made a soft, amused sound, almost lost in the hum of the elevator coming to life. “You still haven’t explained why you started undressing.”

That at least he was gonna get some satisfaction from. “Hah!” Yata shot him a sideways smirk, feeling marginally better. “You’ll see when we get outside.”

He got a raised eyebrow in response. “Is the secrecy really necessary?”

“Nah.” Yata shrugged, turning to face the doors again as the elevator came to a halt. “But why should I waste my breath when you’re gonna see it soon enough anyway.”

“‘It’, huh?” The words came out slow and mocking. “In that case, I hope it is worth the production.”

Yata shot him a scowl, moderately irritated. Fushimi was looking at him with lidded eyes, lips turned up in a lazy smirk and gaze somehow intent. It made him keenly aware of his exposed skin, and he felt a little self-conscious, uncomfortably reminded of his diminutive build. He had muscle, yeah, but despite his best efforts he was never gonna be really broad. And he was short, which didn’t help. Most of the guys who liked short, slender men liked a certain type, which he definitely was not. But it wasn’t like his problems with getting laid had ever been about finding people who liked how he looked – at least, based on how often he could pull initial interest, he didn’t think he was unattractive or anything… so…

Why’m I thinking about this shit now? Who cares what he thinks of me? Deepening his scowl at that defensive rush, Yata turned and deliberately stepped forward into the empty lobby, leaving Fushimi to trail after him.

Once they were outside the building, he stepped just off to the side of the staircase, not quite moving fully out onto the sidewalk. Right. I should have enough space here.

“What are you – ?” Fushimi’s words cut off in a sharp inhale.

Yata had already begun stretching out the lesser-used muscle – for lack of a better term – at the center point between his shoulder blades. He felt the initial rush of pain as Fushimi spoke, and gritted his teeth against it as those previously hidden appendages sprouted out through the flesh on his back. It was as if they’d been released from restraint once he’d consciously attempted to extend them. Once he started, they just… came out, muscle and bone and dark feathers, flaring out a good five feet to either side as they sprung free.

He experimentally flexed them one at a time, shaking each wing a little to work out any kinks, as the throbbing in his back faded and he consciously unclenched the fists that had balled up at his sides. As usual, they felt fine – no stiffness or anything. That was normal – the wings were magic, after all; they didn’t make sense otherwise – but otherwise, they had always felt just like any muscle in his body. Natural, controllable, easy.

Through the whole process, he could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him, almost burning his skin; when he turned to meet them, a challenging smirk forming on his lips, the gaze that met his was narrow and calculating. “So that’s the deal with that ‘Yatagarasu’ business.” One thin eyebrow arched. “You’re full of surprises, huh?”

“Told ya we could race.” Yata shrugged, folding his wings in just a little and reaching up to adjust his shoulder to alleviate some of the extra pressure. He deepened his smirk, gratified by the small, irritated frown that was returned. “How often do you fly, anyway? Are you even fast?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Annoying,” he muttered, but the answering fire to Yata’s challenge was present in his eyes. He slid them shut and a short second later, his own wings emerged from the center of his back – along with the smooth curved horns and thin forked tail that were a part of Yata’s vague memory from the previous night.

The transition was so seamless, it was almost like a special effect from a movie. Yata resisted the sudden impulse to reach out and touch, gaze shifting with fascination from the tail as it lashed sharply to the appendages on Fushimi’s back – which, despite the bat-like appearance, seemed to be a lot broader and more solidly built than he remembered from that hazy first impression – and then up to the simple inward curve of the horns. “Hey… how’d you keep those hidden? More illusions?”

“I can’t use illusions on myself, remember?” Fushimi met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “They’re probably exactly like yours – I can extend and retract them when I need to, that’s all.”

“Huh.” Yata accepted that – and then a thought occurred to him, and his eyes narrowed. “How’d you get them to go through your clothes so neatly?” When he leaned in for closer inspection, it almost looked like the wings and tail extended naturally from Fushimi’s shirt and pants. “I gotta take off my shirt if I don’t want it getting ripped up.”

“Do you not even think?” Fushimi met his scowl with an unimpressed frown. “The clothing is illusion, idiot. Or had you forgotten that already?”

He had, but the scornful response got on his nerves just the same. Yata deepened his scowl. “So what if I did? Your clothing’s not that exciting, y’know.”

Fushimi let out a small, amused huff, lips turning up in a tiny smirk. “I could change that if you really want me to.”

“I don’t.” Shooting him a final glare, Yata turned away with a frustrated huff. “Whatever. Just keep up – it’s not my fault if you fall behind and get lost.”

“I have to keep you company, remember?” Fushimi drawled back. “I can’t get lost.”

Yata snorted. “Can’t be that easy to get rid of you, huh?” He stepped forward without waiting for a response, stretching his wings out wide before heaving them down hard to lift himself off of the ground and gain momentum.

It wasn’t something he’d realized was magic until he’d joined Homra and Kusanagi had explained that he was too heavy for any non-magical rationalization to make sense. It had always felt natural to him to be able to do this, despite the fact that he’d learned at an early age that he couldn’t, at least not around other people. The first time he’d flexed that muscle and brought out his wings in front of his mother…

Yata grimaced, deliberately shoving that memory back. He didn’t like to dwell on his past – or his future, really. It was simpler to focus on the feeling of sudden weightlessness and speed as he caught the breeze and lifted, gliding forward and up lazily for a beat before pumping his wings again to rise above the buildings around them.

The air was thinner up there – cleaner, too – and as always when he did this, it felt like he was leaving his problems, past and future, behind on the ground, the rush of the wind a pleasant sting against his face and body as the city diminished and became the landscape for his air travel.

Well… there’s still that one really clingy problem…

He could feel Fushimi’s presence without turning his head but did so just the same. The bat-like wings flapped steadily, each powerful beat drawing him further through the air. As he rose up to Yata’s level, he shifted, catching the breeze to glide similarly for a beat. His arms were in close to his body and his legs behind him, a posture that spoke of at least minimal experience with flying.

It was the first time Yata had ever had anything similar to human company while he was in the air, which was a bit exciting. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but grin as Fushimi returned his gaze, a little surge of something like anticipation and pleasure rushing through his body when the corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up with seeming reluctance. He pumped his wings several times more before gliding again, shifting direction subtly towards his target.

The ease of flying was something that had come with practice – a lot like his skateboarding, but later in life. There was a long period in his early life when he hadn’t brought out his wings even briefly, and once it had been safe to do it, he’d had to start from scratch learning how to fly without crashing. It was Homra who’d helped him – supported him – showered him with all kinds of advice (some of which was even helpful) as he was fumbling around with it. Homra who’d introduced him to magic and the ways he could make it a part of his natural habits and inclinations. Homra who’d taught him that he could be himself without restraint in the ways that it really mattered.

Homra who gave him a place he could always belong – a constant source of friendship and acceptance in a large, lonely, indifferent world.

That sentiment was still burning brightly within him as he angled down from the sky and came in for a practiced landing directly in front of Bar Homra – the place from which his coven took their name.

Fushimi landed beside him shortly after, folding his wings as he dropped gracefully to the ground. “So where is this, exactly?”

Yata spread his own wings again, flexing that inner muscle once more before drawing them back. The sensation always gave him the impression of a sinkhole – his external self seeming to collapse inward as the appendages were pulled in under his skin. “This is my coven’s headquarters.”

Fushimi followed his example, the wings, tail, and horns receding smoothly as he frowned critically at the old-fashioned building in front of them. Beneath the prominent sign bearing its name, Homra had a set of double doors framed by flat rosewood beams and walls lined with curtained windows on either side. Above it, the brick structure extended upward, the framed lining of its windows indicating apartments or personal rooms. The building was located close to the city’s entertainment district, where the roads were more cramped and the sidewalks made from stone rather than stark, neat concrete. It was built straight up against the establishments on either side, its prominent entrance sitting directly at the outward corner in a way that made it seem to pop out at a casual viewer. A folded sign sat at the base of the steps leading to the doors, displaying the bar’s daily specials. “What kind of coven do you belong to?”

There was a scornful note in the inquiry that had Yata’s hackles rising; he scowled back. “Not one you wanna trash talk if you know what’s good for you!” he snapped back, and then let out a short breath, reining in his temper. “Homra specializes in fae magic.”

“I see.” That considering gaze turned sideways towards him. “Well, I guess that makes sense, considering.”

Considering. Yata resisted the urge to rise to the bait, pulling out his shirt and sharply tugging it on over his head. “C’mon.” He started for the bar’s entrance, pausing only when he got close enough to reach for the door handle. “Right, so there’s a protection spell around this place.”

Fushimi snorted, looking unimpressed. “I’d question your leader’s competence if there wasn’t.”

It took more of an effort to clamp down an angry response to that. Settling for a glare, Yata went on. “It’ll remove any active spells you got on you – like my invisibility spell. If you got something else going on that needs to stay on, better say something now.”

“I don’t cast spells,” Fushimi responded, without batting an eye.

“Yeah, right.” Yata turned back to the door. “Let’s go then.” He swung it open without waiting for a response, stepping into the warm space and feeling something within him relax as the familiar jingle on the door went off. The grin he shot forward wasn’t even remotely faked. “Yo! What’s going on, Kusanagi-san?”

The bartender – and their coven’s second-in-command – looked up from the glass he was polishing with a smile. “Afternoon, Yata.” His gaze shifted. “And who’s – ?” The question cut off; he blinked twice, seeming taken aback. “Ah.”

Before there was a chance to process that weird reaction, the blond sitting in front of the counter let out a low whistle, smiling with what looked like innocent cheer. “Now that’s bold, even for this day and age.” He was directing a curious look past Yata. “Are you on your way to a club, maybe?”

“Huh?” Yata frowned, eyebrows furrowing, and turned to look behind him. “What are you – ?”

That question died on his lips, forgotten as he took in the sight in front of him. Fushimi was now dressed as he had been the previous night: tight black pants and sleek black boots, nearly reaching as high as his knees. His upper body was bare, pale skin and lightly muscled torso on open display in the warm, rich lighting of the bar. As Yata had pieced together from his dim memories and the clothed version he’d been exposed to up until then, Fushimi was thin but beautiful, slim and elegantly built but with a certain amount of power behind that deceptive frame.

Fucking totally my type. The thought slipped through Yata’s consciousness before he could recover from his shock and stop it. The sharp, sudden rush of attraction caught him momentarily off-guard – it was difficult to gather his scrambled wits.

The impact of Fushimi’s attire was spoiled slightly by the sour expression on his face. “That’s a powerful dispel you have,” he muttered, and clicked his tongue. “Can I change back, or is it bad manners to wear illusionary clothing in here?”

Kusanagi’s voice was something between amused and baffled when he responded. “Well, we’ll make an exception.” The barest hint of a warning crept into his tone when he added, “But I’d stick to clothing when it comes to illusions.”

“Mm.” Fushimi shot a sideways glance at Yata, eyes veiled by his lashes again. A tiny knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Got it,” he drawled, shifting deliberately as the familiar shirt and jeans took shape on his body. “I’m a reluctant guest here anyway.”

“Reluctant, eh?” When Yata turned, Kusanagi was giving Fushimi a considering look. “That’s quite the talent you have.” His gaze shifted to Yata. “What kinda visitor did you bring here, Yata?”

“Demon,” a deeper voice answered; Yata jerked his gaze towards the side of the room in time to see his coven’s leader sit up slowly on the couch, studying Fushimi almost blandly through fierce gold eyes as he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the low coffee table in front of him. “High ranking too, huh?”

He napped there so often that Yata hadn’t quite taken note of him when he’d walked in, but he immediately brightened with that presence. Suoh Mikoto had been his hero for years – and kind of still was, even if Yata himself had settled a bit over time. “You can tell just by looking? That’s awesome, Mikoto-san!”

The blond at the counter chuckled. “King would know if anyone here would.” He stood up, making his way across the room toward them. “I guess I’ll open up the introductions, then.” The smile he offered was warm. “Hey there. I’m Totsuka Tatara.”

Fushimi’s gaze was wary as it shifted from Mikoto to Totsuka; the frown on his face deepened. “Fushimi Saruhiko.”

“Fushimi, is it?” Kusanagi held up a hand in casual acknowledgement. “Kusanagi Izumo.”

Mikoto was already lighting his cigarette, so Totsuka picked up the remaining thread without pause. “And our leader over there on the couch is Suoh Mikoto.” He held out his arms expansively. “Welcome to Homra!”

“Should that be your line?” Kusanagi commented with a certain amusement.

“It’s fine – someone had to say it, right?”

“Not so sure about that.” Kusanagi shook his head, and then turned to face Yata with an arch look. “Want to tell me why you’re bringing a high-ranking demon in here in the first place?”

“Uh… right.” Yata scratched at the back of his head, feeling sheepish. “Actually, I kinda… See, Munakata gave me this book, it had a bunch of summoning circles in it… and I mighta been kinda drunk, and, uh, well… ” He shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah, shit happened and now I got this guy stuck to me for a while.”

Kusanagi blinked at him, clearly startled. “You did a summoning on your own?”

“Yata, that’s dangerous, you know.” Even Totsuka’s expression seemed uncharacteristically somber.

The reminder had him ducking his head, sheepishness deepening into chagrin. “Right, yeah, I know…”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Considering who he is, how dangerous is it really?” he muttered.

Yata shot a startled look back at him, but Fushimi didn’t meet his gaze. He’s defending me? The realization surfaced in his brain all at once, an unexpected truth rising through layers of disbelief. But he’s the one who said I was stupid first… And he was right – it was Yata’s dumbass behavior that had led to their current predicament… Yata’s weakness in the face of his own loneliness that had him giving in to his impulses and making bad decisions. And it wasn’t like there’d been any hesitance to point that out before.

So this was yet another contradiction to the disdainful treatment he’d received so far. Yata furrowed his eyebrows, frowning as those blue-grey eyes turned to meet his stare impassively. Fushimi didn’t make any goddamn sense at all, really.

“I’m not doubting his ability.” When he looked up again, Kusanagi was holding out his hands in a kind of surrender, a rueful smile on his lips. “We all know what he’s capable of – ‘scuse me for talking about you like this, Yata – but summoning a high-ranking demon…”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “You’re making a big assumption there.”

“Oh? King was wrong?” Totsuka tilted his head, studying Fushimi with keen eyes. “Are you not a demon, or is it that you don’t rank that high?”

The expression on Fushimi’s face was somewhere between perplexed and irritated when he met Totsuka’s gaze. There was a stark second of silence and then he said, with clear reluctance, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Hm.” Totsuka’s eyes softened a little, some of that familiar knowing warmth infusing them. “So it’s the assumption that you’d be dangerous, then.”

Fushimi’s lip curled in response, expression going sour again. Yata didn’t wait for him to interject. “You got it wrong, Totsuka-san – this guy’s dangerous as hell.” He hooked a thumb in Fushimi’s direction with a bit of a scowl. “It’s only ’cause I’m a changeling that he can’t suck out all my energy and fuck off back to hell or wherever.” Reaching up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head again, he added, “I was the one who didn’t put a time limit in there, and that’s why we’re stuck like this.”

“Hm.” Kusanagi sounded thoughtful. “No time limit, eh? Well, I guess that wouldn’t be more than just troublesome for you.” When Yata turned to face him again, he raised an eyebrow. “By the way… how’d you happen across a summoning circle for a high-ranking demon anyway?”

“Oh… yeah.” Right – that was something he’d wanted to bring up. “Got it from Munakata – a whole book of ’em, actually. Kusanagi-san, did you know that guy was – ?”

“A demon lord?” Kusanagi offered a rueful smile, reaching for one of his cigarettes. “More or less. Well… the details make for a bit of a long story…”

“It’s because King has the kind of aura that attracts power,” Totsuka chipped in, tilting his head to look over his shoulder with at Mikoto. “Right, King?”

Mikoto returned his gaze steadily for a beat, then let out a low grunt and looked away, reaching up to pull his cigarette from his lips and exhale.

“Let’s skip the story for now,” Kusanagi suggested smoothly, reaching for his lighter. “Sorry for keeping it from you, Yata – there’s a reason the three of us had to keep it quiet, even from the coven.” His eyes took on a bit of a flinty edge. “Though… seems to me there was a promise made when he propositioned you for that job…”

Fushimi made a small, amused sound, lips curling up with a slight sardonic tilt. “One thing the Captain’s always been good at is keeping to the literal terms of an agreement while still edging around it to get what he wants.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “In this case, it seems to be the two of us working together.”

Yata scowled at the reminder. “Right, yeah, he said he’ll cancel the contract if we charge these stones.” He reached into his pocket to pull out the moonstone, holding it up on his palm. “In a really stupid way, too – sun for the moonstone and moon for the sunstone. What the hell sense does that make?”

Both of Kusanagi’s eyebrows went up at that. Ignoring Totsuka’s low whistle, he removed the cigarette from his mouth and spoke carefully. “That I can’t answer for you. Though… Fushimi, I’m guessing your affinity is with the moon?”

There was some soft shuffling from the stairs before he could answer that, and a soft feminine voice broke into the conversation. “The stones are a pair.” The teenaged girl it belonged to stepped into the room after it, her long white hair seeming to absorb the ambient colors of the lighting in the bar. Anna wore the usual Lolita-themed dress in red and black, striking against her pale skin, and her red eyes were calm as they met Yata’s. “Like the two of you.”

“Huh? A pair?” What’s that s’posed to mean? Even knowing it was useless to protest – whatever Anna saw when her other Sight activated, it was never wrong, even if she could only express it in vague terms – Yata couldn’t help but blurt, “No – you’re wrong – we’re just like this because – ”

“A contract,” she finished simply, and offered a tiny smile. “But not just the contract. Reisi would’ve known already.” She stepped forward to where he was still holding the moonstone on his palm, and reached out to brush a finger across the surface. “Don’t worry, Misaki.” When she raised her eyes again, her expression was serious. “Things won’t always be the way they are.”

Something about the combination of that look and those words had a lump rising at the back of his throat. It was like the loneliness that had driven him the previous night came rushing back sharply to the front of his thoughts, and he swallowed, almost unable to stand the soft understanding in her eyes. After a brief but awkward silence, Yata tried for a grin to play it off. “Uh – r-right. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, and reached up to rub at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Thanks, Anna! You saying that somehow cheers me up a little, y’know?”

It was always like that with Anna, though – she was a natural seer, though her powers didn’t always activate fully or give her visions she could understand, and she tended to be cryptic without meaning to. He’d known her since she was a little girl, and she’d always been overly quiet and serious, speaking very little and very simply. But somehow, he could feel the warmth behind the things she said. And it was comforting when she was around. Living at the bar and being known to every other member of the coven, she was like the beloved princess of Homra.

Well, maybe more like a priestess in a way… sorta.

Her gaze slid past him, hands dropping to clasp in front of her. “Nice to meet you,” she said simply, “Saruhiko. My name is Kushina Anna.”

Fushimi blinked at her, clearly taken aback by her immediate familiarity. “Yeah.” After a pause, he added, almost grudgingly, “You too.”

No one could be rude to Anna. Yata didn’t bother to suppress his grin – Fushimi could probably feel his amusement anyway. “I got a favor to ask, Anna. We gotta find some spots around the city for charging these stones. Can you help?”

She tilted her head at him for a moment of silent regard, and then shook it slightly. “This is a quest. There’s less power in it if I tell you everything.”

“Huh?” Yata blinked at her. “A quest? Why?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “That makes it even more annoying,” he muttered.

Yata shot him an irritated glare. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“But,” Anna continued, as if they hadn’t spoken, “there is one thing I can say. The first step is here.”

“Here?” Kusanagi repeated, sounding intrigued. “One of those charging points is the bar, you mean?”

She nodded. “Not inside. But…” Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, meaningfully. “Homra is blessed by the sun.” When she lowered her eyes again, it was to meet Yata’s confused stare with a small smile. “Misaki. This is the place you belong to more than anywhere else. It’s the right place for your quest to start.”

“Oh. Huh.” Yata reached up to scratch the back of his head. “That’s how it works?”

Fushimi let out a sharp sigh, as if exasperated. “It’s standard for quests. Probably the last one will be mine, if that’s the way we’re doing this. Or,” he added after a beat, “at least as close to mine as we’re likely to get.”

Yata frowned at him, confused, but Totsuka had already picked up the conversational thread. “So the bar is a sun charging place, then, right?” He smiled brightly at them both, raising a hand to point up. “In that case, wouldn’t the roof be the best place to do that?”

“Obviously.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, looking back towards the bar entrance. “Does that dispel effect work on people leaving this place as well?”

“No,” Kusanagi responded, “only when you come in.”

“Good.” Fushimi turned back towards Yata. “In that case, make us invisible again and let’s fly up.”

His tone was irritating. Yata scowled back. “Don’t order me around!”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a better idea?”

He didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. “I said don’t give me orders, asshole – I didn’t say we wouldn’t fly up.” Yata let out a sharp ‘ch’, lips twisting down in a scowl, and turned back to face the others. “Sorry. I’ll probably be busy for a while with all this crap. And I still gotta work too; I need the money.”

“Don’t worry.” Totsuka offered him a warm smile. “We’ll still be here for you. Anyway, things will turn out fine! There’s always a reward waiting at the end of a quest, right?”

Yata grinned ruefully in response. “Yeah, that’d be getting rid of this jerk.” He hooked a thumb in Fushimi’s direction.

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “That goes double for me. Can we go?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grumbling, Yata reached down to the bottom pocket of his shorts again for the cloth packet. “I got it.”

The sooner they started, the sooner this would be over with, after all.

#k #sarumi #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #fanfic #fanfic:mine

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ridiasfangirlings · 8 years ago

Text

Title: Still Point (9/12)

Fandom: K Project

External: AO3 / ff.net

Ratings/Warnings: T

Notes: A wild update appears! Getting into the homestretch at last~

XV. slit throat

Fushimi woke up with the tip of a sword at his throat.

It had been two months since he'd left the United Colors – two months of living like a scavenger off a larger animal's kill, doing what he could to assist the Green army as they continued to swallow up the country in bits and pieces. He'd been lucky enough to fall in with a mercenary currently under Hisui's employ, a woman who had no problem sharing her work with him provided she was given the proper payment in the end. Fushimi hadn't cared much about that – enough to live on was all he asked, no need for monetary payments when all he was after was glory, recognition, anything that might help get the attention of Hisui Nagare.

That being his objective, Fushimi supposed he should have felt something like relief when he was awakened in his hotel room in a newly-occupied town by Mishakuji Yukari leaning over him with a smile dangerous enough that Fushimi found his hands instinctively reaching for his weapons.

Not that it would matter, he supposed. He'd heard about Yukari, Hisui Nagare's right hand man. It was easy to tell at a glance that Yukari was far quicker and more skilled than he was, and even if Fushimi managed to grab a knife there would be no time to throw it before Yukari cut his throat.

“I assume you're here to kill me.” His own voice sounded remarkably calm for someone with a sword at his neck and in another situation Fushimi thought he might have laughed about it. Yukari smiled and pressed the blade just a bit closer, enough to draw a thin line of blood that dripped wet and sticky down Fushimi's neck.

“Of course not.” In a single smooth motion Yukari suddenly sheathed his sword, holding out one gloved hand to Fushimi. “I hear you've done a lot of work for our General's cause, Saruhiko-chan. I'm here to bring you your reward.”

“I didn't ask for a reward.” Fushimi eyed the offered hand warily, still not moving. The moonlight reflected off the smile on Yukari's face, a snake offering its friendship, and Fushimi knew better than to trust in such things.

(He'd always known better, and yet he'd ended up here all the same.)

“Ah, but I'm certain you hoped for it,” Yukari replied. “Nagare-chan wishes to meet with you, Saruhiko-chan. That's impressive, isn't it?”

Fushimi's heart beat suddenly heavy against his chest and he feigned disinterest as he got to his feet on his own, ignoring Yukari's hand.

“I guess.” Fushimi shrugged, eying Yukari warily. “I would have expected him to come himself, if he was that interested.”

“Would you really?” Yukari's voice sounded genuinely curious but there was steel in his eyes, a blade disguised as a flower, and Fushimi kept his gaze steady and cold. “I suppose you'll have to settle for me as your welcoming committee. Unless you'd rather stay here, of course.”

“I'll come.” Fushimi shrugged again and gestured for Yukari to lead the way.

“Oh? Don't you have to pack your things?” Yukari said mildly. Fushimi cast a glance around the room, sparse and empty, and he couldn't help but laugh a bit to himself.

“This is enough.” Fushimi touched a hand against one of the pistols still holstered at his hip. “So? Are we going to talk about this all night?”

“Come along, then.” Yukari seemed amused by his response and made his way out the door without even bothering to glance back to see if Fushimi had followed.

The town was still and silent as they walked along streets lit only by a handful of flickering lamps. The telltale evidence of gunpowder and dried blood was still visible on the pavement, the Greens having only just occupied the town some two days prior with Fushimi's assistance. There were a handful of Green soldiers out patrolling who nodded and saluted at Yukari as they went by, clearly recognizing him even in the darkness.

“You have a car?” Fushimi asked as they neared the town gates. “Or are we walking all the way to your general?” He couldn't quite keep the displeasure out of his voice at the thought.

“Certainly not. How vulgar.” Yukari smirked slightly. “I came by plane.”

Fushimi managed to keep himself from showing any reaction to that. Planes were hard to come by in the United Armies – rumor had it there were a few at Mihashira, belonging to the Silver General and his men, but Shizume had been home to only one: a rusty modified crop duster that was only used in emergencies. Fushimi had been up in it exactly once, with Doumyoji at the helm, and he'd barely made it back to the ground before throwing up.

He noted that Yukari's plane looked at least somewhat safer, once they reached the spot where Yukari had left it on the flat grass just outside the town. It looked considerably newer and better maintained than the one Fushimi had been in and Yukari didn't hesitate at all as he climbed into the pilot's seat.

“My, Saruhiko-chan, you look so pale. Have you never flown before?” Yukari seemed amused by his expression and so Fushimi carefully masked it with indifference, swallowing down the bile that had already begun to creep its way up his throat.

He had come too far now to be defeated by a little nausea. Without another word Fushimi forced down the wave of dizziness and climbed into the plane.

“The trip should be short,” Yukari said conversationally as he began to start the plane. “Still, I would advise you to buckle yourself in. Nagare-chan would be displeased if I lost you so soon. He is very interested in meeting you, after all.” There was something like laughter in his eyes and Fushimi just clicked his tongue and looked away, buckling his seat belt and his hands white gripping the edge of the plane as the engine sputtered to life.

The ascent into the sky was quicker than expected, wind whistling by Fushimi's ears as they rose up into the clouds. Looking down he could just make out the landscape below, small lights indicating towns and farmland that dotted the ground like constructs in a child's diorama. It was a like a living map, destinations laid out end upon end without any markings between, and Fushimi swallowed hard.

Yukari glanced at him but made no comment, focused on his flying and probably unable to be heard over the roar of the engine regardless. Fushimi kept his head turned away and tried to keep his breathing steady.

Somewhere dimly in the back of his mind he could still hear Misaki's voice, could still see those eyes shining back at him from the window seat of a train.

“Saruhiko, look! You can see everything out there. Hey, look at that! Saruhiko, are you looking?”

That idiot had gotten so excited over a simple train ride. Fushimi felt something hot and painful well up in his chest and his hand reached up on conditioned reflex, scratching his scars. He tried not to think about how Misaki would no doubt have been even more thrilled by this, flying through the night sky with the moon shining above.

“Stay here, okay?” The memory of Misaki's face from that cold morning that seemed so long ago now wouldn't leave his mind. Misaki's eyes shining with reflected light from the rising sun and from unshed tears, hands around Fushimi's throat but too weak to tighten.

There hadn't been anything he could've said at that time anyway. Fushimi closed his eyes, took another steadying breath. It was a secret mission, after all. He and Munakata had discussed it thoroughly shortly before base camp had been attacked, contingencies upon contingencies. That was always how Munakata worked, Fushimi knew that. It hadn't been much of a surprise that the Captain had made the suggestion that if the situation turned too dire Fushimi would try his hand at infiltration, joining the Green army and waiting to take them apart from the inside.

He'd known that the dire situation had happened when he'd been unable to hold the city against the Green army’s attacks, had barely managed to get their own men out safely. Misaki's location had been unknown then, last seen running through town like an idiot for no apparent reason. At the time, exhausted and shaking in the trading post, trying to assess who had made it out and who hadn't, Fushimi had known deep down that the time for Munakata's plan had come.

But still...

Fushimi's hand dug into the wound on his chest again. His fingers felt cold even through his gloves and he could barely feel his face, the wind blowing chill around him. It reminded him of Munakata's humorless smile as he'd thrown Fushimi's fears back into his face, mocked the very trust that Munakata himself was placing in him.

In retrospect it was really no surprise that Munakata knew who his parents were, had no doubt known all along. Fushimi hadn't bothered to change his name, after all, and it wasn't as if those people hadn't double-crossed the United Armies the same as they had the Greens. Munakata had probably known from the moment Totsuka led Fushimi and Yata into camp all those years ago, the viper's child that Suoh Mikoto had invited into their nest.

It was all an act, of course. They'd intended to fight, intended to have Fushimi walk away. But the words of the play had been entirely different from what they had rehearsed and the questioning voices in the back of Fushimi's head wouldn't be silent.

Maybe it would have been better if Misaki had been able to close those hands around his throat properly. Traitors would only betray again, and no matter what he told himself Fushimi knew that he would never be anything more than that, not to Misaki, not to Munakata, not to anybody. He wasn't a hero. He had not joined the army to be a hero.

He'd joined the army because doing so had made Misaki smile and he'd even lost that in the end. So was there really a point in continuing this farce, in risking his life for a cause he had never had any interest in whatsoever. Fushimi leaned his head back, eyes half-closed as he let the frigid wind bite into his skin.

“We're beginning our descent. Are you all right, Saruhiko-chan? No motion sickness?” Yukari's voice could barely be heard above the engine and Fushimi answered with only a nod, hands braced against his seat as the plane circled lower and lower towards the ground.

“I'm fine.” Fushimi kept his words short and clipped. Yukari didn't reply but he seemed to be smiling as he carefully maneuvered them onto the ground. Fushimi had no idea how Yukari had known where to land; the clearing they were in was completely sparse and dark. He unbuckled his seatbelt and nearly stumbled as he stepped out of the plane, legs shaking more than he'd expected.

“Do you need a hand?” It sounded outwardly polite but Fushimi could hear the challenge lying beneath those words and he took only a moment to steady himself before stepping past Yukari to take in their surroundings.

“Is this where Hisui Nagare is going to meet us?” Fushimi didn't bother to disguise the distaste in his voice.

“Of course not. Nagare-chan is waiting further in. Follow me.” Yukari began to walk away from the plane and Fushimi followed behind.

“You don't intend to blindfold me?” He'd expected some kind of security, some way of obscuring the route to wherever Hisui Nagare was hiding.

“Would you like me too?” Yukari waved a hand languidly. “You're our precious comrade, Saruhiko-chan. Or so Nagare-chan says, anyway. After all, if there's any danger from you after seeing our secret base, well...there are ways of dealing with that beyond a simple blindfold.” He smiled, sharp as a blade, and Fushimi clicked his tongue again.

They stepped through a small thicket of trees and then out into the shining lights of a town. Fushimi tried to keep his eyes trained on Yukari's figure in front of him but as they walked through the gates he realized that he knew exactly where they were.

The Green General was hiding at Ashinaka.

Fushimi's mind was already racing as his eyes darted back and forth along the streets. Ashinaka had been taken by the Greens not long after he and Misaki had joined Homra, and he'd even been the one who had helped Kusanagi devise the strategy to take the town back. At the time he'd thought that the offensive had been ridiculously easy but he'd been infected by Homra's stupidity and had chalked it up to the inexperience of their enemies. Looking around at the town now, Fushimi could see that they were the ones who had been fooled.

Ashinaka was far along the edges of the United Army's territory. There was little remarkable about it, save the old university that took up a large spot of land in the center of the town. When Ashinaka had first been taken by the Greens Fushimi could remember Kusanagi saying how odd it had seemed, that they would focus on such a minor town that didn't even connect to the main railway line and had no large factories or refineries to speak of.

They'd left soldiers behind, of course, to keep an eye on things. Minor members of the rank and file, some Red and a few Blue Division members. They sent communication via radio to Shizume twice a week along with the rest of the troops stationed outside of camp. The communications were received by a member of the Blue Division, recorded on paper and given to Munakata. Communications duty rotated between members and it would have been easy to kill the men they'd left behind and use their equipment in order to impersonate them. Fushimi found himself wondering how long they'd been receiving communications from the Green army instead, under the guise of one of their own men.

A simple plan, now that he thought about it. What better way to disguise their home base than to allow it to be taken over by their own army and then won back by the enemy, assumed safe and left alone. Especially with the Colorless Guard making such bold movies elsewhere throughout the country, it would have been simple to retake a tiny little town in silence and secrecy, allowing the United Armies to assume Ashinaka was safe and still within their grasp when it was actually the den of the enemy.

“This way.” Yukari led him through an old wrought-iron gate into a courtyard overflowing with weeds.

“The university?” Fushimi murmured, eyes scanning the white brick building in front of him.

“Not quite.” Yukari was smiling again as he made his way to what looked like a small stone storage shed. He produced a key from his jacket and opened the iron door, revealing steps leading downward. Yukari took a lamp from beside the shed and began to walk down into the darkness, not bothering to look back to see if Fushimi had followed.

Fushimi took a step forward and then paused in the doorway, staring down. The stairs led to a what appeared to be some kind of underground tunnel that smelled of dirt and mold. It was illuminated by small pin lights along the wall and Fushimi could see places where pipes and vents stood out against the walls, allowing the air to circulate.

“Mining tunnels?” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Very good, Saruhiko-chan.” Yukari replied anyway. “At one point it was thought that there might be a vein of precious metals running underneath the university building. When it turned out to be only worthless stones the project was abandoned. Most of the work had already been done. It only took a few months for Nagare-chan to complete the rest of it.”

That would explain why they'd never been able to find him. Fushimi found himself unable to move as Yukari took a few more steps down into the darkness before finally stopping to look back at him.

“My, do you intend to turn back now, Saruhiko-chan?” Yukari's tone was pleasant and friendly but it was easy for Fushimi to hear the cunning beneath it. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

Fushimi almost found himself wanting to laugh, fists clenching hard. He could already feel his breath coming in short gasps, a memory of smoke filling his lungs, and his vision was blurring into scattered black spots.

Stupid. Fushimi grimaced, forced himself to take a step forward. He'd come too far to be defeated by the old fear now. There were far more frightening things than what lay underground and he was more than aware of that. Even so, his heart beat fast as he followed Yukari down into the dark.

Yukari began walking again, footsteps echoing hollowly as he descended the stairs with Fushimi following as steadily as he could manage. His eyes had already gotten used to the low light but there was an itch to his skin, his breathing coming faint and thin even as he forced himself to remain steady. He was already at a disadvantage, that was clear. He would need to communicate the location of the tunnels to someone, somehow, but if his treachery was discovered while he was underground he would have no way of escaping retribution if caught.

Fushimi found himself smiling slightly. No matter. He'd always been good at finding the exit in the dark on his own. That was why Munakata had chosen him for this, after all. He only needed to keep digging until he found the right tunnel.

“After you.” Yukari stopped at a metal gate blocking the opening to a larger tunnel. The door was ajar and Yukari stood off to one side, giving Fushimi just enough room to pass in front of him. Fushimi reached for the door handle, too aware of Yukari's presence at his back. There was no going back now. He stepped inside.

The gate led to a large open room with a curved roof. Unlike the outer tunnels this room was brightly lit by lamps along the walls and the inside had been fashioned as a sort of messy living area. There was a long low table in the center of the room with the same map of country Fushimi recognized from Munakata's war room, the table itself surrounded by cushions. There were two figures seated on cushions on either side of the table and a man in a wheelchair in between them.

“Fushimi Saruhiko.” Hisui Nagare smiled up at him and extended a hand. “Welcome.”

“Hisui Nagare.” Fushimi's tone was flat as he replied. He was dimly aware of Yukari striding past him to stand beside Hisui's wheelchair but Fushimi's eyes were fixed on the man who he'd only heard spoken about in rumors and whispers. Hisui's demeanor was deceptively pleasant, with thin fine features and tousled hair. He looked almost boyish sitting there in the wheelchair, like someone's child injured by the war. There was a blanket covering the lower half of his body and Fushimi suspected that the legs beneath were either mangled or missing entirely – lost in a bomb explosion during Hisui's attempted assassination of the Golden General ten years ago.

“Wait a second, Nagare, this is the guy?” The voice from Hisui's right made Fushimi's gaze shift and he raised an eyebrow in surprise at the speaker. It was a kid, maybe thirteen years old with light-colored hair, and there was something familiar about him that made a sudden shiver run through Fushimi's body, as if the rest of him was coming to a realization that his mind hadn't managed to grasp yet. “He's with the--”

“Now, now, Sukuna.” The man in black seated to Hisui's left waved a hand carelessly. There was a can of beer in his other hand and he looked like someone's drunk uncle who had wandered in on accident. “Saruhiko here has been helping us out the last month or so, you know?”

“But he's with those guys at Shizume!” Sukuna snapped, pointing a finger in Fushimi's direction. Something in Fushimi's mind seemed to snap into place and in that moment he knew what it was, where he'd seen that kid before.

The scrawny war orphan that Misaki had run into the day they'd first arrived in Shizume.

Fushimi's mind was already working so fast he felt almost breathless, putting the pieces together. He had seen Sukuna multiple times after that first meeting and had never paid much mind to him, assuming no doubt like everyone else that the kid was just another brat made homeless by the war. A brat who was part of the Green army and had no doubt been spying on them all this time, using the same trick Fushimi himself had so long ago, in an occupied town when his only thought had been to keep himself and Misaki alive: running errands for the soldiers who all believed that he was just trying to survive and nothing more, foolishly giving up their own secrets without even realizing it.

It was so idiotically simple that Fushimi could have cursed himself for a fool if he hadn't been trying to keep his face impassive. Sukuna had no doubt been feeding information gleaned from soldiers in town for years, completely unfettered and unnoticed.

(And it was easy, far too easy, to imagine Totsuka Tatara being summoned into a darkened alleyway to help a frightened child only to find himself ambushed and cornered by other spies Sukuna had already smuggled into town, killed by his own foolish kindness.)

“I am aware of Saruhiko's former loyalties,” Hisui's calm voice broke into his thoughts and Fushimi swallowed down the anger building in his throat. Hisui's single visible eye rose to meet Fushimi's gaze and there was something dangerous in it that made Fushimi's blood freeze in his veins. “But anyone may join the Green army, if they wish to. I see you have seen the light of our cause at last.”

What cause? Fushimi felt the caustic reply rise in his throat and he swallowed the answer down. From what he'd managed to grasp from past scuffles, the Green Army's only 'cause' was uniting the world under their own banner.

“I guess,” he said instead with a languid shrug. “The United Armies failed. I just...” He pulled a knife from his sleeve and flipped it around so that he was grasping the blade as he offered it hilt-first to Hisui. “I just thought that if this war has to come to an end sometime, I'd rather be on the winning side.”

“A wise choice.” Hisui took the knife and Fushimi noted how Sukuna tensed as Hisui's hands closed around the hilt of the blade. “You will not be disappointed, Saruhiko. It is only a select few we allow into the inner circle.”

“And we should keep it that way,” Sukuna muttered under his breath.

“Quiet now, Sukuna.” Hisui seemed to smile slightly as he spoke and Sukuna's eyes lit up at his general's words. “In any case, Saruhiko, allow me to introduce my companions. You have already met Yukari...”

“Welcome.” Yukari gave a small wave and a wink.

“And this is Sukuna. He is a relative of mine who has joined our cause from a young age.” Hisui nodded at Sukuna, who sat up a bit straighter.

“That's right.” Sukuna gave Fushimi a cold glare. “Some of us have been on the right side from the beginning, you know.”

“And this is Iwa-san.” Hisui nodded to the man at his right. “Commander of the Grey Division.”

“Iwafune Tenkei.” The man inclined his head in Fushimi's direction, taking a long sip of his beer.

“The Grey...” Another chill, another piece falling into place, and his mind was on fire again with half-forgotten memories. A black-gloved hand pushing closed the door of a burning factory. A sniper on a hill, the bullet that took Misaki's eye before Fushimi's own shot had ended the sniper's life.

And so many books, ones that Kusanagi had loaned him, reports Munakata had suggested he read, that had made mention of the Grey Division. The Grey Division had once been the section of the United Colors in charge of espionage – and occasionally assassination, from what Fushimi could tell reading between the lines – and was supposed to have been wiped out in the same explosion that had left Hisui in a wheelchair, innocent victims of a madman's ambition.

Innocent victims, or so it had been recorded. But the details of the attempted assassination were vague at best in every book he'd read and Fushimi wondered if anyone would have noticed, in the chaotic mess of the aftermath, if the bodies left behind were the entirety of the Grey Division or if they were only servants and civilians left behind to take their places while the soldiers themselves staged their own quiet defection.

“The existence of the Grey Division is of course a closely guarded secret,” Hisui continued. “We are placing a great deal of trust in you to say this much, Saruhiko.”

“Mmm.” Fushimi nodded distractedly, mind still racing. Hisui regarded him intently for a moment and then spoke again.

“Iwa-san, Sukuna, Yukari. If the three of you have duties to attend to, I would like to speak with Saruhiko alone for a time.”

“But that's--” Sukuna immediately tried to protest and was stopped by Yukari's hand on his shoulder.

“Sukuna-chan,” Yukari scolded lightly and Sukuna turned away with a huff. “I'm sure Nagare-chan will be fine alone. After all, an assassin would have great difficulty getting very far out of this place alive, if he was so foolish as to make an attempt.”

It was a warning, not that Fushimi hadn't already figured that one out. It didn't matter in any case: he didn't have any illusions about getting out of this place alive and he hadn't from the start. He could still remember the grave look on Munakata's face when he'd proposed the mission, something unexpectedly brittle in Munakata's smile as he'd noted that hopefully there would be no need for such a precaution anyway.

It all faded though, the memory indelibly linked to that other memory of Munakata's cold and calculating smile as he'd thrown Fushimi's loyalty back in his face, the act that Fushimi still couldn't be certain if had really had been all that fake. Fushimi kept his face calm and his breathing steady as Hisui's companions emptied the room, leaving him alone with the Green General.

“Sit, Saruhiko.” Hisui gestured towards the cushions surrounding the table. Fushimi hesitated, momentary, barely perceptible, but Hisui noticed anyway. “There is nothing to fear. While you are in this place I have full trust in you, so long as you prove worthy of it.”

'So long as you prove worthy of it,' huh? Fushimi suppressed a tongue click and settled himself down on the cushion opposite Hisui.

“Surely you are wondering why I would allow you here, having belonged to the United Colors,” Hisui said serenely, his eyes bright on the map between them. Much of it was marked out in green and grey, and Fushimi's eyes involuntarily followed the line of Iwafune's retreat out the door.

“I suppose.” There wasn't much point in lying. Hisui's expression was open, almost childlike, but there was a keenness behind his eyes that made it clear that deceiving this man was no easy matter.

Hisui Nagare had once been the youngest ever Captain in the United Colors army, after all. He'd inherited the position from his late father and had won the trust and loyalty of his men in only a few short months. When the defection had occurred no one had expected any treachery from that corner until it was too late.

“You could say I considered it somewhat of an apology to you,” Hisui continued and Fushimi looked up at him in confusion. Hisui's fingers lightly touched the edges of the map, wrinkling the corners. “We have gained much territory of late. I expect all of this will be mine before long.”

The words were the sort of thing Fushimi would have expected from a dictator or a madman but the tone was simple and matter-of-fact, as if Hisui was only stating the movement of the tides or the position of the stars.

“What do you intend to do with all of it then?” He didn't exactly wonder but Fushimi felt as though it would be something a person in his position would ask.

“Nothing at all,” Hisui replied. His face was still simple and honest like a child's, but with a predator's eyes. “I desire nothing from things I have obtained. I simply wish to give instead – to give the freedom to the people of these lands that they have so lacked.”

“By conquering them?” Fushimi's mind warned him against the words too late but Hisui didn't seem offended at all.

“By liberating them,” Hisui said. “After all, there has been war in this land for decades, ever since the Colorless Guard stepped upon our shores. But it seemed to me that even should the Colorless Guard and their general be defeated there would still be war. History has taught us that well – a vast country, rich and prosperous...surely more will come from the outside to sit at our gates. That being the case, I felt that it was wisest to release the army's grip on this land all together in order to obtain true freedom.”

Fushimi didn't answer, eyes hooded and shoulders hunched.

“Of course, such a thing cannot be obtained easily,” Hisui continued. “It was regrettable that I needed to join forces with as unpredictable a man as the Colorless General but it was unavoidable for the greater good. Once all of this country is under my control there will be no more need for war. All will be equal and thus, true freedom will be gained at last.”

“Under your supervision, I'm sure,” Fushimi muttered under his breath. He knew he was walking a very fine ledge but Hisui didn't seem to mind his words at all. “What about those who dissent? Like the students who originally lived at this university...did they get to experience your 'true freedom' as well?”

“Of course,” Hisui said. “The quality of being free also contains the possibility of making the incorrect choice. The ones who chose to join hands with me of their own will are now part of my army.”

“And those who didn't?” Not like he didn't already know the answer, but Fushimi supposed he might as well say it.

“They received freedom as well. Of a sort.”

So you killed them. Fushimi swallowed down a bitter laugh. As if that's freedom at all. What a piece of shit plan.

“And as for you, Saruhiko...you also know of the freedom of choice, do you not?” Hisui said. “After all, you have also chosen to make war your profession, as your parents did, but in your own manner.”

Fushimi's head shot up, nerves suddenly on edge, and Hisui placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“You need not fear it, Saruhiko.” Hisui smiled. “Your parents were dear friends of mine. It is due to your mother's diligence that I was able to find these tunnels, and your father's cunning which supplied the materials for many of our current explosives. I felt very disappointed when they chose the wrong path.”

His hands moved upward to cup Fushimi's head, cold palms against Fushimi's cheeks and Fushimi felt suddenly lightheaded, barely able to breathe.

“As I said before, this is my apology to you.” There was something almost hypnotic in Hisui's voice now and Fushimi thought he might be shaking. He was suddenly very aware of the darkness of the room, how low the ceiling, how stale the air. It was like being buried in the earth – the scar of Mikoto's coffin hovering over him, a single shadow with a long reach – and this time there truly was no clawing his way out. “Had I known of your existence at the time I would have taken you back with me in the aftermath. That punishment was intended for those with the power to make decisions, and you had none. I was deeply saddened when I learned of it later, that Fushimi Niki and Fushimi Kisa had a child who may have been caught in that fire. I was quite pleased later when I learned you had survived. I even sent Iwa-san to find you. He did not intend to lock you away in the fire at the factory. Had Suoh Mikoto not interfered, we would have taken you away as soon as it was safe to do so.”

Fushimi wanted to speak, to pull away, but Hisui's voice was soft and sincere and his grip almost gentle in a way that was nonetheless impossible to break.

“But now you have finally returned to me,” Hisui breathed. “I am eager to work with you, Saruhiko. The potential you hold is fascinating. I can see many possibilities within your eyes. I intend to use you well, if you will allow me. Will you pledge your loyalty to me? I will give you this freedom, to choose one more time.”

Fushimi swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Hisui's single visible eye almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, holding him caught like a mouse trapped by a snake. Trying to collect his thoughts under the light of that gaze was like trying to swim through mud.

Dimly he remembered a cellar filled with smoke. He remembered a blackened sky and a locked door. Remembered Misaki's gaze gone distant, Munakata's smile the curve of a blade as he twisted the knife deeper with every word.

And beyond that, more – Mikoto's hand on his head, Munakata's eyes staring down at a coffin draped in red. Misaki's smile and a warehouse floor covered in stars.

The edges of the map were lined in grey, and Fushimi remembered the man in black whose bullet had left Misaki lying still and bloody in the grass, had ruined those eyes that had once been the light that led him out of the dark so long ago. Fushimi smiled thinly and let the lie fit snug in his mouth the same way he would fit a gun in his hand.

“I will.”

#Fushimi Saruhiko #sarumi #k project #fic #I was actually gonna post this last week #but I wanted to wait until rare pair week was over #three more chapters to go #remember back when this was supposed to be a drabble oh those innocent days #is anyone even still reading this at this point XD

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