"So what kind of king do you see yourself as?"

The truth was, Reishi didn't know. Not now at least. Once upon a time he had a bright vision in mind but now, was a completely different story. It was common for one to stray from the 'righteous' path, and he knew that. Closing his eyes he tried to envision an answer to Fushimi's question but nothing but pitch black greeted him. An awry smile fell on his lips. A tiny part of him wanted to simply resign from his throne and position but he knew better, better than leaving his clan without a King, it was still too soon.

He hadn't been given a choice nor a say in becoming a king. Had Suoh also felt like this?

Directing his vision up into the skies, the stars still shone in all their brilliance, as if mocking him. Reishi knew that for the sake of others he would have to hold out as the Blue King for a little longer. Even if that meant he would have to pay the heavy cost of causing another Damocles Down. Luckily he had foreseen the possibility and moved to prevent that.

"I can't quite say, Fushimi-kun," he finally replied, looking back towards the youth.

He gazed at the other for a few brief moments before turning away. Slowly he paced towards the trunk of the ancient oak, only stopping when he was within arms length from it. Closing his eyes, he placed one palm on the rough wood. He could feel his aura leaking out, in fact he could see it with his mind's eye, the azure swirling around him and the youth, flitting and dancing between them. Everything was happening too soon. As he opened his eyes, the shapes formed by his aura shattered before fading into the darkness of the night.

"You're free to go," he stated emptily without so much as looking at the person he was addressing. He was too trapped to even properly understand Fushimi's words, he simply took the surface meaning.

If only...

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, Reishi looked up towards the frozen branches of the tree. Snow piling up upon them, so thickly several of those strong branches bent under the weight. Oblivious to the youth's presence, a choked laugh fell from his lips. His whole being was consumed by the winter cold, without the presence of fiery flame.


A/N: A lot of angst happens when the author has a cold.