Author's Note: I know, I shouldn't be writing any more new stories, but I am! I've just started watching Return of Kings and it's inspired me to keep the trend going for Mikoto and Tatara stories. I hope that it'll catch on soon and more people will write for this beautiful couple! Anyway, let me know what you think! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the plotline.
Warnings: Oocness, language and very slight indication of sexual situations.
Word Count: 4,177
It was this dream again. Tatara could never understand it. He had it every once and a while. It would just come to him out of the blue for one reason or another, and it's the same each time he sees it. There is a man standing on top of a roof, leaning dangerously over the raining overlooking the beautiful city lights below. His shoulders were shaking violently and even though Tatara noticed this and was concerned, he never thought that he should be alarmed. He knew how this was all going to end yet he could never bring himself to muster up fear.
Fear for this man, fear for his own life. Not this early into the dream.
No matter how many times Tatara has this nightmare, he always approaches the man. There is no color and it looks almost like it's being viewed through an old style camera. For the longest time, Tatara would always wonder if this first part was something he watched in the old style movies he liked to bully his friends into watching with him. He always loved those movies and for as long as he could remember, this part always had him enraptured.
He would approach the young man, his shoulders shaking, but before Tatara could get too close, the man would whip around, face twisted into a cruel grin with his hand outstretched toward him. But it's not just his hand. There is something clenched in his fist. It glints off of the moonlight.
A gun.
It's always a gun.
He points it at Tatara and fires. That's when Tatara slips back into his body, the pain in his chest is excruciating. He falls immediately, hitting the ground hard, knocking the air out of his lungs and bruising his cheek against the concrete roof. But it doesn't matter. It never does. Every time Tatara has this dream - this nightmare - he feels himself bleed out. His body shakes, blood flowing from his wound as the heat leaves him and the cold settles in the empty space. Yet no matter how many times this dream comes, he can never run away. Never somehow alter his fate.
Tatara's mind is filled with regrets that he can't remember. He knew he was sad and unsatisfied with his life. He knew that he didn't want this to be the end. He knew there was someone - or a bunch of someones - that he wanted to see again, but knew that he couldn't. He regretted going up to that roof that night. He regretted dying young and leaving those he loved behind. He regretted never being anything in his life. He regretted that he would have to leave someone that he knew would never be able to live without him.
He knew he would see that person again soon. Sooner than he would have liked.
But at the very same time, Tatara was okay. He wasn't happy about dying. He certainly wished he had more time on the world, but he was okay at the same time. He knew that even though he was going to be gone, those people who now he couldn't remember, would be okay too. Maybe they would miss him, maybe they would mourn him. Maybe they would seek vengeance and maybe they would never forgive and forget, but he knew they would eventually be okay. They would hate it, but they would be able to live on. They would be able to survive. The only one that wouldn't, would be with him soon.
Tatara closes his eyes as the last bit of life leaves his body and he's left cold and empty. And afraid deep into his core.
Tatara jerks away, body shaking. His eyes flicker around the room, noting how small it was. It was barely big enough to fit his king sized bed, two dressers and three doorways. One that leads to the closet, one that leads into the bathroom and the last that leads into the hall.
Tatara sits up slowly, wrapping his hands around his naked torso, shivering a bit, remembering that chill of death settling into his bones. His body was covered in sweat, despite his chill, and his hand run up and down his arms in order to create friction and heat himself before something hot settles on the center of his spine, making Tatara jump, letting out a little yelp.
"Is it that dream again?"
Tatara looks down at his bed partner, who was laying on his side, left hand pressed against Tatara's back while his right arm was covering his eyes from the early morning sunlight pouring into the room from the window above their bed. His arm shifts slightly to reveal a single, golden eye squinting up at him.
"Tatara?" The man rumbles, voice thick with sleep, calling out to him again when he didn't immediately respond.
Tatara nods, frowning deeply. "Yeah..." He murmurs. "Why do I keep having that nightmare, Mikoto?"
Mikoto sighs, pausing a moment to yawn before shaking his head. "No clue."
Tatara tisks, amused. That was such a Mikoto answer. No beating around the bush with him. Mikoto's hand is hot, sucking out the chill from Tatara's body. The red head was like Tatara's personal heater.
Tatara turns toward Mikoto slightly, his bare lower half still covered beneath the sheets. He brings his hands out toward Mikoto and lightly settles them against the golden eyed man's neck, making Mikoto hiss and pull away at the cold temperature of Tatara's hands. Tatara laughs, happy to have something distract him from the dream.
Mikoto glares at him, slapping his hands away when Tatara reached out for him again. "Don't touch me," Mikoto growls. Tatara laughs, not at all bothered by the older man's menacing appearance.
"Sorry, sorry," Tatara says sinking into the bed next to Mikoto. He snuggles close, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them up a bit before pressing them against Mikoto's chest. No reaction this time, yet Mikoto's body is burning, as it usually is. It does good to calm his shivering and relax him. Mikoto's left arm slides around his body and settles on Tatara's left hip as the younger boy snuggles into the side of the older one.
"Do you think we are going to like it here, Mikoto?" Tatara asks after a long moment of silence.
Mikoto doesn't open his eyes. "Maybe," he says, voice even. "It's something we'll have to find out."
"It's strange coming to a new place and having nothing really here," Tatara murmurs. "I feel like a stranger stepping into an unknown world."
Mikoto doesn't respond right away, just breaths evenly for a couple of seconds before his eyes open slightly, two golden orbs staring down at the dainty brunette. "I don't know what the future holds. Perhaps we will be able to find ourselves here."
Tatara's eyes widen innocently. "Find ourselves..." he repeats. "I didn't know we were lost."
"I've been lost for a long time," Mikoto says, eyes slipping closed again. "Or I was."
Tatara smiles faintly. "You weren't lost, Mikoto. You were just confused. You were taught all your life that you could only destroy, when really you have the power to protect."
Mikoto shifts slightly, settling into a more comfortable place on his back before relaxing. "Yeah, I guess. You helped me, maybe by coming here, I can help you."
"So long as you're with me, Mikoto, I'm okay," Tatara says softly. The red head grunts.
Mikoto's fingers lightly rub against the smooth skin on Tatara's hip, his eyes still firmly closed as he begins to slip back into slumber again. Tatara rests his head on Mikoto's shoulder and stares up at him, blinking slowly. Mikoto breaths softly and deeply before he's dead to the world again and lost in his dreams again. Tatara snuggles closer, resting his arm across the expanse of Mikoto's chest before letting his own eyes slip closed.
Tatara is walking through the streets of Shizume, looking around with wide brown eyes, in awe at how beautiful the city is. The warm wind tunnels through the cityscape, the high buildings, caressing his long brown hair lovingly. The streets are crowded, people bustling back and forth from one place to another, politely stepping out of the way of one another before continuing on with their day without a care in the world.
Tatara likes it here. He's glad that he was able to come out here with Mikoto. It looks like a good place to start their lives. It's hard to get Mikoto excited about anything, but it was the closest to interested in something than he has been in a long time. He has a feeling he is really going to like it here. Even though they haven't been able to really get out of the house lately, trying to unpack everything so far, Tatara was still having fun here. He was ready to start laying down roots and make this new place his home.
A place for him and Mikoto. Yes, this sounds like a good place. It feels like it too.
Tatara pears into any and all the shops that he comes across, never going in, but just staring at everything from the outside. He didn't have to go in to be part of that world. He could just imagine what he could do with all of the cool things that each and every shop had trapped within them. But he didn't go in. He didn't want to. He was content with his imagination.
Tatara smiles, seeing his reflection in the window. He pulls his face away from the glass, turning on his heel before he continues on until the next shop. He continues the process again and again. Mikoto is content with sleeping all day, every day, and Tatara is content with just letting him do what he likes. It's the same with Mikoto, he just lets Tatara do what he likes.
At the end of the day, they will always find their way back to one another.
Tatara finds a nice bench and sits down, stretching his long, skinny legs out in front of him, rolling his ankles around in their sockets, listening to them pop. He settles his feet back down on the ground and relaxes against the hard wooden bench, letting the warm afternoon rays sinking into his skin. There is a slight chill in the air, but Tatara likes it. It feels good.
"Move out of the way!"
Tatara opens his eyes and looks across the street, eyes scanning the crowd as they part to let someone squeeze through them. A boy riding a skateboard easily slides through the crowd, face set in a frown as he goes, looking set on wherever it is that he's going. People jump or scurry out of his way, but once they are clear from him, they go on with their lives.
This must be a normal occurrence.
Tatara reaches up and runs his fingers through his long brown hair, watching as the skateboarder makes his way down the street, jumping up on rails, hopping over steps, before disappearing into the distance. Tatara leans his head back and closes his eyes, letting a smile slide across his face. He was a little worried about this move, but once he gets working, he can start meeting new people and building relationships.
Tatara lets out a slow, deep sigh, before standing up again, looking around the crowded streets before picking a direction and walking. The goal of today is to start leaning his way around Shizume, see what's out there. Maybe, along the way, he'll start meeting people.
This was not what he meant.
When he started wondering around the city trying to get his bearings, he didn't imagine that it would end up working out this way. He wanted to meet people, like nice people, and wanted to get a basic layout of the city, not get lost. He didn't leave his apartment with Mikoto earlier that morning with intention of catching the attention of some ruffians and getting chased throughout the city.
This is a common occurrence for Tatara. He's not sure what it is about himself that makes bullies want to chance him around and try and beat him up, but he's insane for thinking that this place would have somehow been different. He's not mad about it, he just has to learn new hiding places, just like in his last home. It's okay, he can do that.
But for now, he's slowing down and weary. He almost knocks a woman over in his haste running down the sidewalk. He catches her hand and quickly apologizes to her.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Before letting her go and keeps running. He can hear the three guys chasing after him running behind him. He can hear their feet pounding against the concrete behind him. His sides hurt from running for the last fifteen minutes. He doesn't remember how to get back home, it's usually Mikoto that scares everyone away. He's not a scary person, well, personality-wise, but it just shows who can be with Mikoto and who can't.
Tatara doesn't want Mikoto to hurt anyone, because he doesn't believe that Mikoto shouldn't be feared, but he knows that's what Mikoto wants, to some degree. He doesn't much care one way or another if people hang around him, so long as they aren't bullies. He's always attracted thugs to his side, and has always despised it, but if they were willing to protect the innocent and weak, he was okay with that.
Tatara turns down a narrow alleyway - which is more fit to being called a small space between two buildings rather than an actual alleyway - and runs down it, having twisted to the side in order to fit completely. Hopefully that would slow down the people following him. As soon as he reaches the other side, he looks one way, sees no one, then looks the other way, same result. After a moment's hesitation, he goes right, breaking into a sprint again. He's got to put as much space between himself and those chasing him.
Tatata twists his head around as he's running to keep an eye on the alley behind him, dreading every moment that the next will bring those three men into his line of site and the chase will continue on. He was so preoccupied with what was going on behind him that he didn't realize someone had stepped out into the small back road in front of him.
That person was also not paying attention, looking down at his phone, when Tatara ran right into him. The other person had better footing and was able to stay on their feet but Tatara was practically thrown to the floor.
Tatara cringes when he hits the floor, rubbing at his sore tail bone, when he hears someone behind him yell, "There he is!"
Tatara twists around to see the three men running toward him and quickly jumps to his feet, holding his hands up for a moment, trying to think of what to do before turning to the person he ran into and bowing deeply, only capturing a glimpse of blue. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he says. "I have to go though!"
As he moves to slip past the person, taller than him and definitely a man, but the person catches his arm. Tatara looks up at the young man that had his arm to see annoyance at first, no doubt an angry snarl on his lips, when he actually registers Tatara's face and his eyes widen in surprise.
His hair was black, parted on the right side with bangs that fall into his blue eyes hidden behind black rectangular glasses. He's wearing a long blue coat with a gray waistcoat and a white shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbows with purple wrist bands. His pants are blue and he has knee high black boots and a sword on his left hip.
Tatara has never seen this boy, probably a few years younger than him, before that he can recall, yet by the look on his face, it seems like he's seen Tatara before. Could he know those people that were chasing him? Could he be a friend of theirs?
"Please let me go," Tatara says softly, brown eyes wide.
The younger man stares at him for a moment before his dark eyes rise toward the three approaching. He takes a moment to understand the situation before moving Tatara behind himself.
The dainty brunette lets out a light sigh of relief that this person wasn't with the other guys chasing him. He peaks over the other man's shoulder at the three approaching thugs.
"What do you want?" The black haired young man says, slipping his phone into his pocket and then settling his hands onto his hips.
"This isn't about you!" the one in the front says. "We just want to talk with the guy behind you!"
The raven haired young man sighs, making a show of glancing over at Tatara from over his shoulder, tisking when Tatara looks up at him innocently. The man in blue looks back over at the three in front of him. "Get out of here," he says, lazily. "This isn't a scuffle you want to be part of."
"What did you say?" the guy on the left says, stepping closer.
"I though dealing with the scum on the streets was what those Reds prided themselves in," the spectacled young man mutters before shaking his head. "Get lost."
"What do you want with that guy?" The leader asks, nodding toward Tatara. "What does he have to do with you?"
The raven haired young man tisks again. His hand moves so fast, it was a blur of motion, before three knives appeared in between his protector's fingers. The man to the farthest right looks hesitant, stepping back a bit.
"Koto, maybe we should just let him go..." the man says, reaching up and pulling at his baseball cap. "Come on, this guy's not worth this."
The leader narrows his eyes before backing up slowly. His two lackeys follow obediently. The leader tisks before turning around and walking away, his lackeys follow quickly.
Tatara's hero waits until they've rounded the corner down the tiny alleyway and out of sight. Tatara's shoulders droop in relief, letting out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. He steps around the young man and smiles up at him.
"You really saved me there," he says, letting out a little laugh. "I appreciate it. I'm Tatara Totsuka, it's nice to meet you." The young man tilts his head to the side, taking a moment to really study Tatara's face, as if looking for something that he couldn't really see. Tatara looks back at him with an innocent, open expression, wondering what the other could be looking for before softly asking, "And you are..?"
His savior's dark eyes widen slightly before narrowing. "I'm... I'm Saruhiko Fushimi."
Tatara smiles. "Fushimi, thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it." He takes Fushimi's hand, the one not holding a bunch of knives in it, and shakes it quickly. "How can I ever properly thank you?"
Fushimi looks a little overwhelmed, like he's trying to understand something extremely complex that is right in front of him, but is having a lot of difficulties. "There's... no need for that... Totsuka."
Tatara's eyebrows pull together, worried. "Are you sure? I'd feel bad if I cause you too much trouble."
The knives go flying up into Fushimi's shirt and he uses that hand to push his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "It's no trouble. Just... be a bit more careful, won't you? It's... a very dangerous city if you're all alone and don't know how to take care of yourself."
Tatara nods slowly. "I understand. I thank you for your concern. Here," Tatara digs around in his pockets and pulls out a pen before taking Fushimi's hand and writing down his number on the younger man's palm. "This is my number. If you think of a way that I can repay you, give me a call." Tatara grins up at him. "Now then, I have to get going. I'll hopefully see you later! Goodbye, Fushimi!" Tatara pulls away and runs down the road, past Fushimi hopefully heading back in the direction of home.
Fushimi is left standing there, staring up at the sky with narrow blue eyes.
There is a knock at the door that pulls Reisi Munakata from his puzzles, Seri Awashima was making him tea right next to him. They had been sitting in silence for the better part of fifteen minutes as the two of them worked. Both higher ups within the Blue Clan turn toward the door, Reisi calling for whomever was on the outside to come in.
Fushimi steps in, taking a moment to survey the room before spotting his two bosses and closing the door behind himself. He steps into the room and pauses, glancing out the windows next to him before letting out a little sigh. He was standing outside of Munakata's office for about ten minutes mentally battling with himself on what he wanted to say and do. He's not even a hundred percent sure he knows what he saw today.
Never before had Fushimi been delusional, but for a hopefully understandable reason, he's conflicted on whether his eyes can be trusted or not. Never before has he been stumped quite like this.
"Fushimi," Munakata says, smiling in amusement. There is always a look in the captain's eyes that always appear like he's in on a joke that no one else is. Like he's always amused. It's a part of the Blue King's allure and a source of annoyance for Fushimi. The Blue King shifts slightly toward his third in command. "To what do we owe the pleasure? You should still be on patrol, shouldn't you?"
Fushimi straightens up a bit but doesn't look Munakata or Awashima in the eye, still not so sure what he should be doing about this. The last thing he'd want is to give the annoying king more ammunition about him for the older man to poke fun at. But he's already talked himself into doing this, and he's already in the room, he'll be more of a joke if he gives up now and leaves. He's just going to have to own up to his decision.
Fushimi rolls his shoulders back and raises his eyes up to his king's own violet eyes. "I had a... interesting development occur during my route today. I ran into someone I knew in the past."
Awashima raises a manicured blond eyebrow. "A friend?" She asks simply. "That's not like you to be distracted by something like that."
Fushimi blinks slowly. "It wasn't just some friend that I saw wondering the streets. This person has been dead for a while now."
Awashima's eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline while Munakata's head tilts to the side slowly, eyes narrowing slowly. He takes a moment to look down at his reflection in his tea before looking over at Fushimi. "There's more to this story," Munakata says perceptively.
Fushimi nods. "Yes. At first I couldn't believe it was him. He was running away from some hooligans trying to assert some kind of dominance in the sector while us and the Reds are busy trying to settle the issue with the Greens."
Awashima's eyes narrow a bit in thought. "Okay, but what is this about your friend? What happened to him?"
Fushimi lowers his eyes to hers and says, simply, "He was shot and killed by the Colorless King last year."
Awashima's eyes widen. "Tatara Totsuka?"
Munakata closes his eyes in thought. "Are you certain of this, Fushimi?"
The third-in-command nods, looking back up at his King. "I'm positive, sir. And I know how to get him to come to us, if you wish it."
"How?" Awashima asks.
Fushimi holds up his hand, scribbled on the palm is a phone number. "He gave me his contact information."