おかえり ! Welcome back readers!
Kateracks and Arait are very excited to offer you the next installment in our series of K fanfics. (If you haven't read Waiting for Totsuka yet, this story probably will not make sense, so please read that one first). Kateracks has an important message for all of you that was amusingly distorted by word complete: "The inky things I can think if stew ways to say t thanks for supporting us cuz when started this we didn't know how far it's go or how popular it'd be."
Arait thinks the message is fully understandable despite the silly typos. We never imagined people would fall in love with our Hayata pairing or grow attached to watching it develop. We never dreamed of 8,500 views, 53 reviews, 44 favorites, and 39 follows. That has so greatly surpassed anything either of us have ever written before that we get all gushy every time the number grows even by 1. Your support truly is so encouraging because we know we aren't the only two who like this world we've altered. (not created. Most of the characters and settings belong to GoRA, after all.)
Here are a few details about this sequel that wouldn't fit in the teaser: this takes place sometime not too long after Missing Kings (so spoiler alert). Azami is still in the Green Clan, but she is starting to learn more about what they truly stand for. Fushimi has his life in Scepter 4. Anna has already been named the new Red King. The title A Growing World is meant to stand in contrast to the official work Lost Small World, so you can expect this to have a lot to do with bonds and friendship (while never neglecting to have a real, supernatural plot). Unfortunately, Totsuka and Suoh remain fully dead :'( so they will not be able to feature greatly in the story. We'll leave it up to your opinion if Haruna, Emi should continue to make frequent appearances.
We truly hope you like this story also and continue to support us fully. Enjoy! And let us know what you think, good or bad.
The Special Duty Corps of Scepter 4 made a point of doing everything together. Ever since their creation through the reformatting of other Divisions, it had been their commanding officer, Lieutenant Awashima's priority to draw the members of the corps closer. Having been pulled from their former ranks based on what the captain perceived as necessary skills rather than personal relations, there were many of them who seemed, at first, to have nothing in common. After originally having been ordered to "Bond" according to the custom of other clans, they gradually began to group together on their own.
Whether it be going out on the town or staying in at the Annex, practice, games, or dinner, they did it as a team. They partied together. They went to festivals together. They cuddled under blankets in a single room doing absolutely nothing, around a kotatsu all winter—together. It was sickening. These people who, at one point were entirely unaware of each other's existence, pretended to stick to one another closer even than family.
The Special Duty Corps of Scepter 4 went so far as to make Fushimi's life miserable together. That dark haired, young man typically managed to avoid all of their "Bonding" sessions, thus sparing himself quite a bit of pain and suffering. Somehow, they all still tortured him with their group activities, such as that day. The night before Fushimi had escaped a gathering by the skin of his teeth, but he was nearly certain that was the reason every single one of them called in sick.
It wasn't even a weekend or the holiday. They should have expected work in one form or another all day. When the emergency alarm sounded, however, only Fushimi responded from the corps. The lieutenant and he stood impatiently in a strange sort of silence, their annoyance drowning out the wail of sirens. All of a sudden, her phone started ringing off the hook.
First, Hidaka called, sounding dull and exhausted. Then, Enomoto politely excused himself in a voice that could hardly be heard. Domiyouji whined of his pitiful condition. Akiyama sent a text message for him and Benzai assuring that there was no way either one of them could possibly get out of their respective beds that day. The pattern continued down the line to Fuse, Gotou, and Kamo until no one remained except Fushimi and the lieutenant.
There was absolutely no way he would work this mission alone with her. Awashima was a cold woman, strictly business. She made a good superior officer. Her attitude, endowed appearance, and opinion that behavior on the job should be figuratively pressed and starched made her less than pleasant to handle one-on-one. Her presence was imposing, her ability to make small talk lacking, and her admiration for the leader of their organization smothering. Even if the entire Special Duty Corps got "sick" together, he would not work alone with her.
"Fushimi," the lieutenant addressed her only subordinate with pomp and authority.
"Hai." Still unenthused, he did as he should: click his heels together and give her attention with his whole body instead of just a small corner of his brain.
"It would seem the rest of our team have hangovers. To effectively capture this dangerous strain you—"
He interrupted then, hoping to get out of working with her. "Yeah, I'm fine on my own," he mentioned as if trying to finish her sentence.
She gave him a condescending glare for cutting her off and scolded, "Don't be so presumptuous. The captain—as prevoyant as he is—prepared ahead for a situation such as this; although, in all the scenarios he presented, the Special Duty Corps was indisposed due to an epidemic, biological weapon, or some other real disaster." For a moment, her professional exterior cracked, showing something bitter.
As abruptly as it appeared, she hid it again, commanding her troop in the singular sense, "In cases such as this, a backup Special Duty Corps is to be assembled on the spot from a list of prequalified members across other divisions. You are to act as a stabilizing force in the newly formed team." She read the instructions directly from a dossier of papers, and then looked at Fushimi to receive his acceptance of the task.
He was not excited at such prospects. Considering he wasn't really involved in the workings of the regular Special Duty Corps, the thought of being the center of a brand new one sounded like hell. Heavily, he looked away in irritation. They did this on purpose; he was sure of it. How else could it be explained but by deliberate torture of the organization's third-in-command?
Well, it wasn't working alone with Awashima, and for a while he wondered if he hadn't cursed himself for thinking that was the worst that could happen. Of course, those kinds of thoughts were illogical, and he pushed them away when he picked up on an oddity in the lieutenant's description of their captain's orders.
"What would you do if I didn't show up?" He inquired.
Awashima scanned through the pages in her file. "Actually, of all the 12 scenarios presented here, there is only one in which you don't report for duty."
The look on his face could only be described as dumbfounded. "I have to stop coming to work," he concluded.
The lieutenant equally expressed her surprise, "For someone who never follows instructions, the captain sure finds it easy to predict you."
While he pondered the difference between being reliable and being relied upon, Awashima made a phone call to the leaders of the other divisions to gather her new crew. Seeing as all of Scepter 4 was trained to respond quickly to these kinds of urgent missions, it wasn't long before a whole hodge-podge of miscellaneous members of their clan had collected in the vicinity.
Typical formation for roll call before departure on a full-blown mission was a single row in alphabetical order, a quick and efficient structure on most days. When no one in the group knew the names of the other members, it took some time to line up. Fushimi watched, unimpressed, for a little while from the right hand side of the lieutenant. The longer they scrambled to get it right, though, the more he found himself staring at the commercial jet flying far in the distance behind them.
Awashima handed him the file then and told him to familiarize himself with the team. While she was their direct commander, he was the one who would be giving them instructions in the field, so it was important for him to learn the strengths and unique talents of each one. They seemed to be selected even more at random than the normal Special Duty Corps, with a wider age range and variety of physical fitness.
The day's mission had already worn out his patience, and they hadn't even begun. Adding to the frustration, a single person had not yet found his place in line. Going to each individual, the scrawny, blond teen asked everyone their name. Fushimi had only heard the kid's name one time, but once was all it took for him. Their names naturally filtered into the proper order in his mind and were recorded there permanently. He never did understand why it didn't come easily to others, except if they were morons.
He didn't usually help people, but feeling fed up with the blond's incompetence, he informed monotonously, "Genda, you're third from the end."
He first tried to put three people between him and the end but eventually got in his designated location. At that point, Awashima began roll call. When she said a person's name, he would comment only if he had a question about their file. There were no questions for the first swordsman. Akawa of Division 1 had the stats of a robot, and he stood at attention in a similar way. Certainly, nothing worth complaining about appeared in his profile. Even his reason for joining Scepter 4 was "to strive for the cause of justice."
It was disgusting, Fushimi thought, making a corresponding sound that was hardly noticeable. If he was so perfect, why wasn't he on the original Special Duty Corps? He thought he could imagine their captain, Munakata, elbows propped up on his desk with his piercing eyes and mysterious smile speaking enigmatically, "A person with no flaws is not flawless." His ideal fit for the group was probably the reason he wasn't invited into it.
Bunya from Division 6 didn't seem problematic at first glance through the papers until, upon arriving at his clan entrance certificate, Fushimi noticed it was signed by the former Blue King. After seeing that, he looked closer at the profile and realized this man was already 37. He had served as a Blue Clansman for twenty years already. Even though he performed well in practice scrimmages, he was probably past his prime. Particular strengths listed were: thinking reasonably a properly filling out reports. It seemed he was mostly just used as a liaison to the Intelligence Division from the least frequently called group of swordsmen. Boring and outdated.
Next in line was a silent character, skin a palish gray with dull eyes and dark hair cropped short. The boy looked so average that he was really easy to overlook. Only when a quiet, generic response was made to Lieutenant Awashima's call of, "Doi, Division 2," did Fushimi look twice to spot the boy by that name. He flipped back to Doi's profile and found it also to be quite ordinary. One thing caught his attention, however. Under the main reason for joining Scepter 4, it read bluntly, "To one day become an elite member of the Gold Clan's Usagi."
"Oi," Fushimi interrupted roll call. "What's this?" The commanding officer turned her attention to him, and he read the statement.
A murmur spread through the other clansmen who considered themselves loyal to the color blue. Was there a traitor among them? Someone who wasn't completely devoted to their captain, Munakata? They didn't like the idea at all, and even if it had been true, it didn't seem like something that should be written plainly for the public to know.
In his own defense, Doi stepped forward and explained, "When the captain recruited me, I declined saying that is my goal. He then informed me that, since Scepter 4 is at times thought of as a clan subordinate to the Gold Clan, I should join Scepter 4 as a stepping stone to reach my goal. Who knows if I might not be recruited by them based upon my performance here."
The lieutenant's face was one of baffled admiration. "It is true that we have close ties with the Gold King but..." she faded off, thinking in her mind that only someone as clever as Munakata would use that to his advantage.
Fushimi scoffed to himself, Gullible, and then commented, "Only a fool would believe that."
Then came Genda, Division 6, the scrawny blond who seemed very jittery standing there. Deciding the kid probably had OCD, Fushimi didn't even give that one a second thought. He wrote Genda off as a lost cause and turned his papers to the next line: Hotaru, Intelligence Division R&D.
Research and Development, great. The sarcasm came naturally. A few facts stood out immediately on the profile—namely the lab coat in the picture, the "N/A" written in the Sword Skill field, and finally the gender.
"What the hell is she doing here?" He grumbled to Awashima. Nothing in her profile was acceptable.
Like the invisible boy before her, Hotaru spoke for herself but in a rather cheeky, audacious way, "Do you have a problem with me being female?"
He looked her over with a click of his tongue. Like their commanding officer, she was obligated to wear the degrading woman's uniform, with the inconveniently placed, decorative buttons across the chest. She happened to look more uncomfortable than Awashima in the low cut, v-neck jacket and the skirt that was way too short. She also didn't fill it out quite as nicely.
"It's everything else," he countered.
Not satisfied with such a vague answer, she demanded, "What in particular?" Her tone of voice was definitely intended to provoke, even as she maintained her own calm.
"You have no combat training, for one," he pointed out.
Puffing out her chest, she replied, "Just because I work in the lab and don't practice in the dojo with the swordsman divisions does not mean I can't hold my own in battle."
As well as she could say that with confidence, he didn't believe it. Her slender frame, the complete lack of muscle mass, and the sweat glistening on the trembling hand that clutched her saber were all evidences in her disfavor. Fushimi stared at her incredulously. More than anything, her hair bothered him.
In response to his look she shot back, "In the end, it was the captain who chose me, and it's none of your concern why he thought my expertise would be of use to the team."
Since he was her superior, it really was his business, but he didn't mention that, instead saying something immature, "He must have been mistaken because this clan member's hair was marked as brown."
She justified, "Auburn wasn't a choice on the application."
He cut her off. "That isn't auburn. It's burgundy."
"Fushimi," Awashima interrupted their petty debate with an icy voice, "do you have any valid complaints against Hotaru?"
Neither affirming nor denying, Fushimi just made a disappointed sound, "Teh." Her hair really bothered him. Someone whose hair shimmered in the sun like a glass of wine with the same deep, bold red was more suited for a different clan. What exactly was she doing in the Blue Clan with red hair like that?"
At Awashima's cuing, however, they moved on to the final candidate: Yoshida, Division 4. Having been put into a rather bad mood, Fushimi felt inclined to demonstrate that he would be equally picky with everyone there. Everything in his file was over exaggerated. It was pretty clear that this guy had at least four sisters—three older, one younger—and because of them he had struggled to establish his manhood.
Choosing which detail to complain about, Fushimi approached the man until personal space seemed threatened by extinction. "181 cm, huh?" His voice was just off enough to intimidate in an unusual way.
"Yes Sir." The reply was confident.
"My height is 179 cm, and I am obviously taller than you."
Again Awashima interfered. "Fushimi, this is an emergency situation. Keep your detailed analysis for another time."
He complied begrudgingly but continued to criticize in his mind. His conclusion drawn on Yoshida was: over exaggerated liar. It gave him just the smallest bit of pleasure to think Yoshida was probably trying to compensate for something.
Awashima explained them then their mission. It was a highly dangerous, Beta level strain. She emphasized the fact that it was only "a" strain; whereas, its perception altering abilities gave the opposite impression. As the Substitute Special Duty Corps, they would be at the forefront of capturing the fugitive.
While the lieutenant was officially in charge of leading the Special Duty Corps, she was also the superior that the heads of other divisions all turned to for coordination, protocol, and improvised changes of plan. That meant Fushimi would be the direct supervisor of this miss-matched group of incompetents. He did not seem particularly pleased.
Since there wasn't really anyone in the group that could be considered talkative or sociable, the ride in the back of the truck was more or less silent all the way to the scene. Fushimi, however, found himself in the passenger seat beside Bunya who—as an old man—tried to act like a fatherly figure by starting up conversations while he drove. The only one within earshot, Fushimi thought all of Scepter 4 really must be dead set on making his life miserable. Bunya stopped talking after seeing Fushimi's response to his first few questions. Without a word he would barely lift his head from where it rested on his palm, shift his bored-beyond-belief expression from the window to somewhere in the old man's general direction, and narrow his eyes as if to say, "the mere thought of communicating with you gives me a headache."
When they arrived at the strain's last known location, the lieutenant debriefed them once more with an update on any new information they had learned. Awashima had before her a fully electronic, holographic map of the neighborhood. With a flick of her wrist, she transfered that schema to the respective devices of the entire team so that they could easily follow her instructions.
Gesturing a circle around an intersection brought a white line onto the projected screen as Awashima explained, "Our target was last spotted in this area. He has been verified as a registered strain with beta level powers. Though he has been inactive and law abiding for quite some time, the distress call indicated he is currently posing a threat. Be sure to proceed with caution, keeping in mind that this is a dangerous strain whose powers are deceptive."
Satisfied with her warning, the lieutenant continued on into strategy, "The sword divisions will be in charge of maintaining the perimeter. Divisions 4-6 will focus solely on preventing civilians from approaching the scene. Fushimi, would you brief your team on your plan of attack?"
Having heard his name, the third-in-command switched his gaze away from the street where their tent was set up and toward the tablet in his hands. He drew in red on the screen with his finger so the whole force could see what he described.
"There are three main entrances to the area where the target was last seen. The Metropolitan Police Department say for sure he has not retreated outside this radius. Split into three groups of two—A from the north, B from the east, C from the south—and move in along the main routes in a three-part pincer pattern. One member of each party will clear the byways while the other guards the road, tightening the perimeter of the other Swordsman Divisions as you funnel him toward the dead end on the west."
It was a simple plan but a logical one. When no questions or objections were made, the whole clan was dismissed to enact it. As they dispersed to fulfill their various roles, Fushimi meandered across the street to where he had been looking previously and stared up at the roof of the adjacent building. Frowning thoughtfully, he headed for the danger zone.
One of the substitutes for the MIA Special Duty Corps interrupted him from behind, "Fushimi-senpai!"
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as if to prevent a snappy response, and then Fushimi faced his subordinate. He dialed his memory through the faces and names he had just barely learned that morning and recalled this person was the needy boy with OCD—Genda. It was easy to anticipate what sort of question to expect.
"You didn't assign us our partners or say which group would go where."
Fushimi deadpanned. Were they a bunch of elementary students? He really couldn't help but feel like he was completely surrounded by morons.
"If it mattered, I would have." Dull and sharp, that was all the more time he was willing to spare.
Genda, though, wouldn't let him leave that easily, following after to ask, "Where are you going?"
The answer was menacing more than forceful. "That's not your business. If you need anything, I'll have my radio. Now get with your team."
The Substitute Special Duty Corps had every bit of information needed to proceed successfully but no stabilizing force to make sense of it all. They stayed in the operational base after all the other divisions had moved out murmuring to one another. Without precise directions many of them were completely frozen in place. Impatiently, they waited for Genda to bring their leader back, but he returned empty handed.
A collective moan preceded their whispers growing louder.
Among them, Hotaru and Bunya attempted to improvise a solution, and Yoshida proclaimed encouragingly, "We don't need that gloomy teenager to capture the strain. I'll take him down myself!"
Akawa snorted in derision. "Yeah right. You probably couldn't—"
Before he could finish the thought, Yoshida launched at him combatively, and Hotaru had to wedge herself between them. "Now, now. Let's not fight amongst ourselves."
For the sake of time that was quickly fleeting, Bunya suggested like he himself was disappointed with the suggestion, "Why don't we just split up alphabetically?"
Everyone accepted the old man's offer willingly. They had only been seeking direction, and his was as good as any. According to that structure, Akawa would be with Bunya, and Yoshida would accompany Hotaru. (That was coincidentally a fitting arrangement since he was familiar with handling and protecting his sisters; whereas, Akawa may have scoffed to work alongside a female other than the lieutenant.)
Genda raised a concerned hand and asked, "Then who do I go with?"
With a frown, Yoshida muttered, "There were six of us, weren't there?"
Once again, a confused murmur spread through them until Bunya finally gave up and looked it up in the file Awashima had left with them. "Doi," he read, taking a good look at the person in the picture and then scanning the tent for that same person. "Where is Doi?"
An unassuming and dull voice replied, "I've been here all along."
Since the sound had come literally from right beside Genda, the jittery boy screamed and jumped away several feet. Doi maintained a flat expression while leveling his eyes at his startled partner in a way that may have been vaguely disapproving.
Deeming the matter settled then, Bunya informed, "We're Team A. Genda, you and Doi are B. Yoshida and Hotaru are C. Now let's move out." It was about time, he thought to himself but elected not to make such a complaint aloud.
As they started to follow their instructions, Genda protested nervously, "Wait, where was Team B going again?"
"East." Doi's answer was eerily short and again too close for comfort.
"Can you stop using that creepy voice? I've got the chills..."
And while they still couldn't get along, they weren't arranged optimally, and they had accomplished nothing with efficiency, the Substitute Special Duty Corps headed to take on their first assignment together without their leader.
Fushimi, for his part, was on the roof. Throughout that whole on-site meeting he had the feeling that they were being watched. Since it would still be quite some time before his assistance would be needed in the outworking of the plan, he went to check out his suspicions.
There was definitely evidence that someone had recently been on that roof. A bit of gray cloth blew in the wind, having been tied to a short lightning rod, a compact mirror like one a lady kept in her makeup kit lay open beside the flag, and an electric junction box had been graffitied. He touched the paint at the edge of the tag. It was still wet. Snapping a quick photo of the design with his phone, Fushimi collected the items he had discovered and looked around the vicinity. Whoever had been there was long gone now.
It may not have even been important to the current case. With that thought in mind, he chose to keep this information for future investigation and made his way nonchalantly to where he knew the strain would be next.
The pincer movement worked exactly as planned. Each time a segment of a street or an alley was cleared, the swordsman divisions would squeeze in further like a vice. Determining which person on each team would accomplish which task had been simple enough. Bunya stood back, observing like a supervisor while Akawa worked like a soldier. Yoshida kept a protective eye on Hotaru at all times so that nothing could dare cause her harm. Genda examined every corner of every side street, under barrels and behind corners with scrutinizing attentiveness. Each time that he came back to the main route to report it clear, he could not find Doi, but that boy always waited unnoticeably in a location that allowed him to discretely see all. Then, he would slide off a ledge or creep around a pillar to rejoin his partner, inevitably scaring him with a bland comment.
In this fashion they moved forward, gradually constricting what space remained in which the strain could hide. It was going exactly as planned, and they anticipated they would soon have him cornered in the dead end to the west. Upon arriving at the designated intersection, however, all that the three groups saw was each other. Team A looked upon Team C, and Team B looked at an empty alley.
For a while, the six clansmen stared at one another in bewilderment. The strain was not there. Each of them was certain to have not overlooked anything and, therefore, could not even fathom this turn of events. No one moved forward, and all was silent except a door that swung off-kilter in the wind on rusty hinges.
At last, Bunya got on the radio to contact their direct superior, "Commander Fushimi, we've reached the end and the target is not here."
While he did that, Genda had the courage to step into the alley they were supposed to have trapped the strain in and poked around for hiding spaces. The others also began to wander as well, hoping to find clues. Despite there being plenty of places large enough to conceal an entire human, no one was found within.
Apparently, Fushimi was not responding, as Bunya tried a second time. "Commander Fushimi, do you copy?" Maybe he had been hurt, or maybe he had just been lying when he said he would remain in radio contact with them.
"Where are you going?" Doi asked this question with no intonation from where he sat on a wooden crate beside the rusty door. It was spoken in a way that only Hotaru could hear, which made sense, as she had been—without noticing him observing her—secretly trying to sneak through that door.
Somewhat startled, she looked up from her tablet and answered in a whispered, "I think I know where they are."
"They?" Doi easily picked up on the most intriguing part of her statement.
Hotaru explained with the map on her device. "Fushimi told us he'd be trapped here, but this building is obviously an apartment with a central hallway. The strain could run straight through it to the parking lot on the other side of this wall that Fushimi told us was a dead end."
"Eh?" The boy's voice, for once, raised only slightly as if to indicate a subtle emotion. "I know Senpai was distracted the whole meeting, but how could he miss something this obvious?"
"He didn't," Hotaru countered while hushing him. "He used us, like a decoy. With the whole team focused on this one location, the target would feel confident escaping through the apartment. In short, knowing this Fushimi used us to drive the strain right into his trap."
Pausing briefly for a small frown to crease Doi's brow, Hotaru didn't wait long enough for him to completely process and want to join her. "Watch my back," she concluded with an order and ran through the door before he could refuse.
"Commander Fushimi..." played loudly through the parking lot, and the officer they were trying to contact didn't pay a bit of heed to any words past that. Allowing a sinister grin to cross his face, he simply shut off the power to the device. He had no more need for the reports of underlings. The person they sought was already before him.
The strain was rather short, at least when compared to Fushimi's above average height. Even so, his clothes didn't fit properly on the small side. His figure, also, was effeminate in spite of being a boy. Blue hair the color of the sky—almost seeming even to disappear into the atmosphere—was long, matted and choppy.
Fushimi got the impression that he lived on the streets, or at least liked the style trend derived from such a lifestyle. That deduction was a simple side effect of the analysis performed to hopefully determine the strain's ability and threat potential.
The boy shimmered slightly, turned his head to the side, and returned Fushimi's smirk. Without a word, a challenge had been issued and accepted. A plane flew far overhead, acting as some sort of countdown to their duel.
When it's shadow covered them, the blue clansman tugged at the hilt of his sword, uttering the required password to unlock it, "Fushimi, batou," and at that very instant, the strain vanished.