Fandom: [K]
Characters: Yata Misaki, Fushimi Saruhiko and their teen!counterparts
Genre: General
Rating: T, mention of knives
Summary: a quick drabble featuring Yata and Fushimi, mainly before joining HOMRA, and throughout their encounter at Ashinaka High School (during EP5).
Disclaimer: I don't own [K]; such is property of GoRA and GoHands.

There's a bitter reason
why his knife
was embedded into Misaki's arm.

"Hey, Saru! Let's go meet them!"

No way. Not again.

"Hey! Are you listening?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Huh? What's wrong with you? I said let's go where those guys are—"

"I'm not going. And you're not going, either."

"Hah?! Why the hell not?"

"You don't know them. Do I have to spell it out for you? For all I know they could be delinquents."

"Are you stupid? Everybody knows them. 'sides they would be in jail if they were."

"…"

"So? What d'ya say?"

"Idiot."

"Hey!"

A hiss of air departed the pallid lips of the taller boy when the ginger's sharp knuckles knocked —with quite immeasurable strength— against his right shoulder.

"Uh, sorry 'bout that. Does it hurt?"

A little. "Don't be so dumb, Misaki. And you call that a punch. I barely felt it, try harder next time."

"Hey! It's your fault! I… didn't want to. At least it wasn't your good arm."

"… Misaki."

"Mm?"

"I am right-handed."

"… Oh, shit. I'm so—"

"I said I'm fine."

"Man. that was awesome! There was fire in my hand! Fire! And it didn't even burn!"

"Tch, it did."

"Ah? What?"

"Nothing."

"Oi, does it still hurt?"

"What?"

"Your arm."

Maybe. "No."

"Really? Uh, just now it looked like you were in pai—"

"Don't be so full of yourself."

"Ah? I'm not saying that!"

Burns. "I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

"Tsk. If I say yes, would you stop?"

"Maybe." A shrug.

"Then yes. Happy now?"

"Hey, whose fault d'ya think it was?"

Yours.

It's your fault it burns. It's your fault for wanting to go.

"Yours, of course. It's not my fault you can't control your own impulses."

And it's my fault for letting you.

Hah… right?

When did the high school's campus turn into an insignificant, improvised battlefield?

"You're not as sharp as you used to be, monkey!"

"No… I've become stronger since then. Much stronger."

"Bullshit!"

One of his throwing knives missed the redhead's visage for imperceptible inches, but Misaki wasn't able to dodge the second one.

For the vanguard, the sharp metal pierced into his right shoulder proved to be a temporary inconvenience.

For Saruhiko, it was a cruel reminder only he would take delight in. Misaki was too blunt to notice the little details, and Saruhiko's methods were always subtle.

Almost mute.

It hurts, doesn't it.

The pain making his veins boil was hosted in the very same arm that was corrupted by that man's, whose venom spread through the rest of his body—theirs.

Now we're even.

A satisfactory grin curved his lips when Misaki rose back to his feet.

That's right. Get up. Like I did. Like I had to.

And, in that moment, he thought nothing he'd do would really hurt the boy before his eyes.

He'd be the only one to hurt him, and hurt him, and hurt him, just enough to let him stand again and repeat the agonizing procedure once again.

And that, he believes, is generous.

Thanks for reading!

So this was born out of a head-canon thingy o' mine in which there was a oh reason why Saruhiko's knife hit Misaki's right arm, and, you know, the same arm which hand gets in touch with the Red King's hand and…
Heh, I just read too deep into it, didn't I. But this was born thanks to it so. (｀・ω・´)"