You traitor! I'll fucking kill you!

'Well are you satisfied now?'

—

It had been so loud, and now it was too quiet. The only sounds that could be heard within the space were that of quick heavy breathing, and short raspy breaths; each coming from a different person. Another sound was added—metal clanking to the ground as a sword was dropped from the hand of it's holder, red metallic liquid dripping from the tip and sides onto the pavement beneath it.

A boy in a beanie drops to his knees, hands shaking slightly as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He's in shambles, his breathing heavy, his body shaking, his mind completely confused. He's not sure how it happened, or even why it happened. He tries to replay the moment in his head, only for it all to be a blur. He remembers yelling and screaming and other loud sounds and then blood, but he remembers nothing else. All he does know is the moment went too quickly, and everything had happened before he even had the chance to think.

Now Fushimi lies on the ground, the short raspy breaths becoming fewer and farther in between.

He coughs, that same metallic liquid trailing down his lips and neck. He hates the color so much, that he wished it was more like the blue veins under his skin. It was ridiculous—of all the thoughts to be running through his muddled mind at the moment, the only thing he was thinking of was how much he hated red. His eyelids are heavy, and he lets the flutter shut. Instead, he'll only use his ears to pick up what's going on around him. He's too tired to move or look around. It takes almost all he can muster of his energy just to listen and not fall into slumber.

There's a slight shift on the ground, and Fushimi isn't entirely sure what it is, until he hears a thud at his side. That's when he understands it had been Misaki, fumbling to get up and come to his side.

"Open your damn eyes, fucking monkey." he says, although it sounds so close to a whimper. "You're not actually dying, so stop pretending that you are."

Saruhiko's head falls to the side, leaning towards the voice that was desperately calling out to him. Had it always been that muffled, or was that just another effect his current state was having on him? It was all he could do to comply with his ex-partner's wishes, forcing his eyes open, and using more energy to keep them open.

The look on Yata's face makes him feel guilty, because once again he had been the one to pick a fight. Overconfident that things would turn out just as they always had, neither of them had held back. So how could Fushimi have let his guard down so easily to be bested by his own sword. Talk about irony.

"You stab someone," he started between breaths, "and tell them that they're not dying. Where's your logic?" He's trying to make jokes, poking around at fun, just to lighten the mood; but he knows there's no possible way to do that. With the two of them alone and in a situation like this, happiness didn't even exist.

"Shut up." he hisses back, fumbling with his phone to contact someone for help. Izumo, Kamamoto, even Mikoto. Anyone who could help right now would be wonderful, but before he can do anything, Fushimi weakly slaps the phone out of his hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed again, reaching for the phone only to be stopped once again.

"I don't want their help."

Yata blinked in growing fury. "Then give me your damn PDA! I'll call one of the fucking Blues to help you!"

He shakes his head, and that only causes Yata's nervous fury to rise even more. "It's fine." he says, voice at a whisper now.

In all honesty, it wasn't fine. Fushimi was terrified of dying—not because of what might come after that, but knowing that this time, Yata would forget him for sure. He'd always fought for the vanguard's attention, picking fights, turning traitor, calling him out by his first name. All of Fushimi's actions brought Yata's full attention to him, and those thoughts would consume him. If he died, that would all be gone. Yata would forget him for good.

"It's not fine!" he screams back, and at this point he's choking back sobs. The lump in his throat swallows him up. This was his fault. How the hell did a Blue's sword wind up in his hand. How could Saru have been so stupid to not watch the grip he had on his own weapon. How did Yata take it so easily and plunge it—

"Misaki…?" he pants, wincing in pain as the gash in his chest continues to ooze red while his arms and legs go numb. His vision is going hazy, and he's fighting so hard to stay awake long enough for one more question to be answered. He'd have no regrets, hearing the goddamn truth for the first time in ages.

"Don't call me that, bastard." he mumbles, trying to prolong the time that he knows he doesn't have enough of.

Meanwhile, Saru ignores the comment and continues on. "Can I ask you something?" And before he gets permission he continues on, because time is that short. "Do you still hate me?"

And Misaki is stunned, wondering why that's coming up now of all times. It wasn't nearly that important! What was important was getting Saruhiko help, because no way in hell was he going to go and die on him now.

But time has run out. Fushimi's eyes have fluttered shut for the last time, his body going limp and his breathing slowing to a complete stop. The wound bleeds a bit more before cutting off, as the heart was no longer pumping. Yata screams out sentence after sentence, but it's no use, because the words no longer reach his brain.

He sits there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Then, slowly and carefully, he lifts the limp form into his arms, hugging it close to his own body. He shakes and cries, and blames himself, because he should have helped against his friend's wishes.

"Of course I still hate you." he cries out, finally answering Fushimi's last question. "You've left me alone twice now."

—*—*—*—

Time had passed, and the sun had begun to set. Not once had Yata moved since Saru's breathing had stopped hours before. He hated how cold the other was in his arms, as if his own body heat was never enough to keep the both of them warm. It started the tears again, his body shaking as he tried to hold it back.

Why the hell was he crying so hard like this? Hadn't he promised that he'd be the one to kill Fushimi? Now that the deed was done, shouldn't he feel satisfied with himself? Of course he should, but he didn't; because in all actuality, he never really wanted to kill anyone—well maybe except Totsuka's murderer, but that was beside the point. All the threats he had ever made towards Saru held no real meaning behind them. Now there was no resolve for them. Yata had done a permanent deed.

He couldn't let go—he didn't want to, not now, not ever. One hand fumbled around for his phone, the other continuing to hold Saruhiko close to him. When he retrieved the device, he immediately dialed the only place he could think of.

"Hello?"

After a long moment of silence, he cleared his throat and found his voice. "Kusanagi-san, it's me."

"Ah, Yata." He said, and the smile could practically be heard over the phone. "Haven't heard from you all day. What's going on?" When there wasn't an immediate answer, he spoke again, "Is there something wrong? Hello? Yata, you there?"

The thickness in his throat was returning, another lump coming back and threatening to release. "Can you send Kamamoto to pick me up?" he asked, voice cracking and betraying him, giving up any chances of remaining calm.

"Yata, what happened?" Izumo asked, voice showing obvious hints of worry. There were other voices in the background, he could hear them. His fellow clansmen, asking if everything was okay or if something had happened. Yata could hear a muttered 'I don't know, he hasn't told me anything' before the attention was turned back to him. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, although the act was pointless. "Where are you—never mind, we'll just track your phone. Kamamoto?" Yata heard the two address each other, though he didn't make out every little word, "We'll be there soon. Sit tight, and don't go doing anything stupid."

There was a click, followed by more silence. The buzz of a dropped call sounded, and he closed the phone, letting it fall back to the ground. Then another idea came to mind. He had to call one of the Blues—he just had to. After all, what was going to happen now? He patted down Fushimi's body, searching for his PDA. As soon as he found it, he started going through contacts, wondering who he should call. He lingered over one contact, anxious to actually dial.

Just then, the device rang for him. The caller? Exactly who he wanted to talk to.

He picked up the call, but remained silent over the receiver. "Fushimi?" a hard, deep voice spoke after the silence. "Report back immediately, there's something I need you to do for me, and you still have paperwork to take care of."

"Munakata Reisi." He was glad his voice had returned to normal, sounding steady and confident. Who knew how long it would last as soon as the King found out one of his subjects was gone.

"Hm?" A noise came from the other end of the line. This wasn't his third in command. This was—"Yatagarasu? What are you doing with my clansman's phone?"

"He's dead." He spit out, voice cracking again. Dammit, why was he being so weak!

There was a sound of rustling papers, and then a chair moving out of place. A click sounded on the phone and Misaki took it as a good enough signal that he'd be sending someone to check it out. Or maybe he'd come personally.

It wasn't too long before he heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance. Before he knew it, Izumo and Kamamoto were at his side, faces hard as they took in the scene before them. Now it all made sense. This wasn't a pleasant sight—traitor or not, Fushimi had been one of them, and the loss had just as much of an impact.

Izumo reacted first, squatting down to the ground in front of the vanguard. "What happened?" He wanted to get the blank look off of Yata's face, and while questioning for details wasn't necessarily going to help ease the pain, he needed an assessment before figuring out what to do next. "Yata, I need you to explain what happened here."

There was the lump again. He took a deep breath, exhaling a shaky sigh before saying what he could remember. "It was like normal. He picked a fight and I got riled up. It was going the same as any other fight, but I got a hand on his sword and—" he cut himself off, the rest finishing itself. "The bastard didn't hold out on me."

There was a nod to show he understood, and Izumo placed a comforting hand on Yata's shoulder. His eyes glanced down, and then turned towards Kamamoto. Something else caught his glance—in the distance, two more blue uniforms could be seen approaching. "I talked to them." Yata reassured.

They took their damn time getting closer—Munakata and Awashima. As soon as they showed up, the King looked from Yata, to the bloodied sword still on the ground, to the dead form of his third in command. It was easy enough to piece the puzzle together, although how the actual events had occurred were, and would probably remain a mystery to him. "Honestly, what mess have you gotten yourself into this time, Fushimi." He said softly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He took a few steps closer and bent down to pick his comrade up in his arms. Misaki was reluctant to let go, but knew that he would have had to at some point. Fushimi was one of the Blues, after all, so of course Scepter 4 would take the body with them. "You've made quite the mess." Munakata addressed again, before turning on his heel and walking back the way he had come. Awashima remained quiet, giving each of them what looked to be a glance of pity; but even she was sad about the situation. It wasn't long before she excused herself, grabbed the abandoned saber, and left to follow behind her King.

Izumo and Kamamoto eventually got Yata to his feet, returning him to the bar. He was allowed to crash there for the night, using one of the only remaining spare rooms.

He avoided everyone for a while, going out of his way to avoid Mikoto the most. It just felt wrong, and Yata still blamed himself for everything that had happened. It took a while, but soon enough he started to go back to the same kid he was before. He'd crack jokes, pick fights, and have fun with his comrades. Never again would he take one for granted.

—*—*—*—

"I'm back." The vanguard cheered, waltzing into the bar, a smile on his face. Izumo grimaced at the mud he was tracking into his clean bar, but repressed the urges to complain about it. He cleared his throat, swallowing the nagging words. Setting down the towel and glass he was polishing, he moved to the other end of the bar to pat a box. "Someone dropped this off, said it was for you." He picked up right where he had left off, turning his back on Yata to give him some space.

Confused, he moved towards the apparent gift. The lid was loose, and there was a note attached to the top. It read:

—You'd probably want this more than we do. Do what you wish with it.

There was no name, and the vanguard had no idea what it could be. "Who's it from?" he asked curious, only to get a mere shrug from Izumo. He wasn't giving anything up. Yata pulled the lid up off the box, and was surprised at the contents inside.

There were unsealed envelopes with letters inside, photo albums, and other miscellaneous items. It took a minute of sifting through the pile to realize who these all really belonged to. "Saru…" he said, practically a whisper. He quickly replaced the lid before releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He looked over the note again, noticing the small insignia that represented SCEPTER4. Picking up the box in his arms, he headed towards the exit. "I'm heading home early today."

"Be careful, Yata." Izumo said, never turning to face the vanguard again. He just sat behind the bar, polishing glasses. "Don't get too caught up."

(A/N): First [K] ficlet. Augh, these two give me way too many problems. The ideas I have that incorporate these two characters are endless. I really hope you enjoyed it! Comment, fave, review? I want honest criticism, thanks.

Edit: I've been told I should write a second chapter with some of the letters and other things that were in the box. I've taken it into heavy consideration, and a new chapter will probably be uploaded as soon as I type them out. Thank you EnergyStarElite for the suggestion.