Hear You Me
Warnings: Contains spoilers for the Missing Kings movie.
Notes: Because it's been a while since I wrote anything long. I may have fudged some of the worldbuilding here but honestly the series itself is shaky enough on that in various respects that I think it can be forgiven. Will obviously be made non-canon once S2 airs, but I wanted to explore the idea anyway. This'll probably be about 3 or 4 chapters, depending on how I decide to split it up. (Also I realize there isn't a lot of Yata in here for a Sarumi fic, give it time.)
..
The alarm rang and Awashima woke slowly and stretched. It was early, but she had work to do and there was no time for lying around. Awashima carefully climbed out of bed and then took a quick shower and put up her hair as she dressed. There wasn't even time for so much as a quick bite of anko before she headed for the door. She could get breakfast on the way to work or stop at the bar later if she got really hungry. She simply didn't seem to have much of an appetite these days anyway.
Halfway to the apartment door she stopped, turned and faced the closed door of the spare bedroom. Awashima stared at it for a long moment, then sighed and knocked sharply on the doorframe.
"Fushimi-kun, I'm leaving. You know where I'll be, if you ever want to join me."
There was no answer, not that she had expected one. There was a muffled sound from inside and she could already imagine the movements behind the closed door, the figure wrapped in blankets shifting slightly before rolling over and falling back into a fitful sleep.
Awashima sighed again and turned away, despite all her instincts wanting her to speak sharp words of command, to get the figure inside to get up, to move, to do something. But she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, not when she had some idea of how he felt. Fushimi had always been a difficult person to deal with and after everything that had happened…it was to be expected, she supposed.
After all, it had only been a week since the Blue King had died with Fushimi's sword in his heart.
..
The government office Awashima was currently assigned to wasn't as nice as Scepter 4's had been, but it was serviceable. The repairs on the old building were still ongoing, after all, and Awashima supposed she was lucky they were sparing her a computer at all. All around her was a sea of black suits but Awashima still wore the usual blue. She knew the looks it would bring and she welcomed them. Let them know that her loyalty, at least, still had not wavered.
Such treatment wasn't really surprising, all told. Government officials who had chafed for years under the rule of kings smelled the blood in the water now, with four thrones sitting empty. Scepter 4 was suddenly expected to justify its very existence and Awashima had herself chosen to be the one to do it. Once her proposal was ready, she was prepared to fight for her department. For her clan.
For Munakata Reisi's clan.
She had the Silver King on her side, at least, but who knew how much good that would do. He was the first and oldest king, true, and the most sensible replacement in the Gold King's absence, but he was also currently easily mistaken for a high schooler and had only two clansmen to his name. Awashima couldn't count on his favor being enough to get Scepter 4 back to what it was. The Red King would be on her side too, but that was an even dimmer prospect — most of the government officials who were aware of the kings had little use for the Red King even when Suoh Mikoto held the throne and they likely held it in even greater contempt now that the new King was only a young girl.
Though that could really be in her favor after all, Awashima thought with a slight smile. Better they should underestimate the Red King, at least for now. The element of surprise would come in handy enough and a certain bartender had been very helpful in giving her some less than public information on where various bureaucratic loyalties lay. For the moment, anyway, Awashima needed all the advantages she could get.
"Coffee, ma'am?" A polite but familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Akiyama-kun!" Awashima started in surprise. Akiyama smiled warmly at her as he laid the cup down beside her. He was, Awashima noted, also wearing blue.
With their headquarters (temporarily) destroyed and their department currently in a state of limbo, the remainder of Scepter 4's forces had been put on temporary leave to find work or do as they wished. Awashima knew where several of them had gone but she had not been aware that Akiyama was working in the same office.
"Benzai is here too," Akiyama continued, reading the question in her eyes. "In another part of the building. We wanted to be close, just in case..." He trailed off.
"I know." Awashima turned to look back at her screen.
"How are you?" Akiyama ventured after a moment.
Awashima hesitated for a moment then sighed, smiling ruefully.
"I am..." She shook her head, trailing off. "I'm doing what the Captain would have wanted me to do."
"Lieutenant..." Akiyama looked worried and Awashima took a slow drink of the coffee he had given her.
"No, it's fine," Awashima assured him. "I only...it's hard to believe he's gone, that's all. And in the end, I couldn't..."
"You were needed elsewhere," Akiyama said. "I'm sure the Captain would understand."
"I know." Awashima stared into her cup.
"...Have you heard from him?" Akiyama seemed hesitant to ask the question and Awashima knew at once who he meant.
"Fushimi-kun is recovering in my apartment currently."
"He is...?" Akiyama couldn't hide his surprise.
"The Captain would have wanted that too, I think." In truth, she hadn't intended to take him in, not at first. Several days after…the incident…had happened, she'd heard that Fushimi had been released from the hospital but hadn't been able to uncover any further information of his whereabouts beyond that. Awashima had eventually decided to go take stock of the damage to Scepter 4's building and it was there that she had found him, slumped against a crumbling wall, a bag with all he'd managed to salvage from his dorm room at his side. He'd been staring blankly at nothing as if he didn't even see her there. When she'd come up to him and asked how long he'd been there he had only shrugged, not looking at her, and the bandages on his arms were dirty as if they hadn't been changed in some time. When she'd finally taken his hand he hadn't pulled away as expected and had instead passively allowed her to help him to his feet. She had learned very quickly that Fushimi had nowhere to go and Awashima's decision had been more or less made for her.
"Is he...all right?" Akiyama asked quietly. Awashima stared at her computer for a long moment, remembering the closed door and shifting blankets she had left behind in the apartment.
"To be honest...I don't know."
..
Everything was gray, the sky and the ground, everything but his blue coat and the two swords that hung in the air, blue and green, and Fushimi felt as if he was looking at the whole thing from outside somehow, as if his body was moving but without his will moving it. It was as though there was glass behind his eyes and he could only press up against it and stare out, unable to break through.
His hands were moving on the keyboard of his PDA and there was a glowing screen in front of him, words hanging in the air. Fushimi pressed himself against the glass and watched his own body work.
( ( jungle ) )
His login and password were still good, just as he'd been promised, and Fushimi began to type even faster. From outside and beyond himself there was the knowledge that this was no good, that he couldn't do it — flames and fireworks and he knew that even now he still didn't have the strength to hack the system set in place by the Green King.
That's fine. He thought it and yet he didn't, the him on the other side of the glass thought it and Fushimi's body shook with the echo of those thoughts. He wasn't worried about success, about strength. Time was all he was after. Time, diversion, a moment's breath that held a bit too long. He would be a fly, be a buzzing gnat, a bee if he could, hovering around the Green King's face. The time that was wasted swatting him would be good enough even if he didn't manage to land the sting.
Green and blue swords hung in the air and he only needed time.
He knew what was going on elsewhere beyond his current vantage point. Elsewhere Kings and clans raged in battle, but he was behind glass and beyond, and his body was sitting on the ground in an empty park, clothes tattered and bloodstained — there was a deep still-bleeding cut on his shoulder that he knew he should remember how it got there, and then red hair flashed in his mind and he pushed it away, no time, no time, he had a job to do, he had to save that time for other things and he could remember later - and his eyes were trained only on the screen in front of him.
The screen suddenly changed, from soft blue to green so bright it hurt his eyes, almost enough to break the glass as it cut through the gray like a knife, and Fushimi's entire body stiffened as every nerve screamed in pain.
Virus. Virus.
He knew it, knew, could feel it coursing through his veins even as it went through his computer, and his head felt like it was trapped in a vise. Even so he kept typing, kept working. He was only a bee, that was all, and the stinger wasn't pulled out of him yet. There was a voice he remembered that echoed in the back of his head, laughing — virus, virus, aren't you catching a cold little monkey?— but he kept on working. Time, time. That was all that mattered. Even if he failed it didn't matter. He only needed to be the fly that distracted the Green King long enough for Munakata to do what had to be done.
Something echoed through him and there were lights, green, blue. Time, time.
Pain. Laughter. Virus. Time. Glass shattered, and he screamed.
When he knew where he was again he was lying on the grass with blood dripping from his nose. The green was gone and now the blue was too bright.
Munakata was standing in front of him, smiling sadly, and Fushimi remembered.
Munakata's coat was torn and bloodied, and he was bleeding still from a deep gash in his side that looked as though it could only have been made by a blade, though the Green King carried none. He stood in front of a shallow crater and Fushimi could almost see the silhouette of a corpse lying in the center of it. Above Munakata's head was a crumbling sword and Fushimi's head began to pound like a drum.
The glass was there again and he could only watch what he knew was coming, the thing he couldn't stop, and somewhere deep inside he felt himself trembling as the images flashed through his head so fast he couldn't quite grasp them all. The Sword of Damocles hanging in the air, falling to pieces. The Green King's dead body lying in the center of the crater. Blue again, Munakata's coat, Munakata's sword. Red blood and blue light burning his eyes and Fushimi's vision went gray. Munakata's arms were wide open and he spoke but Fushimi could not hear the words over the wind howling in his ears.
Fushimi knew what was happening now and his body moved like a puppet as he reached for his fallen sword, rising on legs he couldn't even feel.
Power burst around him —
—blue, blue—
—blood dripping and light pulsing around him—
—the Sword of Damocles falling, and there was only one thing to do-
Fushimi's sword was bright like a star and he stabbed with all his might, blue power exploding around him as his arms blossomed bright red with blood, pain shooting white-hot through his body as his sword found its home in Munakata's chest.
Bright red blood and the Sword of Damocles was gone. Munakata smiled tenderly down at him.
"Fushimi-kun…" He spoke but Fushimi couldn't hear anymore and everything melted away into gray.
Fushimi woke with a choked cough, breathing hard. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and he stumbled to his feet, struggling to disentangle himself from the blankets as he lurched towards the bathroom.
He made it just in time. There was a creeping feeling of shame running down his spine as he leaned over the toilet, stomach heaving, his breath hitching spasmodically as he threw up what little was in his stomach. Fushimi swallowed hard, body bent almost in two as he tried to slow the convulsive shivers running through him. He grasped nervously at his bandaged arms, swallowing hard as he leaned against the wall and waited for his stomach to stop churning.
When he finally felt that he could move without being assaulted by the need to throw up again Fushimi pushed forward on shaking legs and stumbled towards the sink. He washed his mouth out slowly, feeling stretched thin and worn.
Fushimi glanced upwards, staring at his reflection in the mirror, slightly blurry without his glasses on. He looked like absolute shit, and Fushimi smiled bitterly.
Most of the dream was slipping away now and he let it go almost gratefully. In truth, Fushimi remembered very little of what had happened in the park and not much more of what had come before. The last clear memory he could recall was sitting at his desk in Scepter 4 headquarters when the alarm went off signaling the Green King's attack, jumping to his feet and drawing his sword before something blew a hole in the wall.
Everything became jumbled after that. He remembered explosions and rubble, yelled orders, enemies attacking. Recalled running through the city in pursuit of a figure in green and brief flash of Bar Homra (Misaki, maybe, but when he thought too hard about that his shoulder started to throb painfully, so he didn't linger on that fragment too long). Two swords of Damocles in the air, his hands flashing across a keyboard and laughter in his ears. Blood running down his arms. Swords falling, light, color, and then—
Munakata's body in his arms as he sat on the edge of a battlefield and the look on Awashima's face when she found him there.
Another shiver coursed through his body and Fushimi's face twisted in disgust as he found himself leaning over the toilet again. Fushimi grabbed at his throat, trying to slow his ragged breathing, and after a moment it passed and he lay stretched out on the bathroom tiles, breathing hard as though he'd run a marathon, body shaking with each breath. One of his hands reached over and picked at a bandage on the other arm, unraveling it slightly so that he could reach one of the scars beneath. Fushimi scratched at it mechanically as he lay there, resting his cheek against the cool tile, waiting for his heartbeat to slow back to normal.
The air in the bathroom felt stuffy and stale, settling in his lungs like a weight, and Fushimi staggered to his feet. His stomach growled in protest and he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He knew from prior exploration that the only food Awashima had in the entire apartment was anko and health food, so he supposed it was as good an excuse as any to get out the apartment that felt too small and closed in all of a sudden.
Fushimi slowly made his way back into the small guest room Awashima was allowing him to use, fumbling for his glasses. What little he owned was still stuffed in a duffel bag that lay in the far corner of the room where he'd dropped it the day Awashima had dragged him in and told him he'd be staying with her for the time being.
He hadn't really intended to go with her. In truth, Fushimi hadn't made any plans at all. He knew that he probably should have, that his brain should have been working overtime to find any answer to the problem in front of him, but when he'd left the hospital and found himself staring at the crumbled mess that was Scepter 4's dormitories he'd somehow found himself unable to think of anything at all. So he'd simply gathered up his things and sat there and waited, and even now he wasn't certain what he'd been waiting for.
Who he'd been waiting for.
Fushimi shook his head to clear the unpleasant thoughts from it and dug around through the bag for some suitable clothing. He pulled it on carefully, his arms already starting to throb again. It was all a bother, somehow — getting dressed, moving, breathing. All of it felt too tiring somehow, as if all his strength had been poured out on the ground in the park along with Munakata's blood. The comparison made his stomach twist, a crooked smile winding its way across his face.
Out the window he could see that there was a light snow falling and Fushimi hesitated. He had no coat but the one that was part of his uniform, the blue coat that was still ragged and stained with blood.
Stained with Munakata's blood, and Fushimi wrapped a scarf around his neck and walked out the door without any coat at all.
The apartment Awashima was renting was in a fairly busy part of town — he had no idea if she was using savings from her usual salary to pay for it or if it had been rented for her with assistance from Scepter 4's budget and he couldn't really bring himself to care in any case — and the sidewalks were filled with people. Fushimi hung back close against the buildings, cold brick against his side, and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. The air was a bitter sort of cold and his hands were already freezing but he wasn't even sure if he owned a pair of gloves.
He wandered aimlessly along the streets, not really sure where he was headed. There were a few cafes dotting the streets but they were all fairly full — Fushimi had apparently woken up just in time for lunch — and he didn't feel up to sitting in a place full of people. His stomach rumbled again and his fingers were starting to feel slightly numb. He reached up and slid a hand inside one of his long sleeves, picking idly at another of the scars beneath the bandages on his arms.
Fushimi walked through another crosswalk and down an alley and then suddenly he froze, his entire body going stiff and he fell back against the closest building for a moment, trying to steady himself.
In front of him there was the entrance to a park blocked off by police tape and the signs of destruction visible even from a distance, and Fushimi realized exactly where he'd walked to.
With a curse he turned and half-ran in the opposite direction, never stopping to even look back, scratching furiously at his arms.
He made a quick turn around the nearest corner, ducking behind a building with his head down against the oncoming chill wind. His stomach had started churning again as if he was about to be sick and all thoughts of getting something to eat were gone from his head. He only wanted to get back to the apartment and climb back into bed, and hopefully sleep without dreaming.
"Ouch!" There was a strangely familiar yelp as he ran into something solid and fell back onto the ground. Fushimi winced as he caught himself, his bare hands cold against the concrete.
"Hey, watch where you're going…Fushimi-san?" At the sound of his name Fushimi raised his head.
"…Hidaka?"
"Fushimi-san!" Hidaka jumped to his feet, smiling widely. He was dressed, Fushimi noted, in the uniform of a nearby supermarket. Judging by the boxes on the ground he had apparently been in the middle of a delivery. But the coat that he had thrown on haphazardly over his uniform was a very familiar blue, and Fushimi's arms itched. "You're okay!"
"Tch." Fushimi clicked his tongue as he carefully tried to climb to his feet. His limbs didn't seem to want to stop shaking and he suddenly found them sliding out from under him.
"H-hey, careful!" Hidaka caught him and steadied him, and Fushimi felt his ears burning from something more than the cold. "Are you all right? Last I heard from the Lieutenant you were still in the hospital after…what happened." His eyes clouded slightly.
"I'm fine," Fushimi said curtly, pulling away. He gave Hidaka a flat look. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"A-ah, this, right." Hidaka looked down at his uniform and laughed sheepishly. "Well, since we're kinda in limbo right now I had to take a temp job. Some of the other guys did too, Eno and Fuse and Goty and me are all combining our salaries to share a place until the dorms get rebuilt." His face turned suddenly serious. "Um, Fushimi-san…Scepter 4 will get rebuilt, right? I mean, I know…that is, I know the— the C-Captain…" He trailed off awkwardly, shook his head and tried again. "I mean, Scepter 4 still has a job to do, right? Even if— even if we don't have a king, we still can…I mean, we're…"
"How the hell should I know?" Fushimi snapped irritably. Hidaka was looking at him with a sympathy far too close to pity for Fushimi's taste and it was making him even more annoyed. "Ask the Lieutenant. She's been handling all of that."
"Lieutenant Awashima has?" Hidaka repeated, surprised. "That's great! I've been really worried that maybe we wouldn't be able to go back to normal."
"Are you a moron?" Fushimi asked darkly. "It's not normal. She's fighting for a pointless cause. Scepter 4 is dead."
"That's not true!" Hidaka insisted. "We still have our powers, right? I mean, it won't be the same like before, sure, but—but I still want to-"
"Shut up," Fushimi interrupted sharply, pressing a hand against his head. There was a ringing laughter in the back of his mind that wouldn't go away and the wind blowing past his ears seemed to be far louder and stronger than it should have been.
"Fushimi-san?" Hidaka leaned in close again, too close, and Fushimi felt like his body was on fire. He clenched a fist hard against his chest, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, are you all right? Fushimi-san?"
"Go…away…" Fushimi grit out. His head was ringing with the howling of the wind and it was as though the world was fading to gray before his eyes. He could hear Hidaka trying to talk to him again but it was garbled as though it were being run through a filter and all Fushimi could see was gray skies, red blood—
—a flash of blue coat and the Sword of Damocles hanging in the sky—
"Fushimi-san!" Hidaka's panicked voice broke through the haze as he shook Fushimi hard. Fushimi started, breathing heavily as he stared blankly up at Hidaka's worried face. "You don't look so good. Should you be out like this without a coat? Here, take mine…" He started to pull off his blue coat and Fushimi pulled away sharply.
"I'm fine. Leave me alone." Without even waiting for a reply Fushimi turned and all but ran away, ignoring Hidaka's voice shouting after him. The wind was screaming in his ears like mad laughter and he ran blindly, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the cold.
He didn't know how he ended up in the park, only that when he was aware of his location again he was kneeling by a familiar crater in the center of a wreckage of shattered trees and torn ground.
— The Sword of Damocles was crumbling above but all Fushimi could see was Munakata standing there, arms wide open as he spoke—
—"I apologize."
Fushimi fell to his knees, heedless of the snow seeping through the fabric of his pants. He covered half his face with one hand, trying to bite back the hysterical laughter he could feel rising in his throat, staring at the crater almost defiantly as he spoke.
"My King…is…."
The rest of the words refused to come and Fushimi sat there hunched and silent in the snow, waiting for the ringing laughter in his head to die down.
..
Yata stepped out of the shop into the cold, shivering a bit as a chill wind blew past him. When Kusanagi had asked him to run and pick up a few things from the store he hadn't really thought much about it, but it was really cold so far this winter. He let a little bit of red power out, just enough to warm his hands, then pulled a steamed bun out of his bag and began to chew as he walked. Kusanagi had given him a little extra cash to pick up something for himself and the food tasted warm in his mouth.
He began to trot back in the direction of the bar, wishing the snow on the ground would just melt already so he could take his skateboard out again. Kamamoto had offered to go along with him but Kusanagi had needed him to help with another minor repair for some of the damage the bar had suffered the week before, so Yata had gone out alone.
The streets were way too crowded for his liking and Yata wished again he had his skateboard. His eyes strayed to the left, where he could see the bright colors of police tape blocking off entrance to the park that Yata knew could be used as a nice little shortcut back to Bar Homra. He looked around quickly, just to make sure no one was watching, and then hopped over the police tape and into the park.
The ground was covered with a thin layer of snow that couldn't quite hide the clear signs beneath where dirt had been stirred up and tossed away. Tree branches and even scattered shards of rock dotted the ground and Yata had to be careful to keep from tripping over spots where deep gashes had been scored into the earth.
The air somehow felt chillier in here, more still and stale, and Yata suddenly wished he had just taken the long way. It didn't feel right, walking in this place, not so soon after what had happened.
It's only been a week, huh. Yata took another bite of his food, staring up at the cloudy sky. His face felt warm despite the chill. It was hard to believe it had only been that long.
Only a week, since two kings had died in this very place. Yata shivered slightly, a deeper cold than the winter air sliding through his bones. He had at least some idea of what exactly had happened here. Kusanagi had told him most of it, though even what Kusanagi knew was only secondhand information from Scepter 4's lieutenant. Kusanagi and Anna had been elsewhere at the time so it was only much later when they were all back at the bar safe and exhausted that Yata had finally heard the details. Had heard about the Green King's death.
Heard about the Blue King's death that had followed, and who had been the one to do it.
"Saruhiko…" The name fell from his lips unbidden and Yata shook his head quickly as if he could remove the thoughts that came with it. Even so, it was no use and Yata's free hand clenched into a fist.
What was he supposed to think now, anyway? After all that stupid bastard had done, and now this…
Even now Yata felt like he didn't really know a lot about what had happened the week before, not as much as he felt like he should. Homra had been aware that the Greens were up to something bad, of course, and Yata had been all for going after them and teaching them a lesson for messing with Homra's King. But then he'd been on his way home from the his part time job when he'd gotten a call from Kusanagi about someone blowing up Scepter 4 headquarters and clans going to war and all kinds of trouble going down and he'd immediately headed for the bar (and if there had been a nervous flutter in his stomach and a tightness in his chest, if he'd felt his body go tense and worried the moment Kusanagi mentioned what had happened at Scepter 4, if his mind had lingered just a bit too long on the word "casualties" and what it could mean, at the time Yata had told himself that still it all meant nothing). By the time he'd gotten there Kusanagi was already gone with Anna but Kamamoto, Chitose and a few of the others were busy trying to hold off a bunch of the Green King's weird ninjas. Yata had dived right into the fray, weapon blazing, and he'd been so intent on the enemies in front of him that he hadn't even been aware of the ones at his back until it was too late.
He'd heard Kamamoto yell a warning, had turned just in time to see the flash of two blades heading towards him but he was occupied with multiple enemies at his front plus trying to keep everyone from getting scattered. Even being aware of the sneak attack there was no way to dodge and all of the others were similarly occupied with no one free to help, and Yata had steeled himself for the sharp sting of pain he knew was coming—
—And then Saruhiko had been there, blocking one knife strike with his own weapons even as the second blade sunk deep into his shoulder instead of Yata's back.
In the moments afterward Yata had tried to tell himself that maybe it hadn't been what it looked like. Fushimi had been pursuing his own quarry too, then, and he'd left fairly quickly after that to continue after the head lady ninja that Yata had fought back at the tower when they'd been trying to save Anna. Maybe he'd just moved wrong, had stepped left when he meant to go right, maybe he hadn't seen that second knife, maybe he hadn't known what he was putting himself between.
Yata had told himself that time and time again, and he still couldn't manage to convince himself of it. Saruhiko was too smart, too careful. He'd always been the guy who watched and planned. If Saruhiko was in the path of a blade it was only because he'd chosen to be there. And that was the thing that Yata couldn't understand at all.
They weren't friends anymore, right? Fushimi had been the one who always said it. Fushimi had betrayed Homra, betrayed Yata, betrayed everything they had together. And he'd always been the one twisting the knife deeper every time they met, the one taunting and teasing and inciting all of Yata's anger in the way only Fushimi could do. Fushimi had made it more than clear that he no longer saw Yata as a friend even though Yata could never quite bring himself to think of Fushimi as an enemy.
But even for all that, Fushimi had still helped him find Anna when she'd been kidnapped. And then he'd stepped right in between Yata and the weapon that would have at least seriously wounded him, getting injured himself in the process.
Yata's head hurt again and he sighed heavily. The worst part, as much as he hated to admit it, was that he couldn't stop himself from wondering where Saruhiko was now, what he was doing. Kusanagi had told him what it was that Saruhiko had apparently done. Told him about how killing the Green King had destabilized the Blue King's Sword of Damocles and then how Saruhiko had been the one to kill the Blue King before a Damocles Down could kill everyone within range.
It had to hurt, right? Yata didn't really have any particular love for the Blue King but still, that was Fushimi's King. Yata couldn't even imagine how he would feel if he'd had to be the one to kill Mikoto in order to save everyone else.
He stepped past a small cluster of intact trees and froze as he walked out into the center of the park. The ground in front of him was completely bare, all the trees torn away and turned to shattered bits of wood and right in the center of it all a small crater that marked the deathbed of a king.
There was a figure kneeling in the snow in front of the crater and Yata sucked in a quick breath as he stepped back behind the trees.
Saruhiko? It was definitely him and Yata felt suddenly lightheaded.
All Kusanagi had been able to tell him after the whole thing was done was that Fushimi was alive but in the hospital. That was all. Not even so much as an idea of what Fushimi's condition was, if he would be okay, where he was going to go afterward. Only that he was alive and injured, and Yata suddenly felt as if a weight that been settling in his chest ever since had finally disappeared.
He's alive. Yata peered back towards where Fushimi still sat kneeling motionless in the snow. He didn't know if he wanted to smile or get angry, but there was an undeniable feeling of gratitude surging through him. He's alive. He's all right.
Looking closer, Yata thought maybe he'd have to revise that second statement. Fushimi wasn't wearing a coat and even from a distance Yata could see that he looked chilled to the bone. A very old, well-known feeling of indignation stirred within Yata, the unforgotten longing to stride up to Fushimi and scold him for going out without proper winter things on, to wrap him in a coat and drag him back to their apartment (because it was always their apartment that Yata thought of first, theirs, not his, because Yata's own place had never felt quite like home when he had no one to share it with). Yata forced it down and took another quick bite of his bun to distract himself, turning so that his back was to Fushimi.
It looked like there had been some kind of bandages on his arms, too. Yata stared fixedly down at his feet. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't known that Fushimi would be injured — Kusanagi had said he was in the hospital for a while, after all. But still….Yata shifted. There was no way to see how far up those bandages extended, if there was another one swathing Fushimi's shoulder or maybe just a thin red scar that was the only proof of the blade whose path he'd knowingly stepped into.
And he really had knowingly stepped into it. To save Yata, Fushimi had let himself be injured. Even though they were in separate clans, even though they were supposed to be enemies now.
I should talk to him. The thought ran through his mind but his legs wouldn't move. It would be all right to just talk to him, right? After all, Yata knew how much it sucked to lose your king, how terrible it felt, and Yata hadn't even had to deal with the double weight of having had to do the deed himself. Maybe there was something he could say, that might make Saruhiko feel better. Maybe they could just talk, the way they used to, and Yata could ask him about that moment at the bar with the two of them and the Greens and the two knives and maybe just this once he'd get an honest answer.
Just this once, just this one moment when they finally had a terrible sort of common ground, maybe they could just talk. Maybe Yata could ask Fushimi if they could be friends again, and maybe Fushimi would accept.
Yata turned back towards the crater, steeling his nerves as he stepped out into clear view, but Fushimi was already gone.
..
Awashima sighed wearily as she unlocked the door to her apartment. It had been a long day, though not one without its good points. She'd had a good talk with Akiyama and Benzai during lunch break and that had given her a few ideas on how to proceed with her proposal. And if nothing else she had learned that most of the Special Forces members were ready and waiting to return to Scepter 4, King or no King, and that was the kind of hopeful prospect she needed right now.
As she stepped into the apartment her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure sitting crumpled on the sofa, not even looking at her, and she hesitated only a moment before walking past him towards her room to put her things down. Fushimi didn't so much as look up but Awashima supposed it could be considered a good sign, that he'd actually left his room. She left her door open and observed him quietly as she laid down her briefcase and put down her hair.
He looked worn out and thin, his face almost as white as the bandages on his arms. She noted that a few of the bandages were fraying, as if he'd been picking at then, and there were several small dots of bright red blood on his left arm near the wrist. His eyes were half-closed and his face and pant legs were slightly wet. He was wearing a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck and his shoes were still on, and she wondered if he'd actually gone outside.
She walked past him again, heading for the kitchen this time, and Fushimi only uncurled slightly as she went past. Awashima busied herself getting a drink, her face lowered, trying to swallow her own feelings of guilt.
She had a made a promise, a vow to her King, that she would do what had to be done. She had prepared herself for the possibility, and had pledged her sword and her life to that duty.
"Captain, if the time should come…I will, with my own hands, do my duty to the end."
Her own words rang mockingly in her head and Awashima closed her eyes as she rested her arms on the counter. All that she had said, and yet when the time had arrived she hadn't even been anywhere nearby. After the explosion at headquarters their forces had been scattered, fragmented, chased down by the Green King's clan and driven into a corner. In the midst of that chaos, Munakata had looked to her to keep order. He had sent her to gather up all of their forces that she could and to hold off the Greens for as long as possible. The last thing she had said to him was for him to be careful, and he'd smiled at her in a way that made her throat catch whenever she thought back on it — the last time he had ever smiled at her, there in the middle of the rubble that had been their headquarters, and she had never even let herself dare to think for a moment that it would be the last time. And then he had turned and gone off on his own and she had let him go. As his loyal second in command, she had followed his orders and let him go.
Awashima had let her king walk away from her and the duty she had sworn to do had fallen to her subordinate instead, and the weight of it was clearly crushing him.
Perhaps I am a heartless woman after all. Awashima smiled ruefully, resting her head in her arms. She hadn't even been able to say anything to Fushimi, when she had found him in the park with the dead body of her King in his arms. She hadn't cried either, not then. She'd only steeled herself and begun giving out orders to secure the area. If Fushimi hadn't taken that moment to promptly collapse she didn't even know what she would have said next.
And what could I have said to him? Awashima raised her head slightly to look back at the figure on the couch. They were adrift, both of them, without Munakata there. But Awashima had found something to cling to at least, something to focus on to give herself strength and keep herself moving. Munakata would not have wanted his clan to die with him, she was sure of that. She had never asked any of the others if that was what they wanted. She had only chosen the path she thought her King would have wanted her to walk and followed it.
But that still left Fushimi and with him she was at a loss. Munakata would have known what to do, she was certain of that. He somehow always knew exactly how to deal with Fushimi, how to counter his bad attitude and self destructive tendencies. But Awashima herself had never been quite sure what to do with him and she knew even less now. She would apologize if she thought it would do any good, if she thought he wouldn't laugh in her face. The only thing she could think of that she could have done to help him was to keep him out of that situation to begin with, and it was far too late for that. She'd taken him in because he had nowhere else to go but if there was nothing else she could offer him besides a roof over his head, then what good was she to him at all?
"He apologized." Fushimi's voice cut through her thoughts, made her jump slightly. Awashima stared at him blankly as he gave a bitter laugh, head still turned away from her and eyes still closed. "Before I stabbed him. The bastard apologized."
"Fushimi-kun…" Awashima took a step towards him but he fell silent and still, as if he hadn't even spoken. Awashima stared at him for a long moment and then managed a small smile.
She wasn't Munakata. She couldn't offer him any advice or even any words of comfort. She could only be herself, and offer him things he would accept from her.
Awashima picked up a book from the counter and walked over to the couch, sitting so that there was only a small distance between herself and Fushimi. She opened her book with one hand as the other reached over and carefully touched Fushimi, pulling him forward slightly so that his head was resting on her shoulder. He tensed noticeably but didn't pull away, and his breathing was strained and exhausted.
Awashima sat there and read her book, never moving with his head on her shoulder, and Fushimi slept.