"We can't all be kings."
Totsuka was always very expressive of this concept, and Mikoto would always sigh despondently the moment the topic arose.
"I agree."
"But we can't all be vassals, either."
Ah, and that was the crux of their dissent, the only one they had ever been unable to escape. Yet within four years, the same laidback, cheerful idiot would somehow make him into the very thing he had always told him he was.
Kings, unfortunately, came with vassals. He had plenty of those. Some of them with heads solid as concrete-on occasion, he wondered if anything could actually penetrate Yata Misaki's skull-and others with insight beyond their years-in Kusanagi Izumo's case, it also came with a signature smirk. Others came and went, like Fushimi Saruhiko, who had pledged allegiance, but never quite enjoyed the idea of confinement or being part of a gang. Kushina Anna, the young strain that unwaveringly kept to his side was like the little sister he had never known, and oh how she made those protective instincts in him flair. Totsuka Tatara was just one of those things that never changed, a lighthouse on a desolate, rocky coast. Of course, he had never thought of any of them as vassals, no matter Totsuka's idiotic words. They were his family and friends.
With power came opposition and responsibility. In summary: Munakata Reisi. The Blues were like prep students. The only difference between the Reds and Blues were their versions of violence and how they hired. The Blues established themselves as the central nervous system of Japan, while the Reds were its bleeding heart and the Greens its intellectual core. There had been little other point beyond picking up the lost puppies from the streets to HOMRA anyway, as far as he was concerned. He had spoken face-to-face with any other kings, nor did he feel the need to. The Silver King ruled the skies, the Gold King the country and the Bronze King the earth beneath their feet. None of them dealt much with people; they left that to the Blue King. The Colorless King was always something new, but never any of his concern.
Until he had murdered his right-hand man.
Mikoto had wondered for some time after Totsuka's death if perhaps his vassal had already foreseen his fate. Not once had he let that enigmatic smile slip. Even as Yata had clutched his cooling body, his parting words had been hopeful, his final smile untainted by regret or sorrow. It was as if he had only slipped off to sleep the blood loss away.
The Colorless King may as well have tossed tinder on the blaze, the one he had thought could not scorch any brighter. It stirred an uneasiness up in him, and within a few days of contemplation and reflection, he realized that Totsuka's death had shaken him more than he'd realized. Munakata didn't need to tell him that his Weismann levels were dangerously high. He could feel his aura seeping even as he strained to contain it. Sleep was a distant dream. Unconsciousness meant lack of control, and that was the one thing he desperately needed most. If even a moment of rest meant danger to his clan, he could do without it.
Finally he turned himself over to Scepter 4—no, to Munakata—after a word the previous night with Kusanagi. He couldn't think, couldn't rest, couldn't breathe. For all they argued and disagreed, he felt safe entrusting himself to the man. His aura was a rush of cool water and a breath of frosty air, shocking his system back to life and soothing the fires consuming his life. Here, in the deepest prisons of the Blue King, he could gather his energy and build back up the last semblances of control. Here, where his passion and power were quenched, he could finally come to two conclusions.
First, he had to kill the Colorless King. It was evident that the man, if he could even be called that anymore, had lost his mind. Before his end, he would only bring pain and calamity. He thirsted for power and sought to destroy his fellow kings to take it all for himself. This was how he rationalized the decision, but in the end, he knew his heart thirsted only for revenge now. Totsuka's death was unforgivable, and for that, the Colorless King had to die at his hands.
Second, he would not be able to keep control after killing the Colorless King. He had seen the state of his Sword of Damocles after the events of this December and knew it would not last long. Another king would have to be at his side to destroy him before his Sword fell in a disastrous repeat of the Kagutsu Crater. Munakata would resist his decision, so he would have to make it quickly.
And so, the moment the Colorless King came to him, he made his move. His opponent had made the first move. He made his counter in a heartbeat and Anna must have known almost instantaneously, because HOMRA met him just beyond Scepter 4's gated walls. War was upon them.
All rationality had left him as his clan searched the isolated school for Totsuka's killer. He hadn't once considered the safety of the students, and though he knew Munakata would try to take back control, he didn't care an ounce for the conflict that would ensue. Destruction, fear, death, all that was beyond him now.
He could feel the kings drawing closer around him, like a noose tightening about his neck.
His patience wore thin. Even Munakata could sense this at first glance. He offered to slay the Colorless King for him to stop their clans from fighting, to prevent another Kagutsu Crater, to save his life.
Mikoto turned him down. Revenge had to be at his own hands or it would mean nothing. His Sword was already wavering, and it no longer mattered if he was the one to kill the Colorless King. Seeing revenge slip from his grasp, knowing that he had done nothing to atone for the death of his friend, that too would send the Sword above him tumbling. Munakata couldn't see this, not yet, but the Red King was already at checkmate. His next move would be his last.
And when the white-haired boy appeared before him, he knew instinctively that he was in the presence of two kings, one of them demanding death be dealt. He was not the only king at his limit. He accepted the command with grace and speed. The Colorless King was no more and the Silver King had returned to his skies.
The last restraints snapped sharply in his soul, reverberating jarringly in his ears.
Fire consumed him.
No blood! No bone! No ash!
He smiled wearily. Despite his youth, age and experience wore deeply in his face.
No blood! No bone! No ash!
Twinkling red lights ascended to meet the stars as he spoke quietly in Munakata's ear. He crumpled in the king's grasp and felt himself begin to depart.
No blood! No bone! No ash!
Totsuka was right, he realized. We can't all be vassals. Some are born to lead, to command power, to share their fire. Others are born to make that fire shine brighter.
No blood! No bone! No ash!
And some fires burn too brightly to ever go out.
[ COME BACK! ]
A/N: This was written before I realized a second season and movie are coming, so it is likely somewhat AU. I added the end in hope that, perhaps, they'll miraculously resurrect Shiro and Mikoto. I regret nothing.
Also, there were only six kings/clans mentioned explicitly in everything I have read and/or watched: Silver, Gold, Red, Blue, Green (only mentioned in passing) and Colorless. Because I had assumed the series to be over, I made the final king/clan Bronze. There has been speculation that the final king/clan is actually Black, but I had a specific position I needed filled. Since there is nothing on the Green king or clan, I just randomly awarded them a position as an equal of the Reds and Blues in terms of influence.