The Mihashira Tragedy

by LunaRoseWish

The plan to protect the slate had been flawless, but even the most perfect of plans can go awry. Misaki may be in serious danger, and Saruhiko would never allow anyone to lay a hand on his precious crow without paying the price...

Their plan had failed. Everything had gone to shit. Now, half of Mihashira tower was in ruins, Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo were split up and wreaking havoc in the tower somewhere, the unstoppable green king was headed for Captain Munakata, Anna's part of the plan fell through, and both the red and blue clans were confused, sitting ducks with no battle plan. Meanwhile, Fushimi sat agitatedly in the back of the Scepter 4 van, trying to find any other security measures that might slow down the Green Clan's progress, but to no avail. He called to his subordinates over and over again, but nothing came through; it was like a dead phone line. Removing his headset and tossing it aside, he got to his feet, gathering his things and taking his sword, Subaru, in his hand. He faintly heard a startled gasp behind, and turned to see a small, frail looking man trembling with anxiety, his hand shaking in mid-air as it reached for him. He stopped and looked slightly surprised when his eyes met Fushimi's.

"M—Mr. Fushimi?" He mumbled questioningly.

"Enomoto," He deadpanned, internally admitting to have forgotten his subordinate was with him. "stay here, and continue to keep an eye on the locations of Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo. I'm going to join Lieutenant Awashima inside the tower."

He fastened his sword to his uniform, and swiftly made his way towards Mihashira Tower, not giving the young man a chance to object. Once Fushimi was out of earshot, Enonmoto muttered one, quiet, "Yes, sir."

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Yata put every ounce of force in his body into propelling himself forward, the wheels on his skateboard squealing in protest. Behind him, he could hear Kamamoto's quick pants, and Kusanagi's muttered curses as they darted around the sharp corners of the tower, searching frantically for an escape.

This is not at all how I thought this day would go.

The battle plan had been rather simple. Scepter 4, specifically, the monkey and his buddies, would hack into the security system and put up every wall in the tower, to slow the progress of JUNGLE's clansmen. Meanwhile, HOMRA and a special forces team from Scepter 4 would lay in wait for Sukuna Gojo, and while the red clan took care of him, Yashiro Isana and his clansmen would wipe the floor with Yukari Mishakuji. Anna was to stay with her clan, and the blue king would wait for the green king at the top of the tower, ready to stop him if he managed to get that far.

Somehow, the plan went south, and now, Yata and his friends were on the run from the psycho bastard with the purple hair.

"What do we do Yata?" Kamamoto gasped, his panic evident in every word.

Putting on another burst of speed, he called over his shoulder, "Just run dammit!"

He skidded to a stop as the hallway ahead of him exploded in violet light. A tall, slender man with purple and blue hair stepped out, perfectly calm, an excited smile painted across his face.

"Oh dear, it seems our little chase has come to an end." He commented in feigned disappointment.

His voice came slow, and the slight hint of madness in it reminded him suspiciously of a certain knife crazed psycho who loved to rile him up. It drove Yata nuts, and he felt a familiar burning in his blood as the maniac sauntered down the hall towards them.

"Seriously fuck this." Yata cursed under his breath, letting his inner fire erupt with incredible force.

It was enough to create an explosion big enough that it shielded the red clansmen from Yukari's view, just long enough for Yata to yell over his shoulder, "go, now!"

Neither Kamamoto nor Kusanagi hesitated, taking off through the smokescreen, and leaving Yata to figure out how he was going to fare in a fight with the talented green. It didn't take him long to find out, because just as his comrades had disappeared from sight, a long, violet, glowing blade cut through the smoke, and hovered dangerously near his neck. He stifled a gasp, slowly inching away from the blade. When he reached a safe distance from it, he steeled himself, then rushed forward through the smoke, staff reared above his shoulder and ready to strike. It was, however, useless, as Yukari effortlessly blocked the attack with the long blade; his sword Ayamachi. He pushed back against Yata, essentially tossing his staff to the side as if it were a stick. The red clansman knew he was at a disadvantage. After all, Yukari's sword formerly belonged to the late colorless king, Ichigen Miwa. Even with the red aura, there's no way he'd stand a chance against a dual aura wielding sociopath fighting with a king's sword.

I've got to get out of here. Damn, where's my backup?

Maybe Kusanagi had thought that HOMRA's unstoppable Yatagarasu could go it alone. If that's really what he thought, Yata would kick his ass for leaving him at the mercy of a madman. Regardless, he still had a job to do, and without a second thought, he swooped down, grabbing his fallen weapon and taking off opposite of Yukari. He wasn't going to try to beat him head on. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Mishakuji followed him with incredible speed, aiming blow after blow at him.

"Damn you," He muttered frustratedly. "Just fuck off already!"

He heard the honey smooth voice following closely behind him, getting on every nerve he had. His patience was running out.

"Oh my, you really are a filthy mouthed, disobedient little boy. I guess I'll have to teach you some manners!"

Another blast of violet light flew past him, missing his head by inches.

"Damn it! This is useless!" He shouted, flipping his skateboard around and rushing headfirst for the green clansman.

As Yukari raised his sword to Yata's attack, the red crow caught him off guard by skating right past him, quickly whirling around to hit the green over the head with the metal staff.

"I'm gonna kick your sorry ass all the way to tomorrow!"

"That's enough." A low, cynical voice cut through the tense fight, causing both vassals to stop mid-battle.

Both looking up to where the voice had come from, they were met by a tall man in a blue uniform, messy black hair covering one half of his face, and his eyes shielded by glasses.

"Blue clansman—"

"Saruhiko!"

The two astonished men had spoken in unison, and when they realized it, looked agitatedly away from each other. Only Yata looked back to where Saruhiko was now slowly approaching them, his hand on the hilt of his saber.

"What are you doing here, monkey?"

"Honestly, Misaki, needing my help again?" A small smirk creeped its way onto his face.

"Fuck off!" Yata retorted, pointing the dull end of his staff towards the blue.

"Tch, no need for infighting right now Misaki," He paused, looking the crow in the eye, catching Yata off guard with the vulnerable, almost relieved look in those silver-blue pools. "Let's just try to get along."

He slowly unsheathed the blade, bringing it down so that the edge scraped against the formerly flawless floors.

"Fushimi, ready."

He sat still, poised, and gave Yata an expectant side glance.

"Oh," Yata quickly brought his weapon to ready position. "Ready!"

Yukari looked at them for a moment in amusement, like they were small children trying to challenge their kindergarten teacher. After letting a small, mocking laugh escape his lips, he readied his sword once more.

"Good, show me how powerful you are!"

Within the next second, the hallway exploded in red, blue, and violet auras.

"Saruhiko, how did you even get here? Where's your clan?" Yata hurriedly asked, swinging his staff in front of Fushimi to block Yukari's blow.

Fushimi was silent at first, utterly focused on Mishakuji as he swung his sword at any weak point he could find. None of them worked however, with how nimble the green clansman was, and Saruhiko finally resorted to falling back somewhat, drawing out a few sleek, black knives from his sleeve.

"I met Kusanagi-San on my way inside, and they told me where to find you. Now—"

He cut off his next sentence suddenly and flung a knife or two at their fast moving target, clicking his tongue in frustration as they missed and lodged in the wall. Fushimi turned to look over his shoulder just long enough to scold his partner.

"Now stop asking questions and pay attention! I want you out of this unscathed!"

He rushed forward, ignoring Yata's bewildered, "What?", as he was already engaged in one-on-one combat with Yukari.

"Saruhiko!" He called after him, receiving no response.

Yata silently cursed himself, before planting a foot firmly on his skateboard and throwing himself back into the fray, just in time to knock the JUNGLE clansman off his feet.

"Ha, take that, you stupid green!" He scoffed, barely registering Saruhiko's panicked cry behind him.

"Misaki!"

He only had half a second to think before his body exploded in electrifying pain.

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Saruhiko rushed into the tower, quickly bringing up the floor plan on his PDA. He began followed the tracking system that would lead him to his clan.

'I have to make sure the captain is okay, and the rest of my team, and Misaki—'

He stopped abruptly, suddenly remembering that he hadn't heard from the vanguard since they'd entered the tower. That was before the plan had fallen through. Misaki could be anywhere right now! Hadn't Sukuna Gojo and Yukari Mishakuji's coordinates been reversed? That means Misaki was most likely at odds with Mishakuji!

Fushimi began to panic, rushing onward to where the blue clan was supposed to be waiting. To his surprise, when he arrived on the correct floor, it was deserted.

"Damn it." He cursed under his breath, trying to think past his panic.

He was almost ready to start turning the entire tower upside down looking for his clan and his precious crow.

'The captain is still waiting on the last floor right? I'll go there first, and work backwards. With the blue king knowing his clan is danger, he'll help without hesitation, right?'

Fushimi's train of thought was interrupted by two full grown men running past him, obviously panicked.

'Wait, Kusanagi-San?'

He quickly followed after the two, summoning his red aura, and sending it flying past them. They immediately stopped, turning around, but to his dismay, without Yata.

"Kusanagi-San," He breathlessly greeted him, noticing that Rikio Kamamoto was with him. Resisting the urge to put a knife in the moron's throat, he focused on the winded bartender in front of him. "Where's Misaki? Wasn't he with you?"

Kusanagi looked at him suspiciously for a second before slowly, and hesitantly saying,

"Fushimi…?"

"Please, I need to know where Misaki is! And where is the lieutenant? The blue king? Red king? And what about the green king? Tell me everything you know!" The words came out rushed and Fushimi cursed himself for sounding so childish.

He didn't know how their seemingly flawless plan had come to this. Still, if Saruhiko could find Misaki, then he could lead him to the red king, and with her, probably the rest of Scepter 4. Then they could go after the green king and his junkies.

"We were ambushed by Mishakuji. Yata was with us, but he stayed behind to create a diversion—"

"He what?" Fushimi, outraged by the older man's response, now held one of his knives dangerously close to his neck. "How could you let him do that? Do you know how idiotic he is?"

"Hey, calm down Fushimi-San, Yata can handle himself just fine you know." He jerked his head towards the man next to Kusanagi, glaring daggers at him before turning his attention back to the strategist.

"Which direction did you two leave him in?" He demanded.

Kusanagi just sighed in exasperation, pointing to Fushimi's right, and the blue vanguard just as quickly dropped his tight hold on the red's shirt, taking off after Misaki.

Just as he was about to turn the corner, he looked over his shoulder, a sharp look in his eyes, and a commanding tone in his voice as he spoke.

"Kusanagi-San, please find Lieutenant Awashima and the remainder of Scepter 4. Stay with them, and the red king, until I return with Misaki. We can regroup on the floor just below where Captain Munakata is."

Kusanagi looked at him, puzzled, for a moment, then just sighed and with a smile, and a tone of amusement to his voice, replied,

"Yes sir."

Fushimi gave a curt nod, taking off again. Kamato could swear, though, that as he turned the corner, he heard a muttered,

"I knew you guys'd get him into trouble someday."

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"Damn, that hurt."

Misaki laid splayed out across the cold floors of Mihashira Tower, hand clutched to his stomach. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to will away the lightning hot pain that spread from his midsection, and from there, the rest of his body. He strongly resisted the urge to cry out, only because Yukari Mishakuji still stood over him, a triumphant smile plastered over his features. In one ear, all he could hear was ringing; unbearable, loud, screeching. In the other ear, he heard nothing but Saruhiko's cries of shock and outrage. Suddenly, Yukari disappeared from his line of sight, and was replaced by a pissed off looking Saru, blade drawn and ready to strike again if the green clansman dared to try coming closer. Yata grunted in pain, and Saruhiko's eyes were immediately drawn back to him, his features softening. As he fell to his knees beside Yata, he could see the wild panic flooding into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Misaki, that was foolish! What do you think you were doing?" He demanded, his voice coming out much weaker than he'd wanted.

It took a minute for Yata to realize that Saruhiko was speaking, and another to register that it was directed at him.

Why? Yeah, good question Saru. Why did I do that?

He could only remember seeing Saruhiko rush back in to fight Yukari, after telling Yata that he wanted him unharmed. He was still confused. After all, Fushimi wanted him dead right? They hated each other, and that's why they were always at each other's throats. Regardless, when Yata heard Fushimi say that, and with such unusual intensity and sincerity, he felt this strange need to go after him, to protect him. In that moment, there was only one thought crossing his mind. He had to know why Fushimi had said that to him, had gone after him instead of the blues, and why he looked at him with such vulnerability.

"What did it look like? Saving you, idiot monkey." He snarked back, trying to hide his pain and confusion.

"Well don't!" He snapped back, eyes stinging from the imminent tears.

He had just told him that he wanted him unharmed! This was the complete opposite of unharmed! He took a deep breath, grabbing a fistful of his uniform.

"Look, just don't move, I'll fix you okay Misaki?"

He began tearing carelessly at the blue fabric, pressing it against the heavily bleeding wound staining his Misaki's clothes crimson. His heart pounded mercilessly against his ribs, but he managed to keep a cool head, and steadied his breathing, though it still came out uneven and shallow. He cast a glance at Yata's face, only to see him staring back in horror, eyes fixated on his now tattered clothing.

"Saruhiko, what are you doing? The blue king is gonna kill you when he sees you—"

"It's just a stupid uniform Misaki!" He bit back, suddenly aware of being able to feel his heartbeat pulsate in his head.

His eyes stung fiercely, and it took everything in him to not break down. For god's sake, his best friend, his beloved Yata Misaki was bleeding out beneath him, and he was about as useful as a damn brick right now!

Misaki stayed silent, shocked by Saruhiko's outburst. He'd never seen Saru this upset before, not even when that bastard Fushimi Niki had been around to torture him.

"It's not important" He just barely caught the nearly inaudible whisper, and looked at Saruhiko, whose eyes were locked on his wound, darkness and despair swirling in their deep blue depths.

He immediately felt a stab of guilt in his chest. Fushimi was obviously worried about him, and for Misaki to be so selflessly and stupidly thinking about his uniform when he was bleeding out was, irritating to say the least.

"Saru, I—"

"Just don't talk." He had gone back to attempting to bandage the stab wound, his attitude reverting back to its sarcastic, cold, nonchalant facade.

Yata didn't have the energy to fight him, so he just gave in, closing his eyes and relaxing with a sigh, only to tense up again when he felt the familiar sting.

Is this how Totsuka-San felt? When he was dying. Or Mikoto-San?

They'd both died gruesome deaths, unfitting for people with their golden hearts. Shot and stabbed, the latter having died at the hands of Saru's dead beat king. He tried to summon the familiar angry fire that he so often felt boiling in his veins, but his thoughts became hazier and hazier. He began to see double, and the room seemed to spin around him. He was fading, quickly. The thought was terrifying—no, paralyzing, and Yata was quickly awakened by the rush of panic flooding through his head, making it swim, and he felt his heartbeat speed up.

Fuck, I don't wanna die! This shit is scary! Why can't I feel my limbs? Please, help me…

His breath began coming in short, shallow, pants, and his head only felt lighter, his eyes blurrier, as the hyperventilation cut his air supply shorter. Saruhiko's eyes widened when he saw this, and he shakily placed a hand on Misaki's chest, feeling the pounding heartbeat vibrate through his fingers.

"Misaki, relax, please."

"I can't!" He wailed, his voice breaking, "Saru, I—I don't wanna die. I'm so fucking scared right now Saru. Please, don't let me die."

The absolutely frantic, broken, child-like sound of his voice, sounding like a frightened child on the brink of desperation, shattered Fushimi's facade. His heart melted, and the dark film in his cerulean eyes was replaced with genuine concern. He cupped Misaki's cheek, whispering hushed words to him.

"Hush, it's okay, you're not going to die," His voice came out weak and shaky, but he still tried to appear strong, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear from Misaki's cheek. "I won't let you die."

Even with Fushimi's reassurance, Yata still panicked. He tried to reign himself in, taking deep breaths to bring his pulse back to normal. His mind still swam with thoughts; not even coherent thoughts. It was more like fragments of words, memories, and emotions. The one thought that seemed to stick with him though…

"There goes your pride Misaki. See? It's dead, gone."

…

"I'm sick to death of being a punk from HOMRA."

He could almost feel himself standing in that alleyway again, smell the burning flesh, see the tears, the bitter look in his eyes…

"You think you're better than us, traitor? Fuck you! One day, I'm gonna kill you."

"Keep your eyes only on me Misaki. Watch me, and see what I become."

"Keep your eyes on me."

"Keep your eyes only on me."

"Only on me…"

…

Everything finally clicked into place, and Yata couldn't have felt stupider. He'd missed it. This whole time, he'd missed it. The fleeting looks, the taunts, the fighting. Every second that Yatagarasu's burning eyes were on him, loathing him, encasing them both, and only them, in their own world; that's what Saru had wanted. Did people suddenly get wiser on the brink of death? Because Yata felt like he finally saw the subtext in every little thing that he'd been blinded to. Blinded by his hatred, his grief, his disbelief.

He looked up and caught Fushimi's blank, emotionless stare. He didn't see it. He couldn't see what he'd made himself see in Saru anymore. He no longer looked at him as a traitor, a psycho, a blue clansman, a bastard. He only saw him. He saw Saruhiko Fushimi. He saw a young man, broken, antisocial, traumatized, needy, desperate, insecure, bitter, angry, confused, scared. He blinked, and when he looked again, it was like Fushimi's eyes had changed. He felt the weight of every emotion, every memory, every word of Yata's that Fushimi had clung childishly onto, and he found himself drowning.

"Saru, I—I need—"

"Misaki please." He cut him off, sounding frustrated.

…

"Traitor? What did I betray? Your trust, our friendship? No Misaki. You betrayed me first. I'm just returning the favor."

…

He finally felt the familiar burn, the satisfying heat of fire in his blood.

"Shut up!" He snapped, trying to reach up and grab Fushimi's clothes, but failed and fell back with a pained gasp, losing his fire again.

Saruhiko stopped, looked surprised and slightly confused, his mouth hung open like he wanted to say something, but had lost the words.

"Look, I'm just trying to say...Saruhiko, I'm sorry."

A small noise escaped the blue, and his eyes widened a fraction. It almost looked like he'd tried to mouth his name, but there was nothing.

…

"Mi~sa~ki~"

…

Yata tried to look him in the eye, catch a glimpse of anything, but Saru had his head down, eyes shadowed behind his bangs and hidden behind lenses. His reply came as a quiet, hesitant murmur.

"There's nothing you need to apologize for, stupid."

Yata paused a moment before replying to the mindless comment, his words coming out just as quiet and unsure as Fushimi's.

"But there is."

Saruhiko didn't move, didn't spit back at him or taunt him. He just...sat there, eyes fixed intently on the ground, bloody fists clenched and resting on his knees. That's when he noticed little droplets of water glimmering in the flickering tower lights.

"Saru, look at me," He told him, getting irritated when Fushimi made no move to look up or acknowledge that he'd spoken. "Damn it you bastard, I said look at me!"

Fushimi's head jerked upward, like something had startled him, and when their eyes met again, making Yata feel like he'd been starved for those eyes on him, his expression looked reminiscent of a child who'd just been yelled at by their parents. His pupils were blown wide, and tears welled up in deep blue pools. Tear stains already ran down both cheeks, and overall, Fushimi looked how Yata felt, wrecked.

"I'm sorry, okay?" He started, his voice easing itself back into gentleness. "I was a serious dick, and I know. I know okay?" He felt the imminence of his own tears, and his tone strongly reminded Fushimi of a mother trying to convince her kid that she loves him after they've had a fight. "I know I hurt you, and ignored you. You felt betrayed by me, and you just wanted me to look at you, right? You wanted me just to look at you."

Fushimi was silent, and the short, choking laugh of Yata filled the stagnant air.

"You liked it, back in middle school didn't you? When it was just us. I know you did. There was just something, brighter about you back then. You lost it though, and it was when we joined HOMRA, when I idolized Mikoto-San. He was—he is...my hero."

Fushimi's fingers tightened their grip on his uniform, and he resisted the urge to get up and storm off, leaving Misaki to bleed.

"You know Saru," Fushimi looked into those bright amber eyes, shining as they looked only at him. "he was my hero because—" he was interrupted by a small coughing fit, and when he began talking again, blood collected at th corner of his mouth, reigniting the blue clansman's panic. "because he saved you. I had been...begging him to...save you."

He couldn't help but let a small gasp escape him, his brows furrowing in concern.

When the red monster saved me…

Misaki's voice cut into his thoughts, soft and pleading, like a little girl asking for just one wish.

"So please...Saru...please just...don't hate me."

"Misaki…" That's when he snapped, and lost all of his self control.

The tears spilled over, cascading down his cheeks as he frantically babbled, his words slurring together.

"I don't hate you! I never hated you, I never...damn it Misaki. Were you really planning to die thinking I hated you?"

The words were blurred, and had anyone else been in the room, they'd have surely been confused on just what the hell their superior officer had been rambling about. For Misaki, however, each word was clearer than crystal. The way Fushimi tried so hard to perfectly prounonce each syllable. The way he tried to drill those words into Misaki's head.

Yeah. I get it Saru. I understand. I caught every word.

He couldn't talk. He just smiled up at him, another stream of tears slipping down his cheeks.

For Saruhiko, the thought was unbearable. Misaki, his Misaki was dying, and the only thing that the idiot could say was not to hate him?! Little did he know, Fushimi could never hate him. He would have told him "take it from me." He'd tried, oh, how he'd tried, but his heart always belonged to the red crow, and to hate him would defy everything Saruhiko knew to be true. Still, those words sat in the back of his mind, festering, fragmenting, echoing…

"Please Saru...please just...don't hate me."

"Please just…"

"Don't hate me."

…

He blinked away the tears gathering at his eyes.

You always find a way to break my heart don't you? Damn you, saying stupid things like that.

Ashamed of his outburst, Fushimi gave a slight shake of his head, as if to dismiss the whole situation, and threw himself wholeheartedly back into trying to patch up the wound. He always did this, when he felt an emotion too strong, too complex for him to decipher, to ignore. He'd immerse himself in work, if only to distract his mind from the wandering thoughts that made his chest feel tight and his heart wrench.

His long, slim fingers worked quickly, but not exactly diligently or skillfully given the current situation. Flashes of magenta passed quickly over Misaki's vision as Fushimi's wristbands flashed over him.

Those wristbands...he never wore them in HOMRA…

Come to think of it, Saru never showed his forearms, not since he'd betrayed—no, left Yata behind. He'd worn those wristbands every time Yata had seen him donning the blue uniform, assuming they were part of the ensemble, apart from the fact that no other Scepter 4 officer wore them. He almost never wore casual clothing, but when he did, it was a guarantee that it'd be long sleeves; even on hot days. It seemed like the physical secrecy came hand in hand with the blue's annoying facade.

"Hey Saru?"

His attempt of starting conversation was met by silence at first, Fushimi unwilling to slow his work, not when it was Misaki's life at stake. They'd already wasted enough time arguing. He should have had him at a hospital by now, but selfishly, he wanted to keep him here. It was just a fleeting thought, but nonetheless, it was one Fushimi couldn't ignore. He knew, deep inside, that when this was all over, nothing would change, after all, Yata was basically drunk on pain. He had no idea what he was saying, and come morning, he'd probably forget the whole thing. Blood loss always had the possibility of causing memory loss as well.

"Saru."

He heard his name being repeated, and it finally broke through to him.

"What?" He droned, trying to appear as if he hadn't zoned out.

"Can you do a favor for me?"

That's when Saruhiko stopped. His bloodstained hands hovered over Misaki's abdomen, shaking ever so slightly.

A favor?

Surely, he'd never ask the sort of things that Saruhiko feared. He'd never ask to be run through, to end the pain, to be with his precious Mikoto-San again, he'd never ask that...right?

Fushimi's hand immediately went to his blade, his fingers curling gently over the handle.

Misaki would never be so stupid.

And of course he'd refuse. He would sew the bastard's mouth shut before he'd even be able to say another word. Fushimi would never accept that kind of talk from him. He'd never do it.

"Saruhiko." Misaki spoke up again, sounding a little more impatient than the last time he'd interrupted Fushimi's thought processes.

"Yeah."

"Huh?"

"Yes, I can do you a favor," He tried not to let his voice tremble, he tried to steady his hand, still wrapped around the hilt of his saber. "What is it?"

Misaki, clearly with much effort, raised an unsteady hand, already stained red, and pointed to his blade, still smiling.

He flinched at the gesture. The second his mind registered it, his grip on the weapon got three times tighter, his whole arm shaking with the force in which he was holding his sword, and his eyes widened to the size of moons.

"Can you take those bands off for me?"

Saruhiko stopped.

What?

He didn't get it at first. Hesitantly shifting his eyes back toward Subaru, he finally realized that he was wearing his pinkish-purple wristbands, as he always did. When he realized what Misaki had tried to ask of him, he felt a rush of relief so strong, he could have passed out.

Misaki, you idiot. Scaring me like that.

Still, he wore the wristbands for a reason. He'd never forgotten them, not for a single day. Anyone would think he slept in the damn things. In all reality, he only took them off in the darkness of his bedroom, when even he could barely see what was hidden underneath. Seeing it would only make the act harder.

"Misaki..."

That's all he could manage. He couldn't blatantly refuse his former best friend without raising suspicion. He searched desperately for a reasonable sounding excuse, but to no avail. Yata seemed to have noticed that he'd gotten in his head again, because he prodded him in the arm, trying to regain his attention.

"Misaki, look—" He stammered, only stopping when he realized he still couldn't find a reason to say no.

Gazing down into his dying partner's amber eyes, he searched desperately for something, anything to stop him from taking them off.

"Please?" Yata pleaded, almost making it sound like a question, like a choice.

Saruhiko internally cursed himself. He'd promised himself he'd go to the grave with the secret, but with Misaki here, hand still on his arm, bringing with it, his familiar warmth, and him begging like that...

No, don't be weak like that. He scolded himself.

If Misaki saw it, Fushimi would surely have to explain. He wasn't willing to break his friend's spirit like that. Right now, he needed HOMRA's Yatagarasu, in all his fiery resolve.

"Misaki, that's not important right now, I need you to just—"

"Saruhiko, please take them off."

That's when he snapped, for what must have been the fifth time since they'd seen one another.

"Why?!"

He realized that he sounded way too desperate for it to be normal. Saruhiko sighed. Misaki really did bring out the worst in him. Yata however, wasn't fazed by the taller man's outburst.

"Because I need to see them. Your wrists, I need to see them now. Take the wristbands off."

Stubborn asshole. He thought bitterly, unwilling to give in.

"Misaki, I can't just—"

He cut himself short when he found himself caught by a burning amber gaze.

"Please…"

It was right in that moment when Fushimi was the one who lost his resolve. It wasn't worth fighting anymore. Not with Misaki.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance and disappointment, he let his hand slip from the hilt of his saber, reaching down with his left hand to remove the wristband on his right, and visa versa. He resisted the urge to cover his wrists with his own hands as he revealed an array of jagged scars, recklessly and blindly drawn into his skin in the dead of night.

He tried to avoid it, but even still, he felt it. Burning eyes, alight with shock and hurt. They cut deep into his skin, making his heart bleed more than his arms ever did. He had so many excuses ready, god forbid the captain happened to see something, but now, with him, they all sounded empty. He risked a glance at Yata, feeling his breath hitch when he was met with the sight of him...smiling. It was a sad, regretful smile, accompanied by yet another wave of tears. His next words came out as a choked whisper, like he could barely force them out.

"I knew it. Saru, why did you do that?"

The question barely reached through his hazy thoughts. Why? Hell if he knew. It was just that...he'd always had this urge. No—actually, that's a lie. Ever since he left HOMRA, he had this urge. It was always after he'd see Misaki, tease him, fight with him, drawl out that name with such malice that it rocked even him to the core. Long after the thrill and desire, the passion and adrenaline faded, he'd retire to his dorm, thankfully, alone. He'd turn out the lights, if only for the purpose of being blind to it all. Not knowing at all what compelled him to, though, he always pulled out one of those jet black knives he coveted so much, and brought it upon his skin. Fushimi had always stifled his cries, and convinced himself that he loved the burn. He loved it, he hated it, he—

"Why didn't you just tell me you were—"

"I missed you, okay?!" It took a moment to realize that the voice breaking into the silence was his.

Alas, it was too late now. It was out. There was no point in holding back. He clamped his right hand over his left wrist, leaning his forehead against it, shutting his eyes as tightly as he dared, and letting his voice breeze past his lips, wondering if he was even making a sound.

"I missed you so much. I just wanted you to look at me again. I just wanted…" He trailed off.

I thought I had so much more to say. I have nothing. This is all I have.

He flinched as something touched him, his head jerking up abruptly to see Misaki gently easing Fushimi's fingers away. He obliged with his silent order, bringing the white lines back into sight. Yata didn't say a word. He only ghosted his fingers over his wrist, hand trembling, barely touching him, as if solid contact would make them bleed again. He finally reached Fushimi's palm, where the scars stopped. Now more certain in his movements, he reached down, lacing Saruhiko's fingers with his own. Fushimi froze, suddenly insecure about everything; the lack of space between them, the feeling of Misaki's hand holding his, the swirling emotions in his amber irises…

"Don't do that anymore, idiot. Please don't—"

His earlier concern returned with a flaring passion as Misaki broke off into a short coughing fit. Before he could jump into action though, he felt the redhead's hand tighten in his, and he started again.

"Please don't hurt yourself anymore Saru. I can't watch you do that, anymore. I can't—" He broke off again into another fit, this one more violent than the last.

Now officially frantic again, he managed to wrench his hand away from Misaki's, ignoring him when he reached out for Saruhiko again.

Shit, how could I get so caught up in all of this and forget that the bastard's still bleeding?!

His eyes scanned over the scene before him, and he finally realized just how much blood there was. It stained basically all of Misaki's white t-shirt a dark crimson, streamed across the tower floor in almost every direction, spreading over Saruhiko's knees, legs, soaking through his uniform and covering his hands. The sight alone brought a sickening feeling to his stomach, and he felt dread weigh like a stone in his chest.

Forgetting all logic, Fushimi tried stopping the bleeding with his own coat, throwing himself out of it and pressing it against Misaki, all the while crying hysterically. Yata seemed to slip in and out of consciousness, his eyes always finding Saruhiko again upon waking. Realizing the hopelessness of his tactics, he locked his eyes despairingly on Misaki, who still looked up at him with hope and something else, fervent and bright, glimmering in his eyes. Time seemed to stop as they closed again, and his breathing labored.

"Fuck, Misaki it won't stop. I can't get it to stop. Misaki!" He wailed, gaze moving so quickly to look at everything around him that it made him dizzy.

His eyes always came to rest on Misaki, though.

"Saruhiko...thank you...for being my friend. It made me...so happy…"

With the way he looked and sounded, it appeared as if Misaki was talking in his sleep, but Saru was aware that he was as wide awake as he could manage. Even still, the voice could barely be heard above Fushimi's raging thoughts, echoing and ringing like explosions in his ear.

"Misaki, hang on!"

"I love you…" Another murmur, fainter, weaker, more emotionless than the last.

He was grounded to reality for a split second by Misaki squeezing his hand, which hand somehow been held again by Yata's, but it faded rapidly when a shuddering sigh filled the air, slicing through Fushimi's panic. It was just one, long, shaky sigh, then silence.

It might have been quiet enough to hear the exact second Fushimi's heart shattered. It sounded like the horrifying, empty sound of glass as it hit the floor in jagged shards, reverberating down deserted hallways, mixed with the maniacal laugh of his nightmares, ants spilling across the tile, the sound of his own, pleading screams.

Before he even felt himself move, his hands were clasped on Misaki's shoulders, shaking him violently, and shrieking so much that his voice no longer sounded like his.

"Misaki! Damn it this isn't funny anymore! Wake up you bastard!"

Silence.

"Misaki, please!"

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Kusanagi cast an anxious glance over to where Awashima, Scepter 4's second in command, paced restlessly, causing a flood of clicks to echo in the nearly empty room. He felt Kamamoto shift uncomfortably beside him, and looked over to see him staring listlessly at the flawlessly polished tile beneath them. He inwardly sighed, yet again taking up the responsibility of being motherly, as he always had; or at least, that's what Totsuka told him. Walking a few steps towards the young clansman, he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and met his eyes steadily when he looked up.

"Kamamoto, you know this isn't your fault. Besides," he added with amusement. "when has Yata-Chan ever let us down?"

A small, obviously forced smile creeped into his features.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Yata-San is pretty tough, yeah?"

"Yeah." He added quietly, trying to conceal his own doubt.

Yata had created a diversion to help them get away from Yukari Mishakuji, but hadn't been seen by anyone since their escape. Except perhaps, Fushimi, who, much to Kusanagi's concern, looked pretty shaken up at the topic of Yata's plan. Maybe he knew something they didn't? The thought weighed heavy in his stomach, as if a stone were placed there. Trying to distract his mind, he turned away from Rikio in favor of approaching the blues, who, not much to his surprise, tensed up, ready to jump to their lieutenant's aid should she ask. She didn't, however, but rather looked quite relieved upon seeing the bartender coming towards her. She whipped around to face him, covering the space between them with long strides. As they reached each other, Awashima placed her hands firmly on his forearms to steady herself as she swayed dangerously on her feet. The look he received as their eyes met only assisted in making his fears seem like truth.

"Izumo," she shakily sighed, as if she was out of breath. "have you gotten any word from Fushimi, or the captain?"

He paused, contemplating telling a small white lie to put her mind at ease, but quickly decided against it upon seeing the worried glint in her eyes. Shaking his head, he let out a defeated sigh.

"Sorry Seri. I haven't heard from any of them since we found you," Seeing the sudden spark of fear and disappointment in her beautiful blue irises, he knew he had to do something to reassure her, regardless of the circumstances. "But hey, remember what I told you? Fushimi undoubtedly went after Yata, and despite their opinions of each other, the two are an incredible team. There's no possibility of either of them not making it out of this."

"You think so?"

The small flame of hope lighting in her voice made him smile.

"Yeah, of course."

She gave a small, breathy, sigh, hanging her head ever so slightly.

"Fushimi-kun…" She muttered quietly, as if saying his name would summon him miraculously from his spot in the tower.

Kusanagi didn't know what to do, so he just pulled her close to him, allowing her to cry into his shoulder without complaint.

Damn those reckless kids.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Saruhiko clutched Misaki's unmoving body as close to his own has he dared, still clinging on to that minuscule spark of hope, the hope that he might feel a pulse, or hear his Misaki's voice again...but there was nothing. His hysterical sobs had echoed endlessly throughout the tower, so much that even Saruhiko couldn't pinpoint where they came from, despite knowingly continuing on with the cries. Even now, he didn't know when he had broken down, or how long he'd been sitting here. He willed his red aura, albeit weakly, forward, to warm himself and Misaki.

This isn't over Misaki. It just can't be over. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe, I swear!

He repeated the thought over and over again in his head until it became a desperate prayer ringing in his ears. He lost control for a moment, feeling red and blue auras clash mercilessly within him. His whole body felt alive with the feeling of uncontrolled power pulsing in his veins. It burned like hell. He felt like he was burning alive, burning in Misaki's raging fire, the embodiment of his soul, his heart. It felt like whenever they'd fight. It was bright red and blue mixing violently into a blinding violet, pulling the two towards each other, then, in an instant, ripping them apart again.

He resisted. Fushimi always resisted. He would never let Misaki be torn away from him, not ever. Even when he left HOMRA, the red clansman was just one clan-on-clan confrontation away, but now…

Saruhiko looked down at his peaceful looking love one more time, then, on impulse, he leaned down and touched his lips softly and hesitantly to Misaki's. Slowly but surely, the kiss became more fierce as a fire lit inside Fushimi. His lips locked fervently onto Yata's, and he pressed their bodies closer together. He'd always wanted to do this with him, but...not like this…

He felt a stab of regret and pulled away, staring grief strickenly at the motionless body beneath him. A sob wracked his body and he shuddered, doubling over and clutching Misaki close to him once more. A broken cry tore itself from his throat, and as he heard himself quieting down again, he began whispering the boy's name into his skin as his lips ghosted over Yata's collarbone, and the HOMRA emblem that was tattooed there.

"Misaki, Misaki, Misaki…"

He cried quietly into his white—no, red shirt, now, stopping only when he heard the unmistakable sound of metal clashing. His head jerked up at the sound, his eyes narrowed, and he felt a familiar burn beginning to scorch into his chest again.

You bastard.

His thoughts and feelings whirled and warred in his head and his heart, creating a savage blaze that tore through every bone in his body, engulfing him. Quieting down the fire for moment, he gently kissed Misaki one more time, fully knowing it would be his last time, and then, grief all but forgotten, he rose to his feet, and unsheathed the sword at his waist.

I promise, Misaki, he'll pay for this. All of them will.

The minute the thought ended, his body exploded into vengeful power, coursing through his veins and covering every inch of him. Blue and red collided, clashed, mixed, and eventually came together in a stunning lavender, looking as if they all swirled into one color, yet also remained isolated. It was overwhelming, and for a moment, Fushimi lost control of it, his sword sounded like it was cracking under the force of the energy, but he gripped the hilt tighter, keeping it steady. After trying for what felt like hours to control the wild auras, he gave in, letting his colors flow effortlessly through him.

Fuck it, he thought. I'm going to let you have all my power.

He took one step forward to steady himself, then released every ounce of power inside him, tearing apart the tower. He was going to end this. Briskly, he made his way towards the persistent sounds of battle, the screeching of metal against metal guiding him. His colors surrounded him, drowning his whole being in furious reds and serene blues. Yukari Mishakuji had left the bloody scene at some point, and damn if Saruhiko wasn't going to track the bastard down and give him hell.

He reached the end of the long hallway, and saw the silver king's clansman, Kuroh Yatogami, dueling with Mishakuji. He felt a stab of pain in his chest, and he became breathless, watching them fight. It looked...it looked just like them...Fushimi and…

Damn you.

He clutched a hand to his chest, trying to get some air into his lungs, mesmerized by the two swordsmen as they moved fluidly, yet viciously with the other. He could almost see them, himself and Misaki, on the Ashinaka school island, with sword drawn and skateboard flying.

…

"Don't call me by that name dammit and don't talk about my people like you know them! I know you, and you're nothing but a traitor!"

…

"Oh, you're doing this for Mikoto. Interesting. Well, unfortunately, I think your hero's lost his edge. After all, he willingly went to jail. Guess that means he's finally grown up. He could teach you a few things Mi~sa~ki~"

…

"Hey Monkey, you're gonna die!"

…

"I've already told you. Ever since I walked away from HOMRA and the presence of Mikoto Suoh, I've gained even more power."

…

"Don't get cocky just because you gained some half-assed powers. What, are you thinking about ruling the country now?"

…

"I'm not interested in anything as simple as ruling the country. The only thing I'm interested in ruling...is anything with flesh and blood."

…

Fire flashed before his eyes, and Fushimi gasped, recoiling in disgust. He could almost feel Yata's fire coming for him again, a wild twister of scarlet flames. He'd welcomed it with open arms then, but now, he was going to resist it, resist that fire, Mikoto Suoh's fire, like he always did. Summoning a fragment of his blue, he sent a shock wave across the battlefield, stopping the two vassals mid-fight. With swords still raised, they looked toward him, eyes wide. That is, until Yukari Mishakuji saw him. Fushimi almost laughed at the pleasure he felt, seeing that spark of fear light inside rose colored eyes.

"Blue clansman, Saruhiko Fushimi," Kuroh hesitantly, quietly, shakily, addressed him. "where is your clan and your king? Should you not be with them?"

Saruhiko casted a quick glance in the silver clansman's direction, then, with an annoyed click of his tongue, turned towards him.

"Silver clansman, Kuroh Yatogami, leave this area right now. Go find your precious silver king, and tell him to evacuate the tower. I'm tearing it down."

"What?" The shock in his usually deadpan voice had Fushimi almost huffing in amusement.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter? I said get out," he emphasized the word by extracting a life from his sleeve, tilting it towards the swordsman. "I have some business to finish here with your friend."

"Excuse me? My apologies blue clansman, but I cannot just—"

He stopped abruptly with a gasp as a sleek, black throwing knife flew past him, missing by mere inches. Eyes alight with fear, he chose to back out with a disappointed sigh, leaving the vanguard and the green clansman to settle their "business".

Turning pointedly back to Yukari, he glared at him, feeling his red flare back up inside him, and this time, he didn't resist. Filth like him deserved a bloody end at the mercy of two conflicting colors. He deserved to feel the rush of fiery red inside him as he burned alive. Unfortunately for him, that's just what Fushimi intended to do. He drew his sword again, put away from when he'd thrown the knife across the room, and watched it glint in the fluorescent light. Once more, he summoned his aura, both red and blue, and let them mix again into a now dull violet. Yukari still looked frightened, or in the least, intimidated by Saruhiko's silent challenge, but as usual, masked it behind a mad laugh and his own sword, Ayamachi.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" Fushimi tried to sound as calm as he could, despite the auras flaring wildly around him.

Yukari tilted his head up in mock innocence, a gesture that made Fushimi's blood boil.

"Hm, I bet I could guess."

"Damn right!" He yelled back, cutting off whatever Yukari was prepared to say next.

Composing himself, he gripped his saber, feet planted firmly on the tile, and leaned down slightly, ready to lunge forward.

"The time for talking is over Yukari Mishakuji. It's time for you to atone for the heinous crime you've so carelessly committed."

An arrogant smile creeped back into Mishakuji's features, and the gleam in his magenta eyes returned with a fierce sparkle.

"Come and get me then, blue clansman."

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Anna flinched as another explosion echoed through the tower, followed by the sounds of metal scraping against metal. She tightened her grip on Kusanagi's waist, and a whimper slipped past her lips. He placed a reassuring hand on her head, but she could feel the slight trembling of his fingers in her hair, only managing to further confirm her fear. Something didn't feel right. Her aura was unstable and fluctuated painfully inside her. One minute, it was burning her insides and the next, it felt as if her flame had been extinguished. The constant up and down of the aura inside her had Anna feeling dizzy.

"Saruhiko." She muttered, earning a confused and maybe even shocked stare from Kusanagi.

"Wait, excuse me?" He questioned.

"Saruhiko is fighting. I can feel his red. It's brighter and hotter than I've ever felt it before. It must be hurting him."

In a rush, HOMRA's strategist was kneeling down beside her, holding his king by the shoulders and asking her hurried questions.

"Can you tell who he's fighting?"

Kusanagi had heard Anna comment before on how bright Fushimi's aura was when he fought with Yata. Perhaps, that was it, even if he dreaded having to split the two idiots up again, it would at least confirm that the vanguards were okay.

Anna shook her head, making a small, scared noise before continuing.

"No, I don't feel another force, except maybe, this electricity running up my spine…"

"A green clansman?"

The king hung her head, eyes clouding with confusion and dismay.

"Maybe. But Misaki…"

Kusanagi paused this time, wanting to ask her, but still afraid of the answer he'd receive.

"Yata-Chan? What about him Anna?"

Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, and she reached up to wipe them away, her voice cracking as she spoke.

"Izumo, I don't feel Misaki. Where is he?"

A stab of fear hit him in the chest, leaving him breathless. She couldn't feel Yata's aura? What could that mean?

"I—I don't know. I haven't seen him since he helped us escape."

A tiny, broken gasp, followed by a whimper. He had to help his king. This poor girl's soul couldn't handle another death, right?

"But y'know, it could just be because he's out of reach, or maybe Fushimi knocked him unconscious or something. I'm sure he's okay. After all, Fushimi's with him, even if they fight like children."

To his disappointment, it appeared to do nothing in consoling the young girl, who only closed her eyes, red marble clutched in her joined hands, and whispered,

"Misaki, Saruhiko…"

He sighed, looking back towards the door, and then casted his eyes over to the group of blues, still tense and restless. As soon as he turned his head though, he heard a loud explosion behind him. Startled, he pulled Anna close to his chest and whipped around, eyes widening as Yukari Mishakuji fell through the door, landing clumsily and hastily trying to recover. They gasped, drawing back and readying their weapons, prepared to ambush the green clansman the moment he recovered. They didn't get the chance, however, because a second after Mishakuji had been blasted into the room, Fushimi burst in after him, looking out of his mind and screaming about 'killing the bastard'. Kusanagi heard Awashima's call from behind him break the silence, her voice, full of relief and shock, echoing inside the now half demolished room.

"Fushimi-kun!"

"Saruhiko!" Anna gasped, muffled by Kusanagi's shirt.

The vanguard paid his lieutenant no mind, not so much as a side glance, as his eyes were furiously fixed on Mishakuji. The next thing they knew, Fushimi had already lunged at Yukari again, sword aimed for his stomach, but was stopped abruptly by Mishakuji's own sword. Saruhiko jumped back, readying his weapon again before taking one step forward, malice practically dripping from his voice as he challenged the green.

"Enough of this bullshit! This ends here Yukari Mishakuji!"

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Saruhiko felt utterly engulfed by fire. A wild, furious, passionate fire that thrummed through his veins and boiled under his skin. He felt like his skin would melt off his bones, but still, he'd never felt so alive.

It's strange. He thought.

Letting his power go, feeling his red and blue oppose each other so violently and yet also blend so perfectly, changing and fluctuating, burning his flesh and freezing his heart; all of it was strange, and exhilarating. He aimed blow after blow at the clansman in front of him, swinging until his arms burned and taking hit after hit until his blood mixed with Yata's, soaking into the remains of his uniform, and painting his skin a dull scarlet. His ears rang with the roaring thoughts whirling in his shattered mind, sanity forgotten, living on pure muscle memory and battle lust. He backed Mishakuji into a corner, only to level the wall pressing against his opponent's back.

It's no fun if they have no room to fight back. The sadistic thought creeped into his mind, and he made no effort to stop it.

The thoughts only fueled his rage, his power, his bloodlust. He once again swung his blade, missing Yukari's throat by inches.

Damn you, you shady bastard!

Fushimi stopped, planting his feet firmly and summoning his red aura, allowing it to burst from his body and drive Mishakuji through the wall. Past him, he caught a brief glimpse of a large room, and groups of people inside. He could care less, however, and, just as soon as he'd fired at the clansman, he leaped after him.

I won't allow you to escape! You have to pay for what you've done!

As his feet hit the ground once more, he found himself already raising his blade again, and a familiar voice called distantly from somewhere in the room.

"Fushimi-kun!"

It sounded, relieved, and tinged with shock, concern, and fear. Without even looking, Fushimi knew who had called out to him.

Lieutenant Awashima.

He resisted the urge to look over at where she stood beside the blue clan, and to click his tongue at her horribly timed interruption, as always. His eyes remained fixed on the green clansman in front of him, stumbling clumsily and looking at him warily, gaze glimmering with fear.

Heh, so you know that you're at a disadvantage huh? Good, I want you to be scared. Fear the death I'll bring upon you, useless scumbag!

Feeling a sudden burst of impatience and anger, he flew forward once more, sword aimed directly at Yukari's stomach. He happened to know from his captain that a certain red king died that way. With that thought in the forefront of his mind, he prepared to thrust the saber deep into his opponent's body, only to be blocked by Ayamachi, the sword sworn by its master to fight on behalf of the green king. Jumping backwards to avoid being hit by its sharp edge, he readied his weapon and took a threatening step forward. He felt his anger and annoyance boiling inside him, and a shout tore itself from his throat.

"Enough of this bullshit! This ends here Yukari Mishakuji!"

Not giving the vassal a chance to respond, he lunged again, but was slightly knocked back by the force of his aura bursting shortly from his hands and running over his sword like water. Quickly recovering, he continued his attacks, finally understanding why his aura was becoming unpredictable. It was always said that a clansman's aura was stronger when they were able to keep their emotions under control. In doing this, they were able to keep it from fluctuating, going out of control, or disobeying its holder's orders. In the moment though, Fushimi felt an onslaught of emotions that made his body shake and his insides burn.

Of course, he thought. my powers would choose to disobey me now of all times.

He stopped for a second, letting a small laugh slip past his lips, and he felt that familiar sadistic smile forming.

You know what? Fuck it all. I did say I was going to tear this place apart didn't I? Who cares if my powers want to go out of control. I'll lose control with them.

He leaned his head back, exhaling deeply and opening his arms wide, eyes closed. The flames inside his body flew from inside him, skimming over his skin and whirling around him like a hurricane. It was then that a blue aura came to intercept it, only to find itself weaker, and succumb to the wildfire opposing it, choosing to blend with it instead. He opened his eyes, finding himself blinded by brilliantly shining reds, blues, and violets.

Yes, that's it. Let go of all your barriers Fushimi. Burn them all. Mikoto Suoh's voice urged him onward, rumbling in his ears and causing him to smile wider.

Even in death, that fucker liked to mess with him, huh?

He lurched forward, having broken down all his inner boundaries. Now, the force of his power made him unsteady, and he felt his hands being scarred by the unbearable heat he'd subjected them to. Fushimi knew he wouldn't last long in this state, but he was determined to majorly fuck up the douchebag in front of him before he collapsed. Running purely on that thought, he let his own screams of outrage ring throughout the tower, and went in again for a fatal blow.

Within seconds, the tower exploded in colorful light, and it became hard to pinpoint whose color was who's, or where it was coming from. Awashima and Kusanagi, along with their clans, fell back farther than before, trying desperately to avoid the heat of the now out of control battle.

Images of his precious Misaki flooded into Fushimi's head. When they were young, the way he smiled at him, when they joined HOMRA, the way his fingers brushed Fushimi's collarbone, when he joined Scepter 4, the passionate fire Misaki had always assaulted him with, and now, the horrifying memory of his best friend, lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood. It was always that god forsaken color. A sickening red. His mind settled on that image, and one word echoed endlessly with it.

Fire...

Fushimi felt the cord inside his head snap, and, with his sanity now long forgotten, he truly lost it all. His red flared chaotically throughout the room, lighting everything in its path on fire. Nothing in the tower was untouched by the hungrily licking flames. Nothing would stop them now, not even the man who released them. He would let all of it burn.

He watched in satisfaction as Yukari flinched away from the sparks that flew at him, threatening to burn him alive if he got too close. Fushimi, knowing this, attempted to back him into the corner, only to have Mishakuji dodge around him, serving only to further his rage. He rushed towards him, sword poised over his shoulder, ready to put the fucker down.

"You bastard! Do you have any idea what you've done! I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" He screamed, swinging violently over and over, no longer caring what or who he cut down.

"Fushimi!" Awashima practically shrieked, her words shaky and voice horrified.

He knew, they'd never seen this. Nobody had ever seen Saruhiko's inner madness. Only Anna could have seen it inside him, or perhaps even Mikoto Suoh had realized it. This was the part of him that embodied the red clan to its core. It was violence, madness, insanity, family, love, passion, and fire. Whipping around to face Mishakuji again, he re-engaged him, red, blue, green, and a blueish-silver exploding around them. Without warning, a blue flash cut between them, and although it broke the two apart, it did nothing to quell the smoldering tension around them. Fushimi let his eyes stray away from Yukari, just long enough to look over the red and blue clans. There, he saw Awashima, sword drawn and looking as if it would drop from her trembling hands.

"Lieutenant," he regarded her icily. "keep yourself out of this. It has nothing to do with you. This is between me and him."

He tilted his head towards the green clansman, still standing in a ready fighting stance, a solid reminder that his battle wasn't over. Fushimi clicked his tongue at his superior officer, bringing his sword down to rest at his hip. She looked at him disapprovingly, but he noticed her eyes warily tracing his auras as they wove a path around him.

"Fushimi, this is madness! What is the meaning of this? You should be with Enomoto right now."

"My apologies, blue clansman," a sweet voice cooed behind them, causing Fushimi to bring his sword defensively in front of him. "I believe I may have harmed his precious crow."

Awashima only looked at him, confused and a bit frightened, having witnessed his battle prowess, along with the fact that he was part of the green clan. Fushimi, however, narrowed his eyes at the swordsman, a few black knives slipping into his hand.

"Fuck you." He spat venomously.

He faintly heard Kusanagi's horrified murmurs from somewhere behind him.

"His…precious crow…? Y—Yata-chan…"

"What have you done to Misaki?!" Anna screamed desperately, sounding shocked and scared.

With the girl's wailing easily forgotten, Saruhiko took a few long strides towards his opponent, sword raised in one hand, and knives ready in the other.

"Fushimi, stop!" He heard his lieutenant's command from behind him, and, becoming impatient and irritated with her interference, threw his arm outward, dispatching a few of his throwing knives in her direction.

"I said stay out of it! You're being a nuisance!" He yelled over his shoulder, voice breaking with his splitting anger.

He glanced back, watching to see if his blades would find their target. To his surprise however, a flash of blue came in between the weaponry and his superior.

"Akiyama," he deadpanned. "of course you would come between us. You always were a suck-up huh?"

"Fushimi-san, this needs to stop! You're acting crazy!" He tried to reason, only to be silenced by Fushimi's silent threat of readying his knives to be thrown once more.

Realizing with a stab of annoyance that he had allowed Akiyama to distract him, he sighed, clicking his tongue and lowering his weapons. Turning away from his subordinate, he uttered one order to him.

"Don't interfere." Turning to Mishakuji one final time, he released his auras in a burst, feeling the power that had been ebbing away flare back to life. "As for you, you're done for! Do you hear me? This is it; you're going to hell!"

He aggressively let his knives fly from his fingers, each one of them seeming to miss by inches. They had only been a distraction though, and while Yukari's attention was occupied by the small daggers, he took the opportunity to get close, his cold metal blade, engulfed in blue, now pressed lightly to the green clansman's throat. With fear and anticipation shining in rose colored eyes, he jumped back, narrowly avoiding the otherwise clean swipe of Fushimi's sword. Letting a grunt of dissatisfaction slide past his lips, he lunged again, aiming blow after blow, no longer knowing or caring whether he was getting a clean kill or not. It didn't have to be graceful, badass, or even severe, though Fushimi doubted that he'd let himself kill the bastard by letting him hang on to mere seconds. It didn't have to be any of those things; Yukari Mishakuji just had to die.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the force of their sabers clashing violently together. An awful song of screams and metal-on-metal. It was terrible, and vile, and sickening, and beautiful. Saruhiko felt his familiar sadistic smile being plastered across his face now. Yes, he was enjoying this, so very much. Just the thought of the bastard's blood splattering across every square inch of Mihashira Tower—

He jumped back, panting lightly from the splitting agony of his hands dying under smoldering flames, and the overexertion of using the full force of two auras at once. Even so, his rage had yet to subside, and with his body feeling hollow, he still remembered the images of his dear Misaki lying dead in his arms. He locked gazes with the green, willing every bit of burning hatred he felt boiling in his blood to reflect in his eyes. It must have worked, because Yukari tensed up, drawing his blade defensively in front of him.

"I'm going to torture you for as long as your body can hold out, and then I'm going to kill you." He started, his voice quiet and menacing.

Fushimi watched as Yukari's sword began shaking, a telltale sign that his hands were going weak, and he took a few steps back, his legs giving out with fear. Satisfied with the reaction, Saruhiko strode towards him, slow and threatening, his lips continuing to spill vulgar threats as he drew nearer. Finally, Fushimi stopped, looming over the JUNGLE clansman, his eyes boring into his soul. He leaned down, pressing his sword against Yukari's throat again, more forcefully this time.

"For every ounce of pain he felt, I'm going to make you wish you were dead." He hissed, making sure to enunciate each syllable, drilling each word into his victim's brain.

Yukari gulped against the cold metal, and in one last ditch effort to survive, ducked under the sharp edge, rolling away and leaping to his feet. He made a run for it, hoping to find Sukuna, or at least to get away from Saruhiko's psychotic plans for him. He stopped, gasping as a stinging pain shot through his cheek, and clutched his face roughly. He stood like that for a moment before slowly pulling his fingers away. When he looked, a small smear of blood stained his black gloves. Infuriated, the green whipped around, eyes narrowing to slits when he spotted Fushimi, arm extended, and one backup knife still held tightly in his hand.

"How—how dare you!" He spat, voice rising in pitch. "Do you expect to ruin my dazzling beauty and come away unscathed? I'll skin you for that!"

"Fucking try me." Fushimi spat back, words laced with spite.

There was a pause, as if time had stopped for a second, and then a calm voice cut into the silence, followed by a sudden chill.

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary."

Every person in the room froze. All eyes moved to the doorway, where the blue king, Reisi Munakata, stood regally, his sword in hand. A blue aura flowed swiftly through him, calm and controlled. It enveloped the tower in it's icy grip, taking the tension in the room and dissolving it until it was nothing more than fragments.

"Miss Awashima," he summoned his first in command. "please take this man into custody."

He pointed towards Yukari Mishakuji, and the king's eyes met Fushimi's as he stepped towards the two.

"Fushimi-kun, stand down." He ordered, glaring pointedly at his vanguard.

"Make me." He challenged, glowering at his captain.

The retort was met by multiple gasps, rippling through the crowd of both the red and blue clan. Awashima stared at him in absolute trepidation, while the rest of the blue clan looked quickly between the king and the vanguard in panic.

"Fushimi," Munakata began again, his voice lowering in warning. "control your auras, now, and cease this madness."

He felt a flare of indignance light inside him, and he approached his king, standing face to face with him.

"I'm getting real sick of your shit, captain." He announced, earning another gasp from the blue clan. Awashima paled, looking as if she might faint. "You are not to apprehend this man. He's mine, and I'm putting him to the sword."

"You are to do no such thing. Now, Fushimi, step back and sheathe your weapons, now." The blue king commanded, his eyes glinting in a dangerous threat.

Saruhiko's breaths became ragged and trembling, both with overexertion, anxiety, and anger. He knew he was the captain's favorite pawn, and he had never blatantly disobeyed him, or spoken to him in such a crude manner. He had always done his best to remain as relatively civil as possible. Now, he just didn't care.

"That man," he argued, pointing to Yukari, now held by Awashima's sword to his throat. "has committed a crime worthy of a bloody death, and you are standing between me and my target. Know that I will stop at nothing to have what is rightfully mine."

The blue king stood calmly, looking down at his subordinate with an icy gaze, searching deep blue eyes with violet irises.

"Which is?"

"Revenge." Fushimi hissed spitefully.

"What for?" Munakata tilted his head, reverting back to his nonchalant personality, the one that liked to play mind games, and complete even the most difficult puzzles without guidance.

"I won't say a word, not until he'd dead and rotting." He concluded, his stance becoming guarded and reserved once more, though his eyes betrayed him, burning brightly with red, hot fire.

"Unfortunately, Fushimi, I cannot allow you to—"

"Saruhiko," a sweet and delicate voice interrupted, belonging to the young red king, who now tugged lightly on the tattered remains of his uniform, in hopes of gaining his attention. "this man did something to Misaki, didn't he?"

Fushimi became breathless. His fists clenched at his sides, shaking with the words he forced down, stinging at the back of his throat.

Misaki, why? How dare you have so many people care about you, when all I have is you? That's not fair. It's not fucking fair Misaki.

He looked down at the girl with swirling blue irises, vulnerable, and deep with unspoken emotions. Anna only stared at him for a moment, her gaze cold and penetrating. Then she only ducked her head low, nodding slightly. When their eyes met once more, the red king's scarlet gaze was alight with passion and a hidden fire.

"I will help you get your revenge then, Saruhiko."

Kusanagi rushed to her side, looking at them both in disbelief.

"A—Anna, you can't possibly—" He spluttered, fumbling for words convincing enough for his king.

"I have to," she declared, her voice quiet and monotone. "for Misaki."

The stretigst only stood, dumbfounded and utterly numb.

"Yata-chan…"

"I don't need your help," Fushimi cut in, his voice rough and hostile. "this one's on me."

He turned to where Awashima stood, unsheathing his sword and releasing his auras for what felt like the millionth time. He had hoped this would be quick. After all, his body could only last so long under so much strain.

"In any case, I'm sick and tired of talking. This man's death is long overdue." He stepped forward, slowly bringing the tip of his sword to rest lightly at Yukari's stomach.

Fushimi felt the slow descent of madness setting in, pushing against his skull, begging to be set free.

"This is where you ran my beloved Misaki through with that filthy blade of yours. You stuck him right here." He applied a small bit of pressure, watching in satisfaction as the green clansman flinched against the touch.

"So it's true." The sound of Kusanagi's disappointed whisper drifted to him, fading into his already static thoughts.

"Let's see how you like it." He said bitterly, pushing the sword slowly through, watching intently as it ripped the tight black clothing, and blood gushed from the wound, oozing onto the sleek, silver blade.

A strangled cry of agony tore itself from the man on the receiving end of the saber, and he drowned it out.

Misaki, you cried out like this too. Could you hear yourself? Do you know how awful it was to hear you screaming?

"Misaki," he whispered, half to himself. "I promise—"

"Fushimi!" The voice of his king echoed in the empty room, and then Fushimi was turning, blade raised to block the aura that had been blasted at him.

Something in him sparked, and without thinking, he rushed towards Munakata, sword raised. As he reached him, swinging downwards with incredible force, he was blocked merely by the king's hand, which now rested against the sharp edge of the blade. He locked gazes with his vanguard, stern and commanding, while Fushimi, eyes wild and crazed, screamed profanities at him.

"I was with you! I left Misaki's side to join you! And look what it did to us! He loved me!" His voice cracked, and he pushed the sword forward with a much strength as he could muster in his state.

A look of sympathy, dull and deep, crossed through the blue king's violet eyes. He could see everything now. Fushimi's blue irises, drowning in their own color, suffocated by love, grief, and regret. He sighed, closing his eyes and summoning a fragment of his aura. Swinging his arm outward, the aura burst from him, sending Fushimi backwards roughly. He stumbled, falling with a sharp cry.

"Sir!" Awashima called out, her voice wavering with concern and shock.

"It's fine," Munakata replied calmly, as if it was nothing but normal procedures. "I'd never kill him."

He slowly approached Saruhiko, stepping forward cautiously as if he were a dangerous, wild animal. The vanguard struggled to get up, but found himself winded from the attack he had just taken in full. In the heat of the moment, he never thought to try and dull the blunt force being pushed upon him. Now, he felt every muscle in his body give up, and he collapsed back to the floor, breathing heavily.

No, Misaki, please. This isn't right!

Fushimi's vision started blurring, and every color before his eyes shifted and blended into a vibrant blue.

"Damn…you…" He choked out, already slipping out of consciousness.

"My apologies Fushimi-kun. This is Scepter 4's last resort when it comes to our out of control comrades." A hint of amusement rang in his voice, like the bastard king was enjoying it.

"This isn't a fucking joke! Do you even know the extent of—" He cut himself off with a gasp of pain, doubling over and curling in on himself.

It felt like he couldn't breathe, like something was constricting his lungs, or pressing against his chest. He struggled to force some kind of air into his lungs, but he gave up when his mind started swimming and everything around him began to spin.

I'm sorry…Misaki…

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Everyone in the room was stilled by the aftershock of what they'd witnessed. Now, Yukari Mishakuji had been taken back to his clan by the green king, much to Munakata's dismay, and Fushimi was being watched over by the red king. Awashima was speaking with her captain in hushed tones, her words spilling out hurriedly and almost panicked.

"Sir, I'm so sorry for this. We don't know what happened here, but Fushimi just showed up fighting with the green clansman, and was already out of control at that point in time. I hope I can—"

"Miss Awashima," he cut her off calmly, placing a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. "It's alright. I believe I know now what occurred in my absence. In any case, Fushimi needs proper care, and I prefer that he be detained in a secured room."

The lieutenant looked over her shoulder, blue eyes glimmering with concern at the state of her unconscious comrade.

"Yes, he really does look like a mess doesn't he?" She turned back to Munakata, catching his gaze and looking him in the eye as she continued. "Sir, what could have happened here? Fushimi-kun is...just a kid, after all."

Her eyes roamed over his ripped clothes, soaked in blood and stained an ugly red, and noticed the tear tracks stained onto his porcelain skin, glasses askew, not to mention cracked, and his wristbands missing, showing off multiple white scars decorating his arms. The sight alone made her heart wrench, and she resisted the urge to cry.

"I can only imagine what he's been through." She murmured softly.

"Seri," a deep voice called softly from behind her, and she was greeted by none other than HOMRA's strategist, Izumo Kusanagi. "I'm sorry to leave you here after all this, but we need to…" His voiced caught in his throat, and his eyes darkened behind his sunglasses. "We need to look for Yata-chan."

"I understand," she reassured him, her voice cautious and gentle, as if she were a mother dealing with an injured child. "we can handle things here. Good luck finding your missing clansman."

"Thanks." He muttered darkly, turning away from her and heading towards his king, who was sitting next to the unconscious Fushimi.

"Izumo." She greeted him as he approached, only casting him one short glance.

"Is he gonna be okay?" The bartender questioned, leaning down a little to get a better look at the boy.

He really hasn't changed much, has he? He still looks like the same, brooding kid.

"He's having a nightmare," Anna began, her voice still as quiet and emotionless as always. Only those who looked closer could see the concern and love in those scarlet eyes. "and he is in a lot of pain. I can feel it."

She placed her hand over her heart, her head bowing and eyes closing. Small wisps of red swirled around her hands and feet, giving her a bright, red glow.

"In...pain…?" Kusanagi stared down at the sleeping boy, looking more peaceful now than the he had ever seen him.

"Yes," she confirmed, raising her head and meeting his gaze steadily. "his red is very pretty, but it feels dark too, like it's tainted. It feels...lonely."

Kusanagi looked at the girl in confusion, watching her red eyes as they trailed back down to rest on Fushimi again.

"Saruhiko loves Misaki very much. His red burns so bright for him." She reached out to brush Fushimi's hair out of his face, and the boy flinched slightly, curling in on himself further.

"Misaki," he whimpered, tears welling up in his lidded eyes. "please...stay…"

The red king and her clansman exchanged a knowing glance.

"I guess, they never really stopped caring about each other did they?"

With that, Kusanagi stood up, leaving his king behind and making his way back to where he'd last seen the red vanguard. The halls felt eerie and it was so quiet that Kusanagi could hear the underlying ring in his ears from the lack of sound. The tower lights seemed to blind him, and his body felt numb, like his limbs were just moving on instinct, rather than to a set destination. Eventually, he reached the end of the hall, and upon turning the corner, stumbled backwards, strongly resisting the urge to vomit. There, in a scene looking like it was straight out of a horror movie, was Yata.

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The room fell silent as Kusanagi entered, carrying the body of a young man in his arms. They were both stained crimson, and Kusanagi's eyes were shadowed with grief and despair. Anna gasped as she saw him, her vanguard, her friend, lying lifeless in her clansman's arms. He slowly and hesitantly approached the horrified looking Anna, who had previously been watching over Fushimi. As the bartender approached his king, he averted his eyes, unable to meet her grief stricken gaze.

"I'm sorry Anna." He muttered, unable to manage another word.

"No, Izumo. This isn't your fault." She reassured him, voice wavering and tears flowing down her pale cheeks.

"It is," He insisted, gritting his teeth against the rush of fire he felt inside him. "Kamamoto and I, we just left him there. He convinced us that he'd be okay."

"Izumo…" The small child couldn't find any words to console him.

She'd never seen the man cry. Not even when his closest friends died.

Perhaps this is the breaking point, she thought sullenly. After losing Mikoto…

"Fushimi was right." She heard him mutter from beside her, almost inaudibly.

"Hm?" Anna tilted her head towards him, trying to understand him better.

He cleared his throat, raising his head ever so slightly, but making sure to keep his eyes hidden.

"Fushimi, he tried to tell us that it was stupid of us to leave Yata-chan there. Even knowing that Fushimi knows Yata better than any of us, we ignored him, wanting to have absolute faith in our vanguard, and not wanting to get in Fushimi's way. It really was stupid of us huh? And now we got a kid killed, and Fushimi…"

He trailed off, his eyes slowly moving to rest on the sleeping blue clansman. Images of his earlier destruction flashed behind his eyelids as he blinked.

"For every ounce of pain he felt, I'm going to make you wish you were dead!"

Suddenly, Kusanagi could remember every detail. The things he thought he hadn't noticed played like a sick, nightmarish movie in his head. The crazed look in the vanguard's eyes, the tears that flew past him with very lunge he made, the way his voice cracked when he spoke Yata's name, the way his clothes looked like they'd been torn in a desperate struggle, the blood staining his hands and face, the fire that had burst from his body—

Wait, fire…?

Come to think of it, Fushimi had used only fragments of his blue aura, while letting his red blaze out of control. Only his red aura, the same one he hated and feared…

"Oh my god…"

"What?" Anna questioned, her voice becoming higher pitched with concern.

"Fushimi said he hates fire. He told us a long time ago that he was afraid of it, of us, of Mikoto."

"Yes…?" Anna stuttered, confused by the seemingly out of place statement.

"But just look at this! Look around you Anna, and remember. Fushimi didn't use a lot of blue to create this did he?"

She glanced around her, then bowed her head in thought. The king stayed like that for what felt like forever, although it was probably only a minute or two.

"You're right," she acknowledged, raising her head to lock gazes with her strategist. "But Saruhiko was fighting for Misaki. His red was passionate when he was fighting, and it was scary, and dark. It flared out of control, like he was trying to share his emotions with everyone."

"His...emotions…?"

The young girl nodded her head, scarlet eyes alight with certainty.

"Yes, he reached me," she explained. "He felt like his heart was torn from his chest. Like he'd lost something so precious, that without it, he might die. He wanted to take Yukari with him. It drove him forward, and fueled his red."

"Is that so?"

He looked at Fushimi, eyebrows creased and eyes shut tightly, like he was willing them to forget something horrific they'd seen.

"Mi...sa...ki…" He forced out, sounding choked up, like the words were being forced past his lips.

It sounded, wrong, with the way that it usually flowed like honey across the blue vanguard's tongue, slow and sweet, like Fushimi relished each syllable. Now, it sounded cracked and broken, unnatural even.

"Lay Misaki beside him." Anna's soft voice broke into his musings.

Kusanagi looked at her like she'd just told him to set his bar on fire.

"Anna, I don't think that's the best idea—"

"It is," she insisted, her tone softening again as she continued. "Saruhiko tried very hard to save Misaki. He deserves to see him one last time."

He considered the suggestion, and with a grudging nod, Kusanagi laid the lifeless vanguard beside Fushimi, feeling sick and empty as the weight left his arms. He left without another word, trying to find the nearest water source so he could wash his friend's blood from his skin. Anna watched him go, sadness filling her scarlet irises, and creating a pool of emotion within her eyes. She shook away the feeling, reaching down gently and putting Fushimi's hand in Yata's, watching as Fushimi's fingers laced with Yata's effortlessly.

"What a cruel world, tearing these two apart." She whispered, drowning in the deep, indescribable feeling welling up inside her, causing her eyes to water.

It felt...so lonely, and sad...

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The first thing Fushimi noticed when he woke up is that he felt like he'd just been run over by a semi truck a thousand times over, the second was Misaki lying next to him, both him and Saruhiko covered in drying blood. His eyes widened, and all at once, in a rush that caused his head to start pounding, he remembered what had happened. His eyes widened, and he jerked forward, his body burning and stinging in protest.

"Mi...saki!" He rasped, reaching out for his friend.

He realized as he turned over, reaching out to Misaki with his right hand, that his left hand was covered by Misaki's, their fingers entwined. He placed his right hand on the red vanguard's body, flinching away as his fingers became cold.

No…

"Misaki," he whispered, his voice coming out more like a childish whimper. "wake up. You have to look at me Misaki. Mi—"

"Saruhiko." A quiet voice cut into his softly.

His head jerked up with alarm, and he caught sight of the red king.

"Anna?"

She stared down at him for a moment, sympathy swimming in red eyes, and then reached down and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, crouching down so that they sat at eye level.

"I'm very sorry Saruhiko, but Misaki isn't here anymore. He passed away." She confessed, her eyes burning into his, willing him to absorb every word and understand what it meant.

The young girl held him steady as he swayed in her arms, the world seeming to spin out of control. He lost all balance, and fell into her arms, gripping the red fabric of her dress tightly.

"No...no...Misaki is…" The words came out mumbled and almost incomprehensible.

"Hush," Anna whispered soothingly, running her fingers slowly through his dark hair. "I know it hurts Saruhiko. I'm so sorry."

No longer caring who he was clinging to, or who she aligned herself with, he buried his face in the red fabric of her dress, and felt a strangled cry tear itself from his throat. Fushimi faintly felt Anna flinch against him, taken aback by the sudden outburst, but recovered quickly and held him tightly against her.

It felt...warm, and safe. Red washed over his blurred vision, and it felt so familiar, and yet...so wrong. It wasn't the same as Misaki, who's flames were passionate and vibrant, thrumming in his veins and threatening to engulf him if he got too close, although he always loved to push the limit, openly welcoming the fierce burn of Misaki's hatred. It was what he'd lived for.

But Misaki never really did hate me, did he?

He relaxed for a moment, sighing in defeat. All this time he'd wasted…

"Saruhiko...thank you...for being my friend. It made me...so happy…"

He felt a sudden, agonizing jolt of shock and grief run through his body, and he shuddered violently, trying to rid himself of the memories that had somehow broken free from where he'd locked them.

"I love you…"

He threw his head down, hands clasped over his ears, as if he could block out the sound. His own screams resonated in his thoughts, mixing sickeningly with the melody of Misaki's voice.

"Why Fushimi, why? Why betray us for the blues of all people?"

"I don't know—" He gasped, almost inaudibly, all but choking on his words.

"Did you forget this mark? The symbol of our true pride?"

"I don't know…" He breathed, tears streaming down his face.

I want it to go away….

He faintly heard Kusanagi coming back, yelling for Anna to get away from Saruhiko, in case he lost control again. The captain was back in an instant as well, watching silently with cold eyes, while Awashima panicked beside him.

"Saruhiko, you're amazing!"

"I'm not," he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands burning against the tile floor where they'd fallen, attempting to hold him up. "I'm not, I'm not…"

He repeated the words like a prayer, pushing back furiously against his mind, fighting his way back to reality. Slowly, it started to quiet down, fading to nothing more than a dull buzz in the back of his mind. He weakly lifted his head and got to his feet, stumbling over to where Misaki lay, before sinking back to his knees. Fushimi let everything and everyone around him fade to grey, leaving only himself and Misaki's brilliant flame. He reached out for it, gently taking Misaki's hand in his own two, and brought it to his lips, pressing them softly against his stilled fingers for a moment before pulling back and resting his head against the vanguard's hand.

"I'm useless Misaki," He confessed, feeling a strange sense of calmness take over him. "I was never as amazing as you always said. I never was…"

He stilled as a firm hand was placed on his shoulder, looking up without releasing Yata's hand.

"Captain." He murmured, sounding broken, and yet somewhat relieved.

"Fushimi, it's time to go. We can't stay here for much longer." The blue king addressed him calmly and professionally, his voice only slightly softened by pity.

Fushimi let his eyes stray back to Misaki for a moment longer, and then he let he vanguard's hand slip from his fingers, placing it gently back onto the cold tile.

"Yeah," he muttered, rising unsteadily to his feet. "you're right."

Without another word, he placed his sword beside Misaki's body and walked towards the exit of the room, only briefly glancing at Awashima when she uttered his name. He left, aware that at least Kusanagi, Anna, and Munakata were close behind him, and made his way towards a small balcony off to the side, a barely noticeable area with how huge the tower was in full. He stepped out into the cold night air, relishing in the way it chilled his skin and froze him in time, even if just for a moment. Fushimi approached the thin railing on the edge of the platform, placing his hands on the cold metal bars, and kicking his legs over it, moving to where he was sitting comfortably atop the railing, looking out over the bright lit city.

It really does look beautiful out here. I always thought Totsuka was a fool for going out to look at them so much, but honestly, they're brilliant.

Saruhiko focused solely on the red and blue lights, which seemed to shine the brightest against the darkness of the starless sky. Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the comforting glow, he glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the red and blue kings, as well as Kusanagi and Awashima standing in the doorway.

"Fushimi…" Awashima breathed, her voice shaking with oncoming fear.

"Fushimi, you're far too close to that ledge. We'd prefer it if you watched from here." Kusanagi calmly advised him.

Ignoring the comments, Fushimi only smiled, tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Captain, I really am sorry."