A/N: The course of the fic is still uncertain, so I won't be able to update regularly. But nonetheless, please review and enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN K (ANIME & MANGA) AND ITS CHARACTERS.
April 16
4:26 P.M.
"Mikoto, what should we do now? The week is running slowly…" Kusanagi called over to the Red King, his gaze melting the bar's door.
Catching their attention, everyone turned to Kusanagi, and then to Mikoto. They've been slouching in the bar the whole day; they were bored to death. Even Anna had nothing to do— she just sighed and played with her crimson marbles.
"I don't feel this day at all. It's like everything just won't click together. What about you, San-chan?" Shouhei elbowed at his partner.
"Hmm. Everyone does, Shouhei." He snorted.
By this time, Kusanagi looked at Mikoto across the bar counter. The King seemed to be preoccupied with something else in his mind, so he didn't ask any further. Beside Mikoto was Kamamoto, snoring loudly. Wasn't he awake a while ago? On the other side were Chitose and Dewa, silently arguing about Kamamoto's foot size. The two of them had their own world — they didn't care about the others.
"Nothing to do today?" Kusanagi sat beside Eric at the counter's floor.
The blonde was busy with his phone. "None."
Kusanagi couldn't stand the awkward one-word conversation with him; he sighed. Eric was still reserved and timid, but at least he would clean the dishes and sweep the floor when needed. After a few seconds, Fujishima entered the door with a stray puppy. It was small, frail, and wounded. Shouhei saw the poor thing and hurriedly went to it. The others, especially Kamamoto, started to wake up.
"Oi! Fujishima-san, where did you find it? The puppy looks hungry." Shouhei exclaimed.
"It was lying at our door, so I picked it up." The animal lover replied.
Bandou went over as well and peeked. "It needs some energy booster and medicine. Look at that broken leg…"
As it drew more attention, members of the Homura began to flock over Fujishima and the pitied the animal. So, Dewa prepared a protein-rich meal, Chitose searched for some bandages and anti-inflammatory drugs, Kamamoto made a comfortable bed for it, and the rest cleaned the puppy. Everyone was busy about their new pet, though Mikoto, Kusanagi, and Eric were still seated, more silent than usual. They noticed something amiss.
"What a fuss…" The blonde sighed and walked upstairs.
"Kusanagi." Mikoto suddenly called. They had an understanding within those few moments, and Kusanagi smiled.
The bar owner turned to Yata. "Yata-chan."
The hotheaded Shock Troop leader didn't hear, so Kusanagi had to repeat himself. "Yata-chan!"
Everyone suddenly noticed Yata toying alone with his skateboard at the far end of the bar. For the whole time when they were together, he would just stare at the empty space or hold his skateboard. He won't talk to anyone except when he was asked to.
"What?" He answered, bit wary of the eyes looking directly at him.
"Do you feel alright? If you're ill, we always have our medicine kit."
Yata's eyebrows met, his composure turned into a complete annoyance. "I'm fine, Kusanagi-san."
He stood up frustrated with Kusanagi and everyone's gaze on him. One minute ago, he was minding his own business, and another minute later, he'd been the subject of ridicule. He wasn't in the mood to understand things, so he marched down the bar counter, passing by Mikoto, and picked up his baseball bat, planning to cool off somewhere.
"Yata-chan," Kusanagi chirped again when Yata was at the door.
"What do you want?!"
"Can you take on another four rounds while you're outside?" He smiled.
Yata's eyes lingered on his words, his grip tight on his instincts. "Okay."
Storming out with his skateboard and bat, Yata left the bar deserted of life. Dewa didn't like the disrespect he showed towards everyone, considering the fact that Kusanagi only asked a simple question. Anna simply glared at the door and lied her back on the couch, holding her marbles above her face. What awaits them?
"I think he's lost…" Fujishima whispered to himself.
Chitose sealed the puppy's bandage, being careful not to hurt it. "He's wounded too..."
April 17
3:52 A.M.
"You mindless bastards! I'm not coming with you— not now, not ever!" Mikoto was awoken by the yelling outside the bar.
"Yata Misaki-sama, please listen to your father and return home!" An unknown voice of a man in his late twenties pleaded, his voice hushed by will.
"I said fuck off!"
Yata's aura was very tangible; the temperature rose rapidly, and the commotion became louder. The screeching of his skateboard, clashing of his bat, and deafening gun shots filled the isolated street with tension. The scene might cause a serious trouble not only on Homura, but also around Shizume. So immediately sensing danger, the King rose up from his bed and dashed down to the door.
As he shot a sprint across the bar counter, the door slammed open, it's clicking sound unusually rougher. Mikoto was put to a halt, his breath held in. The morning fog crept heavily through the building, creating a slight distortion for him. A three-second eye adjustment was enough to distinguish the images around him, but what Mikoto saw was devastating. Leaning for support at the door was a pale Yata Misaki, with blood dripping from his left arm, his eyes burning all his life away. How was that possible?
"M-Mikoto-san, I'm s-sorry, but—" The stained teenager coughed up blood before he could even finish speaking.
10:27 A.M.
The scorching sun shone majestically against Shizume City, highlighting the road covered in mist early this morning. With a temperate atmosphere embracing the land, the incident seemed to be a plain nightmare— untrue and impossible. How could something ill befall on the Commander of the infamous Homura? Surely there was a logical explanation to it. Perhaps he got those wound and bruises from his rounds last night with another group of thugs, and the latter was an atypical story? Nobody in that city could inflict much damage to him no matter what they do...
Illuminating the glass walls of the establishments, the ball of fire bloomed higher in the skies. Its rays of light touched even the darkest corners of the alleys; the day was too vibrant and breathing. The city ran radiantly as if its people were all infected with an energy boom. However, the exact opposite drive had been spreading in the Homura Bar. A dreadful negative sensation was deeply felt by the duo who usually stay inside. There slithered an unnatural tinge of uncertainty toward Yata, who rested at one of the sofa sets after being treated.
"Yata-chan sure did look broken when I checked on him hours ago. I'm amazed he's still in one piece." The man behind the counter eyed, mocking Yata.
"I already said I'm fine, Kusanagi-san." He threw back without even turning.
"Liar." Interrupting them both, little Anna replied with an edgy tone.
"Fine. If you don't believe me, go imagine something else."
"But you still have some grave explanations to give. Mikoto doesn't like secrets; you know that." Poking Yata with an empty wine glass, Kusanagi attempted to open the topic once more.
Sighing sharply, he turned his head against the wall, still lying down on the couch. "Tch. I don't need to explain anything."
Kusanagi let it go; he knew that persuading him to spill the beans was useless. Yata was the type of person who'd stay on his ground no matter what happens until he voluntarily gives in. He was such a stubborn child even before he joined Homura. The day Kusanagi met him, he had been one hundred percent sure that Yata could wreak havoc in a matter of seconds. The rebellious sparks in his soul cloaked whatever ran through his mind, making it very difficult to predict his actions. Was Yata aware of his troubling instincts?
6:21 A.M.
Eric was walking aimlessly down the street intersection on the other side of Shizume City. He had been holding his phone and tossing it round while waiting for the response he was asking for. The stone face painted on him last night became a wary mask; those street art blood at Homura early this morning marked heavily on his head. Blazing with the dull and dry red, the road served as a runway to Hell. It reminded him of the memories he wanted to bury and of the stabbing misery he once had. He didn't even bother to come in the bar after seeing the stains; he couldn't face Yata. What was he doing?
"What do you want?!"
Those words floated from his mind. Was his bizarre behavior and the incident connected? Yes. It both clicked together. Yata was more irritable and aloof since yesterday. Why? Eric didn't care at all. It was none of his business to know the Shorty's life— how he speaks, acts, or even breathes. They don't like each other anyway. Yet why was he so concerned? The thought irritated him, so he tried to shake it off. He gulped a brimful of air and exhaled it through his mouth. He just couldn't stop, could he?
"Even he had secrets to keep from Homura. Doesn't he trust us at all?"
Of course not. His loyalty lies with us... A faint smooth voice murmured to Eric's ear, cold and confident.
