A/N: I have this story mapped out in my head, but uh..it's been a while since I wrote anything this length/style, so who knows how this will turn out! Ya?

But I'm intrigued by all the characters in K and their relationships, so I really wanted to attempt a chapter story in this fandom (and I think that the anime is loose enough that it allows for a little more flexibility..). Story will allude to events in the anime, K:memory of red manga, and whatever info I've gleaned of the K:side novels. Also SPOILERS for everything, including season 2 'teaser' lines...

Hints of pairings, but nothing explicit..for now...

Disclaimer: Don't own K, and make no profit.

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It was a cold, cloudless night. The moon shone bright, and the sky was so clear that you could easily discern the blue and purple against the black, every patch littered with glittering specks. It stung, as if the air was too pure and the image of heaven too sharp, all solidifying into a knife that, when inhaled, cut all the way down into your chest.

It was Sunday.

..

"KUSANAGI-SAN!"

The demanding yell tore through the quiet, and the night's stillness fled. Luckily, the streets were empty. No one usually loitered in this area after dark; it wasn't like there was a mall here or anything, and the only bar that sat on the wide intersection had been closed the last couple days. The owner of the loud voice ignored the sign on the door and barged into said bar anyways, mouth wide in accusation, before quickly realizing the person he was looking for wasn't inside.

"Kusanagi-san!?" Yata's second exclamation held less of the confidence of the first. "Nng, damn it. Where's he…" Yata swiveled around furiously, as if that would help Kusanagi materialize. Just then, a small thud resonated through the ceiling. Yata's head snapped up. "Ah, Kusanagi-san!"

Any doubt Yata had was stomped back down to its dark hiding spot. Of course Kusanagi-san was upstairs - where else would he be?

Though he was impatient to confront the other, and feeling not just a little on edge, he couldn't bring himself to go upstairs unsanctioned. There was a deep respect mixed with awe still engrained in him, and even if the King was gone, Yata still thought of that floor as his personal sanctum. So, Yata waited, listening for footsteps overhead that would indicate Kusanagi's progress to the stairs. The scowl on his face darkened with each passing second – it felt like hours! - and he ground his teeth to keep from yelling out again. Inside him energy was thrashing, wanting to claw out. Geez, can't you move faster Kusanagi-san? You're like an old man!

On the floor above, Kusanagi resisted the urge to bang his head on the bedroom wall. He had hoped Yata would spend a little more time on the act of silent, private grieving like the others…but he knew better than that, really. A loud, pushy Yata was to be expected. He straightened up slowly, while looking down at the bed and the child on it. "Stay here, Anna." Kusanagi gently pushed the blanket back over the girl's body. "Try to go back to sleep. Otherwise I'll tell you a story later if you're still awake," he promised.

Anna's eyes dropped, imperceptible, before she scooted back into the covers. They both knew she'd still be awake. Better start thinking up that story, he grimaced. He had never been the one good at this type of thing. Back then, there had been no time for him, and more importantly, no need. Thinking like that, Kusanagi sighed internally and made his way out.

"….. Izumo, be gentle. He's the most lost." Kusanagi was about to close the door when Anna's voice floated through, soft but clear as ever. Hmph. He snorted lightly, eyes warm through his sunglasses. The door clicked shut in a wordless reply.

With that, he continued down the stairs, where he came face to face with the anxious Yata on the bottom step.

"Took you long enough, Kusanagi-san!" Yata wasted no time barraging the man.

"Are we going to go back yet for Mikoto-san? It's been almost two days! We can't let the damned Blues take his body away - who knows what they might do with it! The area's still on lock-down, we can just sneak in. We're HOMRA, we have to fight!" Yata seemed intent on expelling the rest of his pent-up frustration through more yelling. When Kusanagi didn't immediately respond, it fueled Yata on more.

"The other guys, they were in a daze, but I finally snapped them out of it Kusanagi-san! NGG, let's GO!" Yata shouted, arm sweeping back violently as he talked, as if he were gesturing to Kusanagi: come on, hurry!

Personally, Kusanagi thought it sounded like desperation. He heaved a sigh, eyes sliding shut, before raising his arm out and –

WHACK

…

"OW, KUSANAGI-SAN! What was that for?!"

Kusanagi almost chuckled at the sudden transformation. Where a second before Yata's posture had been demanding, almost wild, now he was hunched over, clutching his head and glaring up at his attacker like the teenager he still was, lips downturned in that typical pouty scowl of his. Izumo waited for Yata to straighten again before continuing.

"Yata-chan, what did I say about thinking calmly? You're better when you're not so excited. And Anna's sleeping."

Yata's eyes widened and he growled again in impatience.

"Kusanagi-san! Save the lecture for later, what about what I just said?!" If he were honest with himself, Yata might have found Kusanagi's calm just a little troubling.

"Ah, about going back for Mikoto?" Izumo smiled and looked away. Through a side window, he could see the night sky. "No one is going back, Yata-chan," he concluded softly.

Yata froze for a split second, before his personality kicked right back in.

"What do you mean, Kusanagi-san!? WHAT ABOUT HOMR – "

"Don't be selfish." Kusanagi's voice cut across, firm this time. "There is no more HOMRA." He looked back down at Yata, reprimanding, "You're not a child."

In another context, in another time, it could have been just another scolding. Kusanagi's tone had no sharpness or cruelty, just the same commanding voice he'd always used to tell Bando to shut up or Fujishima to get rid of that damned flea-bitten dog already.

But here, now… there was something terrifyingly unfamiliar with it all. Yata must have fallen asleep, because he was suddenly standing in a foreign body, surrounded not by Bar Homra's homely antiques but a dark abyss, watching as black flames licked his vision. Before him stood a figure of a man whose mouth was open, but the black swallowed that person too fast to make out any words. There was no sound in this dream, other than the rushing of a heavy wind, like cotton in his ears; and distantly, Yata thought maybe the body was running.

Kusanagi looked at Yata's retreating back, long after the figure left the reach of the last yellow street light. The main door, heavy as it was, was still swinging back and forth on its hinges, recovering from such a forceful impact. Kusanagi shifted his sight down to the floor and frowned. Yata had accidentally flung his skateboard down in his mad dash to leave, and the thing had split a tile on the floor. Heaving yet another sigh, Izumo bent down to inspect it, fingers tracing the jagged crack.

"Brash idiot. Didn't even let me explain." Maybe Anna was right. Should have been more gentle.

He stayed like that, crouched down, until the soft rustling of fabric behind him made him turn. Rising gracefully, he extended his hand to a watchful Anna, and together they headed back up the stairwell.