Disclaimer: I do not own K Project. If I did, first season would be so very different...
Song: Lost in Translation- Our Waking Hour
The others had long since left the grassy area beside the bridge; perhaps back to the bar to drink in remembrance of the great king, or maybe on the streets looking for trouble as they always did. The unlucky ones...to the hospital. Either way, he was alone.
With eyes still skyward, Misaki could not bring himself to budge. Faint traces of red still sparkled in the twilight sky, the last visual representation of the days events. What a day it had been. Misaki had known—had seen the damn signs like everyone else close enough to the man—but he had not wanted to believe that someone so very important to him could be close to his limit'. His end.
He touched the area on his chest where the inflamed mark had sat only hours before. It was gone and the warmth that had always been there grew cold and empty. Were they still HOMRA without the mark, without their King? His nails dug into the spot and pain trickled along his senses. What had Mikoto-san been thinking?
Had he been thinking at all?
Misaki shook the thoughts away. They were futile as well as unwarranted. Their king was dead and deserved much more than this.
He had to wonder though, if Mikoto-san had woken up that morning and known he was going to die. If he had wanted it that way...to get revenge for Totsuka. In the end, he hoped Mikoto-san felt peace.
His eyes prickled once more and he had to close them for a moment, throat clenching painfully.
"No blood, no bone, no ash..." Misaki's voice was nothing more than a whisper drowned out by the silence of the night. It was painful, hurt down to his very core. As he reopened his eyes, there was still the small part of him that hoped the sky would be clear and void of residue, and that perhaps everything had been a nightmarish daydream. As he expected, the broken aura lingered.
Finally able to pull his gaze from the sky, Misaki wiped away the tears before they fell further and forced his expression into the half scowl it usually was in.
He would go back to the bar, and he would be as he usually was. Short fused and a little impulsive. He would bury the insecurities, the pain and uncertainty under his anger.
Because the anger disguised the hurt pretty damn well.
It had after Saru, and it would do so now.
Board tucked under his arm, Misaki trudged across the grass, his future uncertain for the second time in his life.
-End-
AN: -Just a Quick write tribute I did on FB to the 3rd Red King and Yata Misaki from K (aka K Project) :/
For those who know me for my Death Note fics, please do not freak out. I am far from jumping ship hahaaha. Though there is a few special things concerning K Project that I have planned ;)
Review?