In less than fifteen minutes, the five Kings were gathered in the Golden King's ceremonial hall, now void of the Dresden Slate that was now just yellow marble flooring. The Red, Gold, Purple, and Blue Kings all stood in a circle in the cavernous room, all staring at the Silver King who looked very worried. The meeting ended as soon as it had begun, the Silver King just telling everyone that they should definitely search for Fushimi Saruhiko but be very cautious and not doing anything reckless, as it was safe to say that the male was targeting more than one King.

Reisi fell into step beside Suoh as they walked down the steps outside of the great tower. "A moment?" The Blue King offered, motioning for the other to walk with him, and the other accepted without a word. They walked down the sidewalk that was relatively empty for an early Sunday morning, unconsciously matching one another's pace. The silence was tense, as it was clear they were both confused and upset over the killer's identity.

"Is it too much to hope that it's just another Colorless King, but this time one that can copy people's appearances?" Suoh muttered, fishing a cigarette from his front pocket and lighting it with his mind. The other male let out a long sigh, "We both felt our Auras in that area, it's him..."

The Red King let out a dragon's breath through his nose, smoke wafting behind him like a departing train, "Anna was right, in the end." Reisi broke pace, slowing down a moment in silent shock. "What do you mean?" He had always liked the boy, always felt like it was duty to protect him from the moment they met in the rain, but he was nothing if not a man who could make the tough decisions and come out standing tall. Mikoto turned to him, stopping with an hard expression on his face that never seemed to change, those line marks of exhuastion speaking volumes of the stress he faced by just living.

"Back then, I was going to dismiss the boy from Homra, take him out of the Clan, after Anna entered his mind by mistake." Reisi knit his brows in worry, knowing the girl was always in a fragile state, and partly because he dreaded what the other was going to say. Mikoto continued, taking a drag of his cancer stick with languid movements, "She said she saw 'blood and death', that he had the mind of someone who had killed before and would be able to do it again." Reisi was silent, taking in the information that he had already guessed.

"But you were fond of him, right?" Mikoto asked and Reisi just closed his eyes, "When I inaugurate members into my Clan I am able to feel their soul-or rather what they feel the most inside, what they truly feel. When I put my hand on that boy's shoulder, under rain and lightning, I felt an overwhelming and crushing desire to die. I was worried for him from the beginning, I used to think that he wore sweat bands on his arms because he self-harmed. I always thought he was lost and upset because he felt that Yata Misaki had abandoned him for Homra, but then again what I had felt at that time was not something that could have been caused by being ignored by a friend, even if it was the only friend he had ever had. It almost didn't have a name, what I felt, but if I had to name it I would call it 'despair', because it was as if his soul was in a million pieces and that there was no glue on this Earth that could make a sculpture from dust."

Mikoto stared at him, almost bewildered. Mikoto had always thought the boys' tryst was childish to him but important to them so he let them fight if it meant they were able to let off steam. So many times he had had to comfort Yata with silence when he woke up crying from a nightmare, begging Saruhiko to come back to him. He was fond of Yata, the boy was so endearing and loyal and kind it would be heartless of him not to go to him at those times. And it was at those times, when the boy cried himself to sleep in his lap that he detested the raven haired boy. There had always been something 'off' about him, the way he stared at people-not just Yata, the way he would stare at dead cats they sometimes would pass in alleyways. Like Reisi he had gotten the impression that Saruhiko self-harmed, he certainly fit the 'emo' stereotype and his social skills with subpar at best.

But there was a frightening intelligence in those blue eyes, a glint of something distinctly not right when he stared off into the distance. There was a coldness to those eyes, a distanced look that put you off and told you to stay away from him. It wouldn't surprise Mikoto if he was the one who killed some of the dead cats they came across, but then again they didn't live in a very nice part of Shizume.

And then there was the part of him that had thought that perhaps the boy had been behind why his Sword had risen in the air active and intact. He had been ready to die, willing to go and see Totsuka even though he knew it wouldn't be what the blonde would have wanted for him. He knew his Sword would fall sooner or later, and even if it was harsh-Totsuka's death provided the opportunity he had been searching for. He didn't know exactly what it was like for other Kings, but for him as the Red King he was constantly trying to keep his Aura from destroying him.

It felt like an all encompassing fire and he was going to be swallowed up any second. Staying awake was taxing, and in sleep he was plagued with nightmares of destruction and death. He hadn't wanted to become a King in the first place, but even if Totsuka hadn't meant it-he'd felt pressured into accepting the title. A part of him had always thought that Totuska was pushy, that the boy had practically guilt him into being a King, and it was true. But then he'd smile and say something sweet or just be Totuska that Mikoto's hesitation vanished. The boy had been his best friend as well as his ball and chain. Without Totsuka there was no reason for him to continue being a King, to continue suffering, and so he had been happy to die.

And then he didn't end up dying after all.

Walking to his cheering Clansmen he had realized that they were all crying, that Anna looked like she was going to pass out at any moment.

He realized that he had been selfish, that there were more people who needed him. Homra was a house full of broken individuals, people who had gone through horrible trauma and had congregated together to form a nice big broken family. If he was gone they would feel like what brought them together had gone as well, and they would go back to being self destructive and lost. Perhaps some of them would kill themselves either by self harm or careless actions.

And it wasn't like there hadn't been someone he had been in love with, but it just so happened that that person was the only one he would trust to kill him. And so things had come full circle, on Fushimi Saruhiko's birthday of all days, and here he stood talking with the man who he had always loved and who was clearly broken up over the boy that Mikoto had never cared for.

Reisi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Mikoto, I hardly appreciate this, I desperately want to believe that what we saw was wrong but I know that that's wrong in and of itself." Mikoto nodded, understanding how the other felt but not really feeling the same, he had never trusted the boy and so this whole thing, aside from the fact that a non-King had killed a King, had not surprised him in the least. They continued their stroll and ended up a coffee shop, in which Mikoto ordered a giant strawberry muffin the size of his head while Reisi purchased a polite cup of tea.

Upon leaving the shop, however, they were met with a familiar strain and Silver Clansmen. "My name is Neko!" Neko chirped, her heterochromatic eyes sparkling, "Shiro told me to tell you to take me to Saru-chan bedroom so I can show you his memories!"

If there was a face that perfectly expressed the complex emotion of 'What the Fuck?', Mikoto's face would be that face. Reisi took it more in stride, however, despite the fact that the girl was dressed in an oversized cat costume.

"Alright, follow me."