Lol I wrote this chapter last year but I was unsatisfied with it so I fleshed it out and deleted hella and edited it. I hope it sucks less now!
Anna's eyes flew open and she threw her body upwards, gasping for air. A bead of sweat trickled from the side of her forehead as her eyes scanned the room desperately. Everything was in its rightful place, yet she rubbed her eyes a few times as if needing confirmation that everything was merely a nightmare.
It was as clear as day that Anna would have to find a way of coping with the fact that she no longer had Mikoto or Totsuka, for her recurrent nightmares resulted in loss of sleep. On good days, when her dreams were nothing more than insignificant blurs, she slept for far too long. However, on days like these, she couldn't help sleeping longer than usual, despite her vivid nightmares, as she was exhausted beyond belief from loss of sleep days prior to this one.
A knock on the door startled her and brought her from out of her thoughts. "Anna, I'm coming in, okay?"
He received no response. Opening the door slightly and peeking inside, Misaki saw that the young lady was awake and he tentatively stepped in. "Ah, looks like Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!" he piped. "Kusanagi-san told me to wake you up since it's already almost noon and your breakfast is co—," he examined her face and immediate worry struck him. "Are you okay?" Of course he'd be concerned—she sat in bed wide-eyed, trembling.
Anna shook her head to confirm that she was not, in fact, okay.
His face softened at the realization of the situation. "Did you have another nightmare?" He rested the back of his hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. "Shit!" Immediately, he withdrew his hand when his skin came into contact with her own and he scanned himself for any signs of burns. It was as if her body was set aflame.
Nodding in response to his question and clinging onto the hem of his long-sleeved shirt, she nuzzled her face into his taut stomach. It wasn't often that Misaki and Anna shared such moments of intimacy; therefore, when she embraced him, he figured that her nightmare must have been petrifying, what with the way she clung onto him as if she were clinging onto dear life.
He took advantage of his brotherly instincts and experience with kids and rubbed her back gently, aiming to soothe her, and ignoring the burning sensation on his stomach and fingertips he received from coming into contact with Anna. He understood that she needed comforting, so he swallowed back all complaints and profanities his tongue threatened to spew in an attempt not to make it obvious that she was almost roasting the skin on his torso due to the heat of her abnormal powers.
"Was it that bad?" he inquired.
She nodded as she attempted to regulate her breathing.
He frowned. "Hey, you're sweating a lot." He placed a hand atop her head, smoothing back the cowlicks of her white strands.
Minutes of silence passed, Misaki's hand still stroking Anna's head and Anna still holding onto Misaki tightly as if if she were to let go, he would disappear into thin air just as he did in her nightmare. Then, finally, one of them broke the silence.
"Yata, don't leave me," she pleaded.
Confused, he tilted his head. "What? Come on, leave you? I'm not going anywhere, I just came to the bar a few minutes ago!"
Despite the fact that Misaki failed to comprehend the true meaning behind Anna's plead, she didn't bother explaining, she simply left things as is.
A few seconds of silence passed, then, "Can I know what this dream was about?"
No response.
"Well, how about you go freshen up and head downstairs to eat? Sound good?" He pushed her shoulders away from him gingerly so as to see her face.
Anna nodded in agreement; a nice, lukewarm bath would definitely help soothe and refresh her, and so she let go of Misaki's shirt and with a warm smile, he left the room to head downstairs. Anna's heart was finally coming to a calm, the effects of her nightmare slowly fading, and she he headed to the bathroom to freshen up just as Misaki suggested.
Downstairs, Misaki sat idly on the leather sofa near the window. "Anna had another nightmare," he stated simply, as if it weren't news to the other two men in the room.
Izumo stood behind the bar counter, wiping one of his many wine glasses and releasing a sigh. "Again? She's been havin' 'em a lot lately. Did she tell ya what this one's about?"
"Nah. I asked and she wouldn't answer. I don't think she wants to talk about it."
"Hmm, I see."
A thought occurred to Rikio who had been sitting quietly on one of the bar's stools. "Hasn't she been having these repetitive nightmares since after the boss died? So, I think—"
"Don't talk about that sorta stuff, Kamamoto!" Misaki growled, quickly sitting upright in a defensive position and clenching his fists.
"Eh? Well, I'm just sayin' that if she keeps having these dreams it's probably because Miko—"
"Kamamoto, just shut the fuck up already!"
"But Yata, I know it hurts that the boss is—"
"Didn't you fucking hear me?" Misaki bellowed. At this point, Misaki was seething with rage. Did he not tell the other to quit it already? Bringing up such a sore subject was detrimental to Misaki's mental state. With haste, he grabbed his skateboard and made his way towards the exit of the bar, directing a glare towards Rikio along with a thread of swears he was shouted shamelessly.
"Yata," Izumo called out from behind the counter, "leaving so soon? You just got here."
Misaki ignored Izumo, leaving bar Homra and slamming the door behind him.
Izumo winced at the thought of the door breaking or a piece of wood chipping off—he is very meticulous when it comes to his property—and checked to see if there was any damage made to the door, scanning the wooden frame carefully. Luckily—luckily for Misaki, that is—there wasn't a trace of damage.
Rikio scratched the back of his head, guilt welling in his chest for not having dropped the subject in the first place. "Sorry, Kusanagi."
Izumo let out a small chuckle as he returned to his place behind the counter. He replaced his newly-polished glass with an unpolished one underneath the countertop. "It's fine. It's sure gonna take some time for that kid to heal after Suoh's death, though. Anna, as well."
"Yeah, but," Rikio deadpanned, dropping the bomb Izumo had been trying to avoid, "What about you, Kusanagi?"
Izumo's body stiffened. The corners of his lips tugged downwards slightly, but Rikio pretended not to notice.
Speaking of Mikoto's death for what was left of Homra was still a tremendously touchy subject. After all, the incident with their Red King had occurred only almost a month ago. Hearts were still trying to be repaired and besides, they were kingless; what were they to do now?
Rikio, Masaomi, Saburouta, Shouhei, still bothered showing up at the bar occasionally; however, the others rarely showed their faces at all. The daily lives of the clansmen had once consisted in hanging out with their time-bomb of a King, and without him around, there was no longer any purpose in going to bar Homra. All men mourned and decided that while it is indeed lamentable that they had lost their King, they needed to continue their lives while still preserving Mikoto in their memories.
Misaki and Anna, on the other hand, were taking it the hardest.
Misaki had become oversensitive and more irritable than ever after the incident and hadn't been as energetic as was previously when they still had a King to serve. Yes, he still showed up at the bar regularly, but he showed a lack of involvement in their conversations—although there were hardly any being conversations being held to begin with—and was often found spacing out.
Anna was trying to remain the strong, level-headed young lady she had become years ago; they all knew she was trying her hardest, but they worried immensely for her. They understood that no one could ever—or would ever, for that matter—compare to Mikoto in her eyes and in her heart, as she found solace in his presence alone.
In the three to four years that they had known Anna—not counting their most recent clansmen—they became adjusted to her lack of displaying emotions. Despite this, if studied closely, it is possible to catch slight changes in her expressions and in her behavior, proving that there's much more than meets the eye when it comes to Anna. Now, ever since Mikoto had died, if studied closely, it is apparent in her eyes that her world was crumbling.
As for Izumo, no one knew what was going on in his head. His two best friends for years had passed away in the short span of less than two weeks, yet his demeanor remained cool, calm, and collected, as per usual. The routines he went through prior to their death remained unchanging after his friends' demise; the only change in his life, though, was that his best friends were no longer there. Yes, nothing else had changed within Izumo, or at least that's what everyone thought.
The heavy atmosphere between Rikio and Izumo was soon interrupted by the soft sound of Anna's footsteps descending the stairs. Her eyes scanned the room and she realized that the boy who had stated not too long ago that he wouldn't leave had already departed.
Izumo smiled as she quietly wished him and Rikio a good afternoon. "You're finally up, sleepyhead. I'll reheat your breakfast, 'kay? Or would you like me to make something else?"
Anna sat on the sofa, folding her hands onto her lap. She shook her head, "No, thank you."
"What? You hardly ate anythin' yesterday or the day prior. You still haven't regained your appetite?" Izumo frowned. This was beginning to become a serious problem. Anna is a growing girl in need of proper nutrition, but recently she hadn't been getting any. It was as if she was reverting back to her old habits from when she first joined the gang.
"Don't wanna eat. I'm not hungry." Her face was emotionless, as per usual.
"Eh? Not hungry?" Rikio intervened. "Anna, you could get sick if you don't eat."
She shrugged and remained silent. She hadn't been eating properly ever since the incident, but the reason for her loss of appetite was more than obvious for the two.
He flipped his skateboard over the handrail and landed on the ground with minor flaws. Pushing his skateboard with one foot furiously and with all of his force, he traversed past herds of civilians.
All he could think about was that goddamn Kamamoto. How could he be so insensitive? The bastard should have shut his trap when he'd said so. How could he have mentioned Mikoto so casually?
Gradually, he allowed the speed of his skateboard to decrease. Where he would go was something he didn't know; all he knew was that he wanted to get as far away from that bar as possible. Away from the dumbass that brought up Mikoto's death, away from the memories, away from everything and everyone. His shift at one of his temporary jobs would begin in three hours, leaving him a large amount of spare time, and going home would only result in him soaking in lethargy. His favorite ramen shop was most likely full at this time of hour and returning to Homra after his sudden outburst wasn't exactly an option.
As he spaced out, he didn't notice the traffic light turning red for civilians and green for automobiles. He continued skating, only snapping out of his trance and stopping in the middle of the street when he heard the sound honking coming from a speeding car approaching. Realizing what was occurring, he jolted as if wanting to react, but to his misfortune, felt weak at the knees as his heart began to race; he was paralyzed. Misaki knew he needed to get out of the way, but couldn't put his thoughts into action.
It is said that in near-death experiences, the entire life span of a human flashes before their eyes. Misaki had heard of this many times, but he had never expected to experience said flashes so early in his youth. He initially imagined himself dying while protecting his King—not that his King really needed protecting—or in honor of their clans name. But he never would have expected dying out of recklessness. What a wasted death that would have been for him—a tragic fate. Fucking idiot.
His sudden flashes of memory mostly revolved around Homra; they revolved around his leisure time in a bar filled with bonds thicker than blood. They revolved around a red-headed king and his everlasting devotion for the man. And ah, yes, memories of him; memories of their meeting; memories of their short-lived happiness in the apartment they shared; of their rescue from the streets; of his betrayal. And then, pain—so much pain.
But then, a hand flew towards Misaki, yanking his body backwards by the collar of his shirt and pulling him back onto the sidewalk. The action was strong enough to snap anyone's neck—unless they were lucky—and would surely chafe his skin and leave a mark later.
The man driving the vehicle rolled down the car window as he sped past Misaki furiously. He glared towards his direction, an angry expression plastered on his face. "Watch where you're going, you fucking dimwit!"
Realizing that he was not dead, Misaki ignored the uncivil man who had almost taken away his life, and turned around to show his gratitude towards the person who had just saved him from facing his too-early demise. Misaki kept his head down in shame. Kusanagi-san would surely have given him a good slap across the head if he ever found out about how Misaki almost lost his life so carelessly.
"T-thanks. Heh, I guess I wasn't paying atten—" He stopped mid-sentence when his eyes met with familiar sapphire ones. It was Saruhiko standing in front of him. It was Saruhiko who had saved him.
Misaki stared back at him, astonishment clear in his features as Saruhiko's expression matched Misaki's own. When Misaki realized their expressions matched, as if on cue, Saruhiko deadpanned. They simply stood in silence, looking at one another.
When was the last time they had seen each other? Their previous encounter had been a rather...strange one.
Oh, right. It was the day Mikoto was slain.
Homra went out to find the remains of their now deceased king. After they mourned and sent him off, they all agreed to gather at the Homra bar. Misaki, on the other hand, decided that he wouldn't attend their gathering and instead chose to head somewhere else to clear his mind.
Misaki wasn't too far away from the scene; he had crossed the bridge between the Ashinaka High School Island and the main land that is Shizume City. He had taken a seat on the bench of a park he and a certain other male would often pass their time on in their middle school years. Misaki would always go there when he needed to blow off some steam whenever the other middle school kids were either trying to cause him trouble or were simply too annoyingly boisterous.
It was late when he sat in the park embracing the solitude. The sun had long since set and the chill of the winter air kissed his skin, sending shivers down his spine and forming trails of goosebumps on his arms and legs. He set his skateboard against the bench he usually sat on and released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The heavy, lengthy throbbing he felt in his throat from holding back tears wouldn't have to be a burden any longer. He was finally alone. Misaki could finally tug the small piece of thread that had been holding him together.
And tug the thread he did. Hot tears coursed down his cheeks freely and he held his head in his hands, weeping to his heart's content. His ears felt hot, his lips were hot, his face was hot—yet, his body, his heart, was frozen in sorrow.
It wasn't too long into his solitary weeping when he heard footsteps nearby walking at an even pace from behind the park bench in which he sat on. The park has always been the best place to relax; he figured it was probably another poor soul seeking relaxation at this time of night just as he was.
That is, until he heard the footsteps heading towards his direction and oh, great, this was exactly what he needed—some asshole ready to start fucking around with him, or maybe it was one of the night-time patrol officers, ready to kick him out of the park because it seemed awfully suspicious for a skateboarding thug like him to ever visit a park after 11 p.m. Whoever it was, it didn't matter. Misaki figured that they would deprive him of serenity in the park with their presence alone and, goddamnit, he just wanted to be left the fuck alone. He didn't want anyone to see Yatagarasu of Homra so weak and broken and vulnerable. And then he realized that the footsteps were getting closer and closer, heels making little clicking sounds—the sound of their boots sounded oddly familiar—and then, they stopped.
A figure stood before him. Misaki looked up, vision a complete blur from his tears. All he managed to discern was a man clad in blue uniform standing before him, hand on his hip, looking down at him. He figured he knew who it was. Yes, of course it had to be him; the same guy whom he kept running into and sparring with whenever he did. It was the same guy he had met in middle school and fought for, cared for; the same guy who knew him better than anyone else, even though Misaki had trouble coming to a complete understanding of him.
Yes, that guy knew that Misaki would head over to the park and knew precisely which park bench Misaki would choose to sit on. He knew it all. He could read Misaki like a book, and over the course of the few years they had known each other, he had taken the time to scan the pages carefully, making sure so as to not miss a single page, sentence, or detail.
Misaki was the first one to speak. "Saru? What are you doing here?" He croaked, his breathing unsteady.
"You're still coming to the park to sulk, huh, Misaki?" Saruhiko asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question. "Hmm, some things never change." Chuckle. Chuckle.
Was he going to start talking shit? Clearly, Misaki wasn't in the mood for Saruhiko's vexing games, so he would much rather avoid a quarrel by walking away than make a huge fuss out of his bothersome presence. So Misaki stood up, ignoring Saruhiko, and began walking away in search for another place to recollect himself. He wiped away his tears as he heard feet shuffling behind him.
"Oi, Misaki. Aren't you forgetting something?"
He turned around to see what Saru was referring to. Saru pointed to the skateboard leaning against the bench, then picked up the object and held it out for Misaki to take a he came closer to retrieve what belongs to him.
As Misaki came, Saruhiko took one quick look at him and it was enough for him to know that Misaki was completely crushed, devastated, hurt. And despite the fact that they weren't precisely on good terms, Saruhiko felt he needed to do something, anything to help the poor boy, to help ease his agony. And then, a thought had occurred to him. Why the hell did he even care in the first place? It pissed him off how weak and vulnerable Misaki suddenly had become after losing his precious Mikoto-san, but even so, he couldn't help but pity him.
When Misaki reached out to take back his skateboard, Saruhiko pulled back and dropped the four-wheeler to the ground, never breaking eye-contact with Misaki's red, puffed up eyes. Misaki watched as the wheels of his skateboard rolled over, then finally came to a halt. Was Saruhiko trying to mess with him? That asshole. Couldn't he see that he wasn't in the mood for his bullshit?
Without saying a word, Misaki moved towards his skateboard, brushing his shoulder against the other's arm as he passed him by. It was just as always—Misaki would run into Saruhiko, but ignore his presence entirely. Saruhiko would become infuriated and demand a fight in order to spite him and receive Misaki's individual attention simultaneously. He craves Misaki's attention like a fox craves a rabbit's flesh—ravenously and desperately.
But this time, failing to think through his actions beforehand, Saruhiko grabbed Misaki by the arm, turned him around, and forced him against his chest. Before Misaki could even react, a single arm was wrapped around him—not too tightly but not too loosely either—,Saruhiko's free left arm hanging on his side.
Misaki's eyes widened at Saru's actions. Was he really...hugging him? It felt absolutely surreal to him and even to Saruhiko. The last time their bodies were so close without the intentions of hurting one another had been when they were still friends—something that was almost ancient history. And despite their relationship turning bitter and despite them no longer being friends, Misaki chose to melt away in Saruhiko's insecure half-embrace. It wasn't as if Misaki had the energy to protest and push him away, and besides, he needed someone's warmth, needed someone to envelope him in a hug and fill him up again and give him heat to thaw out his heart. So Misaki gave in and rested his forehead against Saruhiko's chest, beginning to cry once again.
The pain, the loss—it stabbed Misaki like daggers through his entire being. Saruhiko understood those feelings. Of course he did, it was Misaki, after all, who had inflicted the pain on him years ago. Saruhiko didn't have anyone to comfort him when the world he and Misaki had so carefully crafted together was demolished, so he understood how it felt to be alone, to be in complete solitude, he did. And although he felt he couldn't even remotely look at Misaki without wanting to eradicate him for letting their world wither,—because their fallout was definitely all Misaki's fault, according to Saruhiko, even though it was Saruhiko who chose to follow Reisi into Scepter 4 all on his own—he still felt as if he needed to help him; as if if Saruhiko wouldn't do something about Misaki's melancholy, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.
However, Misaki wasn't alone, unlike Saruhiko was at the time. Misaki had his comrades with him, but none of them was experiencing the same pain he felt—or so he thought—save for Anna. Yes, they had all lost someone who was near and dear to them. Yes, they had lost their King, but it was different for Misaki. It was most definitely different. For Misaki, Mikoto wasn't just a king—he was his savior. Before Homra, Misaki was nothing; he was absolutely no one. Both Saruhiko and himself were nobodies who needed no one but each other. Then, Mikoto and crew came along and suddenly Misaki saw a hopeful light at the end of the tunnel he had been confined in by society; a light that would surely lead him towards freedom; a sense of happiness, of unity, and mostly, this newfound light would bring to him a sense of importance in life—a solid reason to be, that reason being: protecting his clan's name and keeping their pride at all costs in honor of said savior, Suoh Mikoto.
And he knew things would undoubtedly be different now that his violent-tempered King was gone. Who knew what would happen to Homra? Misaki didn't know for sure, but the moments he spent in Saruhiko's arms made him feel secure, and as much as he refused to admit it, he wanted to cherish the moment he was spending with his former best friend for as long as he could.
But he couldn't take advantage of Saruhiko's unusual and unexpected act of kindness. It wasn't right for him to do so and Misaki isn't particularly fond of having people pitying him anyway. Pity parties usually led to having the party-thrower looking down on him and as a member of Homra, that was unacceptable to Misaki. He had to keep his pride. So after a few minutes of becoming a sniveling mess into Saruhiko's chest, Misaki detached himself from him and attempted to restore himself after breaking down for the umpteenth time that day. In return, the arm Saruhiko used to hold Misaki closely began lowering slowly, returning back to his side, as he watched the other.
Taking deep breaths and planting his left foot on his skateboard while keeping his right foot on the concrete pathway, Misaki began. "Saruhiko, I'm—um," he took a moment to find the right words to say because, what else could he say, really? Anyone would be rendered speechless if their best friend who had betrayed them and their clan had become their enemy, had shown no remorse for their malicious provocations, and then had comforted them right after a significant loss. But Misaki wasn't the only one at a loss for words. Saruhiko's body had acted on its own accord without spearing a single thought for the consequences of those actions and now he, as well, stood across from Misaki, tongue-tied.
As Misaki wracked his brain to find the right words to say, Saruhiko tried to seem impassive. But hell, the air between them felt too fucking outlandish and too fucking uncomfortable to their likings, so Saruhiko averted his gaze from Misaki and instead set his sights on the concrete of the pathway in which they both stood. And for a while, Saruhiko stared at the concrete so as to avoid Misaki's eyes. That is, until he heard Misaki's sudden intake of breath, lips parting slightly, as if to say something, and Saruhiko's eyes swiftly locked with Misaki's, giving him an expectant look without realizing it.
A few agonizing seconds passed them by until Misaki tried once more, settling for the one thing he genuinely felt and knew he was required to say, "T-thanks." And with that, he pushed his body forward onto the skateboard and made his leave out of the park, leaving Saruhiko standing in the same spot, isolated.
Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "It was nothing," he mumbled, but Misaki was gone.
He would be lying if he told himself that he wasn't disappointed in Misaki's simple one-worded statement of gratitude. The truth of the matter was, he was hoping for more than a simple "thank you" to spill from Misaki's lips. Nevertheless, Saruhiko would never admit this to Misaki or to himself for that matter. No way in hell he would, not in a million years.
But it is now weeks after their last meet at the park and they stand before one another on the busy streets of the city, once again unable to exchange any words.
"Be careful, stupid," was what Saruhiko wanted to tell him, but would it be too weird? Would he come off as concerned? Would it be alright to come off as concerned? Was he actually concerned? Ah, yes, he was concerned. Now that Mikoto was gone and Misaki had become a wholly different person, Saruhiko didn't know how to act around him. Should he tease him as per usual? Should he just leave Misaki be? No, he should treat Misaki how he usually treats him.
But why is it that he couldn't do a single thing or say a single word, just like that day at the park? Is it because Misaki is now weak and defenseless? If so, then, attacking him now would be much easier for Saruhiko since Misaki has his guard down. However, it just wouldn't be fun. It's not fun to Saruhiko if his enemy is too easy to beat and not even bothering putting up a fight, then there is no challenge. But that was only partially the reason why Saruhiko chose not to strike Misaki at his weakest. Maybe, just maybe, he's not trying to spite him because he's genuinely worried for Misaki. He still won't admit it, though.
A million thoughts coursed through his mind at the speed of light, but Misaki had already made a decision, as he was already walking away from Saruhiko because no matter what, Saruhiko had betrayed them and the thought always hung in the back of Misaki's mind. It was just too awkward being rescued by someone who despises you so much that they betrayed both you and your newfound family. Besides, Misaki had already said thank you, hadn't he? That should have been enough because no matter what, there was bad blood between them. That would never change and Saruhiko had made it apparent that he despises Misaki.
As Saruhiko watched Misaki leaving the scene, he heaved a lengthy sigh, followed by a click of his tongue. He was turning his back to Saruhiko, just as he had done after joining Homra when Misaki began pushing their world off of its axis. And of all times, Misaki chose now to turn his back on him when he had just rescued him. Well, fuck him then.
Scratching the scorched insignia on the left of his chest and feeling the indignation welling up from underneath his skin, Saruhiko continued patrolling the crowded, busy streets of Shizume City.
Anna took a sip of her black tea, feeling the burning sensation trickling down her throat; however, the heat would not suffice and keep her warm long enough. The heat she needed to be engulfed in came from a person, not a simple drink, although the tea did manage soothe her and warm her bones, even in the slightest.
From behind the bar, Izumo glanced at the clock. 9:41 p.m. "It's gettin' kinda late, don'cha think? I suggest you go to bed, Anna. Rikio'll be back from his errand soon."
As obedient as ever, she nodded and hopped off of the sofa, handing over her emptied cup of tea to Izumo and making her way towards the stairs leading to the second floor of the building.
"Oh, and Anna," Izumo said, making her stop in her tracks. "The paperwork's finished and I may be able to move in upstairs by the end of this week or the next, so soon Rikio won't have to watch over you in this place anymore." She waited for a sign that he was finished speaking. "That's all."
She nodded once more, this time adding, "Goodnight, Izumo."
"'Night."
After making her way upstairs and quickly brushing her teeth, Anna found herself standing in front of the vacant room that had once belonged to the Red King and felt compelled to enter. She gave into temptation and hesitantly knocked once on the door, receiving no response in return. She tried again, knocking twice, and when she received no response for a second time, she twisted the doorknob and allowed herself in.
The bedroom was empty, excluding the naked bed at the center of the room, the armoire on the far right, and very few of Rikio's belongings, as he had been sleeping over to take care of Anna. Everything Mikoto had had was being stored elsewhere, not that he had much in his bedroom anyway; he was a very simple man who could care less about decor. All he really needed was a place to sleep on, a place where he could store his clothes in, and a full body mirror. Although he freeloaded off of Izumo, he never requested much, and so not much was invested in him, except for the repairs made the few times when Mikoto had wrecked the inside of Izumo's bar after momentarily losing control of his powers.
Seeing that Mikoto was nowhere in sight, Anna retracted herself from the room feeling crestfallen, and headed for her own bedroom. It had been a cycle for Anna ever since the incident with Homra's indolent King: she'd enter Mikoto's room several times throughout the day, hoping that the reason for why she hadn't seen him was because he was sleeping in or something. She wasn't denial, no, just hopeful, but she accepted the painful truth of the situation, nevertheless.
In her bedroom, she untied the strings of her red hat and set it aside on her bedside table. After stripping out of every article of clothing she had had on, Anna slid into her red night gown and hopped into bed, pulling the covers over her body and turning off the lamp on her bedside table. Naturally, Tatara would be the one to tuck the child into bed and plant a kiss on her forehead, but due to certain events, such things would no longer occur and she had no other choice than to tuck herself into bed instead.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, attempting once again to get a good night's sleep, but knowing already that the attempt would fail sooner or later.
Everyday was a constant struggle, a fight to keep on living. Everyday was a fight against herself, the other side of her that needed release. It was very hard on her, everything was.
Tossing and turning in her bed, she thought of Tatara and Mikoto. She thought of Tatara's serene voice and the warmth he exerted with simple greetings and songs of togetherness. She thought of the intensity of Mikoto's flame and the warm, reassuring caresses he often graced atop her head. They were both warm and they were both gone.
And she was cold.
It was cold, and no matter how many blankets she wrapped herself in, the heat she needed was provided by him.
"Mikoto," she whispered, pulling the blankets closer to her. "Mikoto," she whispered again, a tear rolling down her temple and onto her pillow. "Mikoto, I miss you." She wept softly. "It's cold without you. So...so cold." She hugged the stuffed lion Tatara had so thoughtfully purchased for her tenth birthday and as tears cascaded onto her pillows, she was lulled to sleep by the sound of her hushed sobs.
It wasn't too clear; it was distorted.
She hadn't been at Scepter 4 Headquarters quite often, but it's what appeared in this dream. She saw a prison room holding a man whose face she could hardly discern, save for his lopsided smile and piercing dark brown stare. It is said that sometimes it is possible to dream of people you have seen passing in the streets, even for a mere moment. However, she was sure she had never seen him in her short years of living, so who was this man present in her dream?
The dream shifted to another segment and in this, she saw herself speaking to Saruhiko; what they spoke of, though, was uncertain. Another shift and she saw herself shaking hands with the same faceless stranger that was in the prison room, and then, everything was a blur, that is, until she saw Mikoto and Tatara approach the rest of Homra. As everyone rejoiced, Anna was engulfed in a familiar warmth once again.
"Ah!" Anna's eyes flew open and she struggled to catch her breath. For the first time in many, many nights, she didn't have a nightmare, but a dream. It was a good dream—a great dream, in fact, especially when compared to all her other ones—or perhaps, it was a vision? Mikoto and Tatara return in this dream, but how? This couldn't have been just any ordinary dream, no, it couldn't be. It was a vision.
Mentally, she listed the chain of events that occurred in her vision and one of the strangest things of all—apart from seeing Mikoto and Tatara's return, that is—was that the entire time, she was no longer sporting her usual red dress—no, she was sporting new attire: the Scepter 4 uniform. Confusing as it was, however, one thing was certain: obtaining the uniform was key to making her vision come true.
So Anna put all pieces of the puzzle together and finally came to a conclusion: something needed to be done, and quickly.
The K: Missing Kings movie is out and about and I wasn't able to see it in theaters but I read spoilers for it and I'm still just? very emotional? Anyway, I'm glad some people messaged me on my tumblr stating that they enjoyed reading the prologue of my fic. Thank you! I hope reading this chapter was enjoyable as well. Poor Anna and Misaki are suffering ugh my brotp. Also, poor darling angel Rikio getting yelled at by Misaki. Rikio was just trying to make a point man why you gotta be like that. My Queen Kushina though omfg my bby is sad ugh. Lol though, I hope you sarumi shippers enjoyed the sarumi in this chapter hhahahahaHAHAH angst is my only friend. There are more sarumi interactions to come, don't worry. As an avid sarumi shipper, it would be a sin to not have the pairing anywhere in this fic. I have big plans for those two; for everyone, actually, so stay tuned folks!
Btw, my multifandom/personal tumblr is located at .com follow me for terrible text posts and constant screaming over how much I love Anna, Saruhiko, Misaki, and Sarumi in general! (because for real, that's all I do on there)
Also, please leave comments so I know if it's good so far!