Well, I bet no one saw this update coming. I sure as hell didn't~ Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!


"Chapter 04 - Desperate"

Misaki stared at his friend with wide eyes and a slackened jaw only for Kamamoto to nod in the direction of a nearby cafe.

"Let's go and sit there." he suggested, walking towards it. Misaki only nodded and followed silently behind him, his mind a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts and unasked questions. Saruhiko...odd as it seemed, had sacrificed himself for Kamamoto. Putting aside the fact that this definitely topped the 'What the fuck' charts of this reality, Misaki was confounded when it had happened. And how. When he was back to his rightful timeline, Misaki wasn't going to lose an opportunity like this to tease the younger into oblivion.

Not when, his mind traitorously whispered, If. If you go back.

His heart squeezed painfully but he pushed the feeling back, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

When they were both settled, a waiter came to take their order and since it would look really rude, they each ordered a glass of juice. A quick glance around showed that the café didn't have much of a clientele, just an odds customer here and there. Misaki fidgeted in his seat and faced Kamamoto squarely only to have him sigh and slouch into his seat.

"Mi-Yata-san," a wave of relief and familiarity washed over him as he stared back at the taller man in front of him, listening intently "Do you remember the time...back in elementary school, when I was in the second grade - do you remember when we went all the way over to that rich ass neighborhood?" Misaki frowned, trying to comb through his jumbled mess of memories, sorting them out until his eyes brightened.

That day.

"Oh yeah!" he called out excitedly, "It's that day with the bus incident right?" Kamamoto gave him a small wry smile before his eyes focused on the glass of juice that had been set in front of him, all traces of that smile wiped from his face.

"Yeah," he said, slouching even lower, "It's the day you told me to go get a bus ride home because you were just gonna call your mom so she could pick you up along with your bike."

What?

Misaki stared at Kamamoto, puzzled.

"No, that's not what happened." he said slowly, trying to not sound accusing, "I did get onto that bus with you remember?" It was Kamamoto's turn to look baffled.

"No, you didn't." the other insisted, eyes narrowing slightly as he frowned, "I remember because-" the rest of his words trailed off as his eyes became a bit unfocused and his mouth curved downwards. "I will always remember..." Kamamoto said, whispering now - it's a good thing Misaki inherited his hearing powers from his mother. Misaki waited but the older boy said nothing more, his eyes staring at nothing at all.

Misaki was confused.

So he hadn't ever gotten on that bus with Kamamoto? Why? It wasn't anything special - nothing to do with this messed up world.

"The reason I joined HOMRA was so I could be as strong as Yata-san back then. You were so cool standing up to that gunman."

Right. So that's why Kamamoto wasn't a part of HOMRA. And Misaki had always thought Kamamoto was lying just to make him happy. Of course, that didn't explain why Kamamoto had brought up the incident in the first place.

And why hadn't Misaki been on the bus? He should have been. His mother was right; he had been missing something. Something in his gut told him that he was close to the answer he was looking for - he just needed to probe in the right direction.

"Oh yeah, I forgot..." he lied, rubbing the back of his head, laughing nervously, eyes trained on the silent hunched figure before him, "So what happened then?" Kamamoto's gaze snapped back at his face and Misaki had to make a conscious effort not to reel back in shock.

Kamamoto's eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"I never told you...because I thought you'd feel guilty or something because of your stupid hero-complex," Kamamoto said, hands gripping the glass so tightly, Misaki feared it would break, "But that bus - that bus was hijacked."

No shit. Misaki thought, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. Externally, he widened his hazel orbs, pretending to be shocked.

"What, no way!" And if he sounded anything less than surprised than he was sort of glad Kamamoto was in no state to notice. The older man nodded.

"Yeah, sorry I never told you." Misaki waved his hand impatiently.

"Irrelevant. Get back to what happened next." He urged, wanting to know what happened.

"Yeah, so when I got onto the bus, this guy, he randomly grabbed me and this one silent brooding kid from the back. You know, to hold us hostage." Kamamoto's hands were shaking very badly now, his entire body sitting stiff, "He took us to the b-back of the bus."

In his mind, Misaki could still see that day clearly. The way that bastard had grabbed Kamamoto, when he had hauled him at the back, with a gun pressed against his temple. He remembered feeling cold and scared and angry at his helplessness.

"And then-then the other kid pulled out some fireworks from his bag and handed them to me."

That brave smart kid. Misaki didn't remember his face all that well, just that he had dark hair and wore spectacles.

"He barely managed to pass me the lighter when the gunman caught us."

Misaki remembered forgetting his fear and being consumed in a state of desperateness when he saw the man pick up the kid by his collar, pointing the gun at him. At that moment, nothing had mattered except getting him away from danger.

"And then-" Kamamoto's voice cracked, before he took a giant gulp of air, trying to steady himself. A single tear ran down his face. "Then he told me to light them up and throw them at the bastard."

And Kamamoto never got to do it. Because at that moment, Misaki had come barreling in, tackling the bad guy, freeing that kid so he could throw the fireworks himself.

Misaki had come...

But Misaki hadn't been on the bus.

Something began to coil up inside the redhead, dark and cold.

Misaki hadn't been on the bus.

He missed what Kamamoto said next, not entirely sure why his body was trembling.

Misaki hadn't saved that boy.

Black hair.

Spectacles.

Remember Misaki...

Black hair that swept across messily against his forehead.

Remember...

Blue eyes and a small hesitant smile.

Misaki...

"Saruhiko." the words sounded foreign in his mouth. Kamamoto was saying something but Misaki didn't care - didn't care because he remembered.

Misaki must be missing something important.

Tears filled his eyes and Misaki had to blink fervently to keep them from falling down his cheeks. No, he couldn't cry in front of Kamamoto. He had to stay strong. He had to.

"And that's how I found out his name was Fushimi Saruhiko." Kamamoto finished, looking pale and distraught, "I just wish- I just wish I had been strong enough to do something you know." He gulped and shot Misaki and teary grin, "I bet if Misaki had been there, he'd have been so cool and would have been able to save everyone. Even Saruhiko. And then we would have all been friends." No. This time, it was Misaki's body that shook with emotions. They wouldn't have been. Because they would both walk away, not knowing, not remembering.

A bitter taste had settled in his mouth.

He needed to get away.

"I need to go." he said thickly, getting to his feet, swaying a bit. Ignoring Kamamoto's worried calls, he swiftly made his way out of the café, gritting his teeth tightly, hoping he wouldn't cry. He didn't even have a destination in mind but kept walking, not knowing how to handle the load of information that had been dumped on him.

Saruhiko was dead.

He was dead because Misaki hadn't been there to save him.

He was dead because Misaki made a stupid wish.

Coming to halt, he stared at the building in front of him.

Broken, run down.

Definitely not where two middle schoolers should have been squatting. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he fiddled with the handle a bit and entered the tiny place he had rented with Saruhiko all those years ago. Crossing the threshold, he looked around, suddenly lost in the thought that this place had never seen any of his and Saruhiko's memories. These walls had never been covered in posters. The loft above had never been occupied by a sulky teen who shared his dreams of taking down the world. Tears pooled in his eyes once more as he collapsed to his knees, just staring at the place which held everything and nothing at the same time.

Sorry – I am so sorry.

Saruhiko – despite constantly believing that they didn't exit – had died a hero. He had done what he himself had refused to believe in and helped someone while being genuinely concerned for someone else's well-being.

The irony of it wanted to make Misaki laugh but the tears wouldn't stop and the pain wouldn't go away. Dragging himself to and upright position against the wall, he stared ahead blankly.

So what now.

He had the answers. Now what was he supposed to do with them?

Where are you Saruhiko, you bastard! I need your help!

Except, he knew exactly where Saruhiko was.

Buried six feet under the ground.

You should visit him.

He didn't know who whispered that in his ear – or who's voice it was he heard. But it made him slowly get to his feet and make his way to the outside world again. Casting one last look at his old – their old home, he closed the door firmly behind him.

For the second time in his life, their small world held inside shattered into a million pieces behind that closed door.


"I need to know where he's buried."

Standing before the Blue King, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another, he stared resolutely at the bespectacled man, who was watching him with unblinking eyes. Munakata Reisi tilted his head.

"You wish for me to disclose an information you shouldn't be privy to?" Misaki gulped. He had known this was coming. For one he should have considered himself very lucky that the blue king had even granted him an audience – what was he, if not the HOMRA vanguard or Saruhiko's best friend.

You are worth so much more Misaki.

And he believed that. He had a high school diploma. He had a stable job, was working to save up for a college. His family loved him, he had friends.

Mikoto san and Totsuka san were alive.

But –

"You…you probably have heard the story from Kusanagi san." Misaki said, looking at the other man in the eyes, not balking under the scrutinizing gaze. Munakata nodded.

"I have indeed been in contact with the HOMRA bar tender. Though it confuses me why your story seems to have affected the outcome of a certain Red King." Misaki looked away.

"I have a theory about that…"

"Oya?" Misaki blinked at the realization that the Blue King looked intrigued. "Do share."

"Well, Totsuka san died because Kusanagi san wasn't there to protect him. And that's really because Kusanagi san believed no one would harm him because HOMRA had grown so much. But-" he gulped, continuing on, trying to not show how his hands were shaking. "But with Kamamoto – without some of the founding members – without shit even me or Saruhiko, Kusanagi san would have never let down his defenses like that. He'd be on the constant look out. That's – that's what I believe." Violet eyes studied him for a long while before sharply turning to look at the puzzle that was spread out before him.

"That is quite the deduction Yata Misaki kun." He said finally, after what seemed like the longest pause recorded inhuman history. "Personally I believe that there might be some involvement from the Green clan as well, but we may never know." Misaki nodded, not sure where the conversation was going. Mentally deciding to go to Fushimi's old house and search for clues, he began to say good bye to the Blue King.

"Farewell Yata Misaki kun. And it might interest you to know, I cannot give out a private detail of someone else's life." Misaki nodded once more as the other continued on. "One of my subordinates almost died when I became the Blue King. I always thought that if he had, I would have buried him in the cemetery near the south side of the city."

"What are you-" All the pieces fell into place as he bowed low before rushing out of the doors, almost running into the blonde woman coming inside, startling her greatly.

"I won't forget this you shitty four eyed bastard!"

"Fufufu~ Awashima kun, I think I like that boy."

"Captain, please don't say such absurd things."


Fushimi, Saruhiko.

Misaki blinked at the empty grave stone. No words of how he was a loved son. Nothing. The grave was unkempt and uncared for. The area around it was overgrown with weeds and it had been hard for him to locate the grave in the first place. Moments before giving up and angrily cursing the blue king in his head, Misaki had nearly walked off but a small hint of gray had caught his eye and he had followed it to the most miserable excuse for a grave ever.

If not for a single dead rose on it, Misaki would have assumed no one had visited for over a decade.

Saruhiko…

Rage Misaki hadn't felt in ages against his best friend's parents surfaced once more and he clenched his teeth together, tears once more blinding his vision, falling like rain over his cheeks.

Saruhiko…

Those bastards.

How dare they.

How dare they leave the greatest person on this planet leave as if he wasn't loved.

Goddamit, Saru was loved!

Maybe not by his parents. But Saruhiko had proved a very long time ago he did not need the people who created him – he was quite capable of surviving – well not on his own, but without the, at the very least. And he had so many other people in his life now.

He had his clan and King! And Anna and Kusanagi san! And him!

Saruhiko always, always had him.

"I love you Saruhiko."

The words slipped out of his lips with such ease that he started. Love. He didn't really love Saruhiko did he? A small feeling began to grow in his chest as he stared at the grave stone in front of him, a heavy blush staining his cheeks. Before he could even try to talk himself out of it, the realization hit him with a force of a thousand ton of bricks. Oh God – this was just –

Tell the truth.

Is this what the strain was talking about? Was he supposed to confess? Getting redder and redder at the thought, he coughed. Here goes nothing…

"Saruhiko!" he said out loud, facing the gravestone, "I love you!"

"Who on earth are you?" Whirling around, his eyes widened at the figure standing there, eyebrow raised at him.

"Y-y-you!"

Aya Oogai frowned at him, holding up a bouquet of roses.


Ooooh! There's only one chapter left *rolling*