A/N: I'd like to apologize for not noticing sooner that all my line breaks have disappeared. A few of you have pointed it out, but I wasn't quite sure what the problem was, as I did put in line breaks. I should have checked, because apparently doesn't like my wiggly lines. Well, I have gone back and put them in. Things should be much less confusing like this.

Stupid and its stupid self formating ,

Today's fun fact: Hanamiya was supposed to be Tetsuya's brother and then stuff happened and I changed my mind. Hanamiya simply wasn't asshole enough.

Tetsuya feels cold to the bones. He can't bear the sight of his bedroom, so he has taken all the spare blankets from his wardrobe and migrated into the living room. Despite the pile of fabric he's currently buried under, he just can't seem to get warm.

He had tried to wash off the blood and... other things, but he had been too exhausted to make much progress. He'd settled on washing out his mouth and the worst of the grime, before dragging himself back into his bedroom. The sight had almost turned his stomach again.

He's shaking, not just from the cold but also from the memories. He thought he'd been prepared for anything. How could anything hurt him after what he'd been through?

His body hurts. The pain from his lower parts has spread all throughout the rest his body, not that he isn't hurting everywhere else, from fingers and hands that couldn't dig deep enough into his skin, from sharp nails and sharper teeth.

Tetsuya wants nothing more than to sleep - to forget, but he's afraid of closing his eyes. Haizaki's face hovers just outside his mind, a twisted mask of vengeful desire. The cold seems to have settled deeply in his bones. He's shaking so badly now, the pile of blankets on top of him is in danger of toppling off. His teeth are clattering.

The world in front of his eyes is a blur with dark spots eating at the edges. Unconsciousness would be a blessing right now. Even if part of him insists on warning him against giving in, for there is no assurance that he will wake up again. Tetsuya eventually gives in to the darkness tugging at his mind. It washes away the image of Haizaki towering over him, washes away the bone-deep ache permeating his body.

If only it could take away the memories forever.

Seijuro stares at the wall. He hadn't done anything else for the past... he doesn't even know how long he had sat like that. His mind is an endless circle of meaningless words, regrets and painful memories. He hadn't even realized how much he truly cared for Tetsuya until it was too late.

How ironic that is - he's supposed to be always right, isn't he? Only this time, he wasn't.

It's almost odd how clear his mistake lies out in front of him. He had failed to recognize the emotion at the time as jealousy, and therefore failed to realize that any action caused by said feeling would be erroneous - simply by matter of definition. He had failed to recognize a lot of things.

But nothing had been amiss, not obviously so - there had been no reason to reassess his judgments. He finally understands what people mean when bemoaning hindsight. In hindsight it really had been obvious, but it was only natural to incorporate Tetsuya's assets into his system, the extra bit had not stood out enough to invite scrutiny.

Extra bit. That is one way to put it.

Moreover, it had been exactly that - a natural process. Seijuro has made it a habit to reward good behavior; nothing of it had stood out in Tetsuya's case.

What is says about him, Seijuro supposes, it can't be a good thing, that he had so little of a clue about matters of the heart.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his door. His visitor doesn't wait for him to invite them in, before opening the door. The reason for this inconsiderate act becomes very evident once he sees the conflicted expression on Ryouta's face. Something about it makes Seijuro's heart squeeze painfully in his chest. He hasn't just hurt Tetsuya, Tetsuya who means so much to him - he knows it now when it's already too late - but also the men who've sworn their unwavering loyalty to him. The men he was supposed to trust more than anyone else.

Ryouta is visibly taken aback by his sight and Seijuro wonders just how messed up he looks.

"Akashicchi..." He says, unsure.

Seijuro has to close his eyes. His guards - his friends - should never have to be this cautious around him. Just what kind of monster did he allow himself to become?

He knows the answer to that, of course he does.

"What is it?" His voice sounds odd to his ears. Even though he tried to sound kind, Ryouta visibly flinches. He looks so tired, eyes lined with dark circles.

"It's Kurokocchi, he..." Ryouta swallows and cold dread settles in Seijuro's stomach.

"He collapsed in his rooms. He's burning up and we can't get him to wake up."

Seijuro feels like the ground has been pulled out from under his feet. He sinks back into his chair, fighting to regain his composure. It's a fight he's about to lose. Ryouta looks at him worried.

"Midorimacchi is looking after him at the moment, but we have sent for Nijimura-sensei."

Seijuro rubs a hand over his eyes. His thoughts are running in circles again, but he needs to pull it together and focus.

"Where... no, please bring me to where Tetsuya is right now. If you would Ryouta." Ryouta's surprise overrides his worry, but he pulls himself together quickly enough.

"Sure, Akashicchi." Ryouta gives him another worried glance, before leading him out the door.

Seijuro expects - hopes, as if he had the right to - he'll lead him to anywhere else but Tetsuya's rooms. Of course, there is nowhere else Tetsuya could be. After all Seijuro has quite effectively clipped his wings. Somewhere Chengyi must surely be laughing right now.

Shintarou is bent over the sofa in Tetsuya's living room. Tetsuya lies under a huge pile of blankets, only a mop of sweaty blue hair peeking out from where Akashi is standing. Daiki is standing in the middle of the room, like someone put him there and forgot to pick him up again. Like he has absolutely no idea what to do.

Shintarou turns half when he notices their entrance. "Akashi." He sounds surprised. "There is no need for you to be here." He sounds unusually clipped, even for Shintarou's standards.

In another time Seijuro - the other him - would have reprimanded Shintarou for speaking out of line, but now he can only accept the silent reproach. He has let his other side run freely for far too long. This is merely the result of his negligence. Ah, or is it cowardice?

"How is Tetsuya?" It's all he can do to keep his voice even. Tetsuya's face is pulled into a slight grimace; hair is sticking to his temple in a sweaty mess. Color rides high in his cheeks and neck area, but it only outlines how pale he otherwise is.

"Well," Shintarou scowls, the way only he can - thoughtful and very much reprimanding of any and all situations he deems unfavorable. "He has a high fever and is close to overheating. I was about to remove his covers." He points to a small pile of blankets where he had begun unearthing Tetsuya from his protective cocoon. "I assume he was suffering from chills earlier, but with how high his temperature is right now, this is definitely too hot."

Shintarou exchanges a glance with Ryouta, who wordlessly begins removing the blankets from the pile on top of Tetsuya.

"Nijimura-sensei will be here shortly. Until then we should have everything under control."

Tetsuya's bedroom door opens and one of Tetsuya's maids walks in, carrying a bowl of water. Behind her follows another maid with an arm full of towels. Both of them bow when they see Seijuro, but his presence seems to throw them off, as they remain hesitantly near the door. Behind them Seijuro can see the mess that Tetsuya's bed still is. The sight almost turns his stomach.

"Uhh, Midorimacchi? I think we need to get Kurokocchi's temperature down soon. He's burning up." Ryouta yanks down blanket after blanket, until there is only one left.

Shintaoru curses under his breath. "Quick, get the water here." He orders the maids and they swiftly obey. The one with the water, a tiny slip of a woman - Seijuro has never paid Tetsuya's servants any mind, Satsuki is responsible for such things and he has always trusted her - puts down the bowl on one of the tables. The other one, a rather tall reed-like woman dumps the towels in the water and starts applying them to Tetsuya's forehead.

Seijuro feels completely out of place and useless. Shintarou had told him as much, but Seijuro can't bring himself to leave. This is his mess, but he has no idea how to clean it up.

Thankfully that's the moment when Nijimura Shuzo, Seijuro's personal physician arrives, followed closely by Tetsuya's third maid. He takes one look at the situation and goes into action immediately, ignoring Seijuro's presence completely. He gestures for the maid to put down his bag next to the sofa, before kneeling down next to Tetsuya's head. He pulls away the wet towels and checks the temperature.

"Do we know of a cause?" He asks the room at large.

"Well... yeah." Ryouta says haltingly. His eyes dart to Seijuro, hesitant.

"It's my fault." Seijuro says evenly. Shintarou almost drops the lucky item of a feather duster he's been clutching in his hands like he wants to squeeze out all the luck it carries.

Shuzo levels him with a glance, before carefully lifting the blanket from Tetsuya's body.

Seijuro's eyes are drawn to the sight, against his better judgment. Tetsuya's skin is almost deathly pale, except for the almost violently red flush on his face and chest. He's covered with flakes of dried blood from the many cuts and bruises littering his body. Some parts of his skin have turned into a large canvas of purple and red. There are stains of fresh blood on the blanket and the sofa underneath. Fresh blood seems to be oozing from a wound somewhere between Tetsuya's legs.

Shuzo freezes for the fraction of a second, before he drops the blanket with a sigh. "Shion, would you be so kind and fetch some poppy seeds from the kitchen. You'll have to wake Kaede; tell her I sent you. And make sure to ask for medical poppy seeds. She knows what I need." Shion, the maid who'd brought Shuzo, nods and leaves.

Shuzo grabs for his bag. "I need hot water, better yet, I need a fire." He frowns and looks around the room. The room has a fireplace, but it's commonly only in use during winter. Tetsuya's room hasn't been stocked with firewood yet.

"I could grab a coal pan from the common rooms." Daiki offers. He seems to be on edge, hovering just outside Shuzo's comfort zone, desperate to be of any help. Seijuro can relate all too easily.

"That won't be enough. We need a real fire. Kuroko-san's body is already weakened by the fever, like this the risk of infection is too high. Besides, I have yet to assess if any internal damage has been done." His voice is serious, and although he doesn't quite spell it out, the implications are there.

"My rooms." Seijuro offers. Four pairs of eyes level on him with varying expressions spanning the entire spectrum between belief and disbelief. "My fireplace is stocked. Tetsuya shouldn't stay here." Somehow he manages to speak without having his voice shake.

"Are you sure?" Daiki frowns, and there it is again, that face that says he's worried and confused by Seijuro's sudden and inexplicable behavior. Seijuro merely nods.

"Moving him is not the best of ideas, but with the situation at hand our best option nonetheless." Shuzo picks up his bag and stands up. "If one of you would be so kind." He addresses Seijuro's guards. "Try to be careful and not jostle him too much. He must be in great pain already."

Both Daiki and Ryouta step forward to pick up Tetsuya, but settle on Daiki carrying him with Ryouta keeping the blanket in place. They meet up with Shion, who clutches a small satchel in her hands outside in the corridor. Seijuro leads the party into his rooms and then bedroom. If anyone is surprised by his choice, they don't show it.

Shuzo takes quick control over the room, commandeering the maids to prepare the fire and water, while sending Shion on errand after errand. Shintarou excuses himself soon after, while Ryouta and Daiki nervously hover at Shuzo's periphery, desperate to help yet unable to contribute much. Seijuro sinks in one of his chairs and waits.

He feels tired like he hasn't in a long time. Yet he knows without a doubt he wouldn't be able to fall asleep if he tried. Seijuro knows he shouldn't watch, respect what he's left of Tetsuya's dignity, but he can't bring himself to look away as Shuzo works. There's barely a stretch of skin that isn't bruised or broken. Shougo had not been gentle. And Seijuro has only himself to blame for that.

Shintarou comes back a while later, carrying a tray with cups and a plate of snacks. He demonstratively puts down a cup of what appears to be steaming hot tea in front of Seijuro and then sits down himself.

"You haven't looked into a mirror recently, have you?" Shintarou asks after taking a sip from his own cup.

"I realize I must look quite bad."

"That's not what I mean." Shintarou adjusts his spectacles and sighs. "Your eye has changed. I would like to say back to normal, but I honestly don't know anymore."

Seijuro frowns. He was about to take a sip from his tea, but now he sets the cup down. He hadn't felt any difference, but then again, neither had he when it first changed colors. "Is it…?"

"It's red, yes."

Seijuro listens inside himself. There had always been another presence within him, a voice that whispered sweet promises of victory and invincibility. It had been such a natural part of him that Seijuro eventually lost sight of the line that separated them - if there ever had been a line to begin with. After his father died the pressure on his shoulders had magnified. He remembers the bone-deep fear he felt when he had realized he might fail as his father's successor. It had paralyzed him, but then it had just disappeared. His eye had turned golden and Seijuro had named it victory.

How foolish he had been.

The voice is quiet now. Seijuro doesn't think it's entirely gone, but he also doesn't think that he'll ever fall for its promises again. He only wished it hadn't taken this much for him to realize it.

"I never thought it would feel like this." Seijuro looks over to where Shuzo is still busy fixing his mess. It's not supposed to be like this, is it? Tetsuya's blood is on his hands alone.

"What is?"

"Failure."

Shintarou's eyes widen in surprise. He doesn't say anything for a long unbearable moment, before he lets out dry huff of air. "So that's how it is?"

Seijuro had never doubted that Shintarou would understand him. He supposes that says more about his subordiante than him. "Yes, so it seems."

Seijuro only wishes he wouldn't understand precisely why Shintarou's answering smile is so sad.

It's sometime in the early hours of the morning. Shuzo has finished his treatment and Tetsuya has sunken in a drug-induced sleep. The room is quiet, safe for the soft sound of Tetsuya's breathing. The maids have retired and so have his guards, albeit reluctantly. Shuzo has left him some of the tea he made for Tetsuya, in case he wakes up.

There is nothing else to occupy his mind. Shintarou and then Ryouta told him to get some sleep. Shuzo just took a look at him and could tell it was a lost cause. There is nothing else he can do, so Seijuro pulls a chair next to his bed and watches over Tetsuya's sleep.

Tetsuya's life is not in any kind of danger, Shuzo reassured him, but he might wake up, or his temperature might change and since Seijuro won't sleep anyway, he might as well look after him.

Tetsuya moans in his sleep, brows furrowed in discomfort. Seijuro checks his temperature. He only has a light cover, but the fever drives his temperature too high for any more. Seijuro picks up the cup of water on the nightstand and carefully lifts Tetsuya's head to let him drink. Water, Shuzo had said is the most important thing right now. If Tetsuya loses too much water his condition might worsen significantly.

It's a small contribution and not one that lets Seijuro think he can make anything up by it. But he will do what is necessary to help Tetsuya get better.

It's the least he can do.

Tetsuya dives in and out of consciousness. At least, he thinks that's what he does. Sometimes he wakes to a suffocating feeling of heat, like he's trapped in an oven. He tries to move but finds he can't. Something heavy is blocking him, like lead filled into his limbs. He feels the cool trickle of water down his throat and the heat subsides. He sinks back into sleep.

He dreams of red hot pain and the cruel lines of hatred on the face of a grey-haired man. The man digs his long black claws into him and pulls out everything he has to offer, until all that's left is the bloody beating of Tetsuya's heart. The dream diffuses into the feeling of a cool palm against his forehead and fleeting words he can't make out.

Tetsuya attempts to open his eyes, but all his bleary sight reveals to him is a blurred flash of red. He must be at home then. Kagami used to take care of him when he was sick. Tetsuya lets his eyes fall closed again, sinking back into the cushions of sleep. The last few months were nothing but a bad dream. He's caught a fever and is now suffering from delusional dreams. It's alright though; Kagami is there to take care of him.

He's at a beach. It's unlike any beach Tetsuya has ever seen. The beach close to his home had been a rocky shore, with jagged stones and treacherous waves. This one is stretched as long as the eye can see, covered in soft white sand, blindingly perfect, without a single blemish. The waves roll gently on shore, white foam spraying from the waves' crowns. Tetsuya watches as his footsteps disappear under the relentless onslaught of waves.

He feels entirely at peace.

Tetsuya knows it's a dream - the way people sometimes just know that the world they are in isn't real.

"I'm sorry." His mother says, and Tetsuya supposes it's not entirely unexpected that she would show up here. He looks at her face, sculpted like fine art and he knows he won't remember it when he wakes up. He tries memorizing it all the same.

"I'm sorry." She says again. She wears a dress he's seen her in only once. It's back to white again, no stain betraying the fate she has met. She falls down to her knees and Tetsuya suddenly realizes he's his three year old self. She wraps her arms around him in a hug. "You were never meant to see me die." She whispers into his ear, her breath oddly cool against his skin. Her skin is cold too.

Tetsuya can't speak.

"My foolish child." Her grip on him tightens almost painfully. "You need to remember."

Remember what? He wants to ask, but there is no voice in his throat. Just the endless whisper of waves rolling and the distant scream of seagulls.

"Remember." His mother's arms are twigs and branches that hold him, dig and scratch at his skin.

"I love you, little one."

Waves crash on shore, submerging him and his mother in a world of silence. When they recede, his mother is gone, washed away like footprints in the sand.

He wakes again, but this time he's cold to the bones. He curls in on himself, trying to sustain as much warmth as possible. It's no use though. His body is violently shaking with the effort to generate heat, but all it does is shake off the blanket pulled over him.

Something warm brushes over his forehead and Tetsuya moves towards it instinctively. Right. Kagami is with him. Kagami has always been an inexorable source of heat. He finds a hand and grasps it, pulling until he is enveloped in that heat with Kagami's body draped over him.

"Don't leave," he whispers. "Please, don't leave."

"It's alright," Kagami says, "I won't go anywhere." The voice doesn't sound like Kagami, but who else could it be?

Everything was just a dream...

His thoughts are swallowed in darkness again.

By the time Shintarou comes round to tell him he needs some rest - Atsushi's been supplying him with food regularly enough, but even Seijuro needs sleep - Tetsuya's condition has improved significantly.

The drug had put him in a deep sleep, but once the effect had worn off he had surfaced a few times. One time he had been so cold he'd pulled Seijuro in for warmth. Whatever Tetsuya saw in him that moment, Seijuro is sure it wasn't him.

He can live with that.

"You need to rest." Shintarou fiddles with the small lacquered box in his hands. He'd been with Tetsuya the rest of the night. Judging by the fading light outside, there is not much left of the day either.

A lot of people had come to inquire about Tetsuya's condition. Seijuro had known how well received Tetsuya had been, but the attention still comes as a warm surprise.

"I'm not tired." Seijuro's voice sounds oddly hoarse, as though he hasn't used it in forever.

Shintarou sighs and affixes his glasses along with a very annoyed stare. "The fact that you haven't yet told me to 'know my place' is a clear indicator that something is amiss. Now, I do understand that you won't tell me anytime soon, but right now that merely translates to you needing a regular human's amount of sleep."

He's right. Of course he is. It doesn't change however that Seijuro doesn't feel tired at all.

How could he sleep when Tetsuya is like this?

He asks Shintarou as much. He remembers a time when he could ask his guards - back then they were nothing more than his close friends, raised at his side to foster the bond of trust between them - for advice. Back when him actually needing advice didn't cause worry or confusion.

It takes Shintarou an inappropriate amount of time to recover.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Seijuro asks solemnly.

Shintarou swallows. "It has." He agrees eventually. "Akashi, will you please rest? I will ask Kise or Aomine to keep watch in your stead. I think Murasakibara is cooking something right now, apparently he doesn't trust the kitchen to care well enough for Kuroko." It's everything that he didn't tag a please at the end of it.

"Alright." Seijuro hovers a hand over Tetsuya's sweaty temple. Whoever Tetsuya thinks he is, it might bring comfort to him to be touched by that person. But Seijuro never had the right to lay a hand on him to begin with.

Seijuro can't sleep. He didn't expect to really, but even lying in bed with closed eyes supposedly brings the body some rest. Since Tetsuya is occupying his bed and Shintarou vehemently vetoed him sleeping on the sofa, he temporarily moved into Ryouta's rooms as he is currently watching over Tetsuya. Seijuro had been against it first, no one should lose sleep over this but him, but one look at Ryouta's face had convinced him otherwise. It had helped maybe that Daiki looked close to start a fight for the privilege to watch over Tetsuya's bedside.

Shuzo had come and checked on Tetsuya one more time, and after declaring he was recovering quite well, Seijuro's last excuse had evaporated.

He still can't sleep.

Seijuro tries but he can't find any rest whatsoever. He gives up eventually, climbing out of bed and throwing on some of Ryouta's clothes. They are too big and not at all his style, but he isn't about to go out for anyone to see.

Or so he thinks. Maybe it's his stomach that leads him, or it's the lingering of Shintarou's words, but he finds his way into the kitchens of the West wing. The kitchen is empty safe for Atsushi who's sitting at the table with a pile of snacks and a bottle of sake. Only the sake is untouched.

Seijuro sits down opposite Atsushi without a word. There are things Shintarou won't ever comprehend with his highly theoretic mindset, the same way both Daiki and Ryouta are too passionate - albeit in different flavors - to offer valuable counsel. And maybe Seijuro is deluding himself, but that's irrelevant right now. He picks up the unopened bottle.

"Shintarou told me you were going to cook me something." Seijuro doesn't bother with a cup. He drinks right from the bottle.

"I was going to, but then I decided it's too much of a hassle."

Seijuro nods. The sake burns down his throat, as though it's the first time he's drinking alcohol. Something else burns just as unfamiliarly in his eyes, but Seijuro drowns it with the slow burn of alcohol.

"This isn't sake, is it?"It burns down his throat but it doesn't burn away the pain in his chest.

"No." Atsushi yawns without bothering to cover his mouth. Would he have touched it, had he known? He can't say.

They sit for a while in silence. Seijuro drinks but the ache doesn't lessen so he puts the bottle down and closes his eyes. "I called him a whore."

"Uh huh." Atsushi leans his face on his hand, seemingly bored but Seijuro knows better. There is little there now of Atsushi's usual child like behavior. He rarely ever gets serious, but when he does, little can stand in his wake.

"I would like to say I had no idea what I was doing, but as a matter of fact I knew precisely what I was doing."

"Aka-chin can be mean sometimes."

"That's one way to put it."

"But you are no longer that Aka-chin, are you?"

"I wonder." The world is a blur. Atsushi is a blur. For a moment Seijuro thinks it's the alcohol that takes effect, but then Atsushi reaches out a hand and picks off a tear from his cheek.

He licks it off from his finger. "Ne, Aka-chin. Your tears are too salty, you need to drink more."

"I thought that's what I'm doing." Seijuro's hand is shaking ever so slightly when he reaches out to take the bottle. "I guess it's not enough."

"Aka-chin should stick to sugar. It's much better than alcohol."

"It is, isn't it?" Seijuro closes his eyes but the tears won't stop falling. He shouldn't be crying. But he doesn't know what else to do. He of all people should have seen it, but he didn't. Emotions like that had no place in his heart. They would only get in the way.

What a fool he had been.

"Ne Aka-chin. Why are you crying now?" Why now, why at all?

"I've lost, that's why."

Atsushi squints his eyes. "That's a useless thing to do."

Seijuro pauses. Part of him wants to be offended; defensive of his actions, but Atsushi isn't finished.

"I raped Kuro-chin on your account, yet it would have been in my power to deny you." Atsushi's eyes are serious for once and he levels the whole intensity of his stare on Seijuro. "I have my own demons to face because of you. What do you think it did to Kise-chin? Mine-chin? Even Mido-chin. Your decisions affect others, but you never pause to consider that."

Atsushi pulls the not-sake bottle from his hands. "It's not you who deserves comfort."

Seijuro stares after the bottle. He feels anger, but it's oddly disconnected, like it's someone else's. The tears have dried, but now there is an itching throb in his left eye.

"You knew what you were getting into." He says, accusingly because it seems the natural reaction, but Atsushi only rolls his eyes.

"We did. We will follow you from here on too. But it's an unnecessary hassle when you're this unsure. Don't think you could order us around if we didn't decide to follow you. We are willing to burden your sins, as long as you retain the strength to lead us."

Seijuro leans back. His vision has cleared, but he still feels sticky and wet from his tears.

"I have to accept the consequences of my actions, is that what you want to tell me?" Seijuro's mind feels exhausted, more than his body ever could, more than he ever thought was possible. For the first time that evening, Atsushi smiles.

"Kuro-chin is strong. That friend of his is too. You are not the only one who has to live with the aftermath of this. Even Zaki-chin." A strange look passes through Atsushi's eyes.

"What do you mean?" He's been too distracted the whole day, but he still picks up on Atsushi's indicative tone.

"I mean that Zaki-chin fell down the stairs and is now in the infirmary."

Seijuro can't help it, he gapes. He can't even be mad that no one told him. "I suppose it wasn't an accident."

"The doctor thinks it was because Zaki-chin was drunk. I think it was because Kuro-chin's friend pushed him down the stairs." Atsushi's voice is uncharacteristically grave. "I think he's lucky that he's still alive." And that not just because Kagami got there first.

Seijuro thinks back to the night before, how impossibly fast Kagami had moved. The Seirin have always been a legend- a clan indisputably loyal to the Teikou, and immensely skilled. Tetsuya's own skills leave little room for doubt, but then there is Kagami.

"I don't think it was luck." Seijuro says contemplatively.

Atsushi shifts his eyebrows into an expression of mild surprise. Stern lecture time seems to be over and Atsushi's attention drifts back to his snacks. At that moment he's grateful that his guards are they way they are. Their strengths compliment whatever he's missing, even though he never noticed before.

"You're right. It was rather bad luck for us." Atsushi's voice gives no hint if he's made a joke or not. Seijuro agrees enough to know he wasn't.

"It could have been one of us." Seijuro muses.

"No. If Kuro-chin had wanted us dead, we were dead already."

"He couldn't have anything to do with it." Seijuro frowns as he thinks back to the conversation he overheard. Tetsuya had clearly forbidden Kagami to kill him, but he hadn't said anything about anyone else. Could he have ordered it before Seijuro arrived?

"For someone so smart you're sometimes surprisingly dense." Atsushi says with another yawn. He starts gathering his stockpile of leftover snacks. "Kagami is like us. He would do anything for Kuro-chin."

Ah, Seijuro thinks, he really had been a fool, hadn't he?

His feet don't lead him back to Ryouta's rooms. Atsushi's words have given him reason enough to pull himself back together. Despite that - or maybe precisely because of that, he feels the need to confront his mistakes. He can't ask Haizaki, who's in critical condition according to Atsushi and he can't and won't ask Tetsuya. So all that remains is the evidence left behind.

But when he enters Tetsuya's rooms he finds the area has already been cleaned up. The bed is still a mess, but the sheets have been removed and the blood scrubbed from the floor. The window had been opened to clear the air and apparently forgotten to be closed again. Or rather it can't be closed, as the latch seems to be broken.

Seijuro walks over to the window to look outside. Summers can be brutal in the capital, but the thick palace walls usually prevent the rooms from heating up too much. Still, the fresh night breeze feels nice on Seijuro's face. Without proper airing, the rooms tend to get stuffy.

Stars blink above him and the moon hangs a thin round sickle in the sky. It's the exact same view than from his rooms next door, but he's never felt like this watching it. It has a calming effect, peaceful almost and it eases the ache in his chest like the alcohol could have never done.

He'll go to bed and sleep, so that he can face tomorrow with renewed strength. Tetsuya is strong, he will recover and then Seijuro can start the long process of recovering what was lost between them. Even if Tetsuya might never forgive him.

A shadow flies past the moon, an owl maybe or another nightly predator. Seijuro turns his back on the view. There's still the thing Tetsuya came here for originally, whatever it is only Seijuro can give him. After what he's seen, Seijuro doesn't believe for one second that it wasn't Tetsuya's choice to come here, no matter what his ministers or the Teikou may think. And Seijuro will see through that Tetsuya gets it, whatever it may be.

"Now this is a surprise." The voice comes directly from behind him, even though no one had been there just a few moments ago.

Seijuro whirls around; hand reaching for a weapon he already knows is not there. There is a man crouching down on the windowsill. Seijuro hadn't sensed his approach at all and for a moment he thinks it's Kagami who's come back for him, but the man has jet black hair and dark soulless eyes.

The man smirks. "I was expecting someone else, but I think you will do just fine."

"Who are you?" Seijuro's instincts tell him to be on edge. This man is without a doubt dangerous.

"You'll learn soon enough." The man says flippantly and flicks his hand. Seijuro moves on instinct, tries to dodge an attack he can't even see, but it's futile. Something pricks him in the leg, and all Seijuro can do is watch the needle stick out from his leg before his senses fade and he collapses to the floor.

When Seijuro comes too, he instantly knows he's no longer in his palace, or even close to it, if the trees surrounding them are anything to go by. It's daytime, but Seijuro doesn't know if it's the very next day or if he missed more than one day. His head feels terrible, like someone scooped out his brain and refilled it with wool. There is an awful taste in his mouth and his tongue feels like it's grown double in size.

Whatever he's been hit with, it'll take a while to recover. Seijuro tries to move but finds he can't. It takes longer than it should to work out that his arms and legs are tied. He's lying on the ground, sticks and stones digging in his back and shoulders, but his muscles are too uncoordinated to wiggle up into a sitting position.

There are faint voices, muffled talking but either it's too far or his brain too muddled to make out details. He manages eventually to maneuver himself upright against the trunk of a tree. They are at the edge of a clearing. A couple of bags lean against a nearby rock, behind which three men are in the middle of a heated conversation. One of them points in his direction almost accusingly.

Seijuro's sight is still blurry and he has to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, the scene has changed. The three men have broken up and one of them is now walking over to him. Seijuro thinks for a moment he must be dreaming. The man looks familiar, light blue hair, small built and eyes the color of a cloudless sky.

Seijuro's mouth goes dry all of a sudden. This can't be.

"You." His voice comes out little more than a hoarse croak. He desperately wishes his eyes were fooling him. The man in front of him is none other than Kuroko Tetsuya.

Things need to get worse before they get better.