Of Our Own Choosing
"Misaki! What do you think you're doing?" Fushimi demanded in alarm, hurrying into the room to stop the other from struggling to his feet.
"H-hey, Saruhiko," Misaki stammered, panting slightly from the effort of trying to get himself out of bed.
His left hand was no longer in the sling, and the splints were gone from his right arm and leg, though they remained bandaged.
"Are you supposed to be out of those splints?"
"Yeah," Misaki gasped, perching on the edge of the mattress. "Everything's healing well. The doctor said it's okay to move around a bit as long as I don't tear my stitches or put pressure on my left hand–"
"Tch. I'm certain the doctor meant moving around with proper support and under professional supervision," Fushimi sighed. "Wouldn't you have been putting pressure on your hand by trying to pull yourself upright with it like you were about to?"
"No, I wouldn't have squeezed hard – I'd just have – uh… well, maybe a bit, but…"
Fushimi carefully lifted Misaki's hand and examined the fingertips. The skin and nails looked pink and healthy, so blood circulation was good. Swelling was minimal – no oedema. Unlike the right arm and leg, the left hand still wore a couple of light splints to prevent him from clenching his fist in his sleep and tearing the repaired tendons and nerves. Despite the splints, he showed that he was able to flex his fingers a fraction, prompting Fushimi to let out a breath of relief – if everything continued as it should, Misaki would almost certainly regain normal use of his hand in time.
"It's healing well, so don't try to do anything stupid like gripping your bedframe to haul yourself upright with it," Fushimi told him off again.
"Aaaaahh! Is that what Nii-chan was trying to do?!" Minoru yelped as he appeared in the doorway clutching two drink cans. "Saru! He's been driving me and Kaa-chan crazy all day, ever since the doctor removed the splints!"
"Where are the Homra guys? Why wasn't anyone in here with him?" Fushimi asked the boy.
"Nii-chan has been driving all of us crazy," Minoru sighed. "First he sent Kamamoto-san back to his apartment to get his game console. Then he sent Bandou-san out to the shops to get a replacement battery for his PDA. After that, he fussed about wanting a takoyaki snack, and Kaa-chan went out to buy some for him. He also wanted lemonade and made me get it from the vending machine – I figured it would be safe for five minutes since your colleagues are watching the corridor. He's been so antsy since the physiotherapist walked him around then made him get back into bed."
"I'm sore and aching all over, and I just want to move to distract myself from the pain and the itching and the aches!" Misaki growled in frustration.
"You could have hurt yourself," Fushimi growled right back. "And you're a fool to send Kamamoto and Bandou out of the hospital – they're supposed to keep you safe along with the Sceptre 4 guys."
"No one'll attack me here."
"We don't know that for sure, Misaki. It's called taking precautions."
"What has that idiot son of mine done now?" Misaki's mother's voice came from just outside the room, shortly before she entered holding a box of what was evidently takoyaki.
"Ahhh! That smells so good!" Misaki exclaimed, trying to jump up and immediately being held down by Fushimi and Minoru. "I can feed myself now! Just put it here, please, Kaa-chan!"
"He's been like a spoilt child all day, Saruhiko-kun," his mother huffed, setting the box down on the overbed table and opening it for him. "In this kind of mood, he'll probably only listen to you and Kusanagi-san."
Although Misaki's right hand was unhurt, the bicep on that arm was still extremely sore, and he couldn't manage the disposable chopsticks the snack came with. His mother handed him the fork he'd eaten lunch with earlier, and he did better with this, using his right hand to slowly lift a takoyaki ball to his mouth. He brimmed with triumph when he succeeded, announcing: "Yesss! I'm back in business! I'll be on my skateboard in no time at all!"
At once, he was smacked on the back of the head by both his mother and Fushimi.
"Oww! What was that for?! Both of you at once too!" Misaki yelped, though it didn't stop him from popping his second takoyaki into his mouth right after his protest.
"Saruhiko-kun and I both hit you because you are an idiot to even be mentioning your skateboard before you can walk properly," his mother declared. "Don't you dare move any faster than at a crawl until everything is properly healed!"
Misaki sulked for a grand total of ten seconds, then brightened up again when he put his third takoyaki ball into his mouth. "This is soooo good after all that hospital food…"
"He's not listening," Minoru sighed, sounding as if he was the older of the two brothers.
Their mother rolled her eyes and gave up on the idea of lecturing Misaki. She turned to Fushimi instead, saying: "Saruhiko-kun, the doctor said Misaki is healing surprisingly fast, and it's all right for him to move around for a few minutes every couple of hours. But he's not to use crutches or a frame, because those will put pressure on his hand and upper arm. His leg is very sore, but moving it slowly and carefully will be okay – nothing that could cause more tears to the quadricep. They've shown us how to stand on Misaki's right side and put one arm around his waist to support him as he walks short distances up and down the corridor. He might be less restless and difficult if we let him do that now? I know he's also been wanting to talk to you, so if you would be so good as to walk him a little…?"
Fushimi nodded, and Misaki's face lit up. It took a bit of initial manoeuvring, but eventually, Fushimi got his left arm securely round the other's torso – he felt toned and lightly muscled, as expected, but it came as a surprise to Fushimi how small Misaki's body felt. The patient was allowed to rest his right arm lightly on Fushimi's upper back, but was warned not to exert any pressure that would hurt his bicep.
His mother and brother walked them out of the room, then left them alone so Misaki could get whatever he needed to get off his chest to Fushimi. The two moved slowly, in silence, until they were past the Sceptre 4 men from the general swordsmen's unit watching the corridor – Ishizuka and Jinnai from the current Squad 5. It took an agonisingly long time to reach the end of the passageway at this pace, but once they had turned the corner into a quieter stretch of corridor, Misaki blurted out: "I'm sorry about yesterday."
At exactly the same time, Fushimi admitted: "I shouldn't have yelled at you."
They stopped short after that clash of apologies, and stayed silent for an awkward second before Misaki mumbled: "I've just noticed – you're limping a bit."
"It's nothing."
"Did you get hurt on a mission?" he asked, indicating to Fushimi that he needed to stop walking – he was already breathing hard from the effort of covering a mere 20 metres.
"It's just the old wound from Gojou Sukuna," Fushimi replied dismissively, lowering Misaki gently into one of the plastic chairs along the corridor.
Misaki frowned as he sank into the seat. "It's been bothering you all this time?"
"Occasionally, when I'm on my feet for too many hours, or have to break into a run," Fushimi admitted with a shrug as he sat down beside Misaki.
"What? Aaagh, I dragged you all over Shinjuku and Shizume and across Nanakamado that day!"
"It's fine. It wasn't hurting. It's just a bit stiff at times."
"But you're limping now!"
"This is actually a good kind of limp, thanks to the bloody stretching exercise that evil doctor put me through in physiotherapy," Fushimi muttered, feeling irked all over again.
"You went for physio? Here?"
"No, at Nanakamado – I'm working with the Gold clan on a project for a while, and that annoying captain of mine arranged it so I wouldn't be able to get my job done if I didn't do the physio as well."
Misaki blinked at Fushimi, then burst into laughter: "Hahahahaha! He tricked you into it! Hahahaha!"
"Yes, yes, it's all very funny," Fushimi clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Hehehehe! Ow… it hurts to laugh… hehehehe!"
Misaki paused for breath, only to launch into another hyena-like chuckling fit, until he complained that his sides were aching. But at last, he wound down and gingerly wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his right wrist. He hiccupped once and was silent for a while, then asked Fushimi softly: "He really is your true king, isn't he?"
"Mm."
"While I've been a bad friend – I didn't even notice you were in discomfort," his voice dropped a little more.
"I was hiding it, idiot."
"No, I've been a bad friend for a long time – there's so much I didn't notice…" he said, colouring.
"It's not you – I told you, I hide… things."
"Still, I should have seen… look, don't blow your top and stomp away from me this time, okay, Saru? Just let me clear the air about this?"
"Okay," Fushimi murmured, already knowing what was coming.
"I-I'm sorry I never knew that M-Mikoto-san was such a big reason for things going wrong for you in Homra, and for things going wrong between you and me." Misaki shot him a worried glance as he spoke Mikoto-san's name, but was encouraged to see no strong reaction. "I should have known. I'm sorry that I didn't see, that I didn't l-look closely enough back then. You're right… you're totally right to have been mad at me for looking everywhere else and not looking hard enough at my best friend."
"Mm."
"So… please don't jump up and yell at me again, b-but I also want to say that if all it took was for me to mention you and Mikoto-san in the same breath to set you off like that, then you need to work your feelings out too – talk to me, or someone else if you don't want to talk to me. Just don't keep packing all that… all that resentment inside you, please, even if it is my fault."
"It isn't all your fault," Fushimi mumbled.
"I know I told you to keep telling me things until I understand them, but I've realised how hard certain things are to say at all. I-I'm just sorry that I didn't understand how you felt about so many things. But… you know… my mother came in early this morning and somehow just sensed that I was upset about you, that we'd had some kind of fight," Misaki said softly. "And she said to me: 'Misaki, I know you weren't always happy at home when you were younger, though we did our best never to give you reason not to be. But I was so happy for you when you made friends with Saruhiko-kun, because I saw that even though you couldn't choose the family you ended up being a part of through your parents' choices, Saruhiko-kun was the family you were able to choose, and he always will be.'"
"Misaki…" Fushimi's eyes widened as he looked back at his friend.
Misaki was starting to tear up again – from pure emotion this time, and he sniffled lightly before continuing: "I was telling the truth yesterday about you being the first guy I had a kind of crush on – you really were, you know, when I was still young enough to like both guys and girls. Mikoto-san was my next, and you're right – I looked at him in a way I never looked at you – but that was because I was older then, and anyway, Mikoto-san was the last man I was able to feel that way about, because soon after, I grew out of it – I realised it was girls I liked. I will always hero-worship Mikoto-san for being my king, my leader, my protector. But that's what it ended up as – not love, not… you know… not that sort of want."
He looked worriedly at Fushimi, clearly fearing that he was setting off another meltdown. But Fushimi looked back at him calmly and nodded in wordless permission for him to say what he needed to.
"I don't know what you and I will become in time. I really don't," Misaki went on, trying and failing to blink the tears off his rosy lashes. "You've been so many things to me, and I think I've been so many things to you too. But whatever we're becoming, I know for sure my mum was right – you are the first family I ever got to choose, and I more than happily chose you, and I think you more than happily chose me too as your family. So whatever happens, whatever we come to feel about each other or whoever else is in our lives, just know that you are and always will be my best friend, my chosen family. If nothing else, you're the brother I got to choose for myself, and I'm the brother you got to choose for yourself, and that means so much to me, you have no idea…"
Misaki couldn't continue – he'd always been quite a crybaby, and he hadn't changed in that respect, ending his speech with a muffled sob. He leaned over and squished his face into Fushimi's shoulder. Fushimi let him stay like that for a minute or so until he was ready to pull back and wipe his face on his wrist again.
Then he lifted a finger and poked Misaki hard on the forehead.
"Oww!" Misaki wailed, turning instantly red in the face as a scowl broke through his watery gaze.
"There I was thinking that I was the one refusing to grow up all these years, and here you are still crying like we're back in middle school," Fushimi muttered.
"Saru, you jerk! I was pouring my fucking heart out to you!" Misaki yelled, scarlet-faced.
"I know," Fushimi said so quietly and seriously that it threw Misaki off.
"Y-y-you…"
"Thank you, Misaki," he whispered, meaning it from the bottom of his heart.
The frown melted off Misaki's brow like magic, and he looked at Fushimi out of huge eyes as he chewed his lower lip in a blend of confusion, irritation and anticipation. He was still a bit teary, but his gaze was determined, and that brilliant trademark Misaki smile was starting to blaze through.
The look in his eyes wasn't the one Fushimi had hoped for many years to see, but maybe he was growing up at last, because he was no longer looking at what wasn't there, but at what was. And finally, Fushimi could see that even if Misaki's gaze wasn't glowing with the kind of love he'd once wanted from him, it was glowing with the genuine love of someone who had chosen him as family. For the first time, it was enough for him. No, not merely enough, but exactly what he needed.
"Misaki."
"Hmm?"
"100 points."
"Huh?"
"100 points for now and forever."
"… Ehh?"
…
After Fushimi had walked Misaki back to his room, he'd spent time talking to him, his mother and Minoru, and even exchanged a few polite-enough words with Kamamoto and Bandou when they returned from the errands Misaki had sent them on.
He was getting up to go when a message came in from Akiyama that someone had come forward to offer possible information about the Strain behind the game app. Fushimi took his leave, hurried downstairs, and was stepping out of the lobby when a call came from Awashima.
"Fushimi-kun, are you still at Nanakamado?" she asked. She sounded tired.
"No, we've done all we can in the lab for today. I'll only need to go back tomorrow. I'm about to return to HQ – I just got Akiyama's message."
"Fushimi-kun, Akiyama and I can handle the questioning of the informant who's come forward."
"But –"
"Right now, there's something more important for you to do."
"What is it?"
"Please find Captain Munakata and make sure he's all right."
…
He drew deeply on his cigarette, inhaling the fragrance of the tobacco along with the warmth of the fire reducing the dried leaves to smoke, needing to feel the burn and the bitterness of it dragging sharply down into his lungs before rising back up and out of him.
The last time he had come here, he had killed Suoh Mikoto. But his second-last visit to this place had been his final bid to force Suoh to see sense. They'd lit up their cigarettes right here and talked that evening, to no avail. He'd lost his equilibrium and launched himself at the Red king, knocking him to the ice-cold ground below the shrine and pinning him down as if he could dominate him into seeing things his way. But Suoh hadn't even resisted or cared. He'd only smirked, and he'd known when Munakata had come within a hair's breadth of kissing him in frustration and despair. They'd each obstinately stuck to their guns, then gone their separate ways.
At the time, he had perceived so clearly how everything should be, how it ought to be, and a good part of his helplessness had stemmed from how Suoh had absolutely refused – or been unable, in his grief and rage – to see that everything would work out if he would only fall in line with Munakata's vision and obey.
But Munakata now wondered if he hadn't been as much of a fool as Suoh all along. They'd both been nothing more than game pieces moved around by higher powers with their own tainted motives, hadn't they? Munakata's clarity of insight into the patterns of this world and what would give it perfect order had made him believe he was a king who could move people around like chess pieces purely because he knew better and could see better. Manipulating others had been for the higher cause of making everything right.
He no longer had the certainty that his vision for what this world ought to be was true. He could no longer say that it wasn't as tainted as the powers which had exponentially expanded and increased his natural perceptiveness.
What vision was it, then, that Kusuhara Takeru had died for? Munakata had seen that a person like him would come to an early end if he remained in the Blue clan. So at first, he had tried to spare him by making it hard for him to stay. But Kusuhara's will had driven him to fight with immense determination to remain, and Munakata had eventually decided to treat that will as a force that would make him a wild card out of the king's control – he'd just let things be, and watched to see what unexpected events would unfold with this unpredictable factor left free to follow his own choices.
He should have ignored that will. He should have gone against his vision of Sceptre 4 in a state of completeness to save Kusuhara's life. The vision was flawed from the start of his kingship, was it not? He had not been a king; he had been a pawn manipulating other pawns on behalf of something bigger that been using him.
Hadn't he?
Yet…
"The choices we make are ultimately our own, you know. We mortals like to imagine that we do this or that because it's meant to be, because the universe has made it that way, but still, we do choose – sometimes pretty stupidly, that's for sure – but we do make those choices."
The voice which spoke those words was as lazy as Suoh's, as irreverent, and had as much of an underlying tone of resignation as the late Red king's, especially in this place, where such fateful events had occurred. At the same time, it was nothing like Suoh's in many respects – a distinct sharpness belied the apparent resignation, a certain quality of defiance was at its core, and a peculiar current of hopefulness ran beneath the superficial pessimism… Munakata would know that voice anywhere.
He turned around, already knowing who he would see – Fushimi, walking towards him out of the forested area surrounding the shrine. He didn't expect, however, that his third in command wouldn't be in uniform. Munakata himself was in civilian wear because of his visit to Homra that morning, but Fushimi too was now out of his work clothes, wearing jeans and a parka, with his sabre wrapped in what looked like another jacket – he had most probably changed his attire to avoid attracting undue notice while entering the grounds of Ashinaka High School.
Fushimi had hacked the school's security system more than a year ago, during that unforgettable Christmas season following Totsuka Tatara's murder. For reasons of convenience for the Blue clan's work, he had never stolen back into the system to rescind either his own or Munakata's authorisation to enter the academy island – not even when the island officially became the territory of the Silver king. It had certainly come in useful today for both of them, letting Munakata stew in peace for a good spell, then letting Fushimi track him down (even though he'd turned off the GPS tracker of his PDA), just as he was falling into the old trap of withdrawing deep inside himself because he felt he had somehow failed.
"You'd think someone as brilliant and insightful as you would choose not to inhale those things that you know will probably kill you in a nasty way eventually," Fushimi remarked. "Besides, they stink. Always hated the smell of them in that bar."
Munakata huffed, dropped the cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out under the sole of his boot.
"Better, Fushimi-kun?"
"Mm-hmm. So. I hear you threw a tantrum and flounced out of Homra this morning."
"Oh? Is that what you were told?" Munakata asked, feeling the spark of amusement for the first time in what felt like a very long while.
"No. It was described in far more serious and heartbreaking terms, but that's sure what it sounded like to me."
"Ah," Munakata felt himself smiling in spite of his bitter mood.
"Shouldn't you leave tantrum-throwing and stomping out to the likes of me?"
"Well, we mustn't leave everything to you, Fushimi-kun. I must have decided that it was time I took those burdens upon my own shoulders."
"Yeah, losing your cool is a real tough job," Fushimi drawled, coming to a stop in front of him on the path leading up to the shrine.
"It can upset one's equilibrium in a most unfortunate way, especially when one does in fact have a valid reason for being angry," Munakata said, neutralising Fushimi's irony.
But the other took the discussion straight by stating directly: "From what I hear, the ones you're angry with might also have had their own reasons for being upset with life, the universe and everything."
"Which makes it all right?"
"No, but it does make them and us all beings of intelligence who've been doing what we can with what we've been dealt. I may not be either a god or a demon, and I may not be wise to the workings of the universe like a king is, but I think I can boldly answer the question Lieutenant Awashima said you asked at the bar this morning: It wasn't and isn't all a lie, Captain."
"How would you know that?" Munakata asked curiously.
"Because I've seen pointless malice. I've lived with it more than I ever wanted to. From the moment I was born into this world I was forced to grow up suffocated by that utterly purposeless genius that was so much more evil than wickedness with a cause," Fushimi said, a tremor entering his voice before he steadied it and went on firmly. "That's what someone like you would have turned out to be if you'd lived a lie controlled by powers with nothing but a single narrow purpose. Instead, you've lived a bloody meaningful life moulded by your choices and will. I don't give a shit about the idea that we're all fatefully controlled by forces far beyond us – in my book, we still live and die according to our will and our decisions even if there are unseen forces shaping us. I've known firsthand what it's like when some evil jerk with boundless potential makes choices that shape his entire life into nothing but a pointless series of actions to make his own child's existence a living hell. But conversely, I've also seen what it's like when a genius makes choices that aim to bring good to others, to make hard sacrifices that ultimately produce order and peace and save lives. I've seen the difference, and I sure as hell know your life has not been a lie."
"You don't know the depths of the harsh decisions I've made to shape the world to what I perceived it should be, based on insights that I can no longer be certain did not come from very flawed powers," Munakata countered.
"What did you see when you became the Blue king?" was Fushimi's unexpected question as a follow-up.
"Everything that the Blue clan was and should be. Everything. Even down to how the files should be organised and what our uniforms should look like. Every detail."
"Wow. Those were some kinky powers giving you those insights if they were the ones showing you how fucking high the slit on Lieutenant Awashima's coat should be and how damned much her hotpants ought to expose," Fushimi drawled. "I think you already know this, but seriously, there's no way the knowledge you received would go all the way down to the details of how stuff should be filed and how our uniforms ought to look if it came from powers intent only on selfishly attaining a single aim. I think there was good and bad, wisdom and stupidity, truth and lies, two sides of everything mixed up in the powers that the slate channelled. I'll wager you got most of the good stuff, Captain."
"Oh?"
"Yup."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because your cause is pure."
"Fushimi-kun?"
"That whole 'advancing with sword in hand' recitation's always seemed rather pretentious to me, but it's so true to your nature. Your cause is and always has been pure, even if it's been harsh at times in the sacrifices it's had to make. Your terrifying insight is meant for great things, and those powers have been trying to tell you that through Anna – you've lived according to your choices, and those choices have been bloody annoyingly pure."
"Do you know that for a certainty?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because you are my king."
For once, Munakata was speechless.
Fushimi was turning pink over his cheekbones, and looking slightly embarrassed, but he continued: "You chose me as your clansman, but I chose you as my king too. I didn't say or do this even during my installation into the Blue clan, and before this, I'd have sworn that I'd never do it even to my dying day for anyone. But then I barely knew you at the installation, so why should I have trusted you implicitly then? However, I know you a whole lot better now, and I can and will openly declare here and now that you are my true king, and I couldn't have sworn allegiance to anyone better than you, and I know with every instinct honed in me through my shitty upbringing that you have the bloody purity of a snowflake that could make hell freeze over while keeping its edges as sharp as a katana's blade."
He ended his declaration and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his face away a shade to hide the deepening colour in his cheeks.
"That… has to be the most moving and vulgar vow of allegiance I have ever received," Munakata stated after a pause.
"Well, it's the best you're getting from me, so take it or leave it," Fushimi shrugged.
"You would acknowledge me as your true king even though the entire basis of my being made a king may not have been part of the universe's vast eternal plan for a great purpose, but possibly nothing more than the unwilling powers forced from two beings of uncertain origin trying to free themselves?" Munakata asked, his tone of voice lightening despite the sobriety of his words.
"And the entire basis of my emerging into existence in this world was the bad joke that was the coming together of two sick people who should never have been allowed to reproduce. But it's what you make of yourself that counts, isn't it?"
"You are not and never will be contaminated by the cruelty of your parents," Munakata stated firmly, his voice tightening at the thought of everything Fushimi had suffered as a defenceless child.
"So your nature as a king has not and never will be tainted by the origins of what gave you power. Also, I seem to remember that someone a hell of a lot wiser than me once told me that if you dislike the way the world is, then you should use your own hands to reconstruct its order, principle and framework. If you don't like how the world looks to you from this new perspective, change it – rework what you can, or shift your perspective. Frankly, I don't believe it's all bad, these powers from the slate, and I think you can coexist with them once you see how to do so on your own terms. But for now, while you're deciding whether you want to be friends or not, you can wield human-made powers instead."
"Is that so?"
"I got permission to take this out of the lab to practise with, though your Rabbit friend will probably skin me if I lose the damned thing," Fushimi muttered, drawing his left hand out of his jacket pocket along with the white crystal, which he held out, palm up, to Munakata. "I can resonate with it the way I did when calling on any of my auras, and since you have always had the vast capacity of everything that enabled you to be a king, I'll bet you can resonate with it a hundred times better than me. Hold it."
Fushimi probably expected Munakata to take the crystal from him, but Munakata put his hand over both it and Fushimi's palm, capturing the younger man's hand with his thumb and last three fingers, while resting his index finger on his wrist, where he could feel Fushimi's pulse leap.
Fushimi activated the artificial aura, bathing his left hand and Munakata's right in the translucent white glow.
"Why aren't you using it yourself?" Fushimi asked, the hue on his cheeks deepening as he stared at Munakata's hand holding his in place.
"I'm quite happy with how this feels right now," Munakata said with a smile, firmly pulling Fushimi towards him.
Fushimi extended the aura into Munakata's arm even as the captain's other hand came to rest on his waist, drawing him closer. Munakata pressed his cheek against Fushimi's hair, and Fushimi, catlike, nudged at his king's neck above the collar with his nose.
Absorbed in each other's closeness and scent, they might have missed the presence of the intruder had it not been for the heightened senses the artificial aura imparted to Fushimi, and in turn to Munakata. They alerted Fushimi to a change in their surroundings – someone was there with intent – and his extending of the aura into Munakata's arm made the king likewise aware of the alteration in the flow of energy in the forest surrounding them.
"It seems that one or both of us may have been followed…" Fushimi growled as his and Munakata's sharpened senses echoed and amplified each other's in less time than you could measure. In a fraction of a split second, Fushimi unsheathed his sabre with one hand, imbued it with aura, and slashed away the bullet fired towards Munakata's head. At precisely the same moment, Munakata, still holding his clansman's hand with the crystal in it, reached under Fushimi's jacket with his other arm, drew one of his throwing knives out of its harness, and instinctively infused it with the artificial aura before hurling it in the direction the gunshot had come from.
The sharp thud of the blade finding its target was followed by a cry of pain from the forest, and the sound of a body crashing into the underbrush.
Moving as one, Munakata and Fushimi raced towards the would-be killer who was now their prey.
Note: I love the expressions on Munakata's and Fushimi's faces, and their body language, in this drawing by Anonymous Fanatic for this chapter - it's at anonfanatic dot deviantart dot com slash art slash Becoming-Art-Chapter-11-627408695.