By Your Side
December 31st 8:19 pm
"Anna… Let go."
'I won't.'
"You shouldn't be here…"
'I won't go.'
Mikoto raised his head slightly, empty eyes scanning the scorching environment around him as his heaving chest ached. Everything was on fire, or maybe nothing was. He couldn't tell whether the eyes he opened were his, or the demons, or if what he was seeing was reality or a phantom inside his heart. It was difficult to sort out such details as a vampire, where nothing seemed fixed. "It won't work," he rumbled bleakly. "If you don't stop, both of you are going to burn up." There was a long and nearly reassuring pause between the time the king spoke, and the time he heard Anna refute his command.
'He says he can.'
A flexing fist helped Mikoto tolerate the tension of his frustrations, but again, he wasn't sure whether it was an extremity attached to his real body or his spirit. "He can't." The command was thick with disdain as he struggled to open his eyes wide, observe his surroundings without the haze. 'So much red.'
"So much red," she parroted.
Finally, Mikoto closed his eyes again, his gritted teeth flashing with his impatience. "Totsuka, that's enough!" He roared his command as if it could somehow pass angrily through his connection with the weak child lying in her bed and fighting an incurable fever. "If you don't cut it out, you're going to hurt Anna." Silence followed, and Mikoto felt the weight in his chest grow heavier. Yelling at them would do no good, flexing his might to scare them off wouldn't either. All he was going to do was keep them from sharing that they were connected, that they would stay connected, but the reassuring voices would stop communicating with him. He didn't want that.
"Totsuka… it's not your fault." Mikoto struggled to catch his breath or breathe at all. At that point, he was pretty confident that the flames within his heart and the manifestation of him that continued to struggle was something spiritual. When he finally closed his eyes and stopped breathing, his spark would be swallowed up by the demon's blaze, and Suoh Mikoto would be no more.
"King… I'll make a path."
Mikoto's perceivable senses sharpened when he heard Tatara's faint call to him. He sounded winded and dizzy, but he was there, holding on through his link with Anna.
From the safety of Bar HOMRA in Shizume City, Tatara's sweaty hands continued to clutch Anna's. She had slipped into a coma when she secured her connection with her missing king. Tatara's shirt clung transparently to his body, and his light bangs adhered to his brow. The stifling temperatures were nearly unbearable, and he felt like it trapped him and Anna within a suffocating furnace. But the room wasn't full of steam, just gasping breaths as the two lone vampires fought to be part of the battle to save their friends.
"I can do this," Tatara repeated faintly. "Through Anna… through you, too… I can calm Kagutsu down. I'll do it just like… the last time." The only reason that Tatara's heart wasn't racing was because of his king's calm on the other side of the storm. The connection the three of them shared kept each of them stable even as events spiralled out of control. "As long as you're still here, there's a chance that we can save the others. Then, when you retake control, we'll have another chance-"
"It doesn't matter," Mikoto argued miserably. "We're just putting it off."
"We'll find a way," Tatara argued breathlessly aloud. "Kusanagi-san is working with the Blue King now, and Fushimi-san is trying so hard. Somehow, I know it'll… all work out." He winced, his hands aching as Anna's touch flickered with traces of Kagutsu's mighty blaze leaking through their joining. It was so much hotter than the flames within them, but he refused to give in to the pain. He wasn't letting go, and that was his resolve. He didn't care if that was Genji's way of warning him not to interfere. "I won't let go," he commanded. "Kusanagi-san and the others are coming to help you. They'll distract Kagutsu, and then I can break the barrier. I can see it, all the red, and it's keeping you locked inside of your own flame."
"Totsuka."
"We're not going to let him take you away," Tatara reassured him desperately. "Anna-chan is fighting with you, and the others too. It doesn't matter how scared we are as long as we have our king. We know we'll get through it."
"Totsuka-"
"You've been fighting it alone for so long, but I know I can help you now… I might not be a powerful vampire. I'm a terrible fighter, and I'm not intimidating in the slightest, but I feel like I was made for this," he admitted in a dull whisper. "Anna-chan and I… we're right here by your side. That's where we're going to stay until we find a way to save you."
Ehn… Mikoto heaved a heavy sigh and dropped his head, letting his eyes relax for a moment. "Arguing with you is troublesome…" he admitted through slow, even breaths. "I think I'll take a nap."
"King, don't you dare be lazy! Anna-chan and I are working hard here, you know!"
"Yeah," he admitted weakly. "… thanks."
Tatara stared at Anna's restless features binding every so often in her sleep, and his heart was heavy. 'King…'
The bar beneath was quiet and dark. They'd turned the lights off shortly after Tomaya had left, and meditated on the task at hand. Even from the room above, he could feel the pressure closing in, the intense emotions of anger, sadness, hope, dread, and love. He felt it in every shuffle as their scattered presences conjoined, and the final decision seized them. In a way, Genji was wise to have split up their forces, leaving them demoralized and fearful. He knew that none of them could bring themselves to kill a friend, which essentially nullified the threat of HOMRA remnants to the demon, or so he thought.
But something Genji probably didn't expect was that they would fight anyways. They fought daily amongst themselves. He couldn't count the number of times that Izumo had to lecture Misaki about lighting himself on fire in the bar while he was tossing Rikio around. Scrapping wasn't uncommon among Yō and Masaomi either, or even Neirah and Saburōta, for that matter. If it came down to it, they would bleed without a second thought, and while they did, they would fight in the most reliable way red clansmen had always practiced, with all their hearts.
They weren't going to abandon their friends. They didn't spend decades forging those bonds just to throw them away over something so insignificant. That thought made him laugh lightly through the breaths he struggled to retain. It sounded like something Saburōta would do, but somewhere in his heart, Tatara knew he was better than that. He may have been envious of a lot of people for a lot of things, but deep down, the one thing he knew Saburōta appreciated was the people who stayed by his side through every failure. Even if he wasn't great at being a vampire, or video games, or fighting, he had the best friends anyone could ask for, undeniably. Somehow, Tatara knew that he would fight to protect them, even if it was from himself. He probably had more love for them that he had self-love, at this point.
"Stay strong, everyone," Tatara whispered faintly. "I'm sure… everything will work out in the end."
Reisi looked out over Tokyo Bay towards two large, artificial islands. The areas were uninhabited and used for waste disposal. At that time of night, he wasn't sure how many human lives found themselves victimized amid the chaos, but as the flames reflected in his violet eyes to the sound of sirens blaring, his stomach was in knots. "How long has it been since they've destroyed means of travel between the island and the mainland?"
"Just shy of two hours," Himori assured him efficiently. "Local rescue authorities have claimed that efforts have seen this side of the disaster secured. Thanks to Tetsuko's lead, we managed to lock down the area more efficiently than expected."
"The majority of neighbouring communities have also successfully evacuated the waterfront," Saruhiko added dryly from the opposing side of his king. He stared across the water to the sight of flames erupting in small and volatile bursts throughout the distant construct. "Crews are moving inland as we speak if the struggle should spillover, but we don't have time to evacuate just shy of ten million people. We've managed to clear the vast majority of waterfront traffic between the Tokyo, Kanagawa, and Chiba prefectures, though. The Prime Minister was surprisingly supportive of our authority on the matter."
Saruhiko's eyes finally slipped from the sight across the bay that was making his heart race and hands tremble. No matter what they saw on the other side, he still had a job to do. What a normal thing, he thought. "Personally, I would like to see the conflict contained between the islands."
"That would be the favourable outcome, yes," Reisi agreed. "Akiyama-kun, please see that SCEPTRE4 task forces are recalled to secure all waterside sectors. Our mission is the suppression of the demon's flame. Preventing him and his from advancing inland will eliminate the need to carry on with the evacuation orders." He turned and offered his subordinate a reassuring smile. "We'll let local district authorities manage further evacuation orders at their discretion."
"Right away, Captain," Himori reinforced.
Reisi returned his calm attention towards the bay next to Saruhiko. "SCEPTRE4's abilities are best equipped to deal with a threat of this magnitude. I would see all capable hands by my side in this endeavour."
Saruhiko didn't seem to offer his support or rebuttal. He just stood to linger with his sights locked on the threat ahead.
"How are you feeling, Fushimi-kun?" Reisi murmured without connecting their gazes.
Likewise, Saruhiko didn't turn. "Hot, Sir."
Despite the severity of their situation, Reisi couldn't prevent the faint smile turning up his lips as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. "No doubt similarly to when you were attacked?"
"I wouldn't call it an attack," Saruhiko casually dismissed. "But yes… Even our bodies aren't meant to retain those types of temperatures for any length of time. That's why we needed the vampirism in the first place, and sometimes our other abilities were foregone just to keep our temperatures stable." His tone softened to the point of nearing a whisper as he tugged lightly on his open shirt front to air the uncomfortable temperature. "If this keeps up, Kagutsu's powers will become too great, and anyone attached the flame will be incinerated. So, with all due respect, I don't want to drag this out waiting for them to make their move."
"I understand," Reisi murmured. Then, he turned over his shoulder to glance at the surrounding waterfront. "I am afraid that even if the remaining red clansmen do join us, they will be at a severe disadvantage."
"They'll show," Saruhiko mumbled briskly. "Even if they have less than a single percent chance of survival, those idiots wouldn't just abandon their friends."
"How admirable."
"It's impractical," Saruhiko corrected hypocritically. "They don't think of anything else, not even themselves."
"It is both admirable and impractical," Reisi calmly agreed. "As a man of the sword, my charge is keeping order, but even I can admit that for a sense of order to prevail, sacrifices must be made. I do not expect to walk away without casualties, but I do expect that by this night's end, Kagutsu Genji will be no more. Perhaps it is not the most optimistic viewpoint, but such is reality." He turned his sharp analytical gaze towards Saruhiko, chasing the youth's eyes from a direct line of contact. "Would you not agree?"
"Sure," Saruhiko sneered under his breath.
"Don't be coy," Reisi sassed lightly. "I know you're concerned. You're worried about that friend of yours, HOMRA's Yatagarasu." When Saruhiko didn't humour him, Reisi tapered his concern over the bay. "I'll assume you still haven't made contact then, which isn't surprising given the circumstance. I think the likelihood of him being on the other side of this uprising is quite high." There was almost a musical note to the Blue King's tone as he spoke his assurance.
"If he gets in my way, I'll stop him," Saruhiko commanded bluntly. "It's always been that way."
"You said 'stop' that time," Reisi instigated cunningly. "Previously, I have heard you utter threats of absolution his way, but this time, you said stop." Saruhiko remained silent, and for a moment, so did Reisi. "It's much harder to threaten the life of someone you love when you know that the threat of losing it is genuine. We often say things that we don't mean during times of peace, but words not previously spoken surface when something challenges our courage."
Then, Reisi withdrew a coin from his pocket, flashing the sight of it in his upturned palm. "The demon mentioned playing games the night he declared war. Shall we, too, play a game?"
Tsk! Saruhiko swung over his shoulder, finally connecting his disbelieving gaze with his superior. "Are you serious right now?!"
"This game is simple and only has one rule," he reasoned soundly. "You see, Fushimi-kun, there are two sides to every coin, but the values on either side are equal until you wager stakes upon one. You cannot have a legal form of tinder without both faces. So, if we compare human relationships to a coin, we cannot have one half without the other, regardless of which side they face."
Saruhiko shuffled nervously. "What does that have to do with playing a game?"
"We kings are like a coin, we have a front and an obverse," he reasoned gently. "One stands for order, the other, chaos. Tell me, Fushimi-kun, do believe that the paths we walk are premeditated? If I flip this coin claiming my face will show and predict my victory, does that mean that this battle holds no meaning? Do things like time and space lose their value simply because we hold no sway over our circumstance?"
"Are you asking me to bet against fate?" Saruhiko muttered lowly. "Who would be foolish enough to hope that a demon will be victorious?"
"I'm asking you because you are inhuman and see the world before you differently than I," Reisi reasoned cunningly. "I do not believe that our paths are chosen for us, so I will bet for the demon. Why? Because I believe that even though the odds are not in our favour, we will triumph. We will do so because the admirable people around us will make the necessary sacrifices. In that sense, I believe in the perseverance of every being striking out against this threat, and I trust that it will only strengthen as more doubt encroaches. That is the human spirit."
He locked his gaze with Saruhiko's, smiling faintly. Nothing stirred his young subservient like a challenge. "And I know you want to win no matter the odds. From the very start, you have exhibited a drive like none other that I have come to respect. So, I will flip this hundred-yen coin, betting that the numerical face will show. If it does, it will mean we have suffered a great loss. But if we return to this place and the opposite is true, we will be triumphant."
"Fine," Saruhiko growled defiantly without a further thought to what his superior had prattled. "Flip your coin. Regardless of the outcome, the world will be less Kagutsu by sunrise."
"As expected," Reisi whispered as the ringing coin popped off his thumb. Once it did, he closed his eyes, listening to it strike the soft earth by the seaside. "We are the same side of two separate coins, Fushimi-kun, and our obverse await us. We know what must be done." When he opened his eyes, he made sure not to look at the coin between them, which was an easier feat than anticipated. From the icy ridge, the coppery surface reflected the sudden surge of flames to launch towards the black sky above. The pillar was vast and piercing, like a welcoming beacon of challenge. Come get me. I'm right here. Resist if you dare.
Reisi cared about as much for posturing as he did for fate, so his wry grin began to twist. "We will advance with swords in hand," he murmured in command. "We will triumph, for our cause is pure."
We will triumph. That was all Saruhiko cared for, and he was ready. He didn't care whether his intentions were pure or selfish. There was no way he'd admit defeat with stakes set higher than his king could ever understand. At first, as his eyes shifted, he was tempted to peek their betting coin, if only for a moment. He resisted, though. His king was right, and it didn't matter. They would triumph.
Nearby, a thin trail of smoke encircled Izumo's head as he sat on the edge of a transport trailer watching the pillar of flame pierce the night as far as the eye could see. "I guess that's our cue, huh?" Below, and all around him, SCEPTRE4 was drawing their blades and readying their hearts for the terror they would face. They had always been a daring sort, but they didn't have the passion that HOMRA did. "Well, what do you boys think? Should we make our move?"
From where he lingered by Izumo's dangling feet, Masaomi rushed out a sharp breath and put his cigarette out under the toe of his shoe. "I really hope that idiot is some kind of freak by the time we get over there," he muttered bleakly. "I've been tellin' him to get over this for decades. If he's got horns or scales, I'm gonna hang this over his head until we're both dead."
Izumo responded with a light smile and casual shrug before holding his hand to his face around his light. "That's fair, I guess."
"How can you say those things?" Neirah lightly moaned as she peeled Saburōta's hoodie over her head, leaving her in her spandex top that sported an adorable battle-ready moon charm. "I swear, if somebody has changed what my adorable roommate looks like, there will be hell to pay."
"So, you two are sleeping together," Masaomi sassed dully. "Shit, just what I need. First, Chitose loses his damn mind, and now I owe him two-thousand yen…"
In response, Neirah threw her balled sweater to the ground, sweating manically as her chest heaved for the rush of fresh December air on her bare skin. "Not if he has horns or scales!" she raged avidly through her blushing pout. "He can sleep on the streets if that's the case!" Though, she wasn't sure what right she had to overtake Saburōta's apartment on him. She'd certainly adjusted quickly.
"Ah… I think San-chan's rubbing off on you," Shōhei tittered sheepishly. "That was pretty shallow."
Eh… Rikio gave his upper lip a gentle scratch. "I think Yata-san would look cool with horns." Then he imagined the relentless force of a goat ramming his gut with his comrade's tantrums, and he quickly shook his head. Just the thought made him give his belly an apologetic rub. "A-ah… on second thought, it'd be good if he didn't have horns."
"Good," Neirah whispered mildly. "It would be good… if things didn't change." She turned her glassy sapphire eyes towards where Shōhei gently rested his hand on the woman's shoulder with a kind smile.
"I'm sure it'll be okay," he reassured her tenderly. "San-chan is San-chan. All we have to do is get Kagutsu to leave him alone, right?"
"Yes, but…" Her voice trailed off as she watched the Blue Clan make their advance. "He was fine the way he was." A little jealous, a little superficial, but entirely loyal. His quirks made him enjoyable, and his devotion made him desirable.
Making light of the situation, Shōhei removed his hat, leaning over her shoulder to smile back at her. "But can you imagine how funny it would be when he came to his senses and realized he couldn't wear his favourite hat anymore?"
"I could cut holes in it so that it would fit around his horns properly," Neirah pouted.
"And his hoodies?"
"Scissors are a wonderful invention."
"Wow, if he comes outta this, he'd better put a ring on this one," Izumo pestered. He leapt from the trailer with a gentle grunt upon landing with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. "Honestly, Mikoto's one scary son-of-a-bitch without horns. He doesn't need to walk away from this with anything else intimidating."
"But Anna-chan would still love him anyway," Rikio defended.
"She sure would," Izumo murmured in agreement. Then, his thoughts turned towards the distant islands that SCEPTRE4 nobly approached to secure. "I wonder if that fire column meant anything. Maybe that's not a good sign, considering what Anna and Totsuka are up to."
"Or maybe that's a sign that he's still fighting it," Kōsuke murmured calmly. "It's hard to tell from back here."
"Yeah," Izumo agreed. "What d' ya say we get a closer look?"
The fighting broke out as soon as SCEPTRE4 advanced on the island. There was no ceremony or introduction to combat. It wasn't like when red and blue collided in Shizume City. There was nothing civil about it. Then, Reisi thought it was amusing that he could ever consider Suoh Mikoto as such, but even he wasn't too proud to admit that he would be happier to see that man return to his senses before the end of their quarrel.
As Reisi walked, his elite force made sure to defend him against any stray threat to approach in the form of some other demon. There were unique creatures of all sorts, and they'd all gathered to the call of their king, a demon king who'd summoned all his monsters out to play that night. That was Reisi's intended target. He felt the reassuring weight of his predecessor's sword at his hip, its surging aura expanding as he neared the calm vision of their masked enemy.
"What a humble throne." The moment that Reisi stopped walking, Mikoto opened his eyes. Reisi took note of their altered blood-orange hue as Mikoto turned up his gaze from where he sat on a molten beam that had formed around his posture as if it bowed to his uncontainable heat. It was a temperature that Reisi was well equipped to manage as he drew his silver-gilded blade, a surge of cerulean marking his ready. "Now, all that's left to decide is whether I should address you as Suoh or Kagutsu. Not that I don't hold you in the same regard." He nudged his spectacles up the bridge of his nose to sharpen his vision as the demon began to stir, a wry smirk on his face. "Suoh, no?"
The smile faded. "Brazen of you, Blue King," Mikoto rumbled tersely. "But not unexpected of your kind."
"Kagutsu, then," Reisi hummed superiorly. "Though, a simple yes or no would have sufficed."
"Intolerable, as always." Mikoto stood, his movements jarring like he fought to remain human in motion. It showed Reisi the importance of Genji's struggle within his host. Mikoto wouldn't roll over to the idea of some other entity taking control of his body, and so long as he battled, Reisi would tease out that restless spirit. "I intended for us to meet like this, so don't act so surprised that I was successful." The slow steps he took boiled the ground beneath his feet and the radiating temperature his aura gave off caused Reisi to perspire, not that he showed any visible signs of discomfort. "Now, I'll destroy you. I'll destroy every one of Habari's disciples, and then, I'll pick up where I left off, consuming the world with my flame."
"Hearing those words come from Suoh's mouth may be the most disturbing thing I've suffered all week," Reisi mocked brightly. He hoped that riling the vision of his old rival might surface some of his memories, strengthening his determination to surface, but not quite. "A shame. He usually indulges me in some rather satisfying quick-witted banter before our battles begin."
"Then, I'm sorry my priorities have you feeling disappointed."
The sounds of war were ringing in his ears as elements surged, steel collided. In all his years, Saruhiko had never seen so many different types of spectres. It was SCEPTRE4's duty to suppress their influence on society, and in doing so, it seemed that the ability-users mainly went into hiding similar to Tomaya. Now, they had someone to lead them into battle, somebody powerful to fight for their freedoms. That was a dangerous thing for revolution, but even though their sheer numbers made infiltration difficult, members of Munakata Reisi's Blue Clan were capable of defending against a widespread flurry of assaults, especially ones born of Kagutsu Genji.
After brushing off one of Genji's lesser demons, Saruhiko turned over his shoulder to see Mikoto's body igniting. He knew that Reisi was going to go straight for the king, but he hoped that Genji had taken more mobility from his host by then. It wasn't that Saruhiko hated Mikoto, or anything so shallow. He resented him, partially, over his situation with Misaki, but the man didn't deserve to become a monster capable of destroying the entire country. If he wanted to waste away into eternity sulking around, that was his prerogative. But Saruhiko needed him to bleed.
His plan was simple and hinged on his trusted king's abilities as a swordsman. Saruhiko knew that Reisi was superior in skill, and once Saruhiko apprehended Tenrō, he wouldn't have time to play the games his kings were intent on entertaining. He needed to be sure, and if he drew the mark, giving his life for it only to find out the sword required traces of the demon's blood to seal him, it would be all for not. He needed the Blue King to weaken the beast enough that when he noticed Saruhiko make his rush towards the finish, he was manageable for a lower clansman to resist until the ritual was complete. For that, he needed Mikoto to stop fighting back.
'I'm sorry,' Saruhiko mused despondently. He focussed all his attention on Mikoto's calculated advance suffocating the area with an overwhelming heatwave. If he could synchronize with the demon, or Mikoto, and incite their rage, he could exacerbate the situation until it rushed towards his intent. 'But I need blood.'
Before Saruhiko could make his connection, a sick sense of foreboding washed over him in nauseating waves until his eyes were widening. He had never felt something so foul in his entire extended lifetime, and when the rushing blaze dropped from the moaning rafters of the scaffolding above him, Saruhiko barely had enough time to dodge.
"Die!"
The surge of crimson aura was so intense that even Saruhiko's enchanted sabre had a hard time repelling the pressure put on the skateboard rushing towards his head. He was hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation and progress towards his final goal instead, but it seemed like Misaki had other plans for their last evening together. "Of course, you're here," Saruhiko hissed. Despite his obvious disgust, he couldn't help but be relieved that his friend was still alive. Maybe, in part, he even considered the unlikelihood that Misaki retained his senses. It was difficult to tell when this was a casual hello between them. "You'll follow that king of yours anywhere, won't you, Misaki? Even into the very depths of insanity!"
When Saruhiko thought he'd beat Misaki's board away, he only found that the threat was empty as it clattered against the barren landscape, and moments later, Misaki's foot was beating him forward. Typically, Misaki would be the more hesitant of the two when taking the intensity of their confrontations into account, pulling his punches, but he wasn't that night. Whereas the gravity of the situation had grounded Saruhiko in the same way Reisi expressed, Misaki's temper had been turned loose until all he saw before him was nothing but a traitor.
"You'd better keep your fucking eyes on me if you want to live long enough to help your precious master," Misaki grated through clenched teeth.
Even as Saruhiko straightened, he could see the ominous promise in the reformed garnet glower of his old friend. He missed the gold in Misaki's eyes. There was too much red, and he hated red. They didn't need it.
"So, being his pet's what was better than chillin' with the rest of us, huh?"
Saruhiko's reinforced stance fortified, and a flutter of hope caused his grip on his sword to relax a bit when Misaki lowered his head, filling his voice with anguish.
"Do you have. any. idea. how insulting that is?!"
Without a lapse in time, Misaki burst through the pyre to engulf his small frame, powering into Saruhiko with devastating ferocity. There was no room for error in Saruhiko's calculated defence, no chance to waste his power on posturing. Every bit of his thought and energy had to combat the savage persistence of the one person in his life who could make his resolve weaken.
Luckily, apprehending how pathetic he looked still stung his pride, and he was determined to put some distance between them. He released his sword with one hand, compromising its stability for a single moment to summon a handful of throwing knives between his knuckles. Then, before Misaki's jetting heel could slam into his posture, Saruhiko leapt backwards and laid his trap. "Back off!"
Cobalt strands crawled into the night, pulsing through the earth with as much intensity as he could sacrifice while he caught his breath. He was mere seconds into the conflict, and Misaki was making him look like an amateur in combat. Undoubtedly, his friend was always talented, but what he was facing wasn't his friend anymore.
"What a fucking joke," Misaki snarled as he kicked over one of the fizzling spikes. "I told you, didn't I? I told you you were fucked the moment you left."
Unlike when he would typically take a moment to address his rival in the past, Misaki's blaze didn't quiet as he stepped towards Saruhiko's heaving frame. In Saruhiko's sad eyes, he could see the reality that Misaki spoke. He was a lap dog, and Misaki was the junkyard hound coming for his revenge. The bars of the cage that Saruhiko used to recall had all but melted into molten gold, flowing through the veins beneath Misaki's skin as he went for the kill. Every pulse of Misaki's thundering heart saw the metallic lines surge, and Saruhiko worried that at any time, Genji could seize his minions from the inside out. It made him wonder if the beast before him was even organic anymore or just a machine of war repurposed for destruction.
"You don't deserve Mikoto-san's flame, so I'm gonna take it back," Misaki grumbled upon rolling his neck until it cracked. "I'll burn everything around it until it's free again, starting with that ugly. fucking. blue coat."
Saruhiko winced with the pressure of Misaki's fire surging impossibly more violent. At that point, he could barely see his friend anymore, and it was only in body. Traces of the boy he used to know had vanished, and nothing but the anger remained, rage and his love for the king who'd condemned him. Worst of all, if he didn't stop drawing power from Genji, he was going to cremate himself. Saruhiko hated it. It made his protracting teeth mill against the pressure of his heartache. I'm sorry, is what he wanted to say. It's what he probably should have said, but he couldn't. 'Good. Hate me, Misaki,' he mused defiantly. 'Let me feel it, that anger. All your resentment and revulsion.'
"Ya hear that, Monkey!?" Misaki howled. "When I'm done, there won't be anythin' left! No blood, no bone, no fucking ash!"
'I deserve it, don't I? For what I did to you?' His only friend. The one person he cared about most is the only person he'd condemned to the bleakest of fates. 'So, hate me. Hate me, so I'm not afraid to die. Hate me so you can live.' Saruhiko shook his head, raking his blade across his body as he fought any trace of sadness with his determination. "Come at me then!" he raged. "If you think you can stop me, just try it, Misaki!"
The moment that red and blue set to collide, red met red instead. Saruhiko found himself nearly repulsed when he comprehended that they'd been interrupted. Even if Misaki was furious with him and set to destroy what remained of their relationship, Saruhiko couldn't help but loathe the interference of Rikio knocking the young hunter off his course. It was their time, and if it was the only time they had left, he wanted to relish it. "You bastard!" Saruhiko shouted. "Stay out of this!"
"Let go!" Misaki raged.
Rikio's head snapped backwards beneath Misaki's heel as the feisty boy kicked him off, but Rikio didn't do much more than flash his fangs. He staggered to his feet, wiping his bloody chin, glaring at his comrade with a nasty knot in his gut. "I get it," was all the burly man spat at first. "I do." But it seemed that only Saruhiko could comprehend that Rikio was speaking to the blue clansman at his reverse.
"Fucking, fatass! What're you doin' defendin' that monkey!?" Misaki raged. "He betrayed Mikoto-san! Don't tell me you're gonna do the same fucking thing?!"
"Kusanagi-san said that Awashima-san told him something before she disappeared," Rikio muttered towards Saruhiko. "She said that you knew a way to defeat this Kagutsu creep." Then, he lowered his voice, filling it with sincerity. "That doesn't really surprise me. You've always been super smart, after all."
Saruhiko's eyes widened as he considered the man's offer. He hated him. He hated that Misaki ever got along with him. But what he abhorred most was that he seemed to understand what was happening when it was none of his business.
"Your king needs you, right?" Rikio reasoned urgently. "Kinda like our king, and our friends need us." Rikio turned his fixed gaze on where Misaki was pacing restless circles like a caged beast, trying to comprehend that his anger wasn't solely focussed on Saruhiko anymore. It was making things confusing, and Rikio could understand the impact it had on his mental state. "I know you're stronger than me, and I know Yata-san is stronger than me, too, especially like this. But it's because you're stronger than me that you need to stand against somebody like Kagutsu." Then, he turned to give Saruhiko a small smile and encouraging thumbs-up. "Heh… I'm used to being Yata-san's punching bag anyways."
"You idiot," Saruhiko whispered in rebuttal.
"Yeah, maybe so," Rikio crooned. He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles with a devious smile. "But I don't wanna risk you killin' each other before you two get the chance to make up. So, do what ya gotta, Fushimi-san."
Across the desecrated yard through a thick film of smoke and the ignition of volatile chemicals, Kōsuke leapt, swinging his leg over Masaomi's bowed head when the man ducked. His burning kick struck their aggressor away, and unlike usual, their faces didn't matter, their circumstance didn't matter. Nothing mattered to Kōsuke that night but finding Eric.
Once Kōsuke's assault cleared the threat at his back, Masaomi straightened, launching the base of his palm into the jaw of another generally human-looking brand of demonic resistance. "Funny, you're always so concerned about the crossfire, and now you're acting like you don't care."
"Our friends are in the crossfire now," Kōsuke assured him calmly. "Nothing else matters."
Tsk… Masaomi adjusted his hat on his brow, wondering why he even bothered with it or his jacket when the island was so unbearably hot. He figured at any moment, Izumo's main concern was going to become a reality, and the artificial bank was going to end up sinking to the bottom of the bay. If that were to happen, they might not have much time for recovery. "All this for a brat who doesn't even know how to live on his own. Face it. He's basically your pet."
"He's learning…" Even as Kōsuke's tight fist began to wring with impatience, his eyes didn't stop scanning the area. His tone barely hardened as he spoke. "Every day he gets closer to letting go of those memories, and so long as he's still willing to try, I'm going to be there to help him."
Despite Masaomi's apparent distaste for the boy, Kōsuke didn't seem to have any intension of leaving him behind. In a way, he could sympathize. "I guess you're probably thinking the same thing, huh?" he teased. Suddenly, he found his eyes wandering the commotion too, listening to the disturbing noises cutting over the pandemonium. "Chitose's an asshole, through-and-through. He doesn't need a demon to help him with that."
"But he's your best friend," Kōsuke prompted.
Masaomi closed his eyes and let a small grin curl his lips to one side. "Those are strong words."
And Kōsuke smiled back. "They are, aren't they?"
Suddenly, the ground around them erupted, and the boiling of the molten spray caused the pair to separate. For whatever reason, this seemed to please the assailant, encouraging a satisfying groan to slip past the smirk that curled around his unlit cigarette.
The moment Kōsuke returned to Masaomi's side, Masaomi raised his palm towards his back and encouraged Kōsuke away. "Don't. Go after Eric."
"Are you sure…?"
Masaomi's gaze tapered lethally. "Positive."
Yō's attention wandered for a moment, crimson eyes sharply examining the view of decay around them. Then, he gave his nape a lazy rub like he was fighting the pain of a kink. "Either of you boy's got a light?" His relaxed gaze followed Kōsuke as he retreated behind a structure in search of more of their missing friends. "I'll take that as a no." Then, he returned his gaze towards where Masaomi scowled at him like he was displeased. The man didn't show an ounce of compassion that his friend was being held victim within his own skewed desires.
After Kōsuke abandoned them to stare each other down, or size each other up, Yō's smile only broadened as he pointed towards his colleague. "Mn, I know you do," he teased friskily. "You had it last. I know you did."
But Masaomi didn't reach for their shared lighter in his pocket. "They say the mind is the first thing to go," Masaomi muttered. "Y' know, when they talk about fucking someone's brains out, I didn't think it was ever meant to be taken literally."
"Ooo, low blow," Yō purred mischievously. Then he shrugged. "That's okay. I got it."
The sudden eruption of flames around Yō's casual stance looked a tad misplaced when Masaomi considered how unconfrontational he remained. Still, there was an undoubtedly malicious shift in the air between them. Not to mention, the heat was too intense for Masaomi not to take a step away from it. It was something that he hadn't expected out of Yō, who looked as carefree as ever.
Yō nursed the end of his nicotine to life from the blaze he spawned and remained sedated. "You know what's great about an immortal fucking a succubus?" he calmly educated. "It's just like fucking any other drop-dead gorgeous freak. You should try it sometime."
"I'll pass," Masaomi curtly growled.
"She had a tail, Dewa!" He returned his light to his teeth, crushing the filter between his fixed canines as his smile broadened with excitement. The ruby shine behind his discoloured eyes disturbed Masaomi more than anything. Despite talking about erotic fantasies, he also looked like a child walking into a toy store with an allowance. "D' you have any idea what it's like to fuck a girl with a tail!?"
"Guess I was wrong." Masaomi's mumble was intolerant as he slowly shrugged his jacket from his shoulders. It wasn't something he wanted to admit, but standing next to his old mate was too hot to handle. "I always used to say that you couldn't get any more despicable, but here you are, making me choke on my tongue."
"That's hot," Yō drawled feistily. "I love it when you admit you're wrong."
"And I like it when you're sober for more than three consecutive days, but sometimes indulgence is few and far between." He scoffed upon dropping his shed layer to the ground by his side. "Or with you, never."
Yō threw his head back, grinning like he took pride in Masaomi's scorn. "You say that, but you love me."
"Great, more delusions," Masaomi snorted.
"You. love. me," Yō repeated a tad more sinisterly. He dropped his head back in line with his partner, his sated gaze tapering erotically at the challenge before him. "Everyone loves me."
"Well, I guess I always wanted to know who'd win if we ever turned on each other." Masaomi removed his hat and dusted some debris from it before returning it to its place. "The bar brawler, or someone who actually knows what they're doing."
Yō fell back on his lead leg and put up his lax fists with a playful grin. "Winner gets the succubus next?"
"When I win," Masaomi corrected snarkily. "I'm gonna take you home to sleep this off like I do every time you get stupid on me."
The out of context insinuation caused Yō's mind to twist his intent, likewise broadening his devious grin. "Come on, at least buy me a drink before trying to pick me up."
Despite Masaomi's obvious impatience, he couldn't help but comfort in knowing that his friend wasn't much different when he was indeed drunk. So Masaomi smiled and met his challenge by igniting what remained of Mikoto's flame inside of him. "Let's go, you demented son-of-a-bitch."
The islet was overrun by conflict, leaving defeated and wounded creatures of all breeds at Kōsuke's feet as he scoured the unfamiliar territory. What few structures were in the area were ablaze or wilting, scorching the night and filling the zone with enough embers that he couldn't tell what were stars above. It reminded him of the night they found Eric. They'd attacked a facility similar to where they stood, catching a seedy bunch in a criminal act. They thought it was all free-game, so they hunted, and they killed.
It wasn't until later that Kōsuke had discovered Eric, bitten and bloodied. He was sickly, to begin with, but when their eyes met, Kōsuke knew that the boy wasn't ready to die. That was quite simply because he'd never lived. He'd been a slave to the mafia since birth, and that night, he watched him clutch his wounds, bravely facing the gory villain before him without an ounce of fear. With one hand clotting his injuries, he all but growled at Kōsuke to warn him away, picking up a sharp piece of molten tin as if he might attack. Then, he lost consciousness, collapsing against the very threat he prepared to combat.
Since that day, Kōsuke decided that he would show Eric all of the things he missed while the boy was serving his old master, but Kōsuke never intended to become his new one, though, he wasn't surprised that Masaomi couldn't appreciate that. After all, Masaomi couldn't even see that he'd die for the lewd cohort he claimed to detest. It worried him. If Masaomi could see the likeness, then he wasn't sure that it had escaped Eric's notice. For a man who was so cynical anyway, he felt guilty that he may have been part of the reason Eric's despair quickly seized him.
The moment he saw the blue-hooded back of his friend safe before him, he couldn't contain the rush of relief. "Eric! I'm so glad I found you!"
Eric didn't seem as pleased as he turned ruby eyes over his shoulder to halt Kōsuke's advance with the intensity of his dull glare. "Why? Did the missing dog posters not work as well as you'd hoped?"
Kōsuke stalled, his teeth clenching when he heard Eric speak bitter words in a foreign language. "W-wait, why are you speaking English all of a sudden?" Eric didn't respond, just glared, and when Kōsuke attempted a cautious step towards him, a rush of flame scorched the earth black between them, causing Kōsuke to back off.
"Go away," Eric commanded lowly.
But Kōsuke persisted despite the warning, stepping foot in the blackened ring once more. So, Eric flexed his new might again, causing Kōsuke to wince and cover his face. Eric had never been an overly daunting threat among vampires, but then, neither was Kōsuke. Still, he was bewildered by the shockwave of pressure proceeding Eric's casual warning when it nearly took him from his feet. Then, when he opened one eye, he saw the markings of magma climb up Eric's neck in a slow pulse that caused pain to tighten the blonde's teeth for just a moment. It was brief, but the gold he saw beneath his friend's skin brought him discomfort. It wasn't what he wanted, and if it were the last thing he did, Kōsuke would save him from it.
Eric repeated himself upon sending another wave barreling towards his partner, and this process continued for quite some time. "Go. away."
But they were inland. Some of the rebel vampires charged headfirst into the ruckus, but that wasn't Neirah's style. She would much prefer to survey the situation first, and surely, she wouldn't underestimate her ancient enemy. With swift and precise movements, she dropped into a home-base glide and hammered her enemy's legs from beneath them. Then, she quickly recovered, vaulting over their roadblock when another attack sought to blindside her. Luckily, before they could give chase, Shōhei slugged them with burning knuckles and booted their intrusion down the hillside.
"Don't get so far ahead," he warned her nervously. "I can't protect you when you do that."
"I don't need your protection," she cautioned him sternly. "I'm not even sure it's a good idea for you to be anywhere near me."
"You mean if we find San-chan?"
"When we find him," she corrected sternly. "Honestly, I'm expecting him to burn all my clothes off because he's jealous of them touching my skin."
"Oh, wow… I sure hope not," Shōhei stammered awkwardly. "Then, he'd have to be jealous of how many people are looking at you."
"That's how it spirals down, yes," she reasoned flatly. "Frankly, I would like to avoid provoking him if I could."
"I get it, but… I just can't leave you either," Shōhei admitted sheepishly. "Not when you mean so much to him. At this point, if we did save everyone and I let something happen to you, he'd probably kill me anyway."
"Oh, please," Neirah derided. "That man doesn't have it in him to kill anyone." She turned, watching more battles ensue as she cautiously skirted the boundaries of the first island. "Well then, if you're coming, you'd better keep up!"
"Wait-!"
It was pitch-black that night, the smoke around the island blotting out the peaceful sky as a firestorm raged. Still, he saw it clear as day. Shōhei grabbed her wrist, and because she was unsteady, she fell back against him. He kissed her ear, at first, causing her to part her lips with a needy moan. While Shōhei clutched her wrist out to one side, his second hand slid over her waist, down the front of her jeans. She must have liked that because the moment he did, she swung her lips into his kiss, whining for more. It made his white knuckles tremble with resentment as he was, once again, made a fool of by the hands of his so-called friend.
"Not with him," Saburōta muttered resentfully through carnivorous incisors. "Why is it always… him?"
Neirah let out a startled shriek when she felt the unexpected contact warning her not to advance. "What are you doing?" she commanded lowly. "There wasn't even anyone-" She stilled, ice ripping down her spine off the open bay behind her when she stumbled only to see Saburōta standing about thirty feet from where they tried to slip by unnoticed. He was frozen, just like the first night they'd met, the evening he interrupted her with Yō in the harbour, and most recently, the afternoon where he'd seen things that weren't there. That was their spiral, his spiral, and it was destructive.
"He found us," Shōhei whispered.
Suddenly, Neirah snapped her senses free, turning to shove Shōhei aside, even though he defensively tried to step in front of her. "Shōhei don't!"
'Don't stop…'
"Don't what? You know it's not like that!"
'You like it, don't you?'
Neirah turned her frantic gaze towards the unmoved Saburōta, and even though she couldn't get her heart rate to settle, she stepped passed Shōhei towards the motionless threat. "Bandō, it's me. It's Tsukiyo," she whimpered nervously through a meek smile. "I came here to bring you home…"
Saburōta's teeth grated as he stared vacantly forward. 'He touched her…' And his fingers raised to his neck, clawing at the bloody wound refusing to clot. His body was too hot to heal. It took all of his instinctual processing just to keep him from burning up from the inside out. All that his flame cared about now was destruction. 'Why? Why did she let him touch her?!'
"Tsukiyo! Don't get so close!" Shohei implored. "We don't know if it's safe yet."
She heard Shōhei call to her, but she wasn't reckless. She was despairing. Just for a moment, she wanted to see him for herself. She wanted to know that he was alright. Once she knew that, she would back off again and think the situation over soundly. Beneath his hood, she could see the devastation on his face, the betrayal in dark eyes stained with the same colour of blood that covered his neck. She could see that her bite hadn't healed, and he'd aggravated the wound during their time apart. His one hand was crusted with flakes of dried blood, making his nails look dirty as they rested by his side.
His eyes weren't gentle anymore; they were cold and filled with hate. Neirah saw the signs of his anger flickering between her and his friend distanced at her back, and she hated the way the embers of disaster reflected in his crimson eyes. He looked betrayed by Shōhei's devotion, and that broke her heart. "What did they do to you…?" She couldn't keep her tears from choking her voice as she stepped even closer to him despite Shōhei's warning. "What happened to your beautiful eyes?" Her fingers reached, desperate to salvage some tenderness from the way he anxiously shot his malevolent gaze between his visitors.
Then, her eyes fell to the sight of the mess on his neck. He'd torn his skin all to bits beneath his anxiety, and she wanted to know why. "Y-you're hurt…" She sought to crash into him and bury her face in the mess, crying her heart through her eyes in apology. Maybe if she could have said something sooner, he wouldn't have fled, but she couldn't.
Now, they had to fight, and more importantly, she had to find a way to save him. 'I'm sorry, Shōhei… This is going to seem… incredibly heartless…'
It shocked Shōhei to watch her drop her guard, and not only that, but strike her knees on the muddy ground between the men. "Tsukiyo-san?! What are you-?"
"Leave!" she commanded bitterly. "I am repulsed that you would even think about laying your hands on me! How dare you?! How dare you touch something that belongs to someone else?!"
Shōhei's expression dropped in disbelief. E-eh?!
Neirah turned over her shoulder to scream her nervous order towards the startled man. "Get out of my sight!" And suffer, she begged silently. She didn't know much about the man at her back, but he seemed intelligent enough. If nothing else, he knew his friend. She figured the only way to keep someone enraged by jealousy from being confrontational was to give them what they wanted and make them feel like they were in some way superior to those around them. Even if Shōhei no more than hung his head, she felt like they would have succeeded, mainly because she could already see traces of that conceited smirk returning to her lover's face.
Then, once his guard came down, she could intervene like she had the morning he vanished. If she could synchronize with him and summon that hope she'd felt moments before it was too late, there was a chance she could help him fight the demon corrupting his thoughts.
But it seemed that Shōhei was too valiant to take her bait, which was ultimately their downfall. "No way," he sternly denied. "I'm not gonna leave you two alone until I know he won't hurt you."
Panic flooded her tone when she watched Saburōta's face twist with vehemence. "Shōhei, please!"
"She's not yours to protect, asshole," Saburōta hollered possessively. "She's mine." When Shōhei lowered his stance like he was going to rush to Neirah's aid, that only incited Saburōta further. "Really!? It wasn't good enough that you had everything else?! You had to take her away from me too!?"
"No!" Neirah turned her desperate gaze over her shoulder to look up at the way Saburōta began to posture. "No, he couldn't! The one I want is you!"
That didn't matter. Until Shōhei was suffering a humiliating defeat at Saburōta's hands, it wouldn't be enough. He seemed to forget that Neirah was there altogether. All he seemed to care about was his staggering triumph.
"I was looking after her because you just up and disappeared!" Shōhei shouted back. "Do you have any idea how bad that hurt her!? She cares about you, you know!"
It was at that moment when Neirah grasped that Shōhei, for some reason or another was the worst person who could have stepped up in her defence. She could feel the air around them thickening with Saburōta's hate, and seconds before he shifted, she was climbing to her feet. The moment she saw Saburōta's body ignite, she lunged forward, despite Shōhei's obvious disdain. After enduring the immense heat to wrap her arms around his waist, she powered all her weight into knocking him backwards, sending them both tumbling down the hillside towards the waterfront.
The alarm was sharp in Shōhei's voice as his eyes shot towards the chaos. "Tsukiyo!"
At that point, Neirah could only pray that Shōhei understood that this was her battle. She created the monster Saburōta had become, and she would defeat it. Having Shōhei with her was only making things worse, and she seemed to have a lot of time to think about it as she skidded down the steep slope towards the bay. That might not have been her brightest idea, and she appreciated that after her small frame slipped beneath the safety fence, leaving her to sail towards a forty-foot drop into the icy harbour.
Izumo could hear shrill screams all around him, and it was unnerving, even for calm people like him. He'd made it to the second island with minimal difficulty, but he hadn't crossed any familiar faces. He didn't know if that was lucky or not. All he knew was that he needed to find Mikoto and bring him to his senses before they ran out of time to save their friends.
"And just where do you think you're going? Kusanagi Izumo..."
Stopping in his tracks never seemed so difficult before. He heard the sultry drawl from behind him, felt the nervous palpitation of his heart in his throat as he picked his cigarette from between his teeth. The last person he wanted to have to face seemed to have a lock on him, and he was too cowardly to face what she'd become. "Of course, it would be you, wouldn't it?" He hummed his sly retort as he dropped his smouldering butt, stomping it out by habit, not because he cared to start a fire on an already savage pyre. Then, he gathered the courage he needed to address her.
He wished he hadn't. Seri's free-flowing, beautiful golden hair matted with blood, and its presence stained her clothes. Yet, she stood calm and collected, ready to draw his next like some warrior goddess. He wasn't sure which unfortunate member of her clan lost their sword to her hand, but he sure doubted they'd expected that out of their strait-laced ex-lieutenant. "Well, now there's somethin' I never thought I'd see even in a million years," he smoothly drawled. "Awashima Seri-san fightin' for the wrong side."
"Do not be fooled," she commanded. "Anyone who would dare to defy our king must be eliminated."
'And what king might that be?' he thought dismally. He somehow doubted she referred to Reisi anymore. The moment he met her tainted wine-coloured gaze over the edge of her apprehended weapon, his tone and expression flattened simultaneously. "I'm not gonna fight you, Seri," he nearly whispered. "I'm just here for Mikoto."
Seri seemed immediately infuriated by his refusal of her challenge. The moment she suffered his mockery of her superiority, she charged into combat. "How foolish of you not to see me as a threat!"
"I guess it is…" It was happening again. As Seri struck towards his acrobatic dodge, he saw Mikoto's golden eyes shift and morph into something primal, something inhuman. He remembered that scar like it was fresh on his heart, and history was repeating itself. Because Izumo cared to do what was right, he would have to fight someone he loved or suffer consequences that he might not survive a second time.
And he prayed that someone found a way to make the demon suffer for that torment.