First I want to say is that this is cross posted on my AO3 account. I will be moving them onto here for the readers. I hope you enjoy these fanfictions and add yours on here. :)


It was Miyako's fault. (No, it wasn't.) Satoru is sure of this. (Wrong.) The Another had been so unstable that even the younger male wouldn't have been able to calm it down. (Could have if you didn't step in.) So, the only logical solution was to kill it. The ground caved in and ate the two. So, if Miyako hadn't wasted their time, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Darkness takes over.

Pain makes its course through his body finding home in various places. His leg and a couple of ribs are either broken or bruised, a gash on his right thigh, and he has multiple scratches. What little light shines through is harsh and causes the headache to pound, a pressure against his left temple. His stomach flips and he can't focus. Through blurry vision, red eyes watch him with an odd determined concern. While it's not a strange expression to see on the man's face, it is strange to see it directed at himself.

Miyako shifts where he is, pushing against something out of his line of sight. There's a pained groan that the other attempted to smother. Such a terrible attempt. He blinks and there has to have been a moment where he blanked out, for the next thing he sees is Miyako hovering over him. His lips are moving but no sound comes out. He narrows his eyes, or are they closing? Satoru watches the other grow panicked. ". . . sleep!" Thus, returns his sense of hearing. Sleep? The male shakes his shoulder like an annoying pest. "Don't sleep, Kanoichi-san!" he whispers, voice frantic and nervous.

"Miyako-san," he hisses through gritted teeth, grimacing in pain. The younger man had shaken his injured shoulder. He hadn't noticed the throb of pain until the other touched it and awakened his senses.

"Sorry. I needed you to focus on me. You can't sleep," he says, invading his personal space like a complete, utter mongrel. He tenderly touches his head, forcing him in place. "I need to know what hurts, your injuries."

"Your voice is grating."

"Headache then. You're looking a little off," he murmurs, toning down his volume even more.

"It's your fault we're in this mess," he blames, shoving him away. "You—" Lurching forward, his stomach flips and acrid acid burns his throat. Immediately, he feels hands grasping at him and helping him stay upright as he vomits and trembles at the toll it takes on his body.

"Look, Kanoichi-san, you can blame me all you want, but right now, let me help you."

Satoru frowns, pressing a hand against the other's shoulder. "What about you?"

In the thin streak of light, he can faintly make out a grimace. "I'm fine. Minor bruises and a couple of cuts." The male presses down on his thigh, not letting him speak as pain blooms. His words choke off into a scream, eyes watering as he bites down on his lip. Miyako lets out a noncommittal hum, shedding his jacket and ripping pieces of his shirt to use as bandages. "This is temporary. I'm hoping less than day for them to get us out of here."

"You know First Aid?"

"I took a course in college. Basic stuff is all I know." Miyako moves to pressing another strip of his shirt against his temple. He winces but doesn't move from the other's touch. "Sorry. I know this hurts. Keep talking to me, Kanoichi-san. I don't want you sleeping yet."

He scowls. Why does he have to speak? He doesn't want to speak to the other.

"Kanoichi-san, I can't see you well. Talk to me so I know you're awake." Miyako leans forward, too close for comfort.

"Don't get too close."

"Ah, good, you're still awake." The younger male huffs, grabbing his hand and pressing it against the cloth. He pulls away, telling him to keep pressure. "I'm giving you the chance to rant and insult me. I don't care what you say, just talk."

He sounds concerned. Sighing, he says, "Fine. This is all your fault. If you weren't so stupid or naive, we wouldn't be stuck here." And as if he opened a floodgate, everything he feels comes tumbling out. "You really think that Anothers will reason and care about feelings? They don't give a shit about humans or of their morals! They are selfish and hold no actual emotions! Anothers will only play with you and make you go mad! They're dangerous and you don't seem to understand how stupid you are in believing that they have a reason! You're a human yet you care more about creatures more than your own kind! You're pathetic!

"How can someone be so gullible? Honestly, were you dropped on your head?"

He continues to insult him, lashing out the younger man who lets him. "You've been spoiled by those you work with. You never think anything through, you are nothing but a danger to those around you! One of these days, someone is going to die because of you, Miyako Arata-san.

"Don't you understand how dangerous it is? What if one day they ask for your life instead? Huh? What if one day they ask for the lives of your friends and family?" Satoru scowls. His father was going to allow that man to kill him for an Another.

"My life doesn't mean more than those that I care about Kanoichi-san." Miyako-san gets closer, placing a hand on his forehead before moving to sit down beside him. "I will gladly give myself up if it means those I care about are safe. But," he adds, turning to him. "That's only the last case scenario. There's always something an Another wants, but, if they ask for my life, I guess I'll be hoping for my team to eliminate the threat. That's what I told you, remember? My team is made up of three."

Time passes in silence. Thinking has become difficult to do. Miyako-san works on keeping him awake by talking about something that he lost track of. The redhead at some point ends up with his arms around Satoru, looking between him and the ceiling with concern. He hears his mutters and prayers of someone getting to them quickly. Satoru hears the worry in the other's voice, but it's slowly becoming muddled as if he's listening through cotton.

He shifts and faintly feels the other wince. Everything is slowly fading into a haze. Through the faint light, he sees Miyako's face with a forced smile and gloss of sweat. He looks . . . paler? He tries to ask, but his body betrays him and the words die on his tongue.


Sounds of sirens cut through the stale silence, followed by voices and helicopter rotors. The darkness is chased off by bright lights that hurt his eyes. They wash over the two individuals. "Kanoichi Satoru-san! Miyako Arata-san!"

"Here!" croaks the redhead, cradling the older male. Sweat clings to his forehead, skin clammy with sickness. "We're here!" His gaze drops onto Kanoichi's face, smiling wide at the man. "You're safe," he whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're going to be okay, Kanoichi-san."

Arata looks at the paramedic with a small smile, eyes rolling into his head as exhaustion eats away at his body once relief settles in and they have Kanoichi-san in their grasp.

Satoru comes in and out of consciousness, everything passing like a fever dream. He watches as red and blue lights drown their surroundings, noticing for a split second a lack of presence. He is placed on a stretcher, dark eyes frantically searching for a tuft of red hair. "Mi-Miyako?"

"Don't speak, Kanoichi-san."

He ignores them, thrashing against the clamps. "Miyako?" Through a haze, he notices the redhead a distance away. Too pale, not moving. Someone is on top of him, hands pressed against his chest. Before he can process it, everything fades into a sea of ink.

Coming to, it's in a hospital room connected to a heart monitor and an IV drip. His leg is bandaged as well as his ribs and head. There's still a bit of pain, faint and manageable. Beside him, his cousin Akane is sleeping.

Scrunching his face, he thinks about what he last remembers.

Flashes of blue and red.

Miyako.

Miyako.

Where's Miyako?

A flash of memory puts him back on the scene and he sees a woman on top of Miyako doing chest compressions, muffled yelling.

Panic. Miyako! He can't—

"Ak-Akane!" he calls, shaking her shoulder.

Blearily, she opens her eyes and looks annoyed for a second until it registers to her. She shoots up. "Satoru! Satoru, you're awake!"

"Miyako. Where's Miyako?"

Akane grimaces, worrying her bottom lip as she averts her gaze.

"No," he whispers horror and disbelief seeping into his voice. "No. He—He was okay. He—Akane, where is he? He was okay!"

Akane wears a grim face, eyes downcast. The tension is somber as she delivers the bad news. "I'm sorry, Satoru. His injuries were internal. They tried everything." Raising her gaze, she cups his cheek and rubs a thumb over his cheekbone. "They couldn't save him." His shoulders fall as he stares at her with wide eyes.

"He didn't—he said . . . No." Everything crashes down on him, his breathing growing frantic. Like before, everything fades and becomes muffled. It was his fault. It was all his own fault. He caused Arata's death. The last thing the man heard from Satoru was him insulting the young man.

"He kept you safe, Satoru," she whispers, crying with relief and grief. She doesn't know. She doesn't know how he insulted and cursed Miyako Arata. "You were bad when you came in. He saved your life."

There's a weight settling in the pit of his stomach. Would she be this relieved if she's to find out?

"One of these days, someone is going to die because of you, Miyako Arata-san."

"I will gladly give myself up if it means those I care about are safe."


Hehe, whoops. I killed Arata off. Honestly, this was not my original plan but I liked it too much to not keep it in. So I kept it. 3 Heh, poor Kanoichi, he's gonna be messed up for a bit with guilt.