K: Tales of Midnight

Chapter Twelve: Traitors

Kiyoka caught up with him halfway back to Scepter 4. Dark clouds had whisked away the sun, and a light drizzle began to litter every surface of Shizume. What little warmth was given from the gleam they witnessed earlier was gone, and in its place, a chilling fog rolled in, the coming evening drowning out the day.

Out of breath from running, Kiyoka stomped through newly formed puddles to snatch a hold of Fushimi's sleeve. "Wait up!" She called, exasperated.

Fushimi shrugged her off and kept on walking.

"Sashimi, stop!" She called more forcefully, taking up his arm.

Fushimi whipped around, nearly throwing her off balance. "Why are you here?" He snapped at her. "Shouldn't you be off with your new King?" He nearly spat out the words.

Taken aback by the complete and utter hatred in his eyes, she fought back. "Just because she's my king doesn't mean that I have to drop everything and go to her."

"That's exactly what it means!" He shot back with surprising force. "When you take on the power of a king, you're bound to that person, whether you like it or not. You have to follow them."

Kiyoka was past the point of anger now. "Like the way you followed Mikoto Suoh?"

Alarm flashed through his eyes and he took a harrowing step toward her. She didn't budge, keeping her eyes locked with equal force against his.

"You know nothing of loyalty," he uttered low to her, rain drops dripping down his cheeks. "You don't know what it's like to take on responsibility, then to have it thrown away by someone else who doesn't give a damn about you. All that talk of being a traitor, of leaving Homra to join Scepter 4 – you have no idea of the truth behind it. You don't know what a traitor really looks like. But I do. So do me a favor and leave me the hell alone."

With an air of finality, he back away from her, giving her a look of disgust, and began to walk away, but Kiyoka intervened.

"Oh no you don't! You don't get to walk away from me," she argued, speeding up to stand before him, blocking his path. "Just like I don't get to hang up on you."

"This is different," he said.

Her tone was challenging. "How?"

"Because I know where I'm going! Can you honestly say the same?"

His answer struck her coldly and she staggered back, her inability to offer a reply the very thing he expected from her. "Exactly," he said. "Like I told you: you know nothing."

Again, he tried to skirt around her, but she tightened her grip on his arm, setting her other hand on his chest. "Then teach me!" She yelled, desperate to keep him there.

Fushimi had had enough. He took her by the arms and shoved her to a nearby wall. "Just get away from me!" He hollered. He was so close, she could feel his heated breath on her nose, her lips, his trembling rage significant, though she hardly knew why.

Mouth hung meekly open, Kiyoka had no words to say, only a look of yearning in her eyes that told him not to go.

Fushimi seemed to study this, realizing his own madness for a moment before reeling himself back. He released her arms, hanging his own limply at his sides.

He said nothing for a moment, nor did he attempt to walk away again. Despite his order, telling her to let him go, he didn't make an effort to depart.

It was silent. Only the sound of the rain, now coming down in throngs, could be heard. In the growing cold, the warmth of both their ragged breathing shot the air in tiny gusts, instantly extinguished by the rain.

Kiyoka was the first to speak, peeling off the wall to draw in close to him. "Listen to me," she said, staring up into his wandering eyes that tried and failed to run from hers. She took him by his soaked lapel and held him there, allowing her firm gaze to steady him. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, resolution in her voice. "I may not understand, but I know that this is where I need to be – where I want to be. So please," she said, her brow pressed with concern, her eyes searching deeply into his. "Let me stay. I want to stay."

Fushimi's own brow quivered, his breathing coming shallow to his lungs, then letting out in small, obstructed bursts.

"Like I said," he uttered out, his face hardening. "You do what you want."

With his final word, he took her wrist, plying her hand off of him, and departed from her, leaving her alone, his figure soon enveloped by the fog.

Chapter Thirteen: Boundaries