Hello all and welcome to the penultimate installment of this story! I know this year has been rough for everyone, and I hope this update brightens your day.

Writing this chapter was difficult. It took some very emotional twists and turns I did not expect, but I'm happy with it. And I hope you all enjoy!

Warning: Some swearing and mentions of past self-harm in this chapter (spoiler: it's Fushimi)

Disclaimer: Still don't own these works of art. Just the plot.

Vanguard of Ares

Part 5: Farewell to the Vanguard

Percy thought it might say something that the place the demigods unconsciously chose to have Yata tell his story was around the War Table. Although a crowd of demigods had trailed them to the Big House, only Chiron, the cabin leaders, Yata, and Yata's . . . friend . . . remained.

Mr. D. lurked in the corner, trying to pretend he wasn't interested in the proceedings. In a rare display of consideration (or perhaps as a reflexive need for a drink), Mr. D. had summoned Diet Cokes for everyone. For the first few minutes, everyone settled into their seats and grabbed a can. Then came the sound of hissing carbonation as everyone opened a can. And then there was silence.

-sayonara: first question-

Chiron cleared his throat. "Yata, would you care to introduce us to your friend?"

The Vanguard of Ares scowled. "For the last time, he's not my—"

"Shut it, Misaki," the stranger said. Percy jolted in surprise at hearing him speak English, before he remembered that passing through the barrier enabled him to temporarily speak one of the Camp's official languages so they could all understand him. "Don't play coy, it doesn't suit you."

"Hey," Clarisse snapped. She curled a hand around her spear. "Don't talk to my brother like that."

The stranger's eyes went wide in genuine surprise. "Your brother?" His surprise morphed into something bemused before glee won over. "Oi, Misaki, you didn't tell me you had a sister."

"You didn't deserve to know," Yata growled. A look of hurt darted across the stranger's face, there and gone almost too fast for Percy to see. Yata was too busy scowling at the table to notice. After a moment of tense silence, Yata heaved a sigh and said, "Clarisse, meet Saruhiko Fushimi. Saru, meet Clarisse, my little sister."

Fushimi's expression went back to gleeful. "She might be your little sister, but she's not exactly smaller than you, is she? It looks like even here, you're the runt of the litter. How cute, Misaki."

Stifled gasps echoed around the table. Percy was shocked at how bluntly this stranger had pointed out the Vanguard's height. Percy had the same thoughts when he first met the Vanguard, but even he had enough tact not to comment on it to the Vanguard's face.

To his surprise, Yata merely sneered at his . . . not-friend. "Shut up, Saru. Just 'cause I'm shorter than you, it doesn't mean I can't wipe the floor with you."

"Is that so?" Fushimi drawled. He leaned an elbow on the table, propping his chin on a closed fist. All his attention was on Yata, and Percy began to feel like he was witnessing something he shouldn't, especially when Yata turned to face him head on. "Yeah. I kicked your ass just the other day, you damned monkey. Or did you forget?"

"I must have," Fushimi said, his voice dangerously smooth. "Considering you went missing without a fucking word."

The air turned distinctly frigid. The demigods shifted as Yata and Fushimi glared at each other.

"I left a note," Yata said.

Fushimi barked a laugh. It sounded distinctly bitter. "Not with me, you didn't. And that half-assed letter you left with the Reds doesn't count."

Yata glanced away. "I didn't want to get you involved."

"Why the hell not?" Fushimi snarled.

"It wasn't your fight!" Yata shouted back. His face was reddening. And was it Percy's imagination, or were crimson flames flickering around his fingertips?

"It was!" Fushimi's voice burned with cold fury. He didn't shout, but he might as well have. He and Yata were leaning forward so much they were practically breathing the same air. "What's yours is mine, you idiot. Especially if it's something as important as this."

"You don't have a right to say that. Not after you—" Yata cut himself off. He looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want anyone to worry."

Fushimi laughed. He threw his head back and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes glinted. "You failed at that, Misaki. Your damned Clan's been tearing apart the city trying to find you for the past two weeks. All of which could have been avoided if you had just told me what was going on."

Yata slammed his fist on the table. The Diet Coke cans rattled. "There was nothing you could have done, you damn monkey! You would have gotten hurt. And I . . . I couldn't let that happen. Even though you're an asshole."

"Boys," Chiron tried to interject.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. "That wasn't your choice to make, Misaki."

"Bullshit," Misaki shot back. "Yes, it was!"

"Boys," Chiron said again.

"You went to war," Fushimi hissed. "You could have died. What do you think that would have done to your stupid Clan?" Unspoken, Percy thought he could hear the echo of What do you think that would have done to me?

There was a beat of silence before Yata said stiffly, "It was the West's war. It didn't have anything to do with the Slate. So, you and your damned Clan don't have any jurisdiction over it. You can yell at me all you want, Saru. But I would do the same thing again."

Fushimi sneered. "I know you would, idiot. You're such a bleeding heart. It's disgusting."

Yata snorted, and Chiron took his chance to get a word in edgewise. "Yata. As briefly as possible, please tell us what's going on. Is there someone you should contact? Your . . . Clan, perhaps?"

"Yeah," Yata slouched a little in his chair. "Probably."

"There's a phone upstairs. You could—"

Yata shook his head. "That wouldn't work. Where I live, you need special equipment to call anyone."

One of the Stoll brothers raised his eyebrows. "Where do you live? Under a rock?"

Yata gave him a small smile. The tension in the room dissipated a little. "Nah. It's just that where I live is under the protection of Iris."

"Iris?" Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Yata said. "Nothing goes in or out unless it's an IM. And, well, no one there knows that I'm . . ." Yata trailed off, and the demigods winced in sympathy. They all knew what it was like to lie about your identity every day, even to people you loved.

"What about your watch?" Fushimi asked. His expression had smoothed out. If Percy hadn't witnessed it himself mere minutes ago, he would never have believed that Fushimi was capable of anything besides apathy.

"It broke during the fighting," Yata said. "And then I had to stay and make sure the Camp was going to be okay. I didn't have a chance to get it fixed."

Fushimi adjusted his glasses. "You wouldn't have been able to fix it anyway. The technology in the West isn't advanced enough."

"Wait," Percy said. "What?"

Fushimi ignored him. All his attention was on Yata. "Just how long were you planning to stay here?"

"Actually, you damn monkey, I was just leaving when you showed up."

"Hold on," Annabeth turned to Fushimi. "Just how did you get here? The Camp is supposed to be well-hidden. Even though you're clear-Sighted, you shouldn't have been able to find it."

Fushimi glanced at her. "I didn't."

There was an expectant silence. Fushimi heaved a put-upon sigh and readjusted his glasses. "A couple of hours ago, the Red Clan came to SCEPTER 4 headquarters looking for help to locate this idiot."

"Oi," Yata started, but Annabeth cut him off. "Wait. What do you mean by that? You keep mentioning Clans. What are they? And what is SCEPTER 4?"

"I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"Do you have a choice?" Annabeth asked sweetly. The demigods around the table took that as their cue to flash their Celestial bronze blades. The bronze couldn't hurt mortals, but Fushimi didn't know that. "I think you owe us an explanation."

Despite being outnumbered more than ten to one, Fushimi looked ready to argue. Yata lifted a hand and waved them down. "It's fine, Saru. Just tell them."

"Fine," Fushimi grumbled. "You owe me, though. The Captain is going to give me a lot of shit for this."

Yata just grunted. Fushimi turned back to Annabeth. "Clans are groups of people who serve a King. There are seven Kings and seven Clans, although at the moment only four are active."

"Wait," Clarisse's brow was furrowed in confusion. "Yata, you belong to a Clan?"

"Hell yeah," Yata said. For the first time since Fushimi showed up, Percy saw some of Yata's familiar boisterousness bubble to the surface. Yata yanked down the collar of his tank top to show the tattoo on his chest. "This means I'm part of HOMRA. The Red Clan. It's the best Clan."

"You mean the most reckless clan," Fushimi sniped. He rubbed at his chest in the same place Yata had his tattoo. Annabeth narrowed her eyes but didn't comment on it. Yata looked offended, but Fushimi continued before he could start another argument. "I belong to the Blue Clan, otherwise known as SCEPTER 4. We're responsible for keeping the balance as well as keeping certain miscreants," Fushimi flashed a look at Yata, "under control."

"Which you suck at," Yata said, "considering you're the one who starts most of the fights in the first place."

Fushimi smirked. "Only when you're there, Misaki. You're just so easy to bait."

"Oi," Yata frowned.

"That still doesn't answer my question," Annabeth said. "How did you get here?"

"As I was saying," Fushimi said, "a couple of hours ago, the Red Clan came looking for its wayward Vanguard. They said Yata had been missing for about two weeks. We tracked him to the airport and saw that he booked a flight to America.

"I always keep an eye on international news, and I remembered seeing headlines about a strange storm that had been making its way across the continental U.S. I pulled up some footage and put the pieces together when I saw a monster in the clouds being harassed by . . . gods, I assume."

"Watch your tone, boy," Mr. D. said. Fushimi looked supremely unconcerned when faced with a passive-aggressive threat from an immortal being. He waved a hand, "Anyway, then I tried to contact Yata to ask him what the hell he was thinking, going off to war without telling me, but the IM wouldn't go through."

"You tried to contact me?" Yata looked surprised.

Fushimi glanced at him, and then looked away. "It didn't work."

"Then what happened?" Annabeth prompted.

"Then," Fushimi said, "there was a bright flash of light, and a woman appeared right in front of us."

"Us?" Yata echoed.

"All of the Red Clan and all of SCEPTER 4."

Yata went pale.

Annabeth's brow furrowed. "Who was the woman?"

"The Captain called her Lady Aphrodite."

Drew Tanaka gasped. "My mom crashed your rescue party?"

"So, she was a goddess?" Fushimi mused. "Hm. Now I understand why my King didn't outright slaughter her for daring to trespass on SCEPTER 4 property."

Some demigods tensed at such a blatant threat, but Drew merely scoffed. "My mom would've kicked your King's ass. Or slept with him. Or both. Probably both."

"I'm not sure she was to my King's taste," Fushimi said with (did Percy's ears deceive him?) a hint of wry humor. "But that's beside the point. Long story short, Aphrodite said she knew where Misaki was, and she offered to take me to him. I said yes, and she dropped me outside your precious Camp."

The demigods stared at him. Even Yata looked a little shell-shocked. Annabeth cleared her throat. "Let me get this straight. You willingly went with a stranger—in this case, a goddess—whom you had no reason to trust?"

"Yes," Fushimi said.

"Why?"

"She said she knew where Misaki was."

"And just like that, you went with her?"

"Yes."

"Saru?" Yata's voice was the softest Percy had ever heard it. "You did that? For me?"

Fushimi turned to him, an unreadable look in his eyes. "For the last time: yes."

Yata's hazel eyes went wide. Fushimi clicked his tongue. "Don't misunderstand, Misaki. I'm still pissed at you for vanishing without a word."

A tiny smile quirked the Vanguard of Ares' lips. "Bastard."

"Well," Chiron said into the stunned silence that enveloped the room. He had a satisfied smile on his face. "I must admit I had a few doubts, Saruhiko, but it appears you have the potential to be a hero after all. Yata, you've chosen well."

Fushimi looked like he had swallowed a jar of lemons. Yata sputtered. "Chosen? Chiron, what in Hades are you—?"

"On that note," Chiron clapped his hands cheerfully, "what do you say we adjourn for now? Yata, I'm sure Saruhiko is tired. Godly teleportation takes its toll on everyone, especially mortals. Why don't you get him settled in? I'm sure Ares Cabin can take one more."

"Uh," Clarisse blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Yeah, I guess we can."

Yata tried to protest, but Chiron had already trotted out of the room. Sharing bemused glances, the rest of the demigods had no choice but to follow. Yata groaned, and dragged Fushimi after him.

"Come on, Saru," Yata sounded resigned. "Let's go get lunch."

"You do realize it's dinnertime for me, right?"

"Shut up."

-sayonara: second question-

After they left the Big House and were making their way to the Dining Pavilion, Percy cleared his throat. "So," he said, "what are you going to do now?"

His words caused Yata to temporarily stop bickering with Fushimi and turn to him. "Now? Well, I guess I have to figure out how to pay for another plane ticket for this freeloader," he jerked a thumb at Fushimi, "and then we'll head back to Japan."

"Freeloader?" Fushimi scoffed. "That's rich, coming from you."

Yata appeared quite used to Fushimi's snide comments, and merely raised his voice to speak over him, "Saru's right about one thing, at least. The Red Clan doesn't like having one of their own unaccounted for. It'll be best if I get back as soon as possible, so they don't destroy Shizume City."

He said it so nonchalantly that the demigods paused, taken aback. Fushimi, however, didn't miss a beat. "Tsk. You hooligans have destroyed so much property in the past two weeks that the collateral damage bill is astronomical. How doesn't your Clan go bankrupt?"

"That's easy," Yata said. "We all have jobs besides being in the Clan. Well, except Anna, of course. She's just a kid."

"Oh, really?" Fushimi rolled his eyes. "And what's your job exactly?"

"Skateboard lessons," Yata said. "I also work part-time stocking shelves at one of the corner stores."

Fushimi stopped. "Wait. You're serious?"

"Yeah," Yata raised an eyebrow. "How do you think I afford my apartment?"

"I thought your King paid for everything. Mine does."

Yata scoffed. "Not all of our Kings come from actual noble families. Some of us work to get where we are."

Fushimi bristled. "Captain Munakata isn't from a noble family, he's just—"

"Wait," Annabeth said. "Your Kings aren't actually royalty? Then, how are they chosen?"

Fushimi turned to her. "Who are you again?"

The demigods snarled at his disrespectful tone. They only backed down when Yata immediately hit Fushimi so hard upside the head he grunted and turned to glare at the Vanguard of Ares, "What was that for, Misaki?"

"Show some respect," Yata snapped back. "That's one of the heroes of Olympus. I'd be dead if it wasn't for her."

That seemed to sober Fushimi. He tsked and turned back to Annabeth. "Sorry," he muttered.

Annabeth arched an eyebrow at him, "Apology accepted. My name is Annabeth, daughter of Athena."

"Goddess of wisdom and battle?" Fushimi asked, a hint of interest in his voice.

"The very same," Annabeth smirked. "This is Percy, son of Poseidon. That's Chris, son of Hermes, and you already know Clarisse, daughter of Ares."

Fushimi grunted in acknowledgement. Yata looked exasperated, but the demigods knew enough about Fushimi's prickly personality at this point not to take offense.

"Anyway," Annabeth said. "My question stands. How are your Kings chosen, if not by birth? Everything we are is determined by who our godly parent is, so the idea of inheriting power without sharing blood is unfamiliar to us."

"I see," Fushimi said. "Our Kings are chosen by the Dresden Slate, which is a stone created by two of the first Kings. The Slate grants its chosen special powers which are represented by a Sword of Damocles that appears over their heads, and these Kings can then share their powers with the members of their Clans.

"No one knows why the Slate chooses who it does," Fushimi continued. A shadow passed over his expression. "Sometimes its choices can have disastrous consequences."

"Consequences?" Chris echoed. "Like what?"

Fushimi looked grim. "Like releasing enough energy to replicate a nuclear bomb."

Annabeth gasped. "Is that what happened in Shizume City a while ago?"

"Yes," Fushimi's hand tightened on his sword. "The previous Red King lost control of his powers. His Sword of Damocles fell, killing him and seven hundred thousand civilians within a certain radius. All that was left was a giant crater. The Kagutsu Crater."

"I thought that was caused by a nuclear power plant," Annabeth murmured.

"Unfortunately, it wasn't something as simple as that," Fushimi said. "And that wasn't even the worst part."

"What do you mean?"

"The Kagustu Crater incident didn't just kill the King that caused it. It also led to the death of the previous Blue King. He was in charge of SCEPTER 4 and was therefore responsible for keeping the Kings in check. He tried to help his fellow King before his Sword fell, but he was too late.

"The incident caused his own powers to go out of control. To stop his own Sword from falling and causing a second crater, he asked his lieutenant to kill him."

"What?" the demigods chorused in shock. They glanced at Yata, but the Vanguard of Ares looked just as serious as Fushimi.

"It's true," Yata said. "The old Blue King died on his subordinate's sword. His sacrifice saved a lot of lives. The current Blue King has the same kind of spirit, and that's one reason why I don't hate the Blues as much as I could."

"Is that the only reason?" Fushimi asked silkily.

Yata's face flushed and he shoved him. "Shut up, Saru."

The moment of levity was enough to help break the serious atmosphere. The demigods relaxed, and as the group continued to the Dining Pavilion, Clarisse asked a question. "You said the Slate gives the Kings and their Clans powers. What kind of powers are you talking about?"

"Usually it's Flames," Yata replied. "That's the most common, at least."

"Is that what you have?" Annabeth asked. "It looks like Ares' blessing of war, but he doesn't grant his children the gift of fire."

"Nah," Yata said. Crimson flames bloomed across his hand and he raised his fist proudly. "This is a gift from my King."

"What about you?" Annabeth asked Fushimi. He grunted, and blue flames jumped between his fingers before he flicked his wrist and snuffed them out.

"Cool," Clarisse said. She rolled her shoulders and gave Fushimi a bloodthirsty smirk. "I wouldn't mind seeing those Flames in action. Wanna fight?"

"Oh?" Fushimi asked, a glint in his eyes. "I suppose I could oblige, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be that much of a fight."

Clarisse glared at him, but Yata got in his face before she could. "Bold words, Saru. We'll wipe the floor with you."

"I'd like to see you try, Misaki," Fushimi purred.

"Um," Percy interjected. "I love a fight as much as the next guy, but can it please wait until after lunch? I'm starving."

"I suppose," Fushimi said. "I haven't eaten since this morning, anyway."

"Are you not eating enough again?" Yata scolded.

"I eat plenty!" Fushimi snapped. "I just had to work overtime again, cleaning up your Clan's mess, so I forgot."

"That's no excuse!" Yata insisted.

The demigods watched with quiet amusement as the two of them bickered their way through the food line. They only paused when they got to the fire. Fushimi watched in bemusement as Yata sacrificed some of his food to the flames.

"Why are you lecturing me about eating enough and then turning around and wasting perfectly good food by throwing it in the fire?" Fushimi asked snidely.

"Shut up, Saru," Yata huffed. "It's tradition. We give some food to the fire to honor our godly parent."

"I don't have a godly parent," Fushimi smirked. "Guess that means I get to keep my food."

"Not so fast," Annabeth said. "You should probably sacrifice some food to Aphrodite. She's the one who brought you here, after all."

"No!" Yata snapped, his cheeks turning red. "There is no way I'm letting Saru thank her for something I didn't even ask for!"

For once, Fushimi looked truly bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"Oh," Clarisse snickered. "The other night, Aphrodite told Yata she'd bring him a gift. I guess you were it."

"Clarisse!" Yata looked betrayed.

To the demigods' shock, Fushimi actually blushed a little and refused to meet anyone's gaze. "Ridiculous," he muttered. "I agree with Misaki."

"You guys," Annabeth chided, "it's not a good idea to disrespect her."

"Even if she does meddle," Percy muttered, then winced when Annabeth elbowed him.

"Just do it," she urged. "You really don't want the goddess of love to be mad at you."

Yata and Fushimi shared an uncomfortable glance before Fushimi sighed and pushed a tiny portion of food into the flames. "Fine. Is that enough?"

"Yes." Yata dragged him over to the Ares table. No one else was in the Pavilion, so the rest of the demigods joined them.

"So, after lunch, we're gonna fight, right?" Clarisse asked.

"Hell yeah," Yata grinned. "You and me against him. Whoever loses pays for both of our tickets home."

"You think my SCEPTER 4 salary can afford that?" Fushimi grumbled, then sighed. "Fine, you're on."

The children of Ares shared a conspiratorial glance, and the rest of the demigods prepared for an entertaining post-lunch show.

-sayonara: third question-

Word somehow spread of the impending spar, and by the time they made it to the Arena, a sizeable crowd had gathered. Fushimi glanced at the audience and tsked in annoyance. He turned his back on them and shed his coat, folding it neatly and setting it aside.

Percy watched him with curiosity. He might act really disdainful, Percy thought, but it looks like he really cares about his Clan, at least. Well, Percy corrected himself with a hint of amusement, his Clan and Yata, that is. Despite what anyone said about his observation skills, Percy wasn't blind to the way Fushimi always made sure to keep Yata in his line of sight and constantly watched his back. The dynamic reminded Percy of the way he and Annabeth always looked out for each other. Not that Percy wanted to tell Fushimi that. He had the feeling that if he did, he'd end up skewered by Fushimi's intricately-carved sword.

They're almost as bad as Katie and Travis, Percy mused. Always fighting, but always willing to drop everything to help if the other asked.

Percy frowned as a thought occurred to him. I wonder why they haven't admitted how they feel. I get that they're from different Clans, but surely that wouldn't be enough to keep them from dating?

Then Fushimi turned around, and Percy unwittingly got the answer to his question. Fushimi's starched v-neck shirt was cut just low enough to reveal a horrific mass of scars that stood out stark against his skin, directly over his heart.

"What in Hades' name is that?" Drew shrieked. Everyone turned to look, and Fushimi went perfectly still. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Yata stiffen.

"It's nothing," Fushimi said, his voice frigid with warning.

Drew being Drew, she cheerfully ignored his tone and flounced closer, peering at the scars with avid curiosity, "Oh my gods!" she exclaimed. "That looks just like the tattoo Yata has. You guys have the same tattoo? That is so romantic."

Fushimi looked ready to stab her, but Drew continued, "Oh my gods, matching tattoos are a huge commitment. You guys must really love each other. But why is yours so messed up? Did you get burned or something?"

"Wait," Annabeth murmured. "I thought that tattoo meant a person belongs to the Red Clan. But Fushimi is part of the Blue Clan, right? So why does he have that tattoo?"

Percy didn't know the answer, and judging by the thunderous expression on Yata's face, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Unfortunately, Drew saw Yata's anger as well and jumped to conclusions, "Oh my gods, did you cheat on Yata? Is that why your tattoo is messed up? Did you two fight, and he burned you as punishment? That is so dark but so, so hot."

"Don't be gross, Drew," Yata snapped, his expression bitter. "He did that to himself."

"He did?" Drew looked gleeful. "I see why Mom is so interested in you two. She loves a martyr who sacrifices himself on the altar of love."

"He's not a martyr," Yata snarled. "He's a traitor."

"I did what I had to do, Misaki," Fushimi retorted. A blue aura began to singe the air around him, the scent of ozone thick in the Arena.

"You didn't have to go that far!" Yata shouted. "You didn't have to burn yourself! You didn't have to leave! If you had just talked to me—"

Fushimi laughed, the noise cold and grating. Percy watched in alarm as any hint of friendliness melted out of the blue-haired young man, leaving behind the old apathy and cold fury Percy had learned to be wary of. "That's rich," Fushimi hissed. "Like you would have listened to a word against your precious King—"

"Leave him out of this!" Yata shouted.

"Why should I?" Fushimi sneered. "He's always been such a large part of the problem."

Yata yelled and lunged for him, flames flaring to life around him. Glowing knives appeared in Fushimi's hands as he moved to attack—

"Stop it!" Clarisse shouted. She stepped between them and shoved Yata off balance. His flames singed her hands and she winced before forcing a stern expression on her face, "That's enough. You two need to cool off."

"Clarisse," Yata looked like he'd been snapped out of a trance. All his attention went to her hands. He looked horrified. "Did I burn you? I'm so sorry—"

"It's fine," Clarisse said. "But you two need to stop now before someone really gets hurt."

Percy had never seen such a look of guilt on the Vanguard of Ares' face. He backed up a few steps and glanced around with a lost expression. Everyone held their breath as he bowed his head and made his way through the crowd.

Clarisse turned to Fushimi, who still looked murderous. She stared him down until he huffed. The knives disappeared, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He slunk off to the shadows and slouched against the wall.

Finally, Clarisse crossed her arms and turned to the crowd. "The fight's been postponed. Scram."

The demigods dispersed, muttering amongst themselves. They cast worried glances after Yata and wary ones at Fushimi. Clarisse waited until they were gone before turning to Annabeth and Percy. "Can you keep an eye on him? I need to go find Yata."

Percy wasn't looking forward to facing Fushimi's withering glare, but Annabeth nodded to Clarisse, so he didn't have much of a choice. Clarisse walked off, and Annabeth sighed.

"Come on." She grabbed Percy's hand and tugged him forward. "Let's go talk to him."

Percy allowed her to drag him over to Fushimi, who watched their approach with an apathetic look. "What do you want?"

"We just want to talk," Annabeth said soothingly. "What was that all about?"

"It's none of your business," Fushimi crossed his arms and looked away.

Annabeth was not deterred. "Yata called you a traitor because you used to be part of the Red Clan, right?"

Fushimi glared at her, but Annabeth merely raised an eyebrow. "Well? Why did you leave the Red Clan?"

For a moment, Percy was certain Fushimi wouldn't answer. Then he sighed, and Percy caught a glimpse of such deep exhaustion he felt it in his own bones. "I left because I didn't belong. But Misaki will never understand that, or admit I'm right."

"What do you mean?"

Fushimi tipped his head back against the wall of the Arena, his blue eyes distant. "The Red Clan is full of hotheads. As a whole, they're reckless and impulsive and needlessly violent. I don't mind the violence, but the rest of it grated on me. It got to the point where I hated every minute of being there, so I burned the Red King's mark from my skin and left to join the Blue Clan. The Blue Clan is much more . . . analytical . . . than the Red Clan. It suits me."

Fushimi turned to look at them, his gaze fierce. "Misaki can call me a traitor all he wants, but I don't regret what I did."

Percy cleared his throat. "Look, we've dealt with a lot of traitors thanks to the Second Titan War, and it sounds like you did betray the Red Clan by joining another, but, um, at least you didn't do it out of malice."

"There was some malice," Fushimi smiled without mirth. "I resented how much attention Misaki paid to the Red Clan. Before we met the Red King, it was just the two of us. I miss that." The last sentence was spoken so softly the demigods barely heard it.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a glance. Carefully, Percy reached out and dared to rest a hand on Fushimi's shoulder. Fushimi glanced up sharply, but Percy didn't flinch. "Look, I won't pretend I understand everything that's happened between you and Yata, but I can tell you both care about each other. Even if you're too stubborn to admit it, you guys are close. Take it from me, that's not something you want to ignore for too long."

"At the risk of sounding cliché," Annabeth said, "you don't know what you have until it's gone. Ask yourself this: Would you rather fight about this with Yata forever, or would you rather try to move past it?"

"It's not that easy," Fushimi gritted out.

"I know," Annabeth said. "But the life of a demigod is usually short, Fushimi. The Fates aren't often kind to us."

Fushimi stiffened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying chances are that Yata won't live forever," Annabeth said bluntly. "And neither will you. I don't know everything about your life in Shizume City, but it sounds like it has its own dangers. And you guys would be stronger together, even if it's a different kind of together than you had in the past."

"Think about it," Percy said.

A shadow fell over the trio. They looked up to find Yata and Clarisse standing before them. The Vanguard of Ares looked more subdued than Percy had ever seen him, but he still met Fushimi's gaze determinedly.

"Sorry," Yata said gruffly. "I lost my temper. I forgot to honor our truce."

For a long moment, Fushimi didn't respond. Percy watched with concern as Yata grew visibly tenser. Then Fushimi sighed. "It's fine, Misaki. I admit I wasn't behaving as well as I could have been either."

"That's because you have a shitty personality," Yata murmured. It was a weak attempt at humor, but Fushimi snorted. "Whatever."

A companionable silence fell between them. The demigods breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Clarisse cleared her throat. "So, are you still good to fight?"

Fushimi smirked. "Ready when you are."

Yata grinned. "Bring it on."

-sayonara: final question-

Later that night, after the fight ended with the children of Ares' hard-won victory over Fushimi, Clarisse found her brother once again on the beach with his eyes fixed on the horizon. She watched him for a long moment, before getting close enough that he heard her approach and turned to look at her.

Clarisse waited until she was even with him before she spoke. "Will you ever come back?"

"Yes," Yata said softly. "If you ever need me, I'll come back."

"Good," Clarisse said. She smiled at him and ignored the burn of tears in her eyes. "Ares needs his Vanguard, and so do we."

"They've got you, Drakonslayer," Yata wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I know," Clarisse sniffed. She turned to face him. "And I also know your Clan needs its Vanguard, too. I don't want to keep you from them. I'm glad you found a place to belong out there. But I worry about you, Yata. From what Fushimi has said, it sounds like the life you've built isn't exactly peaceful."

"No," Yata glanced down at the dark sand. "It's not always peaceful."

"After this stupid War," Clarisse whispered, "I just want the people I love to be safe and happy. I don't want anyone else to end up like Silena."

"I know, imouto," Yata stretched up to press a kiss to her forehead. "I know. But while I'm not always safe in Shizume City, I am happy. I love my Clan, and I love being their Vanguard, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

"I know," Clarisse said. "You're stubborn like that."

"Hey," Yata pretended to be offended. "So are you. We come by it honestly."

"We do," Clarisse agreed. "Dad's genes are pretty strong when it comes to that."

The two ichor-siblings fell silent. They listened to the soft sounds of the waves and watched the horizon together. They didn't move until the shrieks of the cleaning harpies started getting a little too close for comfort.

"We should probably head back to the Cabin," Clarisse said. "You need to sleep before you and Fushimi fly back tomorrow. Hopefully you won't kill each other on the plane."

"Hey!" Yata squawked. "We're not that bad."

"You definitely are." Clarisse gave him a playful shove that sent Yata staggering. They play-wrestled all the way back to Camp.

Once they were within sight of the Cabin, Clarisse stopped. Yata stopped as well, and raised his eyebrows.

"Do you trust him?"

"Who?" Yata's brow furrowed.

"Fushimi."

It took Yata a moment to answer, but when he did, she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Yes."

Clarisse relaxed. Then she smirked. "Do you like him?"

"What?" Yata flailed around, his face flushing bright red. "What kind of question is that?"

"I'm just curious," Clarisse grinned. "Silena used to say her mom was never wrong about these things, and she did bring him halfway across the world for you as some sort of war prize."

"Ugh, don't say it like that," Yata groaned.

Clarisse raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious, Yata."

"Well," Yata coughed. He opened his mouth to answer, but the door to Ares Cabin swung open, and Fushimi stuck his head out. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and he squinted at them. "Can you keep it down? Some of us have been awake for more than a day."

Yata looked terrified. "Saru! Um, how much of that did you hear?"

"I didn't hear anything," Fushimi said. Curiosity flickered in his eyes before his lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. "Why? Were you talking about me, Misaki?"

"No!" Yata insisted. "No way. We were just talking about battle tactics, right, Clarisse?"

Both Clarisse and Fushimi gave him unimpressed looks. "Battle tactics," Clarisse said. "Really?"

Yata threw his hands in the air and blustered his way past Fushimi into Ares Cabin. Fushimi stared after him for a second, before turning back to Clarisse.

The two eyed each other warily, before Clarisse broke the silence. "You better look after him."

Fushimi watched her for a long moment, his dark blue eyes somber. Then he raised his chin and said, "I will."

"Good." Clarisse clapped him on the shoulder, just hard enough to make him stumble. She smirked at his irritated look, and went into the Cabin.

"Demigods," Fushimi muttered. He closed the door and returned to bed. He kept his gaze on Yata, who lay in the bed next to him, until he drifted to sleep.

V . O . A .

The next morning after breakfast, Yata made his way to Thalia's Hill once more, Fushimi at his side and the Camp trailing after them.

Hephaestus' Cabin had loaned Fushimi a case for his sword so he could take it on the plane. He had it slung over his shoulder, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he waited for Yata to say his goodbyes.

Percy drifted over to him as Yata was surrounded by his ichor-cousins. "So, you guys all set?"

Fushimi glanced at him. "Yes. Apparently, Angus is giving us a ride to the airport."

"Nice," Percy said.

Silence fell between them. Fushimi let it continue for a while before he turned to face Percy. "What do you want?"

"Nothing!" Percy held up his hands. Fushimi gave him a narrow look, and Percy shrugged. "Well, I just wanted to say I hope you guys have a good trip home. And that you're welcome here any time. We don't often let mortals into Camp, but we'll make an exception for you."

"For me?" Fushimi raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well," Percy cleared his throat. "You and Yata are—"

"We're what?" Fushimi asked, sweet as honeyed poison.

"Friends?" Percy said cautiously. Fushimi didn't immediately try to attack him, so he dared to say, "Well, you're more than friends, obviously, but that's not my business, and anyway it doesn't matter—"

"Get to the point," Fushimi snapped.

"Right." Percy sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that you're important to Yata, and that's what matters to us. He's a demigod all alone out there, and it makes us all feel better to know you're there to watch his back."

"You do realize we belong to rival Clans," Fushimi said.

Percy couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Right. Like that actually matters when it comes down to it. Are you really saying you wouldn't take a sword for him?"

Fushimi looked stricken. "Yata took a bullet for me."

"He did?" Percy's eyes widened. "Now it makes sense. I wondered where that bullet wound was from."

Fushimi glared at the ground. "He wouldn't have gotten hurt if he had just stayed out of the way. I would have been fine."

"You know that's not how Yata is," Percy said softly. "He's the Vanguard. It's his job to lead the charge, to protect everyone he can. Including you. Probably especially you."

"I wish he wasn't such a bleeding heart," Fushimi muttered.

"No, you don't," Percy said. "He wouldn't be Yata if he didn't care so much about others."

"I know," Fushimi gritted his teeth. "But he's always throwing himself into things he shouldn't."

"But you're always there to back him up, aren't you?" Percy asked. "Even if you belong to different Clans now, you're still important to each other. You still protect each other, and that's what matters."

Percy cleared his throat, "I don't know if you realize this, Fushimi, but being a demigod is lonely. We can't usually trust our mortal friends and family with the truth of what we are. But Yata trusts you. And we trust him. So, we're willing to let you keep the secret of our Camp, because we know we can trust you."

"Not many people trust me. I'm a traitor, after all," Fushimi said, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. But his eyes were dull, the look of a man resigned.

"I've known a lot of traitors," Percy said, the memory of Luke's hand wrapped around that hallowed Celestial bronze blade flashing through his mind's eye. "The War forced a lot of demigods to make hard choices. Some of them came back to us, and some of them didn't."

"Are you saying I should go back to the Red Clan?" Fushimi gave him a withering look.

"No," Percy shook his head. "It sounds like you're much better off in the Blue Clan. What I'm saying is, being a traitor isn't all you are. I've only known you for a day, but I can already tell that you're smart, and loyal to those you care about. And that's good enough for me."

Percy clapped a hand on Fushimi's shoulder. When Fushimi met his gaze, Percy smiled. "I know you made hard choices, Fushimi. It's true that you betrayed Yata's trust once, but it's also true that you would never really hurt him. I know it, and you know it, and he knows it. And that's why I trust you to keep our secret. You've earned it."

Fushimi stared at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, the harsh lines in his face softened. "You could still be making a mistake," he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I could turn around and stab you in the back."

"You could try," Percy laughed. "I don't know if you've heard, but I took a dip in the River Styx. I'm basically invulnerable."

"Right," Fushimi scoffed. Percy just continued to grin at him, and Fushimi's eyes narrowed. "Wait, you're telling the truth?"

"Telling the truth about what?" Yata piped up. He'd broken away from the crowd of well-wishing demigods and come to stand at Fushimi's side. His stance was loose, a small smile on his face. It was the most content Percy had ever seen the Vanguard of Ares, and the sight made him smile.

"I was just telling Fushimi about my dip in the Styx. Just giving him a head's up, you know, if he ever tries to fight me."

"Eh, you're not that tough," Yata nudged Fushimi. "Saru and I could take you."

His words settled something in Fushimi, and his stance loosened as well. A small smirk stretched across his face. They leaned into each other subconsciously, and they remained that way even when Clarisse appeared, dragging Chris and Annabeth behind her.

"There you are," Clarisse said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Yata said. He shook hands with Percy, Annabeth, and Chris, until only Clarisse remained.

Yata dropped his bag and stepped forward to give his ichor-sister a hug. They clung together for a long moment. Yata murmured something that made Clarisse laugh, and when they pulled away, their eyes were wet. Percy half-expected Fushimi to tease Yata for it, but he merely stepped up to stand at his side: a quiet, supportive presence. Yata glanced back at him and smiled.

And then Angus arrived at the bottom of the hill and honked the horn.

"Guess that's our cue," Yata said. He shouldered his bag and turned to face them one last time. "Thanks for everything."

"No," Annabeth said. "Thank you. We wouldn't have won the Second Titan War without your assistance. We owe you our lives, Vanguard of Ares."

She bowed her head, and the other demigods did the same. A respectful silence fell, and Yata turned bright red. "Um," he said. "It was really nothing."

Clarisse snorted and shoved him. Yata squawked, but stopped when Clarisse met his gaze, her eyes serious. "It really wasn't. We needed a vanguard, and you answered our call."

"I'd do it again," Yata said. "If you ever need me, Clarisse, just ask."

"Same to you, Yata," Clarisse said. "You're our Vanguard of Ares, and if you ever need us, we'll be there."

"Thanks," Yata said softly.

Angus honked the horn again. Yata took a deep breath, and turned to face Chiron.

"You've done well, Yata," Chiron said. "You've proved us all wrong. You're a true hero, and I am honored to know you."

Chiron bowed, and Yata bowed back. Then he raised his chin and stepped over the Camp boundary. He made his way down the hill, his head held high. Fushimi followed a step behind him.

The demigods rushed forward and shouted goodbye, waving and cheering. Yata turned around and waved back. Even Fushimi took a moment to give them a two-fingered salute. Then they climbed into the van, and headed down the road.

Clarisse stared after them as the other demigods dispersed. She didn't move until Percy spoke. "Do you think we'll ever see him again?"

"Of course we will," Clarisse said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. The van disappeared from sight, and she turned back to Camp, a small smile on her face. "He's the Vanguard of Ares. He'll come if we call."

She headed toward the Arena, and Percy bid a silent final farewell to the Vanguard of Ares. Then Annabeth slipped her hand into his, and led him back to Camp.

-sayonara: vanguard of ares-

They say the third time is the charm. The third time Yata tried to leave Camp, it was with the blessing of the gods and Saruhiko Fushimi at his side.

Wow! That was a wild ride, huh? Our boys sure had a lot to talk about.

Let me know what you think of this chapter. I hope it was satisfying for y'all. And tune in next week for the final installment of this story!

I'd also like to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has supported this story over the years. Your encouragement means a lot to me. Y'all are honestly the best. 3

See you next time!

Happy Halloween!

~Home By Another Way