K: Midnight: A K Project Fan Fiction

Chapter Six: Flashes Over Shizume

September 27, 2010

The two of us were walking around town doing our own form of recon, which meant doing nothing that resembled recon whatsoever. So long as Tatara was there, every outing was a social call. He talked with everyone he met, was interested in anything and everything and therefore, he was popular, if only in the circles who knew nothing about Homra or Mikoto. In those circles, he had found himself assailed upon time and time again and not in any peaceful way either, which is why I took the liberty of accompanying him. On his own, he ventured to do as he pleased and say the things he knew would get him into trouble. Still, he did and said them anyway. He didn't seem to care much what might happen to him, but with me, a little girl on his arm, let's just say he'd fallen out of recklessness whenever I was there. Consequently, in the realm of the supernatural, our time in the city was altogether uneventful, meaning it was downright boring.

My only consolation was the fact that I liked Tatara; enormously, I liked him. Despite our age, he had a way of seeming older, wiser, as though he'd lived a good deal longer than the rest of us, and I often wondered what it was he seemed to see in life that no one else could see.

In the months converging into years following my rather bumpy transformation, Tatara had taken it upon himself to draw me under his wing, tending to me not as one would care for any ordinary girl but as though I were something infinitely more precious, as though he recognized a secret worth concealing and he concealed it too, treating me with kindness and respect and with a hint of fatherly affection which I quickly deemed as one of the better, more endearing qualities indicative of fortitude he bore.

Tatara came to pride himself fully in our friendship, always boasting his regard for me, as if it were he who was the child looking up to me, and for that, for his unconscious understanding of me, we became quite close to the point where I could even be myself around him: that self Mikoto warned me not to be for fear of giving me — my natural self — away. Unlike the others (who would not have understood), Tatara knew that I was different, even if he failed to pinpoint what it was exactly that had set me miles apart from everyone else, including him, but that was what had set him equally apart. He simply didn't care.

We were on our way back to Homra, having collected nothing useful, not even a feeling or a slight reverberation that pronounced the faintest glimmer of a presence, when, glancing through my marble, I came abruptly to a halt. My hand, clinging to the edge of Tatara's sleeve, grew tight and Tatara stopped as well.

"What is it?" He asked, peering down at me.

I issued out a concentrated hum, rolling the marble in between my finger and my thumb. Over the course of many months, Homra had been monitoring a series of disturbances reported by the members of Izumo's underground network: instances of terror wreaked by certain shady individuals we knew to be the Shadows. Working well to our advantage, word of their endeavors had successfully leaked out. Thus, my aim with Tatara (as with the rest of Homra scattered through Shizume) was on tracking the advancement of their vanity and boldness, growing in awareness without making it appear we were aware, staying active and alert whilst giving the impression we were not. As such, we would know when it was time for us to strike.

I in particular was a successful tool in this. My link by way of painful episodes gave evidence to their approach. Whenever sinister intentions – chiefly through the usage of my aura – brought them near enough to me, I witnessed the acute displeasure of my vacancy of power. In terrorizing burns, my body would contract, seeking to awaken and yet labor in submission by the obvious affliction that disabled it from doing so. It was an unavoidable occurrence periodic in nature (or rather, in my new, unnatural nature), therefore there was nothing Tatara, nor anyone else could do to prevent it. For this very purpose, I found I could be useful as a sort of signal or alarm to queue the rest of Homra to advance.

However, despite several attempts to draw the Shadows out into the open, employing adequate incentives sure to catch their eye, it appeared their sole enticement came by way of the indulgence in their pride and nothing more. As it happened, they kept their distance, much to the disappointment of myself and of Homra. For once, my painlessness annoyed me, being of a singular uselessness to our efforts, and the fact that I could sense a deeper meaning only added to the tedium of it all.

The uncharacteristic lassitude displayed against the forces of Homra gave me the distinct impression that the Shadows had been biding precious time, though for what, I could not tell. All I ascertained (or really only guessed at) was the notion that I ceased to be of solitary value to whatever they were planning. My reasoning was thus that if their scheme was subject chiefly to the procurement of my minute personage and nothing more, the Shadows would have long since made a move against me and Mikoto. Therefore I was pressed upon the variable alternative that something larger, something we all failed to see or wonder, was afoot, and thereby found myself sworn (as Mikoto was as well) toward finding out exactly what it was. Little did we realize at the time what it would ultimately bring.

All this I pondered, eye still focused through the marble, witnessing my hopes as they descended into dust at what I saw.

Tatara clearly grasped my disappointment, for he turned himself more thoroughly to look at me, his head bent low, observing patiently.

I shrunk in signal of defeat. "We're too late," I said at last.

"Why, what did you see?"

"Blue," I answered.

Tatara gave his pleasant, thoughtful look that was his version of a frown and he hummed. "I see. Well I think King will be pleased." His tone was bright and cheerful and I looked at him, confused. He simply grinned at me. "If the Blues got the them first, then King has a reason to go over there and say 'Hello.' You know how much he looks forward to his conversations with Blue King Reisi Munakata."

I smirked at him. Tatara always did manage to convey the dangerous truths with a sort of casual eloquence, as though there were never a thing to worry about, and over time, I came to acknowledge that his way of saying things was ultimately more accurate anyway. This particular scenario was no different. There was a sort of bond that linked Mikoto and Reisi together. Ever had they wanted to antagonize each other if it meant that they could fight. Whatever inner natures they possessed had drawn one to the other, always in a similar fashion, pairing order with chaos, fire with ice. I suppose in a way, they really did look forward to it.

"Maybe you're right," I answered, and giving another tug on Tatara's sleeve, we set out once again, making our way home.

"What took you so long!" Misaki yelled before we'd finished walking through the door.

The whole of Homra was in an uproar, save Izumo, who never seemed a decibel above passivity at any given moment; and Mikoto, who was nowhere to be found.

"What's all this?" Tatara asked.

Misaki skipped across the bar and slammed his skateboard on the ground.

"Careful!" Izumo snapped. Apparently, his anger only surfaced when it came to the well being of his precious bar.

"It's the Blues!" Misaki hollered. "They got the guys we're looking for — only now, we gotta go get 'em and question 'em before those bastards get a chance! I'm not about to let those guys just walk all over us and get away with it without some serious ass-kicking!"

Tatara snuck me a quick, sidelong glance. "Actually, Anna had a feeling we'd be seeing the Blue Clan pretty quickly here. Isn't that right, Anna?"

I peered my head from side to side, scanning the room. "Where's Mikoto?"

"Ah, I'm guessing that's why we're all in a hurry," Tatara figured. "He went in head first, didn't he?"

Izumo shrugged, sending off a goofy grin. "What kind'a king would he be if he didn't barrel in at every opportunity? Seemed he couldn't wait."

Tatara laughed. "Well, then! I think we'll tag along and watch. This should be fun."

"Okay, but just make sure you keep Anna safe," Izumo warned, fidgeting his sunglasses. "We don't want her getting mixed up in all this if it comes down to a fight."

"Don't worry!" Tatara waved, opening the door for me. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to our princess."

By the time we caught up to Mikoto, I was surprised to find him standing all alone atop some helicopter pad belonging to one of Shizume's many high-risers. The Blue King hadn't arrived yet, nor any member of his clan, and the only disturbance that arose was the light flapping of Mikoto's jacket in the cool September wind.

Instantly on spotting him, I released my hold on Tatara's sleeve and ran to him, wrapping both my hands around his solitary one. Against the chill of night, his skin proclaimed on mine the roaring fire of a furnace, brimming me with warmth.

On feeling me, my gentle touch, he looked at me, the gleam in his eye directed only ever at me persistent in more stern a gaze than what I'd seen from him before. It was a look that said, 'We're close.'

In a giant whoosh that blew up all our coats, our hair, and (to my embarrassment) my skirt, they arrived: the Blues of Scepter 4, and leading centerfold: the Blue King himself.

Reisi Munakata — tall, handsome, noble in stature — stepped across the pad. "Third King Mikoto Suoh," he stated in his deep, well-rounded voice, "your actions are wild and chaotic as usual."

"Fourth King Reisi Munakata," Mikoto answered lackadaisically, "your face looks awful and annoying as usual."

I saw the faintest outline of a smile creep along the side of Reisi's mouth. His eyes whisked gently to a close. "I must ask you to desist. This matter is under the jurisdiction of Scepter 4."

"That's not my problem," said Mikoto, cocking his bored features to the side.

Izumo stepped beside him, smoothing down the wind-blown flaps of his lapel. "Those 'strains' you arrested a while ago," he said, plucking from his lips, an unlit cigarette, "for starters, we know they're not strains. See, we've had our eye on them for quite some time. They pulled some stunts in our territory and we've got some questions we'd like to ask. So could you hand them over to us?"

Munakata seemed to hum, though not in disconcertion but to laugh. "You people are nothing but trouble, aren't you?" He mocked. "If what you seek is that which lies in Scepter 4's custody, then I feel I must inform you: while I would agree, it is hardly an accurate appraisal merely to deem those individuals as strains, neither do they appear to be affiliated with any king. Be that as it may, they each share a similar aura: one pitch black in hue."

My heart skipped a beat on hearing this. Mikoto also, through his passive features, felt the same.

"Though what resides beneath the surface is infinitely more dangerous," Reisi continued. "They are most sinister, indeed. I have to wonder then, why you've taken such an interest all of a sudden. Even someone as unpleasant and of such a low-grade calibre as yourself should have no business with the likes of those miscreants."

Mikoto humphed. "Careful, Munakata. You're well on your way to paying me a compliment."

"What are those outsiders to you, Suoh?" Reisi pressed him.

"None of your damn business," was Mikoto's prompt reply.

Reisi blinked long, sliding up his glasses with a sigh. "So be it. Of course, you understand I cannot comply with your request."

Mikoto gave a tilt of his head, his features lifted high into the air before descending in a death stare, the twisted look he bore expressing his amusement. "I was hoping you'd say that." Then lowering his voice still further, his gaze a flaming dagger into Reisi's own bespectacled visage, he ordered, "Burn them."

Misaki, just behind him, rose a fist into the air, and the chant of "No blood! No bone! No ash!" rained down upon the Blues of Scepter 4.

"Tatara," Mikoto breathed.

"You got it," came Tatara's cheery exultation, and I felt a little nudge along my shoulder. "Come on Anna," he said, leading me away. "Time to let these kings be kings."

I began to follow after him, still turned to view Mikoto staring Reisi down. "Mikoto," I said gently, and while he didn't answer me nor even deign to look at me, the feeling I perceived – that small unconscious ball of thought we shared – gave evidence enough to what he meant to say: I'm doing this for you.

Tatara stole me to a place of vantage from which to view the night's festivities unharmed. From there, atop my perch, I saw the red and blue collide and wished that there was something I could do, but all I did was stand there, staring at the sky with Tatara beside me. He didn't fight either, though not because he couldn't. Rather, his excuse was simply the immaculate resplendency of kindness.

"It's alright," he said to me, sensing my discomfort. I admit, it was obvious, the way I kept on biting at my lip, staring with an ever-deepening frown up at the sky. "This is just how kings saw hello," he smiled, but I only glared at him.

"Tatara, be serious."

He laughed his pleasant, jovial laugh, dipping his keen features in a blink. "Sorry," he said." But I don't think there's much to worry about. It looks like everyone's having a great time tonight."

"But they're fighting," I reminded him.

"True," he answered airily, "but doesn't it look like they're dancing? See?" He produced a ball of scintillated aura that came fluttering from his palm. "Like this butterfly."

The blazing winged creature flitted through the air, emitting little sparks that looked like pixie dust. It circled around him on its way up to Mikoto's Sword of Damocles, about which, it ignited in a swarm as that of glistening garlands, entwining light and beauty with the untamed savagery of the Sword.

"So pretty," I found myself saying. I was entranced by Tatara's innate nature mirrored in the fire only he retained the power to compose, and turned to see his usual look of wonderment as he too stared up at the sky. "It sure is beautiful, isn't it?" He said.

I could not deny that this bit of loveliness, the loveliness of Tatara, soothed me, even pepped me up a bit; yet overall, I still was bored to think that I was nothing but a sideliner. While Tatara was good company for boredom, always optimistic, cheering me and keeping me amused, even he could tell that nothing stood to cure me of my restlessness that night.

"Wait and see," he reassured me, his tone dropped down to seriousness. "One day, you won't have to sit up here with me and watch if you don't want to." He gave me one of his charming smirks. "I'm not cut out for stuff like that, but you — " he laughed, " — I see you having all kinds of fun. More than most, you have the talent to be great."

"So do you," I argued, batting my red eyes against the rapid flashes reigning over Shizume. "Yours is just a different kind of talent. It's something none of the rest of us has."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You have heart," I said, smiling up at him.

Tatara met my smile with his, and as he did, the flashes ceased a little too abruptly for a lull. The night turned all at once to silence, and before we had a chance to look, to frown, to wonder what had happened, I was seized with a tight, excruciating pain inside my chest. I clutched the ruffled frills about my shawl and tried to scream but all that came was ripping, tearing agony inside.

Deep within, I felt them; eerily they were close. More than that, I sensed a wave of dire apprehension – something else both turbid and elusive coming into play, then driving its way off into the darkness of the night. The Shadows followed, all of them a seeming band of power circling the air. Every pitter-patter of their movements wrung like iron fists upon me. The weight was overwhelming and I lost my sense of balance. I began to topple forward, but Tatara caught my arm. "Anna!" He cried in still the gentlest of tones. "Anna, what is it?"

"Something's wrong," I struggled out, finally managing to breathe, easing slowly back to peace. No sooner had I started to continue when, trilling out a melody, Tatara's phone rang.

"Yes?" He answered, making slow to rise while still maintaining one firm hand along my arm. "Oh. Oh, I see." He looked at me. We shared a nod: my episode had passed. "Got it. Okay, thanks." Hanging up he said, "It seems the outsiders escaped Scepter 4's custody. The Blue King got the call in the middle of his conversation with King — "

"Conversation?" I thought inwardly.

— and the minute King found out, he bolted."

At this, he shook his head, calling up what seemed to be a momentary flutter of hilarity. "Leave it to King to be dramatic only when it's least convenient — just when everyone was having such a pleasant evening, too."

My eyes widened. "Mikoto's gone?"

"It looks like it's all over for tonight. We better go on home." He smiled and, sensing my concern said, "Not to fear, Princess. I'm sure he'll meet us there."

I could tell that he was being hopeful, but deep down, he knew as well as I that Mikoto wasn't coming home. He was going after them.

I'm not certain why I did what I did next, nor why I hadn't done it long before. I found myself unnaturally downtrodden, though not so much with sorrow that my lovely red had gone off in the night in search of Midnight Shadows to incinerate. What I felt was shame, and sheepishly, I stole the lower hem of Tatara's coat as he began to turn and lead me from our perch.

"Tatara," I said, staring at the ground.

He turned expectantly, and when I didn't finish, he slid down low before me, glancing up at me. "What is it, Anna?"

Everything about him was disarming, particularly up close, and I found a sense of warmth and further guilt that came by way of several tears that trickled down my cheeks, which Tatara swept away in one full swoop of his soft, ringed fingers.

"Tatara," I repeated, "I have something to tell you. I didn't think it would matter to you, but still… I should have told you a long time ago: about the people Mikoto's chasing: about me…" My voice had narrowed down into a whisper and I dipped my features further toward the ground, my chin set hard upon my chest.

I was startled then when, in the midst of my solemnity, Tatara ran his fingers through my hair, drew my face to his, and looked me in the eye. "You already did," he said.

Shocked, my lips quivered open. "W-what?"

He hummed a tender chuckle, thumbing both my cheeks. "And you're right," he said. "It doesn't matter a bit. Wanna know why?"

I blinked a wide-eyed question and he smiled. "Because you are, and will always be my princess, Anna. That will never change."

Chapter Seven: Angle of Truth