13. Watch it fall

Murata knew his soul had been dragged through Time for many, many years. He was a Watcher of Changes, he was a Witness of the timeless battle between power and love in the hearts of men and women. He was Watching Yuuri know.

The king had dark half moons under his eyes, his restless hands playing with the ring in his hand in a now familiar dance of rub, twist-twist, rub, twist.

Murata lost himself for a moment, looking intently at the little piece of metal on Yuuri's finger. After everything that had been going on, he was still wearing it, and he supposed that should mean something.

"Bob should be back by now with news…"

"He should" Murata nodded, agreeing easily. "But he is still within a reasonable time frame. He has an escort of guards with him now, so there is no use in worrying".

Yuuri nodded stiffly, looking down at Shori.

They were in another of Bob's "safe houses", and this one, Yuuri thought sourly, better live up to the name.

The room was just as indistinctly personalized as any hotel room in the country. Its only remarkable item was a mobile, relatively small medical unit to which Shori was connected twenty four hours a day. There were needles in both his inner elbows, and patches on his chest and temples. A constant and soft beep-beep-beep-beep sound took the background of every conversation, or uncomfortable silence that took place in the room.

"You should try to sleep" suggest Murata calmly, picking up the book he had been reading earlier.

"I wish I could" whispered Yuuri, "but I can't, not while Shori is like this, not while I don't know for sure what is going on in Shin Makoku… and Wolfram".

Murata nodded, glancing at Shori's still form on the bed. Sudden unwelcome memories of the past two days starkly clear in his memory: Running and hiding, while trying to control the fear that threatened to make them less than useless. Murata would never forget the look on Yuuri's face, the naked, sick worry in his too wide eyes caused by the uncertainty of the fate of the elder Shibuya.

And then the dream had come –Murata refused to call them 'visions'.

It was during their time in the sewers that fatigue had took such a hold on their muscles that they had to stop and rest. They fund a relatively dry place to sit, and in a matter of minutes the fear, the expectation and the bone-deep tiredness had put Yuuri down. His head had rested on Murata's shoulder, silence their only company.

Murata had heard him whisper 'Wolfram', and knew he was having one of those dreams. Yet the moment Yuuri woke up and sat straighter on his own, Murata knew something was different. Yuuri didn't speak, there were no words to describe this soul deep change. But there was a new, stronger, yet sourer force forcing his legs to stand up, forcing his feet to keep moving. It was almost painful to watch, how despair could be turned into bitter will.

And Murata was afraid to ask, so he did what he was born to do: he stood up and followed his king. They got out of the sewers in a rather shady part of the city, and manage to call Bob from a public phone. A car was by their side of the street in less than ten minutes.

And now, two whole days later, Bob had put the strictest security around them. The house was practically impenetrable, and Shori was getting medical attention for his injuries. Apparently he had used most of his maryouku, and then resorted to body to body combat. All and everything to prevent the attackers to find out the secret door from where his little brother had manage to escape. He had not woken up since then.

"Who were they?" asked Yuuri to himself yet again, in a tense whisper.

"The same person or group who closed the portal, most likely"

"Always so calm, aren't you" half accused Yuuri, his stance changing from jittery worry to barely contained resentment.

Muarata noticed, and taking a deep breath, closed his book to put it down before leaning his elbows on his knees.

"I am not being cynical Yuuri. I'm your Sage, is my duty to think this through… and so I've done just that. Keep the king and Sage of any kingdom away, what's next?"

Yuuri frowned, but Murata beat him to the answer.

"Kill them, take over any political resistance and..."

"Conquer" finished Yuuri, feeling nauseous.

"Whoever planned this knew you were too strong to be beaten in battle, so they just waited for the right moment. They knew you have this… tendency"

"This tendency" repeated Yuuri, acidly. He knew exactly what Murata meant. His 'tendency' to go back to Earth, to leave his kingdom and his people unprotected. His well-known weakness, and the best chance others were counting on to destroy everything he could hold dear.

"Oh God…" Yuuri groaned, closing his eyes.

Murata knew his king was hurting, and it made everything in him heavy and slow. His heart, his soul, and maryouku seemed to stop and re-focus in what was really important, what was his true reason to exist: serve his king. So with unsteady gestures, he moved closer to rest his forehead against Yuuri's shoulder.

"Do not blame yourself, it's not your fault" said Murata, vaguely aware that for the last couple days, his reality had been changing. It was now so different, switched, leaving only Yuuri sharp and clear-in a focus so intense it almost hurt.

"But it is" choked out Yuuri.

"Your only fault is caring too much, for too many"

Yuuri shook his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

In a dark corner of his mind, Murata knew he should be scared of losing himself, but when he looked up, all those concerns lacked importance. Because there by his side was the Maou, a powerful being whose pull he could never hope to resist, whose force made him lean closer and fall into Yuuri's orbit like the Moon to Earth. He forgot to breath.

Yuuri stood frozen and confused for a second too long. Murata shortened those last inches between them, breathing in his king's hesitation in a kiss that was never meant to be.

A heartbeat.

"The fuck Murata!" hissed Yuuri through gritted teeth, furious and confused. His blood a panicked rush in his ears. The world stopped making sense and he was… devastated.

That kiss had hurt both of them. Yuuri could see how those words hit Murata, even if Murata didn't react to them. He had practice knowing when his words hurt other people -he had done a great deal of it to Wolfram.

But Murata did not yell at him, nor did he conjure maryoku in a fit of rage… he just nodded and left the room in stunned silence.

That kiss had hurt both of them, they just didn't know how deeply yet.

.

X*X*X*X*X*X

.

Consciousness was a strange thing, it was a caress more than a pull, and suddenly Wolfram was awake by its soundless call. The first thought that lazily dragged itself from his skull was a confusing 'alive and hurting'.

"He's waking up!" whispered a rough voice to his left.

Wolfram turned to see Sven's eyes locked on his.

"Sven…"

"Welcome back to the world of the living, my lord" said Sven, sagging on his feet with relief.

"Papa!" cried a much familiar and dear voice, and Wolfram didn't even think before sitting up, his arms suddenly full.

"Greta" he said, his voice hoarse. He could feel his arms shaking with the effort to hold her.

She started crying, and whatever she was saying it was impossible to understand as she had her face pressed against Wolfram's clothed chest.

"What is it darling?" asked Wolfram, for a moment putting everything at the back of his mind because right here, right now, all that mattered was the weight of his precious daughter in his arms.

"…please" mumbled a broken plea from Greta's lips.

Wolfram called all his strength and ignoring the pain of his last wound, pulled back to see the princess's tearful face.

"Greta?"

"Please bring papa Yuuri back, only you can" Greta took an almost painful hold of Wolfram's robe, "Shinou said there is no time, it has to be you".