"But that's impossible." Yata groaned in disbelief. "I found this knife in the pool. If Saruhiko stabbed Totsuka in the roof, it couldn't be there, right? Unless he used a different knife – but Saru said he only drew this special knife when Totsuka was involved… so…so…eh?" He scratched his cheek, finding holes in his argument. The abrupt piece of information was clashing with everything he knew and believed in. He was certain Fushimi stabbed Colourless to defense himself at the pool – there was no other logical deduction.
"Anyway, Saru had no reason to attack Totsuka-san!" He finished lamely.
""I know ", Mikoto just sighed. "Something fishy must happen."
At least it was comforting that the teacher knew Fushimi wouldn't just stab Totsuka. Yata nodded in all of his glory dumbness. Examining the rusty dagger again, he tried to think of a possible answer, so hard that he could practically feel smoke rising off his head.
"…Don't push yourself. We'll find out soon." Mikoto gazed at him lazily. "Shouhei has a convenient ability."
"Is that so, Mikoto-san? What is it?"
"Hm…" Mikoto turned the car to the left, going into a narrow winding path. The trees by the side road were old and oddly green – the kind of green you would expect to see in a sun-loved field, not in a busy city. Rocks and stones lying around made the ride rather bumpy. "He can read the information buried in an object."
Yata frowned. That sounded very ambiguous to him.
"Hah…You'll understand when you see it." The car slowed down and stopped in front of a small, poor-looking house. It was dirty grey in colour and cracked at some edges, all the way to the second floor, with mosses here and there as if they were the decoration. When Mikoto nodded and came out of the car, Yata followed like a little puppy.
Anna greeted them at the door. The young girl in frilled scarlet dress took one single glance at Mikoto then hastily pulled out a marble, raising it to her left eye.
"Mikoto. Your shadows are getting darker."
Mikoto patted Anna's head on the way he passed her. "Ah. Shouldn't surprise by now."
Anna's doll-like eyes trembled a little, just as a gray curtain of sadness filled her face. The moment didn't last long, though, for she turned her gaze upon Yata, red marble still in its place.
"Yours are still there." The sadness wormed its way into her voice, too. Yet there's hope in the way she narrowed her eyes. "Howbeit, they're moving restlessly. Your fate is not settled."
It was Yata's turn to smile and patted her on the shoulder. "I'll be just fine! I've lived a good life so I probably won't meet my end that soon!"
Anna gave him a tiny little smile. Pulling Yata's wristband, she guided him into the living room. It was a small and cozy, full of cheap secondhand items and smartly recycled stuff. A group of people were sitting around a wooden coffee table, since there was no chair or couch. Kusanagi and Mikoto were talking with a serious expression – well, Mikoto's still somewhat leant on the listless side. Three boys, who must be the other Homra members, were listening attentively.
The brown-haired boy noticed Yata and Anna coming in and stood up in short order, smiling all too friendly. "So you're Homra's newest member? Nice to meet you! I'm Shouhei Akagi, class 11-E." He pointed to the hooded sunglasses-wearing boy next to him. "This is Bandou Saburouta, my childhood friend, we're in the same class." He waved the blonde boy who was staring at Yata distastefully. "And this is Eric Suruto, class 10-C."
Yalta smiled brightly back and gave a brief introduction of himself. The boys gave off a rough-edged vibe just like Yata, which suggested they should be street brats at some points of their life. They hit it off quite nicely, even though Erik and he clashed a bit due to the blonde's irritable attitude.
Some minutes later, Kusanagi clapped his hand, effectively drawing everyone's attention to him. "Alright, I've understood the circumstance. This is no doubt the best clue we've ever gotten regards Totsuka and Fushimi's case."
Mikoto placed Fushimi's knife onto the table. The dull blade looked almost innocent there, in a comfy small room and next to a cup of coffee.
The vice president of Homra continued. "Yata has found this knife of Fushimi in the cursed pool. Considering the blood on it, he must use it to attack either Totsuka or Colourless. We got into dead ends before everything we found on the scene didn't give anything away, which I suspect is Nagare's doing, however, I believe such a personal item like this can tell us a large part of the story."
Eric picked the knife up and squinted at it. "But why is it in the pool?"
"Don't ask such a pointless question. You'll know when Akagi read it anyway." Bandou shrugged.
Yata fidgeted in excitement. "What's this reading stuff about?"
Shouhei stole the knife and played a simple trick with it between his fingers. "You know how people say about certain personal items can hold their owner's memories and emotions? My ability allows me to read them. Not all, of course, I can only read the strongest memories, the experiences that the item is related to the most."
Kusanagi nodded. "That's right. It means Shouhei can see some parts of what happened to Fushimi through this knife. Though he probably has to go through his earlier personal memories first…"
"Well, I can't skip it. Memories flow in a straight line." Shouhei pouted. He put the dagger back on the table and hovered a palm above it. "Should I start now?"
"Forming a combo like usual, boys." Mikoto ordered lazily from the side.
Bandou placed his hand on top of Shouhei's, chuckling at Yata's confused face. "Don't look at me like that. I'm nothing special, just merely a transporter."
"A what?"
"Transporter. It's not a super power or anything, just that I can connect with other people's powers because my wavelengths are super adaptable to everyone else. So I'll connect Shouhei and Eric's power now."
"It's all medical knowledge. I don't expect you to understand, midget." Eric cut the conversation off in insolent tone, reluctantly slapped his hand over Bandou's.
"Ah, you piss me off! Yeah, I don't understand, but my height has nothing to do with it!"
Eric pointedly turned to another direction, ignoring Yata's outburst. Shouhei smiled in his carefree way to ease the tension. "Eric's ability is to create illusions. To be more specific, if he concentrates he can visualizes what he's thinking. So basically, with Saburo's help he will visualize the memories I read out of this knife for everyone to see, just like how a projector works. It's incredibly great, isn't it? X-men level, haha!
"Yeah, I guess. Okay." The gears in Yata's head turned very slowly as he stared at the joined hands. "So can you do it now?"
Shouhei was about to nod when Mikoto suddenly spoke up. "Count Yata in."
"Eh? Me?'
Anna, who had been silent the whole time, pulled Yata's hand on top of the already joined hands and said with quiet but unargued voice. "Misaki has an unusual bond with Saruhiko. You can reach deeper into his thoughts. Though it's unfair on Saruhiko, it'd help much for him later."
"I see." Kusanagi scratched his chin thoughtfully, then also stretch his palm. "In that case, I'll lend you a hand too."
"Eh? Why you too, Kusanagi-san?"
The English teacher gave a brief melancholy smile. "Fushimi tented to lie to himself a lot."
All five people sat around the table, hands on top of each other hovering above the mysterious knife. It looked almost like they were playing Ouija board, which was true in some ways - they indeed was messing with a spirit. When everyone was ready, Shouhei nodded and closed his eyes, a faint red aura glowing from his fingers. It grew slowly but steadily, moving toward the knife, then wrapped around it. Yata could feel a gentle tingling ran through the muscles of his palm. It was an odd but pleasant sensation, one that he didn't mind having at all.
A screen-like image started to form in front of their eyes, truly like a projector's work – or rather, a television. The screen buzzed for five seconds, then flickered into life as it began to show a figure – Totsuka Tatara, who was walking toward who seemed like a bloody bruised Fushimi. The angle is a little weird, it took a moment for them to understand that the view was from the knife's perspective.
Out of the blue, an almost transparent string swirled out from Yata's index finger and instantly shot into the screen. Before any of them understood what happened, their ears were attacked by various whispering noises and their chests were heavy with emotions that were not of themselves.
They were Fushimi's.
"My, I don't take you for such a reckless boy, Saru-kun."
Fushimi tilted his head back, gazing lazily at Totsuka in guarded silence. His whole body ached and stung as bruises and cuts spread all over him, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth and dripped from his knuckles. It felt good, admittedly, to let himself drown in a fight once in a while and forgot everything.
Making a tongue click sound, he kicked an unconscious body of his previous opponents under his feet. "I'm not. Fighting is troublesome."
Totsuka gave him an easy smile, despite being in the center of many bloody half-dead gangsters. Even though Fushimi was the one who caused this horrible scene, somehow there was a creepy feeling in the way Totsuka acted so calm and carefree in front of him. This man…was not what he seemed to be at the first glance. Annoying.
"You said that, yet you defeated all ten of them with bare hands." Totsuka looked over the nearest punk to him – a 6 feet bulky fellow whose head was hit quite painfully and jaw dislocated. "Unnaturally messy so."
"I didn't want any of this. But they were persistent. I was pissed off." Fushimi grit his teeth and walked out of the alley, careful not to meet Totsuka's eyes. "They have done what they really shouldn't."
The wounds hurt. His eyes started to blur. There was a familiar sing-song voice in his head. What do you want?, it asked. The voice had asked him before, in the middle of his struggle. What do you want? – For answer, I want strength, he said.
Strong, be stronger. Strong enough to beat them. Strong enough to destroy what's on his way. What do you want? How many times he'd heard that voice? How many times had that question been tossed upon him? He didn't bother to count anymore. It had been swimming in the back of his mind for so long, so long, so long.
What do you want? Now? Nothing. What do you want? Shut up.
Totsuka strode up next to him, cheerful as ever as if he was just taking a leisurely walk. "These injuries look bad. You should get them treated."
"I don't care. They'll heal eventually." Why do you care anyway, he wanted to ask, it wasn't your business. Go away, why were you still here? "Don't act like you care, because you don't."
The blond man smiled, seeming unfazed by anything. Even his footsteps didn't skip a beat. "If you let them like that, they'll be infected. I don't have much on me, but at least it'll be better than nothing."
Totsuka searched something inside the pockets of his black jacket, then pulled out a handful of old looking band-aids. Without warning, he pushed Fushimi down into a sitting position next to a tree, right there on the sidewalk. Ignoring the younger protest, Totsuka pressed the band-aids down on whatever cut visible to the air.
"You're really annoying, Totsuka-san." Fushimi scowled. "You do whatever you want and never listen to other people."
"Who are you talking about?" A brief joking wink was sent to Fushimi, which made his irritation got even deeper.
"Tsk. Why do you even carry this many band-aids around?" Still, he sighed and relaxed just a little, letting Totsuka fix another cut. No use fighting this troublesome man.
"I have some rough, clumsy friends." Totsuka chuckled. "They often get injured for the pettiest reasons. There, all done. It isn't too hard, right? You should carry some first aids with you sometimes, too."
Fushimi stared at his treated hands. A weird feeling gnawed at his chest as a piece of memory flashed in his head. A boy whose face was dazzled by bright sunlight was giving him a childish creasy band-aid. He found himself smiling briefly at the memory.
"I do have one." He confessed, fishing out the old band-aid with an image of red power ranger on it. "Breaking through the darkness, a little sunshine gave it to me."
Totsuka laughed lightly. "So you do have something you treasure, Saru-kun."
Hissing low, Fushimi stood up abruptly. The pain and irritation came back full force at that single sentence. Treasure? Don't make him laugh. He had nothing worth it. It was just something in his possession that hadn't been destroyed. That was all. What do you want? The voice returned at the back of his mind. What do you want? What do you want? Just shut the fuck up.
"Fushimi." The name calling changed, indicating that Totsuka was being serious. "It's alright to have something to protect."
What do you want?
"What cheesy speech you're pulling off, Totsuka-san." He sneered.
"You and King really are alike, even if you deny it." Totsuka looked straight at him, eyes showing wisdom beyond his ages. "You have a great power. It should be meant for protection, not destruction."
Fushimi curled his hands into tight fists. The words were like sweet poison. He hated it. He hated how it sounded like hope.
"And what exactly should I protect?" He looked at the skyline. It was a beautiful sunset. "How should I even do it? My hands are not built for protecting things. They're far fonder of destroying."
"If that's the case…" Totsuka tilted his head and smiled almost innocently, even when he drew a knife out of his belt at the same time. "…you should learn to know just when to destroy something to protect what you hold dear."
The knife flashed a sharp light at him. A chill ran through his nape as he locked eyes with Totsuka. This man…
"Tsk. Placing a knife into my hand?" He let out a low, mocking smile, and grabbed it. "You're not only playing with fire, but messing with a snake as well?"
Totsuka shrugged and turned to look at the sunset, as contented as a saint. "I just think a knife would suit you, Saru-kun."
Bullshit, Fushimi thought, you just wanted to see how everything would turn out. The metal was cold against his fingers. What do you want? The voice mocked him. He clicked his tongue and ignored it, just as he ignored the aches on his body. For now, he should go buy a set of knives.
It ended there. The screen flashed and buzzed, moving into another scene. A different memory. Shouhei whispered "Oh. I know this."
"Totsuka-san is so kind." Shouhei talked to him when Fushimi was buying his morning coffee at the school's canteen. "He teaches me how to use my ability better. Someone who's that beautiful and pure hearted should be an angel!"
Fushimi laughed outright until his stomach hurt. "Hah, that's the funniest joke I've heard this whole year. Totsuka-san will laugh too if he hears it."
And that was true, Fushimi giddily mused over the idea. Totsuka and angels, how funny. If Shouhei was talking about a fallen angel, then at least it held a little truth. That cheerful, friendly face of him really gave off a harmless aura, huh.
Of course what happened later proved his thoughts. Such thing was life, as people said.
Homra was attacked by the local gang. How ridiculous was that when a group of teachers and students with super powers was challenged all the time by idiots. They really had so much free time playing around. Both sides. Heck, the fact that he had been somehow dragged in Homra was ridiculous, too.
Mikoto wasn't there today. Which, to be honest, was for the best. Despite being a teacher, that man was reckless and gave no fuck to the rules. Fire was helpful, but its damage to the school's reputation was not a good thing.
All went well until that weak, careless fool Totsuka managed to let himself be held hostage.
"Freeze! Or I will break his neck!" Yelled the enemy, who looked like a frog in Fushimi's eyes. People shouldn't be that ugly.
All members of Homra stopped dead, worry evidenced in their eyes. Ah, comrades, weren't they? Even Kusanagi seemed to be torn.
What do you want? His mind asked. Fushimi just shrugged.
To everyone's surprise, Totsuka chuckled lightly just as usual, like he was reading a book or something. Tapping the tight fingers on his neck, he tilted his head up to the oppressor. "Haha, it's pretty exciting to be in this situation once in a while. But neh, no offense, but you don't really look like a killer." His smile never fazed, eyes as transparently innocent as a curious child. "Can you kill me? How it feels to be this close to kill someone?"
Homra, as well as the attacking gang shuddered hard into silence. Fushimi smirked as his blood also grew cold at the blizzard show. There it was, the side of Totsuka that rarely exposed to other people. It wasn't something like the true Totsuka – rather, this was a fraction of his personality, it was always there, just waited for a chance to surface.
"I always find the hostage thing really intriguing. Say, what are you trying to achieve? Hurt me so Homra can't attack you? Kill me to show your dominance? Are you that bad of a person, though, I think? Have you ever killed someone? What's it like, are you curious? Won't you try to find out?" Totsuka tilted his head back more, exposing his throat, yet his eyes were strangely calm. "After crossing the line, breaking the highest rule of humanity, what would you feel? Hey. Are you thinking this when you catch me?"
"SHUT UP!" The frog-like man roared, disturbing fear in his voice. "I-I'll really kill you, you crazy fuck! None of your Homra friends can save you!"
Totsuka still smiled. "Ah. So you're trying to take advantage of my bonds with Homra? I should have known, it's kind of obvious isn't it? I wonder how will it turn out?"
"I said shut the bloody hell up!" Furious, the man gripped Totsuka's throat and raised him up in the air, making the blonde choke and sway his feet high above the ground.
Kusanagi shouted something, many voices roared loudly, but Fushimi didn't hear anything. Pounding in his head was one single question. What do you want? What do you want? Ah. It hurt just to think. What do you want? Maybe he wanted strength, again. What do you want? Should he want speed to get over this fast? What do you want? He wanted to destroy that ugly man.
What do you want? I want to save Totsuka.
The unexpected thought jumped into his mind so fast and so stupid that he didn't even think he was capable of producing it.
Hah. Tsk. Totsuka, well played. Very clever.
"So annoying."
Without waiting for instruction, Fushimi drew out a knife – the knife Totsuka gave him – and threw it straight to the frog man's joint when the right shoulder met his neck. In the split second when the man's scream distracted everyone, Fushimi dashed forward with incredible speed and pulled Totsuka out of the loosen hold, kicking the opponent down the ground at the same time. He drew three more knives and threw them at the feet of the men closet to him, effectively pushing them back.
Homra's street brats immediately sprang into action, and the fight ended quite abruptly with the overwhelming victory went to Homra.
"Well done, Saru-kun!" Totsuka smiled at him aftermath, when no one was around.
"You did it on purpose." Fushimi scowled. "You'll definitely end up dead someday."
"Sorry, neh." The blonde waved his hands in what was supposed to be a surrender sign. "But everything worked out in the end, so don't sweat it!"
Have a little shame, please. Fushimi clicked his tongue. Holding up the knife that he retrieved from the frog man, he muttered in a quiet yet clear voice. "Take responsibility."
Totsuka blinked before laughing outright. "I'm the last person anyone wants to force responsibility on, Saru-kun!"
"True. I hate you." Fushimi sighed. And that was true, he hated this kind of person who knew it all and saw through the souls of others, who did whatever they want and didn't give a damn about anyone else, who carelessly crossed the line and wandered into danger zones just for their own amusement, who had a big heart yet bigger selfishness… Totsuka, Mikoto too, and even Munakata.
But not really, if he didn't lie to himself, he would think Totsuka wasn't a man who should be hated. "And don't call me Saru-kun. I hate that too."
"Haha, alright, alright, Fushimi."
Even so, he didn't really hate that smile, if he so much as admitted to himself.
Buzz. The screen flashed again, showing the next memory.
"Happy birthday, Fushimi!" "Happy birthday, Fushimi-kun!"
Fushimi stared blankly at Munakata and Totsuka, who had just shot paper firecrackers at him. Homra's bar was even livelier today, full of decoration and cakes. Besides the usual members, there were Munakata, his guardian, and Awashima, his landlady who also was a close friend of the former.
A birthday was nothing to be happy about, he was tempted to say, but decided against it and instead just clicked his tongue in mild irritation.
"Saruhiko, this is for you." Anna tugged his hand slightly, bringing a slice of cake up to him on her tip toes. The cake was bright red and a bit sloppy, so it came to him that Anna had made this cake as a gift for him – probably with Totsuka's help. "Happy birthday."
"…Eh…Thank?" He took the cake very slowly, eyeing it with great hesitation. It wasn't that he didn't like the cake itself or he hated sweets, really. He literally had no idea how to act when receiving something like that. A knife, sure. A cake? It felt surreal, somehow.
Even though Anna's homemade cake was too sweet for his taste, he still ate it to the last bite.
The bar was loud, louder than ever before since he was at the spotlight of it. How funny, he thought, because this seemed more like a giant joke than anything else.
What do you want? He frowned at the voice. Now was hardly the appropriate time. Furthermore…It sounded somewhat strange. The tone was even crooked than usual…no, rather, it became more familiar… Where had he heard that tone before?
"Your head is in the clouds, Fushimi-kun." Munakata handed him a glass of iced coke, knowing his childish preference for carbonated drinks. "Something bothers you?"
"Not really." He shrugged, accepting the drink with the same feeling as when he had accepted Anna's cake but didn't show it this time. Munakata definitely noticed, though, if the way the corner of his mouth raised a little forming an amused smile was anything to go by. "Just thinking a birthday party is too unnecessary. Isn't it pointless to celebrate a day when it inevitably happened already?"
"Is that what you're thinking?" The guardian smiled amiably, the sight of it made Fushimi huffed like a stubborn child getting caught red handed. "The birth of an existence such as yours is very important, I believe."
He startled. There was something so unpleasant wriggled inside him, half awaiting to sink its teeth into him, half burning him in smoldering fire. He wanted to laugh, but the laughter did not escape. It stopped right in the middle of his throat, making a nasty stasis sound.
What do you want?
"You sure say such cheap things without batting an eye." Fushimi averted his eyes because they felt stinging. "Are you a politician trying to win over some voters?"
"Oh ya, if I can win a vote from you", Munakata looked straight at him without falter, just as he always had been, "I will certainly win the presidential election."
"Nice speech." He replied sullenly. It seemed like he could never win against this man. "I'll give you a blank vote."
What do you want? Tsk. Again. Just shut up and leave him alone. Couldn't it see he was having a conversation? What do you want? Fine. He would just ignore it like always.
Fushimi took a quick glance at his surroundings. Homra was lively and rough, consisting of mostly street rats who were shooed by the society and maybe their own family due to their unusual abilities. Those people needed somewhere to belong to and someone who understood them. As such, for them, Homra was a perfect small pretending home.
And how funny it was that he certainly didn't mix with their style of living, even though he was even lower than a rat. Fushimi was there because he had an unstable ability, because he was tricked by Totsuka, because he had nothing to do. That was all. Simple, but suffocating. Always an outsider, he felt that to the core.
He could just leave, he supposed, yet at the same time he knew he couldn't.
Thank God Munakata was the one came to him first. Fostering was but an outward screen, it'd be more correct to say he was a special piece in Munakata's intelligence force which could be useful in tight situations. Still, Fushimi felt better that way. At least the guardian had the brain to see the real world, not yelling about family and bonds every second.
He sighed and gulped down the soda, keeping the ice between his teeth and bit it hard. The intense cold hurt his sensitive nerves up to his brain.
What do you want?
W-What, he jerked upward in shock – In his mind, the voice drew out mockingly, full of malice and venom. And then, a laugh started to ring. Laughter, loud and twisted laughter, so familiar. He knew this voice. It was…
"I made you a birthday cake too, Fushimi!" Totsuka strolled toward him, a big bright blue icing cake in hands. "It's my current hobby: baking!"
Fushimi gasped, eyes widening as his vision fell onto the almost transparent figure behind Totsuka.
What do you want? The shadow asked. A face too similar to his own. A smile too scary to be called a smile.
Niki.
(Father. But the thought was so brief he didn't even let his brain recognize it.)
What do you want? No, that goddamned man was too close to Totsuka. Dangerous. Dangerous. Be gone.
Gritting his teeth, Fushimi drew out a specific knife and took a quick step forward. But in one second, his arm was gripped back quite painfully, stopping him dead in track.
He blinked.
Niki was gone.
Totsuka was looking at him with surprise eyes. Mikoto was standing a little closer than normal to Totsuka. Most of Homra's young members were standing up in suspicious caution. Seri and Anna were tensed. Munakata was the one holding him back.
So much for the whole deal about trust and bond.
What do you want?
"What?" He shrugged. "I just want to slice the cake." And it was true. That was his intention.
Kusanagi squinted at him, then sighed. "Even when you're telling the truth, I don't think it's appropriate to slice a birthday cake with a dagger."
He felt eyes on him - Munakata and Mikoto, always them. They looked at him like gods looked at petty, nameless human. Fushimi waited with baited breath, praying that they didn't notice anything – didn't offer him anything as stupid as pity.
Munakata smiled, as if he could read Fushimi's mind, and took a step closer to him. "I believe you would want to take your presents first. The cake should be handled by someone who actually has talent in this field, don't you agree?"
"I don't-"
"Here your present." Without missing a beat, Munakata wrapped a long azure scarf around his neck. It was simple, but beautiful and warm. "May it protect you from the cold winds of cruel winter." Giving Fushimi an all-knowing smile, the man finished his little pep talk. "Have a happy birthday."
Mikoto patted Fushini one time on the head lazily, and left a black bracelet there. "Ah. You're fine."
Fushimi just clicked his tongue and ignored whatever he was feeling.
Later that night, the voice, the laughter, and the ghost of Niki came back. What do you want? It singsonged. Niki's voice. Oh, and how he hated it.
Fushimi crawled out of the blanket, out of the bed where Niki was sitting at the center of it giggling like a fool. He put on Mikoto's bracelet on his right ankle, wrapped Munakata's scarf several times around his neck and shoulders, held Totsuka's knife tight in left hand, and finally, pulled out the crumble old band-aid and pressed it close to his heart.
What do you want?
"Shut up. Not tonight, it's a happy birthday." He hummed, smiling. He started singing a lullaby for himself, one that he used to watch on TV, listening to his own voice to ease the unwanted noises in his head. "May you sail fair, to the far fields of fortune, with diamonds and pearls, at your head and your feet… Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley"
Niki whispered "What do you want?" right into his ears, but he kept singing with closed eyes. "And may you need never, to banish misfortune, loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley…"
The screen flashed again, giving Yata a moment to collect himself. Tears had gathered in the corner of his eyes as the loneliness and sadness of Fushimi gnawed at him. Most of the people in the room were affected too, yet no one uttered a word. The memory stream continued to move on.
It hurt. Buzzing noises rang loud in his mind. The usual question was thrown onto him again and again and again. What do you want? What do you want?
He wondered if he was going insane. Noises and laughs and questions and Niki, everything was too much. He didn't want this.
Fushimi glared at Mikoto, who was having a clashing passive aggressive conversation with Munakata. These two seemed to be always on the wrong end of each other, yet at the same time they shared an understanding that no one else could grasp. Munakata invariably had that look when he found something terribly interesting whenever Mikoto was around.
Totsuka just smiled along the side, always the observer, with camera in hands. Filming had been his hobby for a while. "To save the good memories", he said, "So we won't miss anything." It was fucking ridiculous. For a man of many hobbies and no attachment like Totsuka, the fact that he could let such words out of his mouth was gut-busting.
Fushimi snorted at himself and walked away quietly. Munakata noticed and bid him goodbye in a voice suggesting that he knew there was something wrong yet trusted Fushimi to solve it on his own. Totsuka, on the other hand, followed him.
Haha, what do you want?
"Smile, Fushimi. I need at least one video of you smiling!"
"No."
"Come on, just one!"
Niki floated upside down above Totsuka, looking straight into the camera. Laughing, laughing, and laughing. What do you want?
Fushimi growled and pointed the knife at Niki – or at Totsuka, in anyone else's eyes.
"Insistent, are you? Go away."
Blinking not entirely surprisingly, Totsuka tiled his head, unfazed. "Sorry?"
Hahaha! What do you want? What do you want? Haha! What do you want? Hahaha!
"SHUT UP!" He yelled, though he couldn't even hear himself over the strong wave of noises. He took a step closer, dagger still point forward. "I'll really kill you!"
"You won't do it – no, you can't do it." Totsuka smiled. "You don't want to kill me."
Breathing in and out heavily, Fushimi tried to control his mind as well as his body. Trembling from fingers to toes, he forced his hand to bring the knife down, eyes on the ground. In, out, in again. It's okay, he remembered how to breathe now. The noises ceased ever so slowly.
"I hate you so much." He lied.
"Ough, you hurt my feeling!" That pretending foolish smile once more. "By the way, I'll delete this video, I don't think you like it much. You should learn how to use camera too, so you can continue keeping memories when I'm no longer around!"
…Hah.
"Ask Mikoto-san."
No reply came as Totsuka shut the camera down with a placid expression. Fushimi smashed his tongue over his teeth. "Sure a camera isn't the only thing you want to leave behind once you're gone?"
"No, maybe not. If I somehow died before King, I want my blood is kept in his ring, my bones are burnt to ashes and he will carry my ashes in a small bottle in his breast pocket." The way Totsuka said it so calmly was haunting. "But at the same time, Mikoto's fire is magnificent and I want to embrace that fire till the end, leaving behind no blood, no bone, no ash…There'll only be memories."
What do you want? The voice came back, loud and clear.
"You're cruel." Fushimi breathed out. "So cruel. I hate this side of you." It was the truth.
Totsuka had a faraway look in his eyes. "In the past, someone did say I'm a cold-hearted person. Am I, now? What do you think?"
Fushimi held his head in one hand, trying in vain to ignore the headache. It hurt so much. What do you want? He really was going insane.
Electricity cracked around the screen as it blurred into yet another scene. Mikoto's hand trembled very slightly, yet noticeable. Shouhei frowned a little, then whispered. "This is the last memory. It must be the one we need."
His body felt like lead on fire. Heavy, burning, and wasted away. He struggled to get air into his lungs as Colourless dragged him across the floor alongside the flaming pool. The drug was scattering his mind and boiling his blood. He saw dark red and thought, ah, what a cold colour.
What do you want? Maybe this was the right time to want strength. Niki poked him in the forehead, laughing in the way children laughed when they caught a rare bug. What do you want? He just wanted to end this tedious torture, get rid of the mocking laughter and the ghost of his past. What do you want? If he had finally gone crazy and there was only one way to escape, so let it be. Let speed thing up.
With all the energy he could gather, Fushimi hastily took out a random knife and stabbed Colourless arm. It was shallow, enough to draw blood, but didn't deal much damage. The trick was done, though, as Colourless kicked him down the ground together with stealing the knife, pressing it threateningly close to his throat. His head was forced back, and all he saw in front of his eyes was the hell fire that was made to kill the sun.
"It's pointless. You can't do anything. You don't even really want to, do you?" Colourless grinned down at him, white hairs tossed up in the wind. "Oh! I know, I know, you want me to kill you right now?! That's it!"
Fushimi growled. Colourless's hands were icy against his feverish skin. Niki was dancing right above the flames, what do you want, he sang again and again like a broken record.
Colourless weighted the knife down from his throat to his collarbones, just enough to break the skin and created a line of stinging blood. "It'll be so easy to kill you. The world is just that merciless. Bam! Splash! And you'll be gone! Will people even notice? Just like me, you're in the background after all. The world is crazy, you should hate it, and you do hate it, don't you?"
"Shut up. Who are you to control my hatred?" Fushimi spat out, still staring at the pool almost hypnotized, baring his neck like a sacrifice. He winced a bit when Colourless giggled.
"Because then you will understand me, and we'll have a bond like no other. With minds so similar, we'll be connected by the thickest string." The twisted boy stroked Fushimi's face surprisingly gently. "With this, I'll have what I want, even if I have to become a devil."
"Hate the world. Wish for it to be destroyed. Wish for it to die, to disappear." Pressing the knife deeper into his stomach, Colourless whispered into his ears while Fushimi squirmed to get away. In his struggle, the precious band-aid that he always carried fell out. "Oh? What's this useless thing?"
No. Fushimi screamed right before Colourless threw the band-aid into the sea of flames. Burning, burning.
Over and over. His world would always go down in fire. The ant hill, Niki's fire. The house, Fushimi's own fire. Munakata and Totsuka, Mikoto's fire.
Broken pieces of memory went through his tired mind. Being kicked. Being locked in the dark. Hope and despair. Father laughed – laughed – laughed – and singsonged "Oh, you can't even take care of yourself, tiny monkey? What are you expecting? What do you want?" He had thought he wanted to disappear, until a little sunshine came and freed him. The light broke the darkness, so dazzling that he couldn't even see clearly. "Hey, are you alright there? You're injured! H-Here, I will give you this, it'll help! Ok?" Said the sunshine, and before Fushimi knew it, he had been saved. Be found. Stay in the world. But his lovely light had to go too soon, not even giving a name.
And now even the memento was burnt. Gone, along with a part of his soul.
"Oh, it's starting!" Colourless made a cheerful noise. He pulled Fushimi up and quickly dragged him away, meeting no protest this time.
What do you want?
Colourless threw him into the elevator, letting his head smash against the wall. It felt strange here, frosty and suffocating. He glanced helplessly as the white-haired boy slammed the highest floor's button, brain not processing anything anymore.
What do you want? He wanted this madness to end.
A cold feeling crept at his nape, as if a snake was coiling there. Colourless smirked down at him and, out of the blue, cut a line on his wrist.
What do you want? He wanted this crazy guy dead.
"Think about everything you hate." Colourless murmured as he cut his own wrist. "I hate it too."
What do you want? He wanted to know why he always suffered.
The chill biting his neck intensified. Colourless pressed their bleeding wrists together, mixing their blood. Was it a dark ritual?
What do you want? Ah, fine, damn it all to hell
What do you want? I want the world to be destroyed.
"You did it, Fushimi!" A drunken happy yell was the last thing he heard before the darkness consumed him. "I did it!"
The memory was disrupted there, indefinable noises and fast flashing blurred images flit through the screen. Everyone stared confusedly at it, though after a few seconds, Shouhei spoke up. "No, it's still going on."
"Fushimi!"
Huh… That was a familiar voice. Fushimi slowly opened his eyes. "Totsuka…?" Why was he here? What…
"Fushimi, come back to your senses!"
The urgent tone in Totsuka's voice made him wince slightly. Trying to clear the fog in his eyes, Fushimi noticed that his body felt incredibly light, almost as if he was floating. However, there was an uncomfortable feeling rooted deep in his chest and cracked in his mind. One more second passed – he realized he was pinning Totsuka to the floor. A blood tainted knife was held firmly in his hand, hanging dangerously close to Totsuka's heart.
He jerked away the moment he recognized what was happening. Somehow, he didn't have full control over his own body. It was strange, like he was standing behind the stage to pull the strings of his joints.
"Totsuka-san…what am I doing?" He asked, knowing it shouldn't be any other question. He thought, maybe the seed of insanity inside him had finally bloomed.
"No…It's not you…Fushimi, it's okay. I know you can never kill me." Totsuka coughed. "I'm fine, I'm fine. You woke up just in time to stop the knife, see?
"Why?" He tasted iron in his mouth and bitterness in his throat. "I don't understand."
Haha, of course you don't.
He startled, eyes rolling back as he stilled himself to listen to the voice in his head. It changed. No, rather…there was one more voice.
What do you want? So this was what you always heard, the source of your ability? It was pretty annoying, I give you my sympathy. Unfortunately, it's time for you to be a good boy again. So this man makes you still want to believe in the world? Well, too bad.
It was Colourless's voice.
Fushimi held his head in both hands and screamed. Hurt. It hurt. He was torn, was ripped out of his own body by the claws of the devil. His mind clouded, his limbs moved against his will. He felt himself laughing and saying what he didn't think. "Let the last candle be stamped out."
Fushimi's body sprinted ahead, sharp knife aimed straight at the blonde man. Stop, stop, stop! Where was Niki's voice? Where was that dreadful question? Ask! Ask what he want, give him strength, now!
What do you want? Niki's face appeared right in front of him, smiling that signature twisted smile of his. Niki had caught him, and for the first time ever in his life, he was grateful.
I want to destroy to protect, he answered.
Blue electricity flared around his right hand, granting him the power to control it. With a sharp turn of the wrist in a fleeting second, he switched the knife backward, and pushed his hand back aiming to his own chest. Get the fuck out, both of the devils, even if he had to pay with his life!
"As if I'll let you. You're my new life after all." Colourless grunted, using Fushimi's left hand to stop the backfired attack. Totsuka was next to him in a flash, tapping the air like he always did when processing the neutralization session. Hah, still the reckless man all the way through – couldn't he see how dangerous the situation was? Stop trying to fix me or whatever was possessing me. We were both broken beyond repair.
"You can do it, Fushimi. Everything will be fine." Totsuka kept his voice calm, even though his fingers trembled as transparent worms flew around them and blue sparks exploded here and there. "Push whatever plagues your mind out."
"You're stupid." He heard the words of Colourless flowed out his mouth like a curse. "You can't just trust him when he doesn't even trust himself."
Knife flashed, and buried deep into Totsuka's stomach. Red filled his vision – cold, cold, cruel colour. Once again, his hands proved to be the tool of destruction and destruction only. He briefly wondered if one day he might find out just why everything he touched would inevitably die.
Yet, as Totsuka tapped the last note on his invisible piano, Fushimi sensed himself being tugged back. He could move now, just slightly, but it was evident that his body was his own again.
"Hehe, it's fine, don't make such a sad face, Fushimi…it's not a life threatening wound…" Totsuka kneed down slowly, pressing his bloody side. "I-I...Let just g-"
Laughter.
Before Fushimi could even look up, a gunshot rang the air and Totsuka's blood stained his blue eyes. He clutched at Totsuka's heart where the bullet went through in utter despair, screaming loud. It hurt. So, so much. The noises were turning up louder and louder and there were not only laughter but also mocking, insulting, yelling…
Niki kicked him. What do you want? He wanted to say sorry to Totsuka. What do you want? He wanted to die. What do you want? He wanted to disappear. What do you want? I want to…
Colourless growled at him. "I was so close. So close…That guy ruined my new life! Die, die!" He shot again, missed Totsuka's head for ten centimeters. Fushimi jumped to his feet and took the knife, throwing it deep into the white-haired murderer's right shoulder.
What he didn't calculate was that because of the shock Colourless had received the gun triggered one more time, shooting him just below the rib. Bending down in pain, he overlooked the way Colourless was looking behind worriedly. He didn't miss the sounds of hurried footsteps, though.
Clicking his tongue, Colourless jumped over the fence of the roof and processed to fluidly parkour all the way down the ground. He ran full speed to make a safe escape – through the dark hall, turned right, the road led straight to the pool where he could sneak out easily.
The fire had gone, leaving a smelling pitch black tank of water. Colourless laughed like a mad man, yet there were tears streamed down his face. He gripped his white hair painfully and mumbled incoherently.
"I failed, again. Why? Why? I just want to be loved. Why does happiness have such a high cost? Am I wrong? No, it's the world that is wrong. Love me, love me, damn all the rules. It isn't wrong."
He ripped the knife out and tossed it into the pool, then left without looking back.
The screen turned black before disappearing completely. Everyone in the room sat absolutely still, trying to keep their emotions in check. No comment was made. It was just too heavy for them to talk about what they had just seen.
Kusanagi was the first to move. The blonde tapped his phone open and stared at it. "I had sent the scan of the blood on this knife to Seri right after I received it. It looked like she has got the results, hacking in the health ministry's database on blood type and DNA and whatnot, as expected of Munakata's close friend."
He showed the screen for the rest of them. It was a profile with the top left picture of a white-haired boy – Colourless's face, no doubt. Under the picture was his name: Isana Yashiro.