Notes: All right, last chapter! Wherein Fushimi spends like 50% of the chapter naked and nothing even vaguely sexual happens.
...
Awashima kept her posture straight as she thumbed through the pages of her proposal one more time. Behind her most of the Special Forces members were leaning against the walls, looking anxious, and Hidaka in particular was pacing restlessly. Awashima almost wanted to tell him to be still, but the part of her that couldn't help but understand his feelings kept her quiet. They were standing in the small antechamber leading to one of the main meeting halls, waiting to be called upon to present the case for the full reinstatement of Scepter 4.
"My, a pretty lady shouldn't look so serious." A calm voice made her look up.
"Izumo!" Awashima stepped forward to meet him. "I didn't expect you to come."
"I thought I'd accompany Anna," Kusanagi said. He held up his phone. "Just got a message from Yata-chan. He found Fushimi."
"Is he all right?" Awashima tensed slightly.
"Yata-chan's takin' care of 'im for now," Kusanagi said. "I think they'll manage."
"Yes, I suppose." Awashima didn't look quite convinced but she nodded anyway. She looked back down at the pages in her hands, nervously sifting through them one more time. "I had hoped he'd be able to accompany us here as well…but as long as he's being taken care of."
"And who's takin' care of you?" Kusanagi asked mildly, lighting a cigarette. Awashima gave him a rueful smile.
"Smoking is prohibited here, you realize." Kusanagi chuckled quietly and Awashima sighed. "I am…managing, as well."
"Kings can certainly be a pain sometimes," Kusanagi said, expression unreadable. "Leavin' things behind for others to take care of."
"And yet we do it all the same," Awashima said. "I suppose you understand that as well as I do."
"Well, I've got a new King to take care of right now," Kusanagi replied, but the forced casualness of his tone couldn't completely cover the weight lying beneath. "It's not always an easy thing, though. Takin' care of what's been left behind for you."
"Indeed." Awashima looked thoughtful for a moment and then gave a quiet smile. "Clansmen also have their own will, though."
"Hmm?"
"Something Fushimi-kun said once." Awashima ran a hand through her papers again. "Though I doubt he meant it so kindly. But still…I have been telling myself ever since, that this is what the Captain would want. When I spoke with Fushimi-kun yesterday he asked me if I ever did anything for myself. I didn't have an answer."
"And now?" Kusanagi took a long drag of his cigarette.
"Now I believe that this is my own will," Awashima said, looking around at the remaining Blue clansmen gathered behind her. "This wasn't only the Captain's Scepter 4. Restoring that may have been the Captain's wish, but it is mine as well. Ours, as well."
There was a long silence and then Kusanagi took hold of her hand and kissed it.
"W-what?" Awashima pulled back, surprised, and Kusanagi laughed.
"I guess that's a good enough answer then." Kusanagi stepped back as Awashima shot him a slightly fond glare. "Well, it's about time I started headin' inside to join my King. Good luck, Seri-chan."
Awashima watched him walk away for a moment before turning back to her clan.
"Everyone." Her voice carried as well as it always had and even Hidaka stopped pacing to stare at her. "We will be summoned any moment. Please be prepared."
"Yes, ma'am!" The response was immediate, full of nothing but absolute conviction, and Awashima felt a sudden burst of confidence.
"The assembly is ready for you now." The door behind them opened and a clerk peered out at them. Awashima turned to face him and nodded.
"Everyone, forward." Awashima didn't bother to look and see if her order was being followed as she strode past the clerk and into the wide meeting hall.
The meeting hall was about half-full, with several men she recognized as high-ranking government officials sitting behind long tables directly facing her. On the far right she could see Kusanagi settling himself into a chair next to the Red King, who was staring at Awashima with a steady, searching gaze. On the other side of the room sat the Silver King, watching her with an unreadable look on his face. His two clansmen sat on either side of him. As Awashima walked up to the podium in the center of the room the girl Strain waved brightly at her and Awashima couldn't help but smile back in response.
"Is this going to take long?" One of the government officials near the front of the room grumbled quietly as the rest of Scepter 4 filed into the room. "I have another meeting to attend in twenty minutes."
Awashima fixed him with her best second-in-command glare and he stiffened, wilting slightly under her gaze. Awashima placed her papers on the podium and raised her voice.
"Men, ready!"
Behind her there was the sound of drawing swords and the officials in front of her looked taken aback.
"Akiyama, draw!"
"Benzai, draw!"
"Kamo, draw!"
The call went down the line and Awashima held her gaze steady until the last member of the line, Hidaka, had drawn his sword.
"Awashima, draw!" Awashima pulled out her sword and held it in front of her for a long moment.
This was her resolve. She knew that they were scattered now, fragmented. She was painfully aware that two important members of their company were missing, one never to the return and the other's status unknown. Scepter 4 would never be what it was again, but that was fine. She was the second in command. She would take what was left of her clan and bind it back together, not only in memory of her King but for herself as well.
Awashima laid her sword on the podium and lifted her papers, the rest of her clan still standing ready and strong behind her.
"My name is Awashima Seri. I would now like to make my proposal in regards to the continuing status of Scepter 4."
...
Fushimi stood dumbly against the bathroom wall, not sure what to do.
After the fight in the park he had been all but dragged to Yata's apartment. Fushimi had wanted to resist but he'd felt utterly worn out and exhausted, unable to find the strength to pull away from Yata's gentle hand on his wrist. Yata had led him inside and into the bathroom, filling the tub and stating that Fushimi was a mess and needed to get cleaned off. Yata had instructed him to climb in the bath and then ducked out of the room to treat his own wounds, leaving Fushimi standing alone by the bathroom wall feeling foolish.
Stupid. Fushimi clenched a fist. Now that the moment was past he felt weak and irritated. To break down in front of Misaki of all people. It was mortifying. He felt disgusted from the very bottom of his being. Even standing here like this, in Yata's bathroom being treated like a child, made his hackles rise.
Yata had just left him here, trusting him to stay put and do what he was told, as if every barrier Fushimi had worked so hard to build between them had gone crashing down the moment Yata had thrown his arms around Fushimi in the park. As if it was so simple, as if clinging to each other in a moment of weakness was enough to fix everything Fushimi had so deliberately broken.
Fushimi scratched at his arms distractedly. The snow had seeped into his clothes and he felt wet and cold, but he refused to get undressed and climb into the bathtub like he'd been told. He felt oddly exposed despite that — for the first time in a long while he was almost completely unarmed, the majority of his throwing knives having been spent in the park. He'd spotted Yata picking some of them up as they'd started to leave but whatever Yata had done with them he hadn't given them back to Fushimi. Even the close combat knives were in short supply, as he'd dropped one of them in the snow after…after Yata….
The image flashed in his mind again, Yata with arms spread wide and then the red melted to blue melted to gray and Munakata was there again in the snow, Sword of Damocles crumbling to pieces above him and Fushimi sagged against the wall as his stomach churned. Fushimi bit his lip, trying to force the nausea back. Bad enough he'd cried in front of Yata, the last thing he needed was to be caught throwing up what little was in his stomach for no good reason at all. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, trying to breathe deep and force his body to stop shaking.
Pathetic. Completely pathetic. He could feel the shame curling in the pit of his stomach and there was a ghost of laughter in the back of his mind, mocking him with his own weakness. Fushimi forced himself away from the wall and staggered towards the door. He suddenly had to get away from there, away from Yata and everything and everyone — where he intended to go, he had no idea. He only wanted to go away and be left alone.
Fushimi reached for the doorknob at the exact same moment that the door was pulled open from the other side and he found himself face to face with Yata. Yata looked momentarily surprised and then he gave Fushimi a look of exasperation tinged with just enough fondness that it set Fushimi's teeth on edge.
"I told you to get cleaned up, you know," Yata said.
"I don't take orders from you," Fushimi replied back, but he couldn't quite manage to keep the acid in his tone and his voice sounded flat and petulant in his own ears. Yata reached out and grabbed his arm, steering him back towards the bathtub, and Fushimi couldn't quite find the energy to pull away.
"Come on, Saru," Yata said. "You can't act like this forever. You've gotta let someone help you sometime."
"And that someone is you?" Fushimi shot back, hunching his shoulders as he reached up to grab his arms. Yata pressed one hand against his own, pushing his arms back down to his sides.
"Just get in the fucking tub already, monkey," Yata said. "We're not going through this a second time. You're a mess. Kusanagi-san and that lieutenant of yours sent me to take care of you, so that's what I'm going to do."
"Hmmph." Fushimi gave a bitter chuckle. "I see. An order from Homra, right? 'Keep an eye on the traitor.' You're so predictable, Misaki."
"That's not why I'm doing this!" Yata said, exasperated. "Now, are you going to take off your clothes or do I have to do it for you?"
Fushimi stared at him in surprise for a moment and then turned away, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater.
"I can take care of myself," Fushimi said at last, because he felt like he had to say something.
"Sure you can, monkey," Yata scoffed. "We both know that's never been true."
Fushimi glared at him but Yata's gaze didn't waver. Fushimi huffed quietly but pulled his sweater off anyway. Somehow he felt strangely exposed to be doing such a thing, even though he and Yata had taken baths together many times before in the past to save water. The angry red scratches on his arms seemed to stand out like a beacon on his pale skin and he stared fixedly at them as he removed his few remaining knives and began to unbuckle his pants. Yata handed him a towel without a word and Fushimi had to turn his back as he finished getting undressed. He wrapped the towel around his waist and reluctantly lowered himself into the water.
The warm water felt prickly against his skin and the cuts on his arms suddenly started to sting. Fushimi bit back a hiss of pain, arms held stiffly down against his sides.
"Here, let me see them." Yata was there suddenly at his side, leaning over the edge of the tub, and Fushimi noticed the bandages that Yata had apparently brought in with him. Fushimi immediately pulled his arms away.
"I don't need you to be my nursemaid," Fushimi muttered. He felt a hand press against his shoulder and he jerked back, surprised. Yata was staring at him with a grim and strangely sad look on his face, and Fushimi followed his gaze to the thin red scar on his shoulder.
"You still don't remember how you got that, huh?" Yata said quietly. Fushimi didn't reply, eyes averted as he pulled his knees up close against his body as if to close himself off against Yata's touch. There was something hovering on the edge of his mind — chasing after one of the Green King's clansmen, a flash of steel, Yata's hair and Yata's back and a sharp sting of pain — but he couldn't quite grasp it and the feeling of Yata's gaze on him made him feel irritated and on edge. "Listen, Saru…you might not remember it but I do. You saved me, okay? One of the Greens was about to cut me and you got between us."
"Tch. An accident," Fushimi brushed it off and Yata's hand slammed down on the edge of the tub.
"Don't give me that crap!" Yata paused, clearly taking a moment to try and rein in his temper and Fushimi simply couldn't understand it, why Yata was trying so hard to stay calm and not fighting like he was supposed to, not hating Fushimi like he was supposed to. "I don't believe that. I know you, Saru. You wouldn't be between me and a blade unless you meant to be there."
"You don't know anything about me," Fushimi said coldly.
"Yeah, you keep saying that." Yata ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I don't, okay? I don't know everything about what the hell is going on in your damn mind all the time, that you keep acting like this and won't ever tell me what's going on. But I know some stuff about you, Saru, and I definitely know this: you saved me. You can tell me as many excuses as you want. I know you saved me and you're not gonna convince me otherwise. So—so if you were willing to get hurt just to help me, why can't you just freakin' talk to me for once?"
Fushimi didn't reply, staring down at the water.
"Come on, Saruhiko." Yata's voice was almost pleading. "Just talk to me for once. If I don't like what you have to say, I'll leave you alone, okay? Just talk to me."
Fushimi shook his head, unable to reply.
"Saru."
"Shut up." Fushimi forced the words out. "You're a moron, Misaki. I'm tired of listening to you. I don't have to tell you anything."
"You have to do something, Saruhiko," Yata said. "You can't just keep being like this. I'm worried about you, okay? I meant what I said in the park. You're still my best friend. I want you to be all right again. Even if you don't want me anywhere around you, that's fine. But I'm not letting you go back to destroying yourself. I'm not going to let someone I care about walk away from me again without understanding anything."
"Hmmph." Fushimi gave a bitter laugh. "I'm not the one who walked away, Misaki. If you can't even realize that, it's pointless to talk to you at all."
"What are you talking about? You're the one who threw it away." Yata couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice and the sound of it sent a thrill down Fushimi's spine. "You just…just left me like it didn't even matter to you, like our friendship didn't mean a thing."
"All I did was deal the final blow to something that had already started to break." Fushimi shrugged. "But I shouldn't expect an idiot like you to understand that much. You were too busy staring at him to ever notice what was right in front of your eyes."
"Wait, this is about Mikoto-san?" Yata's eyes narrowed in thought. "Saru…that stuff you were saying before, at the park…you didn't really think that, right? I mean—I never abandoned you! You've always been — always been my most important — there's no way I'd just throw you away or anything like that!"
"But you did, didn't you?" Fushimi couldn't even find the energy to keep up the smile, staring down at his clenched hands below the water. "You didn't need me anymore. You had your precious Homra. You changed things, not me. You broke the world first. You did. Are you really so dense, Misaki? I only tore what had already begun to fray." He raised a hand, watching the water drip down his wrist. "I don't want anything like that. Not from you, not from the Blue King, not from anyone. Anything weak enough to break…I don't have any need for it. I'll break it myself, if it's that fragile. Better to destroy it than grasp uselessly at pieces that will always fall through my fingers."
He could feel Yata staring at him and refused to raise his head. There was the sudden sound of movement and then a loud splash and Yata was there in front of him, kneeling in the tub fully clothed and staring at Fushimi with a steady gaze, reaching out with one hand to grasp Fushimi's chin and force him to match that stare.
"That's bullshit, Saru." Yata's voice was quiet and forceful. "Did you really think you meant that little to me, that I'd let us break?"
"Tch." Fushimi pulled his head away with an irritated click of his tongue. He was too aware of their closeness and the feeling of the tub at his back made him feel caged in, with no method of escape. "You say that so easily now, Misaki. You had already left me behind, left our world behind. You were too busy staring at that man to even so much as look my way anymore." There was some light of understanding that seemed to be dawning in Yata's eyes and Fushimi gave a mocking laugh. The water felt too hot and he wanted to tear off his skin to make himself cool. "You never understood that at all, did you Misaki? How utterly miserable that place was for me."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Yata lowered his head and his fists clenched. "Saruhiko…if you weren't happy, why didn't you just tell me that?"
"And you would have listened," Fushimi scoffed. "You really are all the same. Such cheap little words. 'Happiness.' 'Family.' It was so easy to break them all, and you still act as though they mean something."
"It does mean something!" Yata said forcefully. "You were always one of us, Saru. Even—even if you weren't happy, me and Mikoto-san and Anna and everyone, we always saw you as part of Homra."
"Should I be thankful for that?" Fushimi sneered. "Are you bestowing a precious honor on me, Misaki?" He laughed. "As though I wanted to be. I was always apart from the rest of you, from the very start." He very deliberately raised a hand and raked it across the burn on his chest, savoring the way Yata's wide eyes followed the movement. "So don't patronize me. I don't have any need for Kings or clans. Just another thing that crumbles and leaves nothing behind…and nowhere to go…." Fushimi's hands suddenly felt very cold and he pushed them under the water to warm them.
"It hurts, right?" Yata said quietly, and Fushimi didn't look up. "Saruhiko, I—I get it, okay? The way I feel about Mikoto-san…you didn't feel the same way. And that's fine, you know? I don't understand how you felt about your King either, and that's okay too. But you can't keep letting yourself be like this. You gotta believe in someone sometime, Saruhiko. Nothing's ever gonna stay totally the same forever. If you give up the moment anything bad happens, you'll never get anywhere."
Fushimi didn't answer. His skin looked gray to his own eyes, everywhere but the bloody scars on his arms and the burn on his chest.
"You don't have to believe in me if you don't want to." Yata took hold of him again, made him look up, and even in a sea of gray there was Yata's red hair and bright eyes that had always been there. Even when his world had been nothing but gray there had always been color there, in Yata.
"Your Kings did care about you, Saru," Yata said firmly. "Not just the Blue King, either. Mikoto-san too. Kusanagi-san told me that you disappeared last night. It's freezing out there and it's been snowing all night and you don't even have a damn coat on. But you're still okay, Saruhiko. You're still alive. Do you know why? Because when I found you in the park, you were glowing. Red and blue, two colors. That's what was keeping you warm. So what the hell do you think that was, besides both of your Kings protecting you?"
"That…was…" Fushimi's words trailed off weakly. Yata was bright and full of color and Fushimi could just remember it, being there in the cold and the gray, feeling like he couldn't move or breathe, snow falling around him. He remembered kneeling in the snow, cold and numb, nowhere to go and nothing left to hold on to.
And then there had been two colors in his mind, warm, and even as he'd curled around that warmth he had felt something beyond that — familiar, somehow, two shadows hovering just beyond his range of vision, and a feeling like a comforting hand upon each shoulder.
"You're still here, Saru." Yata was still looking at him, half-soaked and ridiculous-looking there in the tub but not caring a bit, his eyes focused only on Fushimi. "You could've died out there before anyone even knew you were gone. But you're still here. No one's abandoned you, Saruhiko. Even if they're gone, they haven't abandoned you at all. And—and I won't abandon you either. I'm looking at you now, okay? Your Kings protected you long enough for me to find you. So let me take care of you, all right?"
Fushimi looked away, hands clenching, closing his eyes as if doing that could make Yata disappear. And even then behind his eyelids he could still see it: that light, red and blue together, and in the middle of it all Misaki who had always been his world's brightest color.
Something in him that had been tightly wound slowly relaxed, and Fushimi gave a small, quiet laugh.
"You look ridiculous, Misaki." There was no mocking in his voice and Fushimi couldn't help but smile at Yata's sudden baffled look. "You're an impulsive idiot, like always."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one who's been sitting in the snow all night without even a coat on." Yata splashed a little water in Fushimi's face and Fushimi immediately retaliated, soaking Yata's bangs. Yata started to pull back and Fushimi almost instinctively grabbed at Yata's wrist. Yata paused, surprised, and then after a moment's hesitation Yata pressed his own hand over Fushimi's.
"Don't leave." The words that had always been etched in Fushimi's mind somehow seemed to have torn themselves loose and Fushimi almost didn't realize he'd spoken until a moment after the words came out of his mouth. "Don't leave me, Misaki."
"Not gonna leave." Yata gave him a shaky smile. "You have to trust me this time, all right? I'm not going to leave you, Saruhiko. I never planned to. I told you way back, right? If you call for me I'll come no matter how far away I am. So you just have to trust me, and call."
Fushimi didn't reply, not even sure what he wanted to say. The part of his mind that never could be quiet was whispering again, about worlds that broke and people that always left, and there was still gray lingering on the edges of his vision. But in front of him still there was Yata, bright and solid and real, looking at him with a straightforward gaze that made Fushimi feel almost as though he could drown in it if he just let himself go, and Fushimi didn't know what to say.
"Bandages." Fushimi held his arms straight out, his face slightly turned away as he spoke. Yata stared at him blankly. "You said you were going to bandage them, right? So go ahead."
Understanding seemed to dawn on Yata and he smiled, dazzling like the sun, and Fushimi couldn't tear his eyes away as Yata clambered out of the tub and reached for the bandages.
For the first time in a long while Fushimi felt as though he could breathe, and he lay back and let Yata bind his wounds.
...
The computer network had gone down for the third time that day but Awashima couldn't quite bring herself to mind.
The repairs to Scepter 4 headquarters were complete, or at least as complete as they were likely to get. Awashima cast her gaze around the room. Her presentation had been more or less well-received, and she'd managed to procure something of an alliance between Scepter 4 and the two remaining active Kings. Scepter 4 was now nominally under the jurisdiction of the Silver King but it had been made clear in their own private negotiations afterward that the Silver clan would allow Scepter 4 as much autonomy as possible, with the Silver and Red clans only interfering in their work in emergency situations that might require a King's intervention. If a situation occurred where another clan wished to override the protocols of Scepter 4 the three clans would negotiate a solution between them that was hopefully beneficial to all. If nothing else it had been fully agreed that there had been enough fighting and death between the different Kings. It was time to change things.
Perhaps this is something the Captain would want as well. Awashima smiled to herself. It was a pointless wish, perhaps, but she liked to think that maybe this had been the outcome Munakata had ultimately hoped for when he'd turned his sword against the Green King, knowing what would happen afterward.
From behind her Hidaka made a squawking noise as his computer started to spark and the smile turned into a sigh. Scepter 4's building had been rebuilt and their clan restored, but all her negotiating had not quite managed to restore their budget as well. The building was, as Doumyoji had so eloquently complained earlier, "held together with chewing gum and duct tape." Their computer systems were still in poor shape. Enomoto and several of the others were working on that but it was slow going.
Their forces were smaller as well. The entire Special Forces team had returned — she had expected that — and she'd been pleasantly surprised by the number of members from other departments who had returned as well. She'd run into Yoshino Yayoi while checking on the records department and had received a very enthusiastic greeting dampened only slightly by the noticeable absence of one of the other important members of the department. Zenjou Goki's whereabouts had been unknown by the end of the battle with the Green King and remained so, whether he had fallen in battle or had decided that his path no longer involved Scepter 4 was unclear and Awashima had chosen to let the mystery lie for now. If he no longer wished to be part of them she had no desire to push him. She trusted Yoshino would be fine heading the department by herself and Awashima had already decided that any member who chose not to return was free to do so. She might have been their leader now but she was no King. She would not order anyone to follow her who no longer wished to.
The hardest part so far was getting used to being called 'Captain' but Awashima supposed that would come in time. She would have to find herself a new second in command, someone who she could trust to carry out her orders the way she always had for Munakata. There was the matter of choosing a third, as well, but she couldn't deny that she had specific hopes in that department.
And even as the image came into her mind of the person she had seen only briefly since that hectic day before her hearing, she caught sight of a familiar figure hovering in the doorway, posture slightly hunched in a manner that made it hard to tell if he was unsure or simply just bored.
Fushimi had put his coat back on, still tattered even though the bloodstains had been cleaned away, and he was looking around with a hesitance that suggested he didn't quite know what to do but wasn't willing to admit it. Awashima walked over to meet him.
"We will need to get you a new uniform," she said by way of greeting, and Fushimi stiffened slightly in surprise. His features relaxed almost immediately and he looked away from her, slightly sulky in the old familiar way. "And a new sword, I believe."
"…I guess." Fushimi shrugged noncommittally. He couldn't quite meet her eyes.
"I expect good work from you, Fushimi-kun." Awashima kept her gaze steady. "You are, after all, third in command of Scepter 4."
His head jerked up then, as if she had said something entirely unexpected, and she smiled at him. He looked away quickly and clicked his tongue as if to indicate that what she had said hadn't in any way surprised or pleased him.
"Enomoto-kun is attempting to get Scepter 4's computer systems stabilized," Awashima continued. "Unfortunately it seems to be a bit beyond his current capabilities. Therefore, I leave the situation in your hands. The records department is doing their best to salvage what they can from the paper files, but the sooner you can get everything properly stored in the database the better." There was another yell from Hidaka behind them and the slight smell of something burning. Awashima swallowed a sigh. "Start with Hidaka-kun, if you could."
"Yes, ma'am." Fushimi's answer was exactly the way she remembered, politeness just bordering on insolence. He started past her and then paused, hands twitching for just a moment towards his arms and then clearly stopping as he consciously lowered them to his sides. "….I'm sorry."
The words were quiet, almost grudging, but clearly sincere and Awashima stared at him wide-eyed. Fushimi clicked his tongue again, obviously uncomfortable, and continued past her towards where Hidaka was desperately trying to handle his smoking computer. Upon seeing Fushimi he smiled brightly and said something friendly-sounding that Awashima couldn't quite hear and Fushimi answered with words that weren't half as sharp as they normally were. Across the room Awashima could see Akiyama's head shoot up and a smile cross his face as he caught sight of Fushimi. Doumyoji's head popped up from under a desk where he'd been fiddling with cables and he yelled Fushimi's name and waved happily, and was summarily ignored.
Fushimi reached over to take control of Hidaka's keyboard and Awashima could see that his arms were freshly wound in clean bandages, and the one part of her that had still been on edge finally relaxed.
"Captain Awashima!" Someone called for her, and with a confident step Awashima moved forward to answer.
…
Fushimi shifted nervously as he stood in front of the apartment door. There was a key clutched tightly in one white hand.
Work had been more tiring than he cared to admit and he was unused to traveling further than his dorm room just to get some rest. He'd been slightly galled when Awashima had sent him home early, stating she hadn't completely cleared him for active duty yet, but in truth his arms had started aching badly an hour before and he'd been more than a little grateful to get away. He'd gotten most of the computer systems working anyway, and hopefully all his hard work wouldn't end up getting spoiled by idiots in his absence.
The door in front of him was dark brown wood and the sky outside had been deep blue. His arms throbbed, but he didn't so much as touch the bandages that Yata had so carefully wrapped for him.
Fushimi took a deep, steadying breath and turned the key in the lock.
And almost as soon as the door opened Yata was there, jumping up from the couch to meet him, smile the brightest star in the sky and Fushimi thought perhaps he could get used to this after all. It wasn't the same as before — it would never be the same as before, and his arms still ached in memory of the important thing he had lost.
But Yata was here and Yata was smiling, and for the moment that was enough.
"I'm home."
"Welcome back."