Letter: B
Prompt: Blue (Blue Square, Bruises)
Rating: T
Pairing: hints of Mikida
Characters: Mikado, Masaomi, Aoba
Genre: Drama, General
Summary: Masaomi returns to Ikebukuro only to witness a bruised Mikado involved with Blue Square.
Warnings: Novel Spoilers as of volume 4 onwards, twisting canon, AU, Kuronuma Aoba.

A/N: I was given the prompt "Blue Square" by my own mini-generator list thingy, but it was hard for me to come up with something. I hope this isn't too bad. OH. I also made Mikado sound a lot nicer/better than how he really is in canon during this part of the Durarara storyline. His motives in canon are confusing...so...yeah. Mikado has gone off to the deep end already. Here, I try to keep him "good." Whatever that means. XD

Mikado tried desperately to punch the delinquent in front of him, each of his labored breaths a step to his fumbling destination. Scarred, tremulous hands were curled tightly into tight fists, while sweat trickled uncomfortably between his clasped fingers. But no matter what, Mikado's attempts remained just that: mere, fruitless attempts with no hope, no chance of making contact.

Mikado was fully aware that he was weak in the physical department, which was partly why he was doing this. Mikado was evolving, adapting to the ever-changing dynamics of being the leader of an online gang that conformed to the harsh realty of real life. Unlike the internet, real live people were involved now, not some pictures on the screen that bore fake identities and fake personas. Dollars had become real. Dollars had moved on without him.

So, when Orihara Izaya called and told him to change, when Chikage spoke to him that one fateful night, Mikado made up his mind.

He was going to evolve with the Dollars.

Cleansing those he deemed unfit to share the name was his sole priority right now. He needed to protect the legacy that became such an essential part of him, an extension of his own self. And as for his best friends….

Masaomi and Anri would have to wait for him. There was no other way.

Mikado missed the blonde and the demure girl, he really did. He missed the normal times after school just licking ice-cream at the park or strolling peacefully through Ikebukuro, the little things that he took for granted. He missed that, all of that…Yes. He missed the little things, those seemingly insignificant events that made the world so much more inviting, so much more hospitable when spending it with loved ones.

Not like now. Definitely not like now.

But Mikado knew he made this decision on his own. Izaya and Chikage just helped him see the light a bit more clearly. He knew, deep down inside, that something like this was bound to happen eventually. And in fact, he wanted it.

So, in joining with Blue Square, Mikado erected a shield around himself and countless times, he'd remind himself, that yes, this was all for them. Everything he was doing, the pain, the lies, the blood…it was all for them.

At that very thought, the guilt and shame lingering in the pit of his stomach felt so sharp it was like a physical blow to his chest. Lying to myself? Mikado thought with a frown as another punk pushed his way through the crowd. And at a time like this?…

He really was pathetic. He accepted the next few pain-filled seconds like it was his own, well-deserved punishment.

How did everything come to this?

It seemed like Mikado cursed himself for having such thoughts because a harsh kick to his already bruised chest knocked the breath right out of him. Eyes watering and stinging, he blearily observed Kuronuma Aoba from the sidelines who held an unreadable look on his young face, like he was disinterested in the scene in front of him despite being surrounded by men fighting men, boys fighting boys. He stood out amongst the crowd by doing absolutely nothing, just leaning against the brick wall with a bored look on his face like this was absolutely normal.

And in fact, it was.

This was their fifth outing already, targeting unworthy Dollars' members and providing retribution for acting outside Dollars' conduct.

Mikado almost laughed despite the pain. His ass was being handed to him by the very people he was supposed to punish, and besides, what happened to Dollars having no rules?

Aoba wore the signature bandana that screamed the specific color gang affiliation. The shark's smile…black, soulless eyes, blood red mouth, sharp white teeth….

He too, donned the infamous blue garment and Mikado felt more than anything else the stiffness of the damp cloth wrapped around his neck, choking him and constricting his airways. As a result, Mikado felt lightheaded. Peppered black dots appeared in his vision and he blinked rapidly to dispel them.

W-what is this feeling?

His heart was beating really fast, he could barely see two feet in front of him. All of that amounted to the inconceivable urge, the need to breathe. Breathe, dammit! Breathe!

Eyes squinting through the pain, Mikado finally noticed something from the corner of his eye. For some reason, Aoba was uncharacteristically frantic, his voice carrying strongly across the street and alerting his members. The feminine boy looked angry and confused, eyebrows furrowed and sharp eyes a blazing blue as he pointed and shouted in his direction.

What…?

Then everything turned black.

.

.

.

…was that Mikado on the ground?

Masaomi stared wide-eyed at the scene, body frozen as something tangible in the air wrapped around him like sharp, invisible tentacles. When he noticed the blue bandanas on the people surrounding his best friend, that same something pulled him in the other direction, forced him away while his heart beckoned to its unheeded call.

What should I do, he asked himself, although the answer was painfully obvious.

Stop running away.

Heart slowing down to little pulses, Masaomi pulled back and leaned against the alley, head hitting the brick wall and eyes closing shut. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. Even though he was alone, he could do this.

Snapping his eyes open, Masaomi stepped out from behind the wall, unfazed when some sickly looking teenager wearing a blue bandana looked up and immediately alerted another teenager. The alerted teenager looked really young, like a middle schooler, and his uncanny resemblance to Mikado made Masaomi do a quick double take.

Wait a second…

"Ahh, It's you." the feminine boy said with a peaceful smile. As he did so, the small group of teenagers dispersed, leaving just him, the kid and an unconscious Mikado in the middle of a graffiti-covered alley way.

"How do you know me?" Masaomi asked, perplexed, as his gaze remained transfixed on his best friend. Mikado there on the ground…it was the first time he's seen him that bloody and bruised. The image frightened him, and he wondered with the barest hint of guilt. What the hell's been going on? Was this all my doing?

Lungs currently incapable of functioning properly, Masaomi looked up. When the other didn't reply and instead just stared back at him with that damned smile, he glared at him.

Is this kid connected to Izaya?

It was possible. Not many people knew who the leader of Dollars was…unless he was missing something. And the fact that Masaomi didn't know anything - didn't know enough - made him feel even more responsible for whatever had happened to Mikado in his absence. His heart was literally yelling at him that it was so.

The kid's smile twisted into a smirk. Just like that, and immediately, Masaomi's senses went on overdrive. This boy, who looked a lot like he could be Mikado's younger brother for crying out loud, was dangerous, that's for sure.

"Through Dollars, of course. They have one of the best information networks, after all."

Dollars? What does Dollars have to do with this? Masaomi's eyes pinned themselves on Mikado's peaceful face. Mikado?

Aoba hummed a bit and then looked to the side before checking his cell-phone. After a series of rhythmic clicks and a musical beep signifying the end of his message, the shorter teen walked slowly to Masaomi.

"I must go now, but do take care of him. Mikado-sempai is very precious to me, you see."

Masaomi stared, but doubt and anger suddenly battled their way for control. Anger won out, and so he harshly grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulder, and forced him to look him straight in the face. Masaomi's tight grip on the other's white sweater was trembling. His eyes were piercing and desperate.

"Who are you?" Masaomi asked, not with the snarling rage of one Heiwajima Shizuo and not with the amused curiosity of Orihara Izaya. He asked as Kida Masaomi, as the best friend of the boy lying unconscious in some shady area in nighttime Ikebukuro. Angry, concerned, hurt, confused-

"Who am I? Who are we?"

The boy suddenly stopped, tilted his head to the side inquisitively, and then smiled as if he came up with some brilliant idea. That smile then curled into a wide grin, face angelic as he got up close to Masaomi's face so that their noses were almost touching. And then, like he was talking to a young child, he stated calmly and slowly, smile luminous despite his dangerously dark and cool voice,

"We are Blue Square."

He looked straight into Masaomi's widening eyes with an unflinching gaze.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Masaomi-sempai."

The leader of Blue Square pushed away before glancing quickly at the incapacitated Mikado on the floor. With a curt nod in the blonde's direction, he disappeared from his sight, his face unreadable as his lackeys followed and threw a barrage of questions at the unfazed shorter teen. ("Why did you do that?" "I don't get it!" "Oi, leader—")

Masaomi didn't know how many surprises he could handle anymore. It was too much…Blue Square?

The people who hurt Saki?

He clenched his fists tight as he jogged quickly to the other boy.

What was Mikado doing with Blue Square?

Masaomi was puzzled. He felt betrayed, lost, like he just walked into some alternate universe with no clue as to how to return back to the real world. The assumptions in his head were relentlessly pounding at his skull and the multitude of questions came to mind just as easy as the thoughts that fought back against them.

So when he finally made it to Mikado and saw the familiar green track jacket and the blood and dirt stains that accompanied it, when he saw the goggles on that bandaged head, the blue bandana around the pale neck, he just stood there, taking it all in without a sound.

He shouldn't have run away. He should have been there for Mikado.

Now, his best friend looked like a completely different person, and from what he's assuming, probably acted like a completely different person. What happened in the months he's been away?

Right.

He's been gone for months. And in Ikebukuro, time moved way too fast. A lot had happened in the first few months with him, Anri, Mikado, Celty and all the other people here. He should have known.

Masaomi pushed the doubts out his head, and he actually shook his head to dispel the dark thoughts, all the guilt that was drowning him in a sea of helplessness that he'd originally thought disappeared. Right now, his main concern was fixing up Mikado, who was in really bad shape from what he could see. Just imagining what his skin might look like underneath his clothing…

He tried to ignore all the shoe marks on the white portion of Mikado's track jacket, which did a might fine job of foretelling the numerous injuries his best friend had undergone at the hands of those bastards. But despite the cloud of angst eating away at him, Masaomi was so very relieved that Mikado was breathing. Now, he had to get him somewhere safe…

- Ring Ring -

Masaomi's phone vibrated strongly in his pocket, which quickly caught his attention. Curious, he removed it, eyes widening at the unfamiliar number.

It better not be Izaya.

Luckily, it was a text message. Masaomi didn't he think he had the energy to really talk to anyone at the moment.

He flipped the orange phone open, glanced again at Mikado who was still not moving, and then looked down at the screen in his hold.

Hello, Kida-kun. Welcome back to Ikebukuro. We've missed you~

Masaomi growled and snapped the phone shut. He didn't know the number, didn't recognize it, but he could tell who it was by just reading the message.

Orihara Izaya.

Masaomi pocketed his phone and moved to help Mikado up. Thankfully, the dark-haired teen was shorter and lighter than him. It made things so much easier when he pulled the body next to him, draped the motionless arm across his shoulder and began the long trek to a cheap hotel. A few unsteady steps forward and lamplight blinding him, Masaomi suddenly paused out on the main street.

Gaze fixed on the wretched blue bandana covering Mikado's neck, he made up his mind.

…

The blue bandana was left billowing in the wind.

Masaomi shut the door to the cheap hotel with his foot, not bothering to lock the door until after depositing Mikado on the worn out western-style bed. After doing so, he looked out the blinds to see if anyone had followed him here. After all, it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. He knew very well from experience that affiliation with powerful gangs meant trouble, and that that trouble may lead to possible stalking or ambush.

The blonde closed the blinds and staggered through the darkness before flicking on the intense light that made him flinch and recoil temporarily. Deciding that he should wash his hands and search for a first-aid kit, Masaomi made his way to cramped bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and found a first aid-kit, which was currently in bad shape. Masaomi knew they were limited on supplies, but they'll have to manage until tomorrow at least. Tomorrow they'd have to move locations, if not for the safety of himself, then for the safety of Mikado.

With that thought, Masaomi grabbed the kit and placed it on the counter before closing the mirror door and staring back at his tired reflection. His gaze quickly turned unfocused and blurred since his mind escaped him for a moment, but he managed to turn on the faucet and wash his hands with the ice cold water and cheap soap, performing the motions like he was on autopilot. Robotically, he grabbed a towel and wiped his hands before making his way to Mikado.

Setting the kit on the bed, Masaomi performed a quick once over on the unconscious body, almost hissing as he realized how much pain Mikado might be in. From what he knew, Mikado wasn't used to this type of life. What he might have felt from the injuries, Mikado might feel two or three times as bad. It used to be a joke of theirs when they were little, but Mikado was never the type to get involved in fights. Masaomi would laugh about how if Mikado were to ever get into one, Mikado would definitely be on the receiving end.

"I bet you'd die before hitting someone successfully, Mikado-chan!~"

But now, it wasn't a joke anymore. There were no more jokes. Not like this.

With a sigh conveying all his burdens, Masaomi straightened up the body of his best friend on the bed and began unzipping the green and white track jacket Mikado seemed to be fond of. But when he realized Mikado still had those goggles on his head (strange, why would one even need goggles on the street?) he worked on removing those first, of course, while being mindful of the bleeding head injury on his temple.

Masaomi prayed to god that wasn't fatal.

He then removed Mikado's worn out shoes, which, hell, had blood splattered on them too. And that alone made him realize that this was probably not his first time getting involved with gang fights and Blue Square or whatever the hell Mikado's been doing.

He set the clothes gingerly by the bedside and then began the task of removing his best friend's shirt.

Right, like that would be easy. He was afraid of what he might see on his friend's skin that he always remembered to be pale and clean, unmarred except for a few dark hairs here and there. It bothered Masaomi to an extent that the possibility may be the complete opposite, because from what he knew and remembered, Mikado was definitely not a fighter. Masaomi used to fill that role quite well when they were younger…

Okay, one, two, three. Masaomi braced himself and held his breath before gently pulling the white t-shirt upwards. His hand stilled half way. Bruises, all shapes and colors. A few cuts here and there, abrasions, but mostly bruises covered Mikado's once-flawless skin, creating an ugly map of yellows, purples, blacks and blues.

Not helping himself, Masaomi closed his eyes as the shirt in his hand trembled while pushing the cloth higher and higher until stopping on Mikado's clavicle. Masaomi dared opened his eyes, not surprised when the bruises continued upwards, but then he thought about Mikado's back, memory flashing to the shoe imprints decorating the white cloth from earlier, and he frowned.

Mikado must be in so much pain right now, and to Masaomi, it felt like he should be the one with the bruises, not Mikado, who, although was the Dollars leader - that he knew very well - should not have gotten involved with the brutes in Blue Square.

Strange. The Blue Square he knew was run by Izumi Ran and a bunch of dimwitted, violence-crazed fools. He didn't recall some young boy and his group of friends.

Exhaling through his nose, Masaomi knew he would've known about it, because after all, wasn't he, himself like that kid. Starting a gang with just a foolish teenager at the center, stringing along a group of his friends for the ride?

Masaomi stopped staring at the bruises, but he was at a loss as to what to do now. So, he undressed Mikado all the way to his boxers, and with the meager supplies left in the first-aid kit, cleaned up and bandaged what he could.

Finally done, Masaomi washed his hands and returned to the bedside, dragging the only chair in the room so it sat beside the bed and in front of the night stand. When he noticed Mikado sleeping soundly, he smiled wistfully, for Mikado looked normal at that very moment, like the Mikado he knew, the Mikado he remembered and sworn to protect. And so, with his hand holding on to Mikado's cold one, Masaomi slowly drifted to sleep.

Mikado awoke to a searing headache and a parched dry throat.

Huh. How did I get here?

And then all the memories flooded his head, causing him to sit up in bed with a gasp, breathing erratic and difficult. He then moaned pitifully as the pain all over his body burned without restraint, as his muscles twitched and resisted the sudden movement. What the hell?

Apparently, someone next to him felt the same thing because the next thing he knew, a blonde teenager was cursing as he struggled to get up. In response, Mikado tried to appear unfazed. After all, this person might want something from him, and depending on who this was, he wasn't sure how to react. His mask had slipped for a moment and he almost hit himself for being so weak. This was not part of his plan.

"Mikado?" A blonde head peaked up from his bedside, worry literally leaking from that one uttered voice.

Mikado's eyes widened, and he sat up in bed, now wide awake and pushing into the head board as much as possible despite the pain. Ohgodohgodohgod. He was not expecting this. And with a confused frown, Mikado looked down and finally noticed he was almost naked. Flushing at the strange predicament, horror and confusion also decided to make their grand entrance aside the embarrassment and shame that he was caught in.

"M-Masaomi? What's going on?" He paused and his blue eyes retracted to their normal size. Hand tentatively touching his bandaged head, he asked, "What are you doing in Ikebukuro?"

Masaomi was now standing at his full height, and he moved a few feet away before answering quietly, body facing the window so Mikado could only see the back of his head, though he heard his words clearly.

"I got a message…-from Izaya. And then I couldn't help myself. Something told me to come back. I don't really know, it's actually fucking pathetic once I think about it: Follow your heart and it'll lead you to happiness and all that crap." Masaomi laughed a little bitterly, but then he released a heavy sigh and turned around with that usual smile on his face. "And then that's where I found you. Unconscious in some back alley surrounded by a bunch of people wearing blue bandanas."

Masaomi left some time for explanation, but Mikado gave none. He remained silent, and suddenly the Dollars' leader felt really vulnerable.

"What I'm trying to say is." Masaomi started before sitting heavily in the seat beside his bed. "I don't understand why, Mikado. Why? Who? When? How?"

Mikado got the courage to speak up, but he couldn't talk with how dry his throat was. After all, he had a blinding headache and everything hurt. Oh god, everything hurt. So much more than it should have. Mikado had to no choice to attribute that to the blonde sitting so close to him, whose close warmth was slowly sinking into his bones. Mikado sighed involuntarily.

Masaomi noticed his difficulty and got a bottle of water for him. Wordlessly, he passed the water to Mikado and waited.

"I…Blue Square is under my command."

Masaomi widened his eyes, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline before settling into a hard line. "What's that supposed to mean? I thought Blue Square beat you up or something! They were surrounding you and that freaky smiling kid seemed to know a lot about you too…"

Mikado perked up at the mention. "Aoba-kun?" So this was his doing…he'll have to have a nice talk with him later…

"So that's his name?"

Mikado gave a curt nod. "He's in the grade below us, and uhh…" Mikado gulped. "He's kind of working with me right now."

Masaomi settled back in his seat, scratched his dyed locks in confusion. "So wait…you had your own people beat you up or something?" He paused thoughtfully and then grinned before singing, "Man, I never took you for a masochist, Mikado~"

Masaomi's attempts at making the situation lighter made Mikado smile softly. It was so nostalgic and he couldn't help himself. He really missed his best friend.

Mikado shook his head and looked to the side before saying quietly, seriously. "We were attacking Dollars' members."

"What? I thought you were the leader of Dollars. Why are you attacking your own people? I thought the Dollars was good…" He blinked then focused his eyes intently on Mikado. "I thought it is good."

"N-no! Dollars is good! Masaomi! Listen to me." Mikado sighed, regaining his voice as he met Masaomi's questioning gaze. "That's the reason why I'm doing this. Dollars is good. I'm trying to keep it that way! Being anonymous, being colorless is good and bad. There are criminals murdering, committing crimes under the name of Dollars and I feel completely responsible for it. This is my doing. It was my choice to keep Dollars up and running." He suddenly stopped.

"And Masaomi…I-I just need to do this. I hope you understand."

Masaomi released a heavy breath and then ignored the explanation like it wasn't even said. "Mikado. You should get your injuries fixed. I'm really worried about you. Just…just take care of yourself, okay?"

Mikado smiled before looking down at his tightly clasped fists in the blanket.

"Thank you, Masaomi."

Masaomi turned so he was facing Mikado squarely. He seemed conflicted about something, but then he smiled jovially, though there was something else deep within his amber gaze that Mikado couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Anything for you, Mikado."

The dark haired teen was confused at the weird phrasing but soon continued on with a sad glint to his eyes. "I'm sorry, but it's just not the right time. When all this is cleared up, you, me and Sonohara-san…let's get some ice cream like old times."

"Yeah. I'd love that." Masaomi said and he walked up to the bedridden boy, hesitated for a moment and then pulled him into a warm hug before whispering in his ear,

"I'll wait for you."

And then he was gone.

.

.

.

One week later, Kida Masaomi resurrected the Yellow Flag Orchestra.

END.

A/N: Have any ideas for C? I can't really come up with a proper list to work off of, so ideas are welcomed. :) Also, I'm aiming for fluff/romance/humor etc. next because I need a break from the drama/angst. Concrit is also encouraged. ^^