Title: Countdown from Seven

Fandom: [K], Project K

Characters: Totsuka Tatara-centric, you may squint to see hints of Mikoto/Totsuka and Izumo/Totsuka. Or maybe pretty much Totsuka/everyone, I dunno. Implied Fujishima Kousuke/Eri c Surt, Chitose You/Dewa Masaomi and Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki.

Disclaimer: [K] does not belong to me, nor do I make any profit out of this work.

Warnings: unbeta-ed, grammar errors ahoy, OOC-ness abound. This is one of those things that explode on me; this was supposed to be seven short drabbles, but yeah. What is short.

A/N: mochijunfan on tumblr wanted some Totsuka+Anna fluff in which Anna is on top of Totsuka (she wants it to be on a bed but I can't recall if there's any bed in the bar? I'm sorry ;A;) and kusaribesamon on tumblr wants Tatara's last seven days, so I thought I'd combine them together. This isn't much but I hope this pleases you guys a little bit! :D

A [K] Project Fanfiction

Countdown from Seven

December 01: Yata gets an apron.

Yata makes a face.

Tatara pauses in stirring the spaghetti sauce; gaze moving back and forth from the red mixture inside the pan and Yata. "No?" he asks in a dismayed tone, before hesitantly brings up the ladle and takes a sip of it himself. His face scrunches up, and Yata laughs.

"No," Yata agrees, grinning. "Some more salt, maybe. What about milk?"

Tatara rolls his eyes. "You put everything in the kitchen that catches your eyes into your cooking, Yata. I don't even know why they still taste good."

"Eh," Yata shrugs, reaching over to turn down the stove. The sauce bubbles up happily at them. "So long as people like my food and I don't accidentally poison anyone." He pauses. "I think Kusanagi-san still has some nuts in the fridge—"

"No, Yata."

"What about some pineapples—"

"No." Tatara laughs, hitting the younger boy on the side of his head with the ladle gently. "Maybe more tomatoes."

He likes being in the kitchen; the mindless cutting and humming as he cooks, the scent of spices hovering in the air, the staccato sounds of knives hitting the cutting board as he cuts down vegetables or meat into bite sizes. He likes having people in the kitchen, too; Izumo's easy company or Anna's observant eyes, Yata's crazy advices that turns out are only making the food more delicious or Kamamoto's curiosity, or, if he's too lucky, Mikoto's silent presence and his occasional requests from the corner of the kitchen.

Yata is the one most often helping him out in the kitchen, though. So Tatara knows a lot of his kitchen habit—that he never wears an apron, that he puts pretty much every ingredient in the fridge, that he babbles when he cooks, and—

"Yata doesn't ever put lots of vegetables in his cooking, does he.."

Yata glances up. "Huh? Oh, yeah—well." He looks back down to the sauce. "Damn Monkey hates them, so I never put lots of them, even back then. Guess that's an old habit."

"Do you know," Totsuka says airily, waving the ladle. "That Cancers are supposed to be caretakers?"

Yata stares blankly at him, then laughs. Tatara grins and offers him more tomatoes to chop up, watches Yata's fingers deftly move with each staccato sound, slicing the tomatoes into haphazard small shapes because he never cares about food looking good anyway.

"I think," Tatara says when Yata accidentally spills some of the sauce on his white shirt, grinning as the younger boy curses. "You should have an apron, Yata."

Yata grimaces. "Ugh, Totsuka-san. That's girly."

"No, it's practical." Tatara replies, because for some reason he just knows that Yata will be spending more time in the kitchen from now on. Also, Tatara loves his apron—a birthday gift from Mikoto, though he's pretty sure Izumo has a hand in picking it out, but still. It's a plain black apron with a very lovely shade of red lines streaking at random across his chest. The fabric is comfortable and easy to wash, too. "Mine's pretty awesome, isn't it?"

"Well, Mikoto-san gave it to you.." Yata trails off, and Tatara can hear the unspoken everything Mikoto-san's got his hand on is awesome, knows how Yata hero-worships Mikoto, but it's not like he can't understand why. Mikoto is a powerful existence, a King who would stand tall to protect his clan, someone to look up on and be proud of.

He smiles, and deftly unties his apron. "I'll give it to you."

"Huh?"

"I can ask King to buy me another one," he pushes the apron into Yata's arms, fixing him a stern look when Yata's clearly about to refuse. "You'll be in the kitchen a lot from now on. Also, when I'm not here, you'll be the one to cook for the others."

Yata blinks. "When you're not here? Where are you going?"

Tatara pauses, blinking back, because he wasn't really thinking when he said all of that, so he simply tilts his head sideways and shrugs. "No where. I have no idea."

Yata's fingers are holding the fabric tight as his shoulders shake in laughter announcing how weird Tatara is, and he joins in.

-o0o-

December 02: They bought a choker for Eric.

The color is an elegant, metallic red that shines under the department store blinding lights. It's leather, smooth under his fingers, and the clasp is easy to undo.

Eric stares.

Tatara says, "do you want this?"

Eric starts. "N-no." He looks down, glances up again at the choker, then shakes his head hard. Tatara suppresses a smile, because a hesitant Eric looks a lot like a drowned puppy."No—that's okay."

Tatara hums. "We can just buy it if you want. It's on sale." He points at the sign—it's seventy percent off, there should be more than enough money left from what Izumo-san has given him to stock the kitchen today. Eric's gaze is following his finger, then goes back to the choker with a conflicted look, before shaking his head again and says, "no. I don't have—the money."

Tatara simply stares, because Eric has been a part of HOMRA for one year and a half, and he still worries about money? "Izumo-san won't mind."

Eric looks scandalized,. "N-no! That's—I can't just. Use Kusanagi-san's." And the look on his face reminds Tatara about where Eric came from, how long he's spent living as someone else's dog, how he's not used to people treating him nicely, how he doesn't know how to carry himself. Eric steps back, and it's funny, because it almost seems like he's trying to hide himself from the choker behind Tatara's back. He tugs on Tatara's sleeve. "Let's go, Totsuka-san."

"Alright," Tatara says, and then they're off going back to the bar, where everyone is loudly discussing this year's plan for Anna's birthday party ("Let's make it a surprise!" Yata announces, which idea kind of becomes a moot point anyway since Anna is in the same room as them). He lets Eric and Akagi take care of the shopping bags, then skips over to where Fujishima stands and says, "let's go!"

Fujishima blinks. "Totsuka-san?"

"Come on, we'll make it a surprise!"

Fujishima tumbles along with him back to the department store, where Tatara proceeds to get the choker and pay for it. Fujishima just stares, then asks, "is that your present for Anna this year?"

Tatara looks at him incredulously. "Of course not. " Then he grins. "Anna's birthday present will be something very special, though I still don't know what to get her."

"Oh," Fujishima says. "Are you buying that with Kusanagi-san's money?"

"He won't mind."

"He won't." Fujishima agrees, still confused. "Are you buying that for me?"

"Yep." Tatara shoves the choker at him, flashes a smile at the girl on the back of the register, then accepts his change. "And you're going to give it to Eric."

Fujishima makes an understanding noise at the back of his throat, dangling the choker before his eyes and examining it carefully. "This is a good one."

"He has good taste," Tatara agrees.

Eric splutters and turns bright red when Fujishima clasps the choker on his neck. Tatara laughs and laughs, because watching Eric protesting futilely is amusing, especially because Fujishima has his deadpan face on.

"I don't need this!"

"You don't have to need it."

"But I can't just—how did you—just, take it back!"

"Didn't you want it?"

Eric glares sullenly, then turns to look at Tatara and glares some more. Tatara stops laughing, turns his grin into a smile instead, and Fujishima bops Eric on the head. "Say thank you," he tells him. Eric's lips tremble a little bit.

"Thank you…Totsuka-san."

"Kusanagi-san, too." Fujishima adds, and Izumo turns from the glass he's polishing, eyebrows tauting in confusion before he looks at Tatara and frowns. Tatara grins. Izumo sighs.

"Well, I suppose it's fine, if it's once in a while." Izumo smiles. "Do you like it, Eric?"

Eric's face turns redder, if possible. "I—uhh. Y-yeah. Thank you."

"It's okay to want something once in a while," Tatara tells him. "Eric should be a bit more honest, okay?"

He catches Fujishima's finger taps on the choker lightly; apparently that's the only reassurance that Eric needs, because the younger boy nods and mumbles, "maybe once in a while."

Tatara thinks the corner of Eric's lips twitches up, though, so that's okay.

-o0o-

December 03: Saruhiko finds a letter.

"I hope it's not a bother," he says to Izumo, to which Izumo shrugs, but Tatara knows that Izumo will say the exact same thing to Awashima Seri, so he really, really hopes it isn't going to be a bother.

He writes about a lot of things, of course, but mostly he writes about Yata, because he knows that's what Saruhiko would want to know the most. Stalking Yata around only gets Saruhiko so much, so Tatara thinks he can help the so-called Traitor to keep up with the news from inside HOMRA. Not the overly secret part though—that's got more to do with Izumo and whatever shady business he has lined up this week.

Tatara writes about the works Yata's been doing, slips some photos of the short boy, introduces the new members and tells about who gets in fights with who, then writes some more about Yata's cooking. He writes of Yata's newfound swear words that don't seem to make sense to him, of Izumo's new drinks and Anna's new dresses, of Yata's neat skateboard moves, of the people Mikoto sees and Mikoto doesn't see. He writes about the past, too, because they're all tied together with memories, and memories legitimately belong to the past. Then he writes more about Yata, tells Saruhiko that Yata sometimes sleep fitfully at night, that Yata is still scared of ghosts, that he thinks Yata misses Saruhiko terribly, but it seems like the Blues have been good for Saruhiko so Tatara doesn't think Saruhiko should come back. But of course, if he ever wanted to come back, HOMRA would always be open for him.

After all, there are people who crave and hold on desperately to bonds and memories like Tatara, and there are those who avoid and terrified of them like Saruhiko.

It's just the way life goes.

Izumo gets a call that evening from Awashima Seri, then he tells Tatara, "she left it on his desk, it seems. He has it now."

Tatara looks up from the book he's reading hopefully. "And?"

"Seri-chan saw him reading it."

That's good, Tatara thinks, feeling relief spreading out his chest and settles warmly in his belly. He leans back and chuckles, then continues strumming his guitar—maybe he can come up with a song tonight. There are words tickling at the back of his mind, begging to be given melodies, and he thinks Anna will like this one, too.

He gets the chance to glimpse Awashima Seri the next day, when she exits their bar. When he comes in, Izumo waves a letter at him, and Tatara's eyes widen brightly.

"Izumo-san, is that…?"

"It's for you," there's a tone of fondness and admiration in Izumo's voice, like Tatara's just won some kind of huge tournament. "I didn't think he would reply, but—huh. It's you who sent the letter, after all."

"I didn't think he would reply, either." Tatara answers cheerfully, fingers working deftly to open the letter. It's short, not even half a page full, but Tatara feels like that would be asking too much, so he settles down and simply reads on. Each word, each phrase, carefully reading them until the end where Saruhiko signs the letter, and then he begins again from the beginning.

Totsuka-san.

This has better be the last time you ask Fukuchou to give me a letter. She gets really frustrating when she feels like she's done me a favor. She's already increasing my workload, it's ridiculous. There's probably another stack of paperwork on my desk tomorrow morning, it's really troublesome so stop. There's nothing between me and HOMRA anymore, so you can stop asking how I've been doing too.

Were you aware that you just gave me blackmail materials? Tell Chitose that if he keeps sleeping around, he'll easily be arrested for public indecency and sexual harassment one day. Misaki is going to laugh his ass of if that happens, though, so I guess that's okay. At any rate, you shouldn't tell me too much about what happens or I'll use them against you.

Those are good pictures. Thanks for telling me about Misaki. Stop asking Fukuchou to give me letters and send them to my house like a fucking normal person instead.

-Fushimi Saruhiko-

-o0o-

December 04: Izumo learns how to film things.

"What's so interesting about this?" Izumo mutters, fumbles a little bit with the camera, and it makes a whirring sound.

"Aaaah!" Tatara frowns. "Izumo-san, please be careful! It's an old-style camera, so I'll have to buy more films for it if they run out." He reaches up to grab the precious camera from Izumo, fingers brushing air when Izumo raises the camera higher. "Izumo-san, come on, give it back."

Izumo makes a thoughtful noise, poking on more buttons, and the whirring stops. Tatara scowls; there goes the precious seconds spent on the ceiling of the bar. "I thought you're not interestedin these kinds of things, Izumo-san."

"I'm not. It just looks so complicated, compared to our phones."

"That's part of the art," Tatara smiles. "You know, when you film something, you have to be careful about lots of things. Like the lightings and angles and focus—wait!" he shoots up and snatches the camera off Izumo's hand when the older man's finger starts poking on the lenses. "Aah, seriously, Izumo-san, the lenses are really fragile so be careful!"

"I polish wine glass every day, Tatara. I won't break it." Izumo answers airily, now making a bridge with his hands and rests his chin on them. "It seems like you've really taken filming seriously. That's good."

"Is it?" Tatara chuckles. "I don't really pay too much attention to techniques when I shoot, though. It's just—when it looks like a good thing, you just want to shoot it, don't you? Then you'll keep the memories safe," he taps the camera softly, "here. I'll show you properly, look."

He gives the camera back. "Hold it like this, steady. This is how you turn it on and—see, it's started recording." He shows Izumo how to adjust the lenses, zooming in on an egg replica. "It's not that different from our phones."

Izumo shrugs. "I'm just glad you stopped bringing weird things into my bar after getting your camera." He turns the camera in his hand, pokes some buttons, shooting Tatara rather closely, and Tatara reflexively covers his face with his hands.

"That's mean, Izumo-san," he laughs, but he knows Izumo doesn't mind the weird things he's accumulated in the bar through all his hobbies. Tatara personally thinks those things give their bar a character—this is the only bar who has egg replicas and bonsai sitting on the counter, after all. Also, he knows sometimes Izumo also polishes the egg replicas and the bonsai pot, too. "Those things have memories with them, too, you know."

Izumo raises an eyebrow. "Why is it that you're so fixated with keeping memories, anyway?"

Tatara shrugs. "I'm the vassal of the King. Shouldn't I be?" He tilts his head, then laughs and drops his hands back. "Izumo-san, it's not recording. What did you do?"

"Ah, what a pity. I thought I got you just now."

-o0o-

December 05: Chitose and Dewa find out that they've hooked up.

The fact that Dewa is head over heels for Chitose is practically an open secret, but the only one who never notices is Chitose himself.

Tatara knows how nonchalant and dense Chitose can be, but considering the amount of time Dewa has been pining quietly while his childhood friend sleeps around—well, then it's just sad. He never does anything, though, because that has never been his role. His role is being the part of the audience, recording every single second of memorable moments. There's no use in poking his nose into people's business anyway.

Dewa bringing a half-dying Chitose back to their bar after a night out is a common occurrence, too. What isn't is that today Dewa seems as smashed as Chitose is—the two of them are stumbling and leaning heavily onto each other when they step into the bar. Izumo makes a displeased sound, tells Yata to get the older duo upstairs so they won't bother other patrons, but Tatara gets up even before Yata move, waving him dismissively.

"I'll take care of them," he says, and Yata grins gratefully.

So Tatara drags the two of them upstairs, into one of the spare room that Izumo keep for the members, then literally dumps Chitose on a couch and Dewa on another. Izumo should be sending someone up to deliver water, but there's nothing better than this time to record into his camera the stupidity of two drunks who don't seem to recognize where they are or who they're with. It's a miracle they make it back to HOMRA.

The camera whirrs pleasantly, and Tatara settles next to Chitose. "Izumo-san is going to kill you tomorrow, Chitose."

Chitose makes a grunt, lets his arm cover his eyes and sighs. "Wh'should I do, Totssska-san…"

"What is it?"

"I—" he mumbles, face going aflame. "I really really love 'im."

Totsuka blinks. "Who?"

"Masaomiiii," Chitose whines. "I love Masaaaa. Wha' should I dooo."

Totsuka glances across, where Dewa is now half-sitting and half-sprawling on the couch, an expression of disbelief and exasperation in his face. "You, wha'—" he slurs, shakes his head, then slumps back onto the sofa. "Bu' I've lov'd you feralong time, st'pid."

"Nooo," Chitose says, then hiccups. "You d-don't. Said Imma troooouble. Alwaysss." One hand flails, trying to grab hold of Totsuka's shirt, and starts sobbing earnestly. Tatara watches, fascinated. "Masa isn' ev'r gonnna loveme back."

"I love You." Dewa announces into the whole room. "I love You."

"Liiiiees."

"I love You."

"Okay," Tatara says, gently prying Chitose's fingers off his shirt. "Both of you should go to sleep, now. You'll forget all about this tomorrow anyway."

And that's true. Because the next morning, Chitose is back to his nonchalant self, and Dewa back to pining silently. Which is weird to see after last night, Tatara thinks, but the two of them most likely forget everything about last night. So Tatara snags Chitose aside and announces to the whole bar, "everyone, let's watch something!"

"Watch what?" Chitose starts, but Eric is already fumbling with the projector and everyone is gathered; Tatara simply dumps him next to Dewa before making his way to sit next to Anna. Then there's Chitose on the screen, drunk and incoherent, saying, "I love Masaaaa. Wha' should I dooo."

It's fascinating to watch Chitose and Dewa's faces turn an interesting shade of red, but it's more fascinating to watch the rest of HOMRA members erupt into celebratory whoops, pumping their fists up in the air, or jumping on their seats. There are shouts of "fucking finally!" and "it took you guys so fucking long!" and "I was about to kill them if they go on longer than this!" that only serves to baffle Chitose and Dewa more.

Tatara chuckles when the two glares at him, turns to Izumo and loudly asks, "no one's using the room upstairs right, Izumo-san?"

"It's empty," Izumo says, and that's all Dewa needs before dragging Chitose away and upstairs, catcalls trailing behind him. When they disappear, Izumo bops Tatara on the head. "If the room stinks after, you're airing it."

"That's mean, Izumo-san," Tatara laughs, because it's worth it, isn't it?

-o0o-

December 06: Anna plays and snuggles.

One of Tatara's favorite moments of the day is sitting on the couch under the blanket, reading a picture book out loud to Anna. Anna will always listen to his story, enraptured and unable to come out of the world Tatara's woven around them, innocent eyes wide and fascinated. He likes that expression.

Anna hasn't gotten a lot of chance to just be a kid, after all.

But today, Anna seems unusually distracted. Tatara closes the book after two pages, inwardly disappointed that his story isn't interesting enough to capture Anna's attention today. He slides the book onto the table, lifts the blanket and pokes Anna on the cheek. "Hellooooo. Anna-chan. Is Anna there?"

Anna starts, blinking for a moment, then turns at him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't look so upset," Tatara chides, lets his fingers pinch Anna's cheek once. He smiles and carefully pats Anna on the head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Anna says too readily. "The story? Tatara isn't going to finish it?"

"Well," Tatara tilts his head, watches Anna does the same, and chuckles. "My number one fan doesn't seem to be very interested in me today. Maybe I should continue it tomorrow."

Anna is silent—she always is, but this is unusual. Tatara inches closer, bends low to search for her gaze. He sighs when Anna pointedly ignores his attempt, so he drops the blanket and straightens up.

Then his arm shoots out to grab Anna by her hips, and the other moves to tickle her on the belly.

Anna yelps and shrieks once, then struggles with all her might to push Tatara away, but Tatara only laughs and laughs and laughs. He pulls Anna into his arms, lets her twist under his chest, pushing and tickling back, feels Anna's shoulders shake hard and guesses that she's trying so hard not to laugh. Anna's head collides with his chin, and suddenly his legs are all tangled with the blanket, Anna pushing him too hard, and they tumbles down, Tatara's back hitting the wooden floor with a loud thud.

"Ow-ow-ow," Tatara chuckles, arms securely around Anna's figure on top of him. "Anna, that was mean."

"It's Tatara's fault," Anna throws back, but her voice is soft and shaky, like she's suppressing a laugh. She shifts and Tatara lets her, dropping his arms back. Anna sits up on his stomach, looking down on him, a lovely shade of red dusting her cheeks. Tatara grins up, makes a giving up gesture by showing his empty palms.

Anna's face slowly goes back to blank as she stares at Tatara. There's silence for a moment before she begins, "Does Tatara remember?"

"Eh?"

"When I told Tatara," she hesitates, something shadowing her eyes. "That if Tatara stays close to Mikoto, he isn't going to live very long."

"Oh," Tatara smiles up. "Yes. Were you thinking about that, Anna?"

The girl nods minutely, then continues, "because the hamster died."

"The… hamster…?"

"At school."

"Oh, I see." Tatara says, because he remembers the way Anna gets excited around pets, around animals, that she can read their minds, and wonders if Anna was talking to the hamster when it died. He raises one hand, lets his fingers play with Anna's bangs before pulling her back down onto his chest.

"Don't worry, Anna," Tatara says cheerfully. "Very long is an indefinite amount of time, isn't it?"

Anna nods.

"So if very long means 200 years, that means I'll at least be alive for another 100 years, right?" he looks down, finds Anna watching him closely. "Isn't that long enough to live?"

Anna looks thoughtful for a second. "It is," she agrees, but her fingers are clutching at his shirt desperately. Tatara smiles and pats her head carefully, fixing the ribbon that's gone askew in their previous tickling competition. Then the corner of his eyes catches a pair of familiar legs, and Mikoto's voice grunts from above: "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Mikoto," Anna says, and Tatara brightens. "King!"

-o0o-

December 07: A hug is the best medicine for Mikoto.

There's the best message ever in his inbox.

The bar is alive and alight tonight, patrons going in and out with laughter trailing behind them. Chitose's taken a spot behind the counter, helping Izumo with the customers, and other HOMRA members are on their usual spots, loud and boisterous but only adding to the warm atmosphere in the dim light. Tatara even gets to sing, once or twice. Anna has done her best to stay awake until his performance is over even though it's way past her bedtime, and in the end, Mikoto has to pluck her off her seat and brings her upstairs to put her to bed.

Then Tatara's phone chimes and he gets the best message ever.

"King," he slides onto the seat next to Mikoto, grinning from ear to ear, his phone secure in his hand. "Did you know, that hugging is a good medicine?"

Mikoto raises an eyebrow.

"Because it transfers energy and gives the person hugged an emotional lift," he reads out loud, leaning forward so that his arms are fully extended on the counter and presses close to Mikoto's side. "Apparently, you need four hugs a day for survival, eight for maintenance, and twelve for growth."

Izumo chuckles as he slides a glass of red wine before Mikoto. "That's a lot of hugs. If that's true, Mikoto, then you're definitely not healthy."

Mikoto's turns at Izumo, one perfect eyebrow raising again lazily as if he doesn't give a damn about being healthy or not, but there's humor and indulgence carved in his eyes and the left corner of his lips are a bit higher then usual. Tatara regrets that he left his camera on the other side of the bar—Mikoto being looser and happier than usual is something he definitely doesn't want to miss.

But there'll be another day, so it's fine.

Izumo juggles the bottles expertly; catching another one that Chitose's just thrown at him. The female patrons on the other end of the bar counter are making high-pitched noises, so Izumo pauses and sends them a wink. Tatara watches the girls practically swoon, amused.

Izumo smiles. "So what else does it say, Tatara?"

"Scientists say that hugging is a form of communication because it can say things you don't have words for." Tatara tilts his head, watches Mikoto sip his drink. "Anna must be giving you a lot of hugs, right King?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Mikoto grunts, fingers lightly shaking the glass to make the liquid inside swirl. It's a beautiful color of light, Tatara thinks whenever the wine catches the dim lighting of the bar, and wonders if he should get up and get his camera. He's too comfortable to move, though.

Izumo chuckles. "Maybe we should make it a routine. Then no one has to yell so much in my bar, because everything is already well said through hugging."

Tatara perks up. "Hugging day?"

The chuckle Mikoto lets out is gruff and low, but it's pleasant to his ears. "They will be too scared to hug me."

"Aw, King, don't sound so bitter," Tatara says happily, and then he straightens up to raise his arms and winds them around Mikoto's broad shoulder. His King stiffens for a second, obviously not used to uch gesture, and from the corner of his eyes Tatara can see Izumo pausing on his movement, looking surprised.

He smiles and rests his chin on the junction between Mikoto's neck and shoulders. One, two, three, four seconds—then one of Mikoto's arm slides up his back and pats thrice, returning the hug.

"And the nicest thing about a hug, King," he says into Mikoto's ear, "is that you usually can't give one without getting one."

Mikoto grunts something he can't catch. Tatara closes his eyes, wishes fervently someone films this, because this is gold, the way Mikoto awkwardly return his hug with one arm, patting him on the back, and it's warm and comfortable and safe, and something is bursting out of his chest like bright fireworks—pride.

He's been right. Mikoto's power is to protect. This man—this man whom he's been trailing behind all these years, is going to be someone big. Someone important. Someone who will leave one strong impression in the hearts of ten thousand.

He releases Mikoto, grins at the stern look Mikoto gives him and dances his way across the room, where he's left his camera next to Eric. Izumo is laughing now, most likely at Mikoto's face, and the HOMRA members are grinning brightly, but most importantly, there's a soft smile playing on Mikoto's lips. Tatara turns on his camera and shoots.

"Okay, since the night is still young and the weather seems perfect, I'm going out to shoot for a bit," he announces, zooming in the faces of the HOMRA members, savoring the warmth on their expression. "I'll be back in a while."

"Yeah, careful," Izumo says, smiling as everyone does—Yata and Chitose and Dewa and Fujishima and Eric and Kamamoto and everyone—and Mikoto raises his glass in an acknowledging gesture, and Tatara—Tatara is happy.

He is unbelievably happy.

"Bye, everyone!"

The door closes behind him, and Tatara has a second to regret the fact that he didn't get to film Mikoto's expression when he hugs him.

But, oh well. That's okay.

There's still tomorrow. There's always tomorrow.

-o0o-

There's never been tomorrow for him.

-o0ofinitoo0o-