A/N: WHAT YEAR IS THIS. What is this. What is this! This is the ending of something a long time coming, that's what it is!

This is for you: the commenter, and all the things you ever said.

Three Day Storm

#15: Fear of Falling

X X X

Under the leadership of Shido's mimicry, the group navigated their way through the VR's rocky terrain and back to somehing a bit more familiar. Kazuki couldn't be sure of the exact moment when the virtual mountain faded back to the clinical walls of the Beltline's endless corridors, but a shiver ran down his spine when he realised. For all they knew, this was the VR too.

The group of four had walked in silence for some time now, wary of confusing the delicate senses of the Bat which Shido had chosen to imitate. It'd held for a while even after that, the emotional fallout of the VR experience an underestimated weight on top of the physical exhaustion already looming. It was a long way, from the street to the Beltline, and it hadn't been an easy journey to get there. Kazuki honestly couldn't say he minded the chance to recharge.

Even Ban had been mercifully quiet, bringing up the rear of the group while he tried to fix his glasses. Without any bait laid before him, Shido hadn't been sniping either.

Between the steady rhythm of quiet feet and featureless walls, it wasn't long before Kazuki began to reconsider his verdict. The surreality of this world was beginning to pick away at the edges of his consciousness - what if this was the VR still? An endless loop, inescapable, every door hidden until they surrendered from exhaustion. They'd walk this path forever.

"Kazuki."

And just like that, the moment broke.

With a blink and soft shake of his head, Kazuki found Juubei alongside him. A gloved hand settled on his shoulder and the warmth rolled down his spine, grounding him. Kazuki smiled. "We wouldn't have made it without you, Juubei. Thankyou."

Juubei nodded in return, his smile smaller by nature of his stoicism, but heartening all the same. "We will make it, Kazuki."

Ahead of them Shido came to a stop, prompting the rest of them to do the same. "Look," he said, nodding to something further down the hall. "Stairs."

And so it was. Looking more closely Kazuki could see the hall turned into a crossroads of sorts, a T-junction merging with a stairwell to give them any one of four different paths. "Another test," he said quietly, "Juubei?"

His friend was silent a moment, sizing up the environment with his limited senses. "The stairs are real," Juubei said finally, "We can go any way of the four." A soft grunt from Shido confirmed his words.

Ban snorted, slipping his ruined glasses back into the breastpocket of his shirt. "Figures."

Shido was the first to start walking forward again, considering the options. "We should go up. The city is at the top of the fortress."

"It could be a trap," Kazuki said, trailing after him. "Or a dead-end. The City was never finished."

Ban sighed, and Kazuki could feel him step around directly agreeing with Shido. "Going down's no good."

"Kazuki."

"Kazuki."

The Threadmaster blinked, and the world slipped back into focus. Juubei was frowning at him and, aware that this was the second time he'd lost it like that, Kazuki reached for an excuse. "Sorry," he said, and in turning to his friends he realised he'd wandered into the middle of the junction, ahead of any of them. He'd lost a minute. Maybe more? "I was just -"

There.

Something moved in the corner of his eye.

Kazuki spun on his heel, bells between his fingers in a heartbeat. He felt, rather than saw, the ripple of tension behind him as the other three men followed the cue to arm.

A figure stood before him, halfway up the steps.

Her edges painted with a soft glow, Ren beckoned to him. This way.

"What is it, Kazuki?" Shido barked.

"I don't ... know," Kazuki said. He dropped his guard but couldn't look away – what trick was this? Was it a sign, or the City? Did he dare take the chance, or did it lead them to a trap?

Kazuki's jaw tightened. They were three Kings and a thief. Let the City try. He put one foot forward; Ren smiled. "This way."

"What -" Ban started, "Why?"

Kazuki paused, and pushed against the instinct to look at them over his shoulder. "You don't see her?" he asked, vaguely aware that his voice hadn't raised much from a murmur. He didn't want to be loud, didn't want to do anything that could break this moment. They'd found Ginji by looking for Ren ... maybe this was the path to the Emperor, too.

"Who's there?" Juubei said.

Kazuki couldn't help the smile as he started to walk. "Ren."

"What. - Hey! Don't trust a mirage!"

Shido was definitely less inclined to circumvent agreeing with Ban, hurrying to catch up. "Kazuki –"

Kazuki's stomach lurched at the warning in his friend's voice. "I see her, Shido."

He knew – this high in the Fortress, they had to expect traps, and this ...

But he couldn't name it, couldn't pinpoint the instinct: there was just something there. A quality he couldn't name, something unparalleled by any VR that any engine in the Limitless Fortress could produce.

Shido surrendered the argument before it could even begin, Kazuki had no doubt that a long, silent conversation passed between his friends. Not daring to look back, he pushed on, for fear that showing even the slightest hesitation would destroy the moment – or worse, cause Ren to vanish. A moment passed and he felt them following, falling into formation as he reached the stairs.

Ren flickered, and vanished. Kazuki's heart leapt. Gripping the railing he took the stairs two at a time, flung himself around the landing – and there she was again, atop the next flight. He propped so suddenly Ban almost clipped him, stopping with a short curse.

"What is it?" Juubei asked from the back, and with a start Kazuki realised how quickly they'd moved to catch up. Shit.

Kazuki shook himself. He could not let fear strike the path. "It's fine. We keep going." He began again, hand to the rail. The others followed, and a threat from Ban echoed up the stairwell to Ren. She didn't seem to notice, watching Kazuki intently. That was the moment he figured it out.

This couldn't be a trap.

The City was never this benevolent.

X X X

Lingering on the balcony with Teshimine comes with a silence that is beginning to be suffocating. Unable to take the atmosphere any longer, Ginji dismisses himself and makes for the courtyard on the lower floor. He knows – if not as well as his mentor, then near enough – that it's not wise. He has no way of knowing how well he can defend himself in the Emperor's absence. But Ginji is not a child, and so he does it anyway, giving Teshimine a concilatory wave as he heads for the stairs.

The courtyard is viewable both from Gen's door and his surgery – if he cannot protect himself he will at least leave a trail.

The sky is still heavy, swollen clouds blotting out the cranes which normally loom over Lowertown. The Fortress herself is heavy with floodwater, and there's a steady waterfall on the steps as Ginji picks his way down them. The courtyard is a mess of ankle-deep puddles and dripping eaves and peeling paint. Saturated patches of grass squelch under his shoes.

He is also the only sign of life in any direction. Ginji tries not to shiver, but tucks his hands a little deeper in his jacket pockets anyway. He's not afraid of being alone, not really, but standing in the middle of an open, silent space makes his blood run cold.

In the end he sits on a bench of discarded barrels and planks so wet they've completely bowed, but it's the puddle between his feet that has Ginji's attention.

The face that stares up at him belongs to a man who's never existed.

Without the essence of the Emperor Ginji is certain that he looks ten years younger, his brown hair soft and shaggy without static residue to shape it. His eyes are the same (a little warmer, maybe), but in the end it isn't a face he recognises. His friends reactions make sense, now. They hadn't known he was there, because they hadn't known it was him. It's the memory of Ban's face when they met at the infirmary that jumps out louder than any other, and Ginji scowls.

Had the Emperor really dominated him so much?

The stormclouds growl from overhead. Ginji throws a glare to the sky, but the jump in perspective after three days in bed gives him a rush of vertigo and he ends up bundled over, head in hands and eyes squeezed shut.

"Ginji?"

"I'm okay, Teshimine," he mumbles, waiting for the wave to subside. The boards creak as his mentor settles next to him, and by the time Ginji straightens Teshimine looks like he's been there all along. Slouching comfortably he's got one foot in that puddle as though it doesn't exist at all, as though it and everything else in the Fortress comes second to what Teshimine wants. It's a silent display of dominance that's fascinated Ginji since he was small. He doesn't think he's ever met anyone with a skill like that.

"I want to ask you something, Ginji," Teshmine says, and that odd-eyed stare falls on him.

"What is it?"

"Are you afraid that Ban will fail?"

Ginji's only experienced the Jagan a few times in his life, and when this question sends his heart into a free-fall it's the only thing he can think of to describe the shock. "I – Ban –"

He can't make the words come but Teshimine barely seems to notice, his yellow eyes sliding away to look at the courtyard as he explains. "I believe the Emperor chose you, Ginji, but you allowed him to exist. You have a partnership of strength and skill but also will, and that you are able to exist separately does not mean you should."

Ginji knows he's staring, and his eyes are stinging, but he can't think to interrupt even when Teshimine passes him a glance to make sure he's listening.

"Two parts make a whole, Ginji," the man says carefully.

Ginji runs a sleeve over his face, wiping away the tears that have come uninvited. He didn't ask for this, didn't ask to be cared about and corrected and steered onto the right path. It's suffocating, and it hurts and ... and in that moment, Ginji desperately misses the Emperor's support.

He sucks in a breath, pulls it into the cavity he's only just starting to realise is there. "It's not Ban, Teshimine," he says carefully. "Ban will always win. Only..." His eyes are stinging again, Ginji rubs at them harder this time. He can't stop his voice from going thin, though. "What if it's all for nothing?"

His mentor is staring at him, and Ginji can't bear to meet the look this time. He stares at the muddied ground instead, desperately wills his thoughts to go blank. But they can't, they won't, and all he can think is how it's not if he wants the Emperor back ... but if the Emperor wants him.

Teshimine shuffles a little closer, and in the push of warmth and closeness, Ginji holds his breath against a sob.

"Two parts make a whole, Ginji," he says softly, and all the man can do is bury himself in Teshimine's shoulder.

X X X

To be continued.