Chapter 20
By luck or skill, or most probably a combination of both, Fushimi has managed to not get more than scratches in the chaotic fight with the Jungle players. In the aftermath, his mission was explained to everybody and already the day after he was back in the office as Sceptre 4's third-in-command. With a self-imposed mission of forgetting and making everybody else forget his major, nervous breakdown, he buried himself in work, helping Munakata to collect testimonies about the fight in the Mihashira Tower and to order them so that the picture of what happened was clear. He even went to Ikebukuro to talk with the Colourless clansmen.
In the meantime, he read reports Munakata received from the Gold-clan-controlled medical facility, where the wounded have been taken and were treated. Munakata has asked for updates on all the wounded and thus Fushimi knew that they were all doing well, recovering at a speed expected from clansmen of active Kings. He was one of the very few in Sceptre 4, who hasn't visited Yujiro Benzai, who has suffered some serious injuries when Yukari Mishakuji has cut his way through HOMRA and attacked Sceptre 4.
He wasn't overly friendly with Benzai, so Fushimi didn't see a problem in that. If others did, they didn't say anything, which was perfectly fine with Fushimi. The less they talked with him the less chance any of them would ask whether he was alright. After all, why wouldn't he be? Thinking that one's best friend was dead when they weren't was stupid and merited no further thought or discussion. Why wouldn't Fushimi be fine?
A loud snap brought him back to reality and he realized it was his fault: he broke the pencil he was holding.
Closing his eyes to not see the worried glances around him, Fushimi took a deep breath and reminded himself of the work he needed to do. Jungle servers needed to be located and switched off one by one, the data carefully copied to Sceptre 4's designated servers, detached from the network, erased from the original locations and verified number by number, for any surprises Nagare Hisui might have left. It was an overwhelming task and should be the only thing on his mind currently.
Fushimi opened his eyes when he heard the door to Munakata's office opening. The Colourless King, Mai Ueno, stepped out, followed by the captain himself. Nobody really knew what she was doing, again, in the office. Fushimi expected it had to do with the "project", of rehabilitating Yukari Mishakuji and Sukuna Gojo for life in a society, Munakata has hinted at a few times already.
He scowled at the very thought. During the fight with Jungle, it became obvious that her ability was some sort of ultimate control over people: she could make others do exactly what she wanted, with no way for them to protest. Well, she claimed it wasn't exactly as easy as that but Fushimi wasn't going to be fooled. She has made him obey like a faithful dog, without any thought otherwise. Even now, days after the event, when he thought about what she has made him do and despite his anger at what happened he couldn't think other than that she has been right. She has taken good decisions.
'I believe the time is right, captain,' the Colourless King said. Fushimi couldn't care less, yet still his curiosity got the better of him: the right time for what? Were they going to talk with the J-ranked players finally? Why haven't they finished their conversation in the office?
'Excellent, Miss Ueno,' Munakata replied politely. He glanced around the office. 'Fushimi, you're with us,' he commanded. Fushimi scowled, but switched off the interface and closed the laptop before getting up from his chair.
'Where are we going?' he asked, falling in step just behind Munakata and Ueno as they walked out of the office. Briskly, Munakata confirmed his suspicions: it was the time to see whether they could hope to once release Mishakuji and Gojo. Fushimi didn't offer his opinion on the subject. First of all it didn't matter and second: he didn't like what it said about him and between Munakata and Ueno, one of them would figure it out. Especially if the gossip circulating Sceptre 4 was true and Ueno really could decipher emotions. Hell, if she could she was probably doing it even now, he thought with displeasure.
They took a car and Fushimi took the wheel without hesitation. He wanted something else to think about than the possibility that Sukuna Gojo would walk away free. Nobody said anything throughout the trip. Fushimi, glancing in the rear mirror every once in a while, could swear that Ueno looked nervous. And he tried to not feel satisfied, because surely he was above this kind of petty thinking. Right?
Only upon arrival did Munakata realize that he needed to fill a file for Ueno to be able to access the restricted "cell", the hospital room where Mishakuji and Gojo were kept while they too recovered from injuries that would have been mortal to normal people. Indeed, the doctors suspected that without the outright protection of the Colourless sanctum, Mishakuji would have died on the spot.
Fushimi couldn't quite blame Ueno for that one. She has wanted her own dog to survive and that has apparently been a close call as well. That she wasn't able to manipulate her sanctum to only protect one Colourless clansman was, according to Munakata, perfectly understandable. He has claimed, not that Fushimi has asked, that even he wasn't sure to be able to do this.
'Ah, Fushimi, why don't you go ahead while we fill in the paperwork?' Munakata suggested. 'If the prisoners are too lively, we might not let Miss Ueno to stay alone with them, so please go and verify that for us, will you? They're on the third and last floor, room number six,' he told Fushimi.
'Third floor, room six,' Fushimi muttered and turned around to leave. He heard Munakata asking Ueno about her birthday and parents' names for the file. Her answer was cut by the lift door closing, not that Fushimi cared to hear it. If he wanted information about Mai Ueno it was still freely available from various sources and until the Colourless King decided to, at the very least, quit university, it would remain available.
Maybe not "freely", he amended. He had to hack the university database, but it was so easy it didn't even count as hacking. Come to think of it, they had all that info, so why was Munakata playing the game of asking her? Was it enough to fool Ueno's emotion-reading ability? Fushimi wished he knew exactly what the extent of her abilities was. Could she, in any way, read thoughts? Or did she have to guess them from reading emotions? Could she even guess them?
There were no guards in the corridor on the third floor. Fushimi frowned.
Briskly, he crossed the distance from the lift to door marked with a six and turned the handle, not expecting it to actually move. It did. And Fushimi went through the whole motion of opening the door before the instincts kicked in and he grabbed the hilt of his sword even before looking up.
Five pairs of eyes blinked at him in surprise. Fushimi blinked back, brain swimming in thick, sticky syrup of confusion.
'Cute Mr Uptight,' a young woman with dark brown hair exclaimed after a moment of tense silence passed. Fushimi knew her name only because he has gone to Ikebukuro to talk with her: Erika Karisawa. He knew also that he was definitely never going to get along with her or her partner, Walker Yumasaki, who was also in the room. Neither of them should be in Mishakuji's and Gojo's room. Then again, it clearly wasn't the correct room, because the patients on the two beds were Kuroh Yatogami and Misaki Yata, the latter with a thick layer of bandages around his head.
It was the head-wound, Fushimi thought absently. The data about the injuries of both men, disgruntled to have been put in the same recovery room, crossed his mind without any conscious thought of his part. Apart from the cut on his head, Misaki had a broken arm, broken ribs and a twisted ankle, and many cuts which had surely been inflicted by the green scythe. His report, which he has apparently given freely to Munakata, stated that after hearing the shot he has thought killed Fushimi he didn't remember anything that happened.
'Is that your new nickname, Fushimi?' Izumo Kusanagi laughed, amused. He was sitting in a wheelchair next to Yata's bed. Absent-mindedly, Fushimi remembered his injuries: for some reason Mishakuji mainly wounded his legs, slicing them so badly that the doctors took five hours to sew them back together. He looked well enough, as far as Fushimi could say. Better than the other two, who were still paler than usual, but then again, his injuries have been less life-threatening.
Then a thought struck Fushimi: there was no reason for him to be there.
He turned around on his heel, ready to march out of the room and close the door. He wouldn't slam it of course. Not only it would display his anger, but also it was not their thought that the captain has given him the wrong hospital room number. It was difficult to believe that Munakata would make such a mistake, but it didn't matter: he and Ueno should still be downstairs, filling the damned paperwork.
'You gotta be kidding me, you damned asshole,' Misaki Yata growled angrily. Hearing his voice made Fushimi freeze on the spot. All thoughts disappeared from his mind, making plenty of space for anger and guilt. 'I thought you were fucking dead, do you understand that? Why do you think I gave that annoying King of yours my report? Because I knew you'd read it. Don't you think you owe me at least a visit, damn it?' he asked. Fushimi gritted his teeth.
'That was it,' he said stiffly, not turning back. 'I'm glad you're well,' he added and took a step out, but Misaki obviously wasn't done.
'Go on, run like a coward you are,' he growled. 'But before you go I want you to know that Kamamoto has told me everything.'
Fushimi felt the blood in his veins turn into ice. There was no doubt in his mind as to what Misaki meant by "everything" and the memories from that day came back like a wave of tsunami. For a split of a second, he could feel the disbelief at what the Reds were suggesting: that Misaki was dead, that Misaki has gone blood-lust crazy and charged like a deranged animal. He could even imagine that happen. And he could imagine Sukuna Gojo slice through the reckless vanguard of HOMRA.
Back then he has imagined that scene and he could see it again. And even if he knew now that Misaki was alright, the memory of that overwhelming anguish made him choke on his own breath now. Because he has never meant for things to end like that. Because he and Misaki were supposed to compete and bicker and pretend they didn't care about each other and they were supposed to remain best friends. Because Misaki was Fushimi's only friend even now, after years in HOMRA and Sceptre 4.
'So you can stop pretending that you don't care, Saruhiko,' Misaki said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 'Because me too, I want to make sure that you are alright,' he added.
The words pulled him out of his memories, but at the same time, they annoyed him more than anything else. Because they were never supposed to talk like that. Misaki wasn't supposed to be this kind of caring person. Definitely not in front of others! Fushimi fisted his hands, swirling on the spot.
'Well I am alright,' he gritted out, walking back into the room, ignoring the door behind him slowly closing. 'You're the only one stupid enough to do something like that thinking that a filthy traitor has met the end he deserved. Isn't that what you were thinking just about the whole time while I was in the Jungle?' he hissed, knowing that he was being unfair. But he didn't want to deal with Misaki's sadness and pain. He didn't even want to deal with his own. And he knew he could spark anger back in the stupid hothead.
'Says the idiot who has collapsed to the ground when he stupidly thought when I was dead,' Misaki shot right back, fire blazing in his eyes at having his confession of sorts dismissed so carelessly. 'At least I did something,' he pointed out.
'You little,' Fushimi growled. Before he knew he has moved, he was leaning over Misaki, the front of Misaki's hospital gown tightly clasped in his fist. He had to consciously stop himself from raising the other hand, because damn it, Misaki was still recovering from almost dying and-
He looked so pale and vulnerable. The sharp gaze of his hazel eyes softened as they looked at Fushimi, almost pleading for Fushimi to close the remaining distance between them. And gods, how Fushimi wanted that as well! There were witnesses, yes, but was that a reason enough to deny Misaki? Misaki who has suffered so much for him, who was now raising his good hand, fingers touching Fushimi's cheek gently.
He felt lips against his, warm and pliant, before he fully realized that he has given into that wild desire raging in his chest. Without hesitation, Misaki kissed back and for a blissful moment nothing else mattered. The world melted away, taking all worries and sadness and the conflicting interests with it.
Then, as sudden as the strange feeling has started, it disappeared and the world snapped back into place. Fushimi realized what he was doing and jumped away as though Misaki's lips were burning him. Wait, wait- Misaki's lips?! Why was he even- Why did he-
He tripped over his own feet, but Walker Yumasaki caught him before he fell. And Fushimi slowly became aware of the surroundings. He saw first the shell-shocked expression on Misaki's face, then Kusanagi who looked torn between being amused and completely shocked as well. Then he heard clapping and turned to the other bed in the hospital room. Yatogami appeared as scandalised as Fushimi felt, but that woman-
'Now, now, isn't it better than fighting and shouting?' Erika Karisawa asked with a brilliant smile on her face and stopped clapping her hands. Walker stepped away from Fushimi, who was anyway able to stand on his own and was frowning at the young woman. Something was not right, wasn't it? Didn't he see their enemies, that chaotic day, dropping their fight to make out?
A slow suspicion forming as he watched Erika's gleeful expression made a shudder run down Fushimi's spine. Was that sudden change of heart her doing? He could still feel the touch of Misaki's lips tingling on his and it was sickening that it didn't make him feel sick. This wasn't his normal behaviour by far! With the corner of his eye he saw the Black Dog frown at the woman as well, before adopting a look of resignation.
'I told you that you shouldn't use this on people like that,' the Black Dog spoke in his usual serious and polite tone. Erika's smile changed into a pout. Fushimi processed his words, realizing they were a confirmation of his suspicions. 'It is disrespectful of others to force them into situations they have no desire to find themselves in. Exercising restraint-'
'What the hell have you done to me?' Fushimi yelled, jumping closer to Yatogami's bed. He vaguely registered that Misaki has shouted at the same time, both of them efficiently cutting short what would probably be a long and boring lecture from Yatogami. Not that Erika appeared grateful for the disruption. No. Instead, she smirked at Fushimi.
'You're too uptight, really,' she announced. 'Was kissing Misaki not enough?' she asked and the threat was clear. As the Black Dog paled abruptly, Fushimi stepped back in haste. He didn't want to find out how it felt to kiss another man in such a short- actually ever. And neither did he want to know whether her ability was pairing two closest males or she could choose her targets with more care.
'If you think it's bad, you should know that this is more less her argument every time we argue now,' Walker grumbled. Erika laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, gleefully pointing out that she hasn't yet made good on her threats, so he should not complain.
'Come now, Fushimi,' Kusanagi called out. Fushimi turned to see HOMRA's second-in-command, who looked far too cheerful. 'Take a chair and spend some time with us, tell us how things are going,' he suggested. Fushimi scowled.
'You don't seriously expect me to stay after what has just happened,' he pointed out. Misaki spoke at the same time, something about how he suddenly didn't feel like being too close to Saruhiko. The smile on Kusanagi's face grew.
'I think some catching up from you two is long overdue,' he said, the serious tone not consistent with his expression. 'If you don't want to do it in public I can go away and you can pull closed the curtain between the two beds, although I'm sure neither of you wants a quiet one on one right now,' he laughed at his own joke. Fushimi and Misaki scowled.
'Anyway, we were talking about the manga,' Erika said enthusiastically by the other bed, obviously no longer interested by Fushimi and Misaki. Fushimi hated how grateful he felt for it 'We brought you some more of Black Butler, since you have already read the first three books.'
Seriously, Fushimi didn't care, although it was amusing that the "Black" Dog would read a manga about a "Black" Butler. Whatever that was. It was not amusing enough to make him stay and, from Misaki's expression, he knew that the only thing stopping Misaki from crossing his arms in a proper pout was the cast on his broken arm.
'Whatever, Kusanagi,' he muttered. 'You can't stop me from leaving so spare your breath,' he pointed out.
'Here's where you're wrong Saruhiko,' Kusanagi replied, his voice as gleeful as Erika Karisawa's has been moments ago. Well, not quite as gleeful, but close enough for Fushimi to get a very bad feeling about the situation. 'Take a seat and have a chat with us or I'm going to forward this photo to your boss.'
With those words, Kusanagi showed Fushimi the photo of him and Misaki kissing. That damned- That-
'Fine,' he growled, gracelessly admitting defeat.