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The two clansmen faced each other at the end of an alleyway, anger and annoyance flickering in both their eyes.
Insults were traded as auras clashed, words as well as smoke rising into the night sky.
“Goddamn, fine!” Yata screamed angrily. “I don’t ever want to see you again,” he finished before stomping out of the alley, dragging his skateboard and bat with him.
Fushimi pushed down any feeling of regret or sadness that he had, replacing them with a fake smile and whispering that this is how it should be, Misaki, you should hate me.
When Yata returned to the bar, Kusanagi looked up, surprised. “Yata-chan, are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” Yata whipped his head away from the bartender. “Just a bit mad, that’s all.”
“Ah, it was Fushimi-kun, wasn’t it?”
“Eh-?! No way, that damn monkey-“
Anna poked her head into the bar, before walking and sitting down next to Yata. “...Misaki, what’s wrong?” She asked quietly.
“...I got in a fight with Saruhiko...” He admitted grudgingly, looking at the ground and pouting like a child.
Kusanagi heaved an amused sigh before turning away to mind his own business.
“Fushimi-kun, where have you been?” Awashima questioned as Fushimi walked through the entrance to the Scepter 4 headquarters.
“Out.”
“Where?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Awashima sighed, but stopped questioning him. “Get to the workspace, we need as many hands as we can get.”
Fushimi nodded, following his superior into the room where the rest of the special forces squad was.
The sound of fingers typing on the computer became the only sound in the room as night fell.
“Get some sleep, Fushimi-san,” Akiyama said worriedly. “You don’t want to overwork yourself.”
“Mm.”
Fushimi kept working because there was work that needed to be done. But he had nothing to keep him awake, and he soon passed out, his head resting against the keyboard of the computer.
“I wanted to see you one last time, Saruhiko,” Yata smiled sadly, clutching a fatal wound by his side as he staggered towards the blue clansman.
“Misaki?!”
“You know, even though you betrayed me and everything you’re still my best friend…”
Yata’s eyes slid shut as he limply fell to the ground. Fushimi’s eyes widened as he approached Yata, shaking his body. “Misaki? Misaki?!”
Fushimi’s eyes snapped open to the dark, familiar feel of the room. “…a dream?”
He clicked his tongue as he readjusted his glasses and shut down the computer. After heading into the bathroom to wash his face, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked disheveled, obvious from the lack of sleep.
A month passed without either of them making contact, and both clans started to worry for their well-beings. “Maybe you should talk to Fushimi,” Kamamoto suggested tentatively.
“No way,” Yata refused immediately. “I’m not gonna.”
“Yata-san...”
“What’s got you so on edge recently?” Munakata asked, curious.
“None of your business.”
“It’s that Yatagarasu-kun from Homra, isn’t it?” Munakata smiled pleasantly.
Fushimi clicked his tongue, deciding not to respond instead.
“You know it is vital that we keep good relations with them. Their current king is very young.”
“Whatever.”
“I shall see to it that you make up with him, then.”
“No way, leave me alone.”
To be honest, Fushimi did miss teasing Yata and being able to see him and his reactions. Fushimi pushed those feelings down though, his pride was so great to be allow the fact that Yata wasn’t there to hurt him.
The next day, Fushimi stood outside Yata’s apartment door, shifting from foot to foot. He rang the doorbell, awkwardly standing there as Yata opened the door. “Saruhiko...?” He asked groggily, his hair messy and rubbing his eyes. It was obvious that he had just woken up, and the guilt made Fushimi turn away.
He was about to walk away when Yata pulled his arm, making him turn, and dragged him into his apartment. “Saru...hiko...” he sighed, wrapping his arms around Fushimi’s neck. “You dumb monkey, I didn’t hear from you in a month, I had no idea what you were doing. You never contacted me, I thought you might’ve died... You can’t survive on your own...” Yata whispered, letting go of him and looking at Fushimi’s figure. “You... you’ve been living on coffee and CalorieMate, haven’t you?”
“You aren’t mad?” Fushimi asked, taking off his Scepter 4 jacket and hanging it on the rack.
“Mm. I was, but I guess I was more worried about you.”
“But I’m a traitor and-“
“I don’t care!” Yata cut him off. “I don’t care okay? As long as you’re alive that’s enough. It’s okay if you hate me...” Yata trailed off, tears starting to form as Fushimi stared, unsure of what to do.
“Just don’t leave me anymore, okay?”
Fushimi smiled slightly as Yata leaned against him. “Okay.”