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Chapter Text

“That means to you, the Blue King was your king all along!” Yata said fiercely, not daring to look at the Blue as he felt Fushimi lifting his head with a startled intake of breath, and he could feel his cheeks heating up slightly as he declared loudly. “Saruhiko Fushimi of SCEPTER 4 is a stand-up guy in my book!”  He regretted that it had taken him so long to realise both of those facts. How much time had been wasted in pointless hatred because he was too stupid to realise the truth? Because Saruhiko could never put his inner thoughts and feelings into words that Yata could understand? But at least he had realised it now, and Saruhiko was going to be safe he was going to make sure of that, and maybe after all this was over they could…

    The relief disappeared as the floor in front of them lit up with a familiar and hated green light, but it was too late for him to stop, and in the next moment they were both tumbling off the skateboard and hitting the ground hard. He could hear Fushimi grunting in pain as he landed, undoubtedly jarring the nasty looking wound on his leg, but he couldn’t focus on that as he felt cold metal raking his side and sending a sickening flash of agony across his skin. Crying out he was sent flying in the opposite direction, one hand clutching frantically at his side, and he cursed silently as he felt the warm blood against his fingers. However, there was no time to do anything about it as he heard movement from behind him, and he hastily yanked up his sweater to try and cover the evidence of his injury.

    Then Sukuna was rushing towards him once more, and he had to focus on the fight, flipping himself off his board and into a ready position despite the fire that went racing up his side as he jarred the wound. His fingers turning white from the tight grip he had on his staff and he only just managed to bring it up in time to block the scythe as it headed towards him once more. I can’t slow down now. There was no way Fushimi could handle this brat alone right now, regardless of how talented he was and so the Crow just gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Saruhiko is in critical condition…” Sukuna taunted as he studied them both, unfazed by the fact that his attack had been blocked and Yata bristled at his words, barely resisting the urge to glance back at Fushimi. “And your health bar is starting to turn yellow. What will you do?” Yata grimaced slightly at that, refusing to look down at his side where he could feel his blood beginning to soak into his top, and he could only hope that the sweater would cover it, not wanting to turn into a distraction during the fight.

    Scowling at the boy he narrowed his eyes before shifting into a ready position, highly aware of the fact that he was the only thing standing between the Green clansman and Fushimi right now, and that his own clan were still waiting on him to get into position. However, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sympathy for Sukuna, his mind flashing back to how he and Fushimi had been back in high school, before they knew about Kings and clans. Back then everything had been a game to them, because school and their home life had been less than stellar and they had wanted an escape. But we at least had each other...

“Hey!” He called as he straightened with difficulty, carefully holding his staff at the ready as he didn’t trust Sukuna to hear him out.  “Don’t you have any friends to play games with?” He remembered how Yukari and Sukuna had interacted during their encounter on the island, and he doubted very much that the J-ranks spent much time with the lower ranks, so who does he play with? Who has his back?

“I’ve always played solo,” Sukuna replied carelessly, and Yata narrowed his eyes at the calm response, as there wasn’t even a trace of hesitation or regret in the boy’s voice or the slightly vicious grin he was wearing. “It’s a hundred times better than having to deal with weak players who slow me down. I’m strong enough on my own, anyway.” Yata wanted to scoff at that, no matter how often he had boasted of his own strength and his role as HOMRA vanguard he was always aware that he wasn’t alone. That was part of being clan or having friends, he thought as he heard Fushimi sitting up behind him. “The only one who’s fun to play with is Nagare. That’s why anyone who gets in Nagare’s way will be crushed!”

   Sukuna charged towards him, nimbly darting around the blasts of flame that he tried to use to slow the boy down and he growled in irritation as instead he was forced back by the Green’s aura. Watching wide-eyed as Sukuna spun himself around his weapon in mid-air to give himself more momentum as he sprang back towards him, alarmed he tried to bring his weapon up to block the attack only to falter as fresh pain lanced through his side and all he could do was brace himself for the attack.

“Misaki!” Fushimi shouted in alarm, and despite the situation, a warmth suffused Yata at the concern he could hear in the other’s voice. The knife flying past him and forcing Sukuna to block the unexpected attack and retreat was a bonus, and he hastily straightened, not wasting time on thanking the Blue as he trusted Fushimi to understand that much at least as he levelled his staff at Sukuna once more. Sternly squashing the pain in his side as he studied his opponent with narrowed eyes, sympathy and irritation mixing into one, reminding himself not to underestimate him because of his age.

“So, JUNGLE was your refuge, eh…” He asked softly, ignoring the glare he received and not expecting a proper response to that statement, even though he already knew that it was the truth. After all, that was why they had turned to HOMRA in the beginning, using it as a refuge from their previous reality. “You remind me of how we used to be. Even so, it’s time for you to go home, kid.” He didn’t miss the irony of him saying those words to Sukuna, and he was surprised that there wasn’t a snarky remark from behind him, although he could practically feel Fushimi rolling his eyes at his words.

“You’re so full of it!” Sukuna spat, before smirking at them as he added confidently. “I’m still stronger than the two of you put together!” His voice rose to a shout at the end as he charged forward, weapon at the ready and a smug grin on his face, no sign at all that he doubted his own words or abilities and something about that rubbed Yata up the wrong way and he growled angrily as he charged forward to meet the attack.

“Guess again!” He shouted, even more intensely aware of Fushimi’s presence behind him as he added silently. Together, we’re always stronger together, and you’re going to learn that the hard way.  How long had it been since he could think like that about Saru? How long since they had fought together? Yet even as he blocked the blow swinging towards him, deftly reversing the staff and slamming it tip first into Sukuna’s abdomen with flame flaring between them, he knew that the blade would come soaring through the air, and he felt a surge of satisfaction as the blade struck sending the boy to the ground with a pained grunt.

“It’s like old times, fighting side by side with you,” there was a grin on his face as he moved towards the downed Green, the pain of his wound forgotten in the excitement of getting to fight with Fushimi once more.

“It’s not the same as back then,” Fushimi muttered, and Yata’s grin dimmed slightly as he heard the pain in the other’s voice as he got to his feet, wincing sympathetically as he recalled the brief glimpse he’d caught of the other’s injury.

“Yeah, it’s not the same,” he admitted with a hint of reluctance, but he brushed that aside. They could deal with the heavier stuff once they’d dealt with the current situation, and his grin reappeared as he toyed with his staff, gaze focused on Sukuna’s groaning form. “Misaki Yata, Red Clansman, and…” When there was no immediate continuation from the blue, he sighed and scowled before turning to glance across at Fushimi. “Say it!” He ordered, earning a click of the tongue and an exasperated sigh from Fushimi as he straightened his glasses with a frown before reluctantly complying.

“Saruhiko Fushimi, Blue Clansman…”

“…Will take you on!”

“…Will take you on!”

       Sukuna glanced between them for a moment, before gracefully flipping himself back onto his feet and seizing his weapon as green crackled around it and there was a mocking snarl on his lips as he demanded angrily.

“You think you has-beens are so cool?!” Yata snarled at the question, charging forwards with a fierce cry, noting the brief flicker of fear that appeared on the boy’s face as his staff rushed towards him and Sukuna only just managed to avoid the main force of the attack. Leaping back and stepping directly into Fushimi’s path, who had been waiting for that moment, ignoring his injured leg as he readied his knives, spinning himself around in the move that he had used against Misaki so many times before. Let me see you dodge them like Misaki can…

“I’m on a job here, and I can’t waste time playing games with a kid!” He couldn’t resist flicking a glance towards Misaki as he said that, not entirely sure who he was referring to at that moment, although the oblivious idiot missed the glance. However, his attention snapped back to Sukuna as the brat managed to block every one of his knives before they could reach him, cursing his skill even as he had to admire it although he smirked as the boy was forced to duck with a sharp cry a second later as Yata’s staff rushed towards his head.

     The boy swiped angrily at the vanguard before leaping away to put some distance between them, but Yata had foreseen that and rushed in meeting him there, fire flaring briefly as he slammed the staff tip into Sukuna’s side once more before he ducked as he sensed movement behind him.

“Saruhiko!” He shouted as he heard a knife clattering to the floor behind him, aware that the Blue was beginning to flag and honestly not feeling much better himself, but he knew that Fushimi could do this - that they needed to do this.

“Get lost, you old bastards!” Sukuna shouted smacking Yata’s weapon aside and forcing him back a few paces as he began to spin his scythe, green filling the air around him, and the red tensed as he sensed the impending attack. However, just as the boy went to strike Fushimi’s blade took him in the arm, the anger in Sukuna’s expression immediately giving way to shock and pain as he fell backwards. Yata risked a brief glance back towards Fushimi, noting that the other man had fallen to one knee before charging forward with a roar, not hesitating in the slightest as he slammed his fist into Sukuna’s cheek sending the boy flying backwards and through the hole that the Green had created.

   With the realisation that the fight was over he nearly allowed himself to acknowledge the burning pain in his side, knees threatening to buckle. However, just as he was about to give into that desire, he heard Fushimi’s pained grunt as the Blue moved across to join him and he found himself turning so that the injured side was concealed as he could feel that the material was soaked through with his blood by this stage.

“’Go home’?” Fushimi asked as he reached him, but there was no real bite in his voice despite the mocking question, and when Yata glanced at him there was a hint of a smile playing around his lips as he added softly. “Since when did you start giving lectures to kids? What are you all grown up now?”

“Shut up,” Yata grumbled with a huff as he sank to the ground with a weary sigh, ignoring the way the room seemed to move around him for a moment. He had to wait for it to settle before he could continue, and he hoped that Fushimi didn’t catch the brief waver in his voice. “I don’t know if I’m grown-up, but I’m not a kid anymore.” He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt at that realisation, there had been a certain safety in not feeling like an adult, and he felt as though he had just lost a safety net that he hadn’t been aware he was depending on. Although he was sure that Kusanagi-san would appreciate the realisation.

Yata! Hey, Yata! Can you hear me? Where are you?!

“Hey, Kamamoto,” Yata replied wearily, somewhat resenting the intrusion on what had been a moment just between him and Fushimi even if they were a bit too battered to really appreciate it, but he could hear the concern in his friend’s voice, and he wondered just how long the fight had taken. It had seemed short, but he knew from experience how time could be distorted when he was fighting. “Saruhiko is okay.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he made that report, the fear that he wasn’t going to make in time fading away into the background.

“Well, sort of…” Fushimi interjected as he sank to the ground as well.

That’s good news, Kamamoto replied with total sincerity, and Yata grinned even as he struggled to catch his breath. He could remember how shocked he’d been when the rest of HOMRA had been fine with him taking off after the ‘traitor’, and there was a pleasant warmth in his chest as he listened to the blond conveying the news to Anna.  Anna, Fushimi is okay! But please hurry... The relief had melted away into concern which deepened as Kamamoto reminded him that he still had a lot more to do. “We can’t get started unless you get to your floor, Yata!

“Yeah…Got it,” Yata replied grimly, trying to not think about having to fight more with the burning in his side, instead sitting up and looking across at Fushimi in concern as he knew that there was no way the Blue could come with him on that leg, and carrying him like he had before was out of the question.

“Go,” Fushimi muttered after a moment glancing away so that he didn’t have to meet the hazel eyes he could feel boring into him, adding quietly.  “And count me out of this one. Or I’ll be working overtime without pay.”

“But you’re…”

“Who matters to you the most right now?” Fushimi demanded cutting across the weak protest, not wanting to hear the vanguard pointing out his weakness, and he turned hard eyes towards Misaki who had sat back with a surprised look on his face. If the situation wasn’t so serious he might have laughed at the expression.

“Anna,” Yata replied after only the slightest hesitation, wanting to argue that everyone was important to him, especially Fushimi now that they had finally managed to reach some kind of agreement, but he knew that it was Anna that needed him most right now. Still, he was relieved when Fushimi looked unsurprised at the response, with no hint of the old resentment that had flared whenever he’d put the Red King or HOMRA in general first in the past.

“Then hurry up and get going,” Fushimi ordered, before adding sternly. “You do your job. I can get out of here by myself.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself with that claim, or the vanguard, knowing that had been the reason behind the brief hesitation and he sighed slightly as he watched Yata reluctantly turn away. Frowning as he caught sight of the crimson staining the side of the vanguard’s top, but there seemed to be no hesitation in Yata’s movement, so he brushed it aside, guessing that it had come from his own injury when the idiot had thrown him over his shoulder.  Still, he felt compelled to say something as he watched the teen begin to move away. “Misaki…” He was mildly surprised when he didn’t get an angry shout for using that name, instead, Yata just turned back to look at him with a curious expression, and he clicked his tongue before glancing aside. “I’ll think about how to say things so that even a fool can understand.” He didn’t need to look at the smaller man to know that he would have a ridiculous smile on his face.

“Let’s talk some more later!” Yata couldn’t keep the hope and happiness from his voice, aware that he was grinning like a loon but not caring, as that was the closest the prickly Blue would ever come to admitting that he wanted to work things out. He didn’t even mind when Fushimi merely waved a dismissive hand towards him in a shooing gesture, raising a hand briefly in farewell before heading off, his board tucked securely beneath his arm.

**

    Yata waited until he was safely out of the Blue’s sight before allowing himself to sink briefly against the closest wall for support, his board clattering to the ground beside him as he closed his eyes for a moment. It took a worrying amount of effort to reopen them, and he bit his lip as he carefully untied his sweater, wincing as he realised just how much blood was staining his clothes although he knew that some of it must’ve come from Fushimi. Still, it was with trepidation that he lifted his top, hissing as the material caught in the wound, and his eyes were damp when he was finally able to look at the wound. It had been a glancing blow, but it was deeper than he’d realised, and fresh blood was still leaking from it, and scowled as he studied it.

    The marginally more logical part of his mind knew that this wasn’t the kind of injury he could ignore and that he should tell Kusanagi that he was hurt and might have trouble covering the basement, but there was no one else who could fill his place. The Blues were trapped topside, and Fushimi was in no state to fight even if he could get him to agree. Anna’s face flashed through his mind and her declaration that she believed in him - believed that he could save Saruhiko and still do his job as part of the Red clan and it was that faith that made him straighten with a groan. With nothing else that he could use he merely lowered his top once more, before tying his sweater back in place as tightly as possible and praying that he would be able to hold out as long as needed.

    Gritting his teeth, he stepped onto his board knowing that he had already lost too much time and using his flames to propel him he shot forwards, hoping that he wouldn’t encounter any more Greens on the way as he wanted to save what strength he had left until he got into position.

“I’m on my way”, he called through the marble.

**

   His path down to the basement level had been thankfully free of conflict, although several times he’d heard fighting in the distance and he’d had to resist the urge to go and join in, although he was feeling increasingly dizzy and tired which he knew was a bad sign. However, those concerns quickly disappeared as he darted out onto the level he was in charge of only to come face to face with a large group of Greens who immediately turned their masked faces towards him, and he tensed as he felt their aura’s flare as they realised that he was an intruder.

“Tch,” he grumbled, hesitating for only the slightest second before charging forward with a roar, letting his aura out as he slammed into them at speed. The staff was a blur of movement in his hands, the world narrowing down until it was all that he could see, his vision blurred with flashes of crimson and green. He could feel blows and weapons catching on his body, unable to dodge as easily he normally would, and he was silent as he methodically fought his way through. Anna’s words giving him the strength to continue even though at that point all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for a week or two.

What was that Saruhiko said about working overtime?

    It took him far longer than normal to clear them out, and by the time he was done, his chest was rising and falling painfully, and his side was throbbing mass of pain. His entire body was sore and aching, and it was a relief when he let his staff come to rest on the ground, and he tried to ignore how much he was relying on it to keep himself upright and the trembling wracking his body. With difficulty he reached into his pocket, fumbling as he pulled out the marble that Anna had given him earlier, the warm spark in its centre a reassuring sight after all the Green and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it.

“All clear here,” he managed to gasp into the marble after a moment, waiting for Kusanagi’s confirmation before he allowed himself to sink down to rest on the ground. For a moment he stared contemplatively at the marble, longing to ask for help but instead he slipped it back into his pocket and settled in to wait, praying that had been the last of the trouble that he was going to face even though he doubted that he was going to be that lucky. I saved Saruhiko, and I made it to my post. I guess I shouldn’t ask for more luck than that in one day…A small smile crept onto his face at the thought of the Blue. They still had a lot of stuff to work through, even he knew that they couldn’t go from their rivalry right back into their original friendship, but for the first time since Saruhiko had left HOMRA, he had the hope that they could.

**

    He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting, having discovered after a short while that his PDA had been damaged during the fight, something that Saruhiko would probably kill him for later. But eventually, he became aware of a dull rumbling from somewhere in the water plant and with difficulty he forced himself back to his feet, feeling the hairs on his arms standing up on end as power filled the air and he found it hard to breathe as it pressed in around him. So, it’s started, he thought grimly, aware that this was the final ditch attempt to stop JUNGLE. If they failed this time, then there would be no second chance to try this, and it made him slightly uneasy that it was so dependent on the other clans, even if their alliance had proved incredibly successful.

    Uneasy, he paced backwards and forwards, ears straining for any sound of movement and trying to ignore the increasingly forceful tremors rocking the corridor. Finally, there was a muffled warning through the marble, and as soon as he caught the mention of reinforcements, he whirled around and readied himself, blinking as the world darkened for a moment and he had to use his staff to stop himself from falling. Weakly he managed to straighten once the world came back into focus, swallowing hard and grimacing as he realised that he could taste copper on his tongue. You better hurry up if you want to fight me, he couldn’t help but think before scolding himself for thinking like that. Anna needed him to hold this position, and that was what he was going to do.

    It didn’t take long for him to pick up on the sound of running feet and he narrowed his eyes, swinging his staff in front of himself and beginning to spin it around, wrapping his red around it just as the Green’s burst into the corridor and managing to deflect the first bombardment without losing his position. Then they were on him, and he couldn’t fight back a sharp cry as someone caught his injured side, sinking to his knees as his vision went completely for a moment, and he was distantly aware of blows raining down on him from all directions. For a moment he contemplated just staying there, sensing that unconsciousness wasn’t far away and desperately wanting a respite from the pain engulfing his side. But then his usual stubbornness kicked in, and somehow, he found his way back to his feet, blindly swiping from side to side to clear a path.

    There was a definite tilt to his body as he finally managed to clear his vision to the point where he could fight, struggling not to panic as he realised just how outnumbered he was, the only comfort he could take from that was that it meant that hopefully, Anna was facing fewer opponents. Not that it would help him, and his lips were pressed into a grim line as he forced himself to move, knowing that if he went down again, then he wouldn’t be getting up again. Saruhiko won’t let me live it down if I get beaten here, he thought, trying to rile himself up, but it was hard to do with Fushimi’s promise and softer than usual expression in the back of his mind. Stupid monkey…

     Somehow, he managed to clear the group, and while he was certain that no one had managed to make it past him, he was certain that several of the Greens had fled to higher levels and he just hoped that the others would be able to deal with them. There was no way he could chase after them, even if he could or if he was inclined to leave his post. Wearily he staggered across to the wall, sinking down against it as he doubted his ability to keep himself upright much longer. At least this way he could keep watch and hopefully stay conscious, although his vision was dimming around the edges worse than before, and he found himself having to struggle to keep his eyes open. He contemplated contacting one of the others, just so that he would have someone to talk to, and to help him stay awake. But he knew that none of them would miss his shortness of breath or the pain he was certain that he would no longer be able to hide and so he settled in and hoped that the silence wouldn’t send him to sleep.

*

   He must’ve dozed off or passed out for a couple of minutes, because he jolted awake as the entire structure gave a terrifying shake as there was a deafening crash from somewhere down below, and he hastily shot to his feet.

“What the…?” He asked blearily, trailing off as there was an ominous crack from above him and he glanced upwards only to curse in alarm, throwing himself to the side just as a large piece of the ceiling gave away. It shattered as it hit the ground where he had been seconds before, and he grunted with pain as he was showered with debris. For a couple of minutes, he lay where he’d landed, stunned and breathless from the pain that the evasive movement had caused. Eventually, he cautiously lifted himself into a semi-upright position, blinking as he realised that much of the ceiling had given away during that explosion and he swallowed hard at the thought of being buried alive down here.

    That thought was enough to propel him back to his feet, although he swayed as though drunk as the world swam around him, and he nearly fell as he moved forwards. Hearing a crack beneath his feet, he froze glancing down and cursing at the sight that met his eyes.

“Damn,” he snarled as he glanced down in dismay at the broken remains of his skateboard and staff, knowing that he should be glad that he hadn’t been shattered into pieces, but also aware that it now left him at a distinct disadvantage if anyone else came down to try and interfere. Not that he was in any state to fight he had to admit as he risked a glance down at himself, paling as he realised just how much blood was soaked into the side of his top by this point. And for the first time, he acknowledged that he was going to be lucky to make it out of here alive, his eyes stinging slightly at that thought, and he found himself sinking awkwardly down onto his knees. Hurry up, he pleaded silently with the Silver King, wishing that he fully understood what the man was trying to do and that he knew how things were going above him. Please…

*

    The tremors continued, and he gradually became aware of the fact that his aura was beginning to weaken somewhat, and while he knew some of that could be from his injuries, he guessed that meant that the slates had either been destroyed already or were slowly losing power. Part of him wanted to shout in protest at the idea of losing even a little of his Red, let alone the possibility of losing all of it, but he knew that Anna had long since accepted that outcome, and how could he protest if she was willing to accept it without complaint? Hah, guess I really must be growing up, he thought with a slightly bitter laugh as he recalled how Kusanagi had scolded him for his reaction to Mikoto’s death.

     Yata shivered, frowning as he realised that wasn’t a good sign, although he couldn’t quite remember why he realised as he tried to marshal his increasingly fuzzy thoughts. He huddled in on himself, biting his lip as he jarred his sore body, and he blinked as he realised that there was an odd dampness on his cheeks. Shakily he raised his hand to brush trembling fingers against his skin, staring at them in befuddled awe as they came away damp with tears. I’m crying? Why? Am I really that scared of dying? Of course, he was - there had been a time when he wasn’t when he was more than ready to die for HOMRA if that was required. But now there was Anna, who would still need them even if she wasn’t a King anymore, and then there was Saruhiko. They’d only just started to talk again, and he wanted to try and rebuild what they’d had.

“I can’t die here,” he whispered hoarsely, not liking how weak and uncertain he sounded, and he scowled before shivering again. Desperately he reached for his marble once more, realising that if he didn’t give in and ask for help now, he might not have a choice in the matter. With shaking fingers, he raised it up to look, nearly bursting into tears as he realised that the brilliant spark of crimson that had filled it before was gone. It was nothing but an empty red marble now, but still, he brought it to his lips. “Anna? Kusanagi-san? Kamamoto?” He tried but there was no response, and his grip tightened around it, was it already too late? “Anyone?” Tears trickled down his cheeks when there was still no response, his arm falling to the ground beside him as he realised that he really was on his own.

    He lay there for a couple of minutes, lost in the feeling of abandonment although he knew that they hadn’t abandoned him. But then he shook his head and forced himself to sit up - if the sanctum was fading or gone that meant that the slates were destroyed, and the plan had worked. He had planned to stay at his post until he knew for sure, but now he was certain that if he did that would spell his death. He still hesitated for a moment, but then he staggered back to his feet. However, he only managed a couple of steps before he fell again, coughing as his breath caught for a moment, watching in horror as blood splattered onto the hand he’d raised to cover his mouth. Not yet. I can still get out of here. He tried once more to rise, but this time he couldn’t even make it past his knees. Not yet…

*

    A dull boom in the distance was the only warning he got before more of the ceiling gave way, and only a desperate lunge to the side saved him, although he found himself trapped in place and he panicked for a moment before realising that it was clothes and not his body that was pinned. Whimpering softly, he managed to free himself from his sweater, rolling over onto his back as he realised that there was no way he was going to be able to move anywhere else. A soft crunch met the movement, and weakly he tilted his head, eyes widening as he realised that he’d broken the marble that Anna had given him, and he felt a wave of despair as he stared at the shattered glass. How were they going to find him now? If Anna could even trace it anymore.

   Although it might not matter he realised as another quake sent a chunk of the ceiling earthwards a moment later, closing his eyes in a futile effort to protect himself from the dust, coughing as it caught in his throat and he doubled up as fire raced through his injuries as he struggled to get his breathing back under control. This time he made no move to rise to his feet, knowing that he lacked the strength. Besides it was hard to focus enough on anything besides the pain, his thoughts growing just as fuzzy as his vision and he found himself closing his eyes against his will.

Please hurry…

****

    Fushimi glanced anxiously towards the gate for the umpteenth time that minute, shifting uncomfortably and tugging at the bandage that had been wrapped around his leg. The medics hadn’t been impressed with his insistence that he wasn’t leaving until everyone had come out, but Awashima had stepped in and promised that she would personally escort him to the hospital once everything was dealt with. Privately he was convinced that it was her way of trying to make amends for doubting him, not that he had said that thought aloud, nor the fact that in his mind it really wasn’t necessary. He had known exactly what he was getting into and what everyone was going to think of him, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the relieved reactions that had met the news that it had been a smokescreen.

“Tch” he muttered as he glanced across at the rest of the Blues who were still gathered around Munakata, celebrating the close call that had saved their King. They still weren’t clear on what the Silver King had done as none of the Silver clan had reappeared yet, all they knew was that the Sword of Damocles and the Blue Sanctum was gone, although they all appeared to have retained some of their power. Still, it had come only moments before Munakata’s sword would have lost its battle against falling, and it stunned him to realise just how relieved he was that it hadn’t. Damn you Misaki for being able to see the truth before me, now I have to acknowledge all sorts of troublesome things…

     He had already decided to hold the HOMRA vanguard accountable for that, although deep down he knew that he would have eventually reached that conclusion as well. And he felt his lips twitch up slightly as he studied Munakata, the older man looking younger and more at ease than he had since the first incident at the Tower. However, as soon as the King…Former-King? Turned to look at him he turned his head to the side to avoid his gaze. They’d already one overly touching reunion scene where Munakata had explained the truth beyond his ‘betrayal’, thanking him for his work, and there had been concern in the blue eyes as he was sent to be treated for his injuries. In his mind it had been enough that Douhan had been hired to get him out, the rest was just unnecessary and embarrassing although he had found himself unable to say that aloud.

     Ignoring the small smirk he could feel coming from his King he turned his attention back to the gate yet again, small groups of JUNGLE members had been appearing for the last hour, either of their own accord or herded by the odd member of HOMRA and handed over into SCEPTER 4’s custody. But there was still no sign of Anna, Kusanagi or Misaki and he was growing more agitated as time went by. They knew that it was over, but until they and Silvers reappeared, he couldn’t relax. He refused to admit that most of his concern was for a certain idiotic vanguard, the promises they had made just before parting echoing in his mind.

Hurry up Misaki…

****

    Yata’s eyes slowly drifted open again, but his gaze was hazy and unfocused, unable to make out anything past the shadows filling his vision. He coughed weakly, lacking the strength to even respond to the flare of pain the action caused, vaguely aware that everything including the pain felt as though it was coming from a great distance. There was a deep chill creeping over his body, and he felt numb inside and out, and he could feel tears in the corner of his eyes as he realised what that meant. He might be an idiot most of the time, but even he knew that he wasn’t going to get out of this.

   His heart ached at the thought of not getting to see the others again, and silently he whispered an apology to his friends - to Anna, although she would have Kusanagi-san and the others with her, and in time she would forget him. However, it was harder to think of Fushimi, their promises now a painful reminder of what he wasn’t going to get to do, and he wondered how the Blue was going to take his death. Before today he would have guessed that Fushimi would have brushed it off. But I was wrong about everything else…He weakly curled his fingers so that they could brush against his PDA, the last thing that he had received from the Blue and the one thing he had never been able to bring himself to throw away.

I’m sorry Saruhiko. I guess we won’t be able to talk later…

****

    The loss of her powers had been something she had been willing to accept right from the start of their alliance. As much as she adored her red and wanted to cling to the ties it had given her with HOMRA, she had come to admit that now it was more a burden and cause of trouble than anything else. However, as she and Kusanagi picked their way through the rubble down to the basement level, she couldn’t help but curse the loss of her powers, clutching the now useless marble in her hand, and wishing that they had another way of contacting Yata. With time she was sure that she would be able to do limited things, as there was still a dull gleam of red in her world, but she had pushed herself to the limit with helping Shiro, and it would take time to replenish.

   They had been waiting on the levels above for the vanguard to appear, but while the others had checked in on their way to the surface there was still no sign of Yata, and eventually, their concern had reached a level where they could no longer wait. Ignoring the potential danger, they had told the rest to wait for them topside before heading towards the basement in search of their missing vanguard. Neither of them daring to give voice to the silent worry that something might have happened to Yata, even though they knew that he was unlikely to have kept them waiting so long if he was able to move.

“What the hell happened down here?” Kusanagi demanded once they finally managed to find their way to Yata’s station as he glanced around narrowed eyes, taking in the badly scorched walls and floor and the areas of the ceiling that had collapsed. It was clear that there had been a lot of fighting down here, and he could see Greens amongst the rubble that hadn’t been lucky enough to escape the falling debris. He winced in sympathy, they had been hoping to capture most of the Green clan, and he knew that Yata would take the deaths hard even if he pretended otherwise. “Come on let’s find Yata and get out of here,” he urged, glancing uneasily at the ceiling, not trusting the rest of it not to collapse around their ears, stubbornly ignoring the concern rising at the continued silence from the vanguard. It’s Yata, he'll be fine. He has to be fine for everyone’s sake, especially for Anna’s sake.

    Anna was staring around with wide eyes, her expression growing increasingly concerned the further they got and several times he caught her glancing at the marble with an irritated frown. Each time he would squeeze her shoulder slightly, knowing that she would struggle with the loss or reduction in power more than any of them, she would offer him a terse smile of thanks at the gesture and the pattern would repeat. Each time the smile grew terser until it was just a slight lightening of her frown, and Kusanagi was finding it increasingly hard to comfort her as he could no longer deny that something must be wrong.

    They had gone about ten minutes down the corridor when they finally found a trace of their missing Crow. His beloved skateboard lying shattered into pieces beside the scorched remnants of his staff, and they both shared a tense, worried look as Anna crouched to examine it, her fingers shaking as she brushed against the weapon that he had used to defend her so often.

“YATA!” Kusanagi called loudly as he looked around, fear and concern warring for control when there was no response and he shared an uneasy look with Anna. Just where had the Crow gone? As reckless as the vanguard was, this wasn’t like him - maybe he had been forced to find a different way out. Kusanagi doubted that was the case, but it was better than the worst-case scenarios rushing through his mind now, and he turned back to suggest that it might be better for them to stay put rather than wandering around aimlessly when Anna shot to her feet with a shout.

“Misaki!”

“Anna!” Kusanagi shouted in alarm as she darted away from him with an anguished cry, his eyes widening as he spotted what caught her attention and he found himself moving before he was aware of what he was doing. Yata’s distinctive red sweater was sticking out from beneath a large rock, badly singed which was why it hadn’t registered when he’d first looked around, and he feared that the teen might have been caught beneath the rock as well. However, he quickly realised that Anna had moved around to the other side and he followed only to stumble to a halt at the sight that met his eyes.

    Yata was sprawled between chunks of the collapsed ceiling, his body limp and unmoving and his usually bright hazel eyes wide and staring. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, his white top stained crimson to the point where it looked as though it might have been red, to begin with. He looked like he had fought and died hard, and Kusanagi had to swallow back a wave of nausea at that thought, feeling a sob trying to bubble up in his chest.

“Yata-chan…” He murmured as he dropped numbly to his knees beside the vanguard, barely aware of Anna’s quiet sobbing beside him as he reached out with a trembling hand to grasp one of Yata’s, and nearly dropping it as he felt the cooling flesh. Yata…

“Misaki…Misaki,” Anna was whispering between huge shuddering sobs that were rocking her entire body, her hand resting against the vanguard’s face for a second before she reached up and ever so gently closed his eyes, unable to bear his lifeless gaze. Misaki… With a broken-hearted wail, she turned and flung herself at Kusanagi who barely managed to catch her one-armed, pulling her into his side as she broke down completely, feeling his own eyes welling up as he looked down at them both. How naïve had they been to hope that they would get out of here without losses?

But why did it have to be him…?

    He wasn’t sure how long they’d sat like that, waiting for Anna to sob herself out, waiting for the truth to sink in, and waiting for a miracle that wouldn’t happen. Eventually he forced himself to move, knowing that they couldn’t linger here forever and that the rest of HOMRA needed to know what had happened…and Fushimi. His chest tightened at the thought of the Blue, the pair had only just begun to reconcile their differences - he hadn’t missed the joy in Yata’s voice when he reported that Saruhiko was alright, and his heart ached at the thought of having to go topside and tell Fushimi that his rival, and friend was gone. Especially as that would mean admitting it to himself.

“Let’s take him home,” Kusanagi said heavily when Anna finally peered up at him with red-rimmed eyes, feeling far older than his years as he waited until Anna gave a small nod of agreement before carefully slipping his arms under Yata and lifting him gently until he was cradled against his chest. For a moment he faltered, closing eyes at the feel of the limp body, and the still-drying blood that he could feel on his skin and he knew that he would be a mess by the time they got out, and yet that didn’t stop him from drawing Yata closer. Forcing himself to open his eyes he felt dampness on his cheeks as he met Anna’s own teary gaze, nodding slightly before turning and heading back the way they’d come, the girl following silently at his side as she snaked a hand up to gently grasp Misaki’s.

****

    Fushimi had long since moved past concern into full-blown panic, although he mostly managed to hide it from the others who he could feel watching him with worried eyes. The Silver clan had finally reappeared, their King barely conscious and hovering close to death after his efforts to destroy the slate, and they had already disappeared with the medics. However, he’d managed to grab the Black Dog before he left, hoping for at least some news of Misaki, but they hadn’t seen any sight of the vanguard despite coming back up through part of the level he was supposed to be guarding. It didn’t help that the rest of HOMRA was beginning to look more concerned, especially since they’d discovered that Anna’s marbles were out of action.

     He’d tried calling Misaki’s PDA, but it hadn’t connected, although that could have been because of how far down he was, or at least that was the argument that Kamamoto had used when the other man had realised what he was doing. Outwardly he had nodded in acceptance, but inside he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and a side glance had caught the gleam of worry in the other’s eyes that showed that he didn’t believe it either.

Where are you Misaki?

*

    It was nearly ten minutes later that there was more movement at the gate, and he was already moving forward, pushing past HOMRA and his own clansmen when he heard Kamamoto’s voice ring out with relief.

“Anna! There you…” As soon as Kamamoto’s voice had trailed off Fushimi had known that something was wrong, and for a moment he nearly turned around and bolted back the way he’d come as silence spread out across the gathered group, but somehow, he managed to stagger forwards. The first person he saw was Anna, her face streaked with tears and for once looking every bit her age and he swallowed hard even as he shook his head in denial as she turned red-rimmed eyes in his direction. And he took half a step backwards at the sympathy and grief in her expression, even as his eyes unwillingly drifted to the figure that had appeared behind her.

     Not once, not even when he was lost in his anger and resentment had he wanted to see the sight that met his eyes now, and he wasn’t even aware of his legs giving away from him as he stared blankly at the figure that Kusanagi was cradling so gently in his arms. Distantly he could hear concerned voices around him, anguished cries from the rest of HOMRA, but he couldn’t process any of it. His entire world had narrowed down to Misaki -to his Misaki…the never-endingly stupid but lively vanguard, who only an hour or so before had managed to work out the truth behind his actions. To Misaki who was lying still and silent, and bloodied in the HOMRA second-in-command’s arm, his expression surprisingly peaceful despite everything, and looking heart-breakingly young in that moment.

“Mi-saki,” he finally whispered brokenly, desperately wanting someone to turn around and tell him that this was all a nightmare. That it was a lie. He would gladly trade their reconciliation and the new understanding of his own feelings about Kings, just to see those hazel eyes full of life glaring at him. To see the flash of the once-hated crimson around Yata’s fists and hear his obnoxiously loud voice cursing him. “Mi…” He couldn’t even force the name out this time, and he slowly became aware of the tears now coursing down his cheeks, and he reached up to touch them with a shocked expression. When was the last time I cried? However, it only distracted him for a moment, and when he refocused he was stunned to find Kusanagi approaching him, and he found himself shrinking back, if they came closer he would have to acknowledge that this was a reality. “Don’t…”

“Fushimi, I’m so sorry,” Kusanagi’s voice didn’t sound any better than his he noted distantly, trembling as he raised his gaze to meet the older man’s, stunned by the sight of tears streaming down his face as well remembering that he hadn’t allowed himself to cry when Mikoto died.

“How…?” He managed to force past numb lips, not really wanting an answer but trying to put off looking properly at Misaki as Kusanagi crouched down in front of him.

“We don’t know.” Kusanagi admitted, and Fushimi’s gaze focused a little at that confession, his expression darkening as the older man continued. “He was gone when we found him.” He was alone, that made it worse as he knew how much the vanguard hated being on his own. He always had, it was why they had spent nearly every moment together and why he had followed Misaki to HOMRA despite not feeling that he belonged there from the start. I should have stayed with him, he thought bitterly reaching down to press against his leg, only to freeze as a gentle hand settled on his shoulder.

“Fushimi-kun…”

“No,” he forced past gritted teeth, Munakata’s gentle voice setting him on edge and he waited for the man to sigh and move away, but instead the older man’s fingers tightened on his shoulder, and he struggled to bite back a sob as he felt himself threatening to become undone.

“Let it out,” it was a command but filled with such concern that he found himself unable to disobey, and to his dismay the sob he had been fighting tooth and nail rose to freedom, sounding deafening in the quiet that had fallen. It was like a dam had broken, and he let out a broken noise before he finally moved, leaning forward and taking Yata from Kusanagi who seemed to have been expecting the move, although it was clear that he was reluctant to release his hold on the vanguard.

    Feeling Yata’s deadweight in his arms shattered the last of his hopes that this was a nightmare, and he couldn’t bring himself to care about his audience as he let out a low wail, pulling the vanguard against his chest and burying his face against Misaki’s neck as his body shook under the force of his sobs. You promised. You promised that we would talk later, and we were supposed to move forward together. At the time he had thought that he might be the one to break the promise, but never once had he contemplated that it would be Misaki that wouldn’t walk out of there/ His flame was never meant to be extinguished, not like this and not by JUNGLE. It was Fushimi that had been in danger, it was him who should have died in that cursed base - not innocent, idiotic Misaki. Never you. I was never meant to lose you…

“MIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSAKKKIIII!

Chapter Text

Time heals all wounds…

   Fushimi would’ve gladly found whoever had come up with that phrase and shoved those words back down their throat. He had never believed those words anyway, but in the days following the fall of JUNGLE he had heard them numerous times, and slowly that disbelief had developed into a burning hatred. Time could never heal this…it might heal the wound on his leg, although even that seemed somewhat doubtful as he had been warned that he might end up with a slight limp, something that even a week before would have dismayed him but was now bet by cold silence and a blank expression. A week before he had someone to chase after, someone to fight with. A week ago he had still had Misaki, even though they had still been rivals at that point, but I would willingly go back to just being rivals, I don’t need to be understood. I just need him… He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he felt fresh dampness on his cheeks, even after all this time he hadn’t managed to exhaust his tears, and no matter he tried he couldn’t stop them slipping free, and he cursed them endlessly. What use are tears?

    It had been a long, seemingly endless week. SCEPTER 4 was potentially coming to an end as their sanctum faded away completely although their future had yet to be determined, but they were still being rushed off their feet in the aftermath of the chaos with the Slates. Although both Munakata and Awashima had made it a point to visit him in the hospital at least once a day, the pity in their eyes when they looked at him making him want to scream and shout and force them to leave. But every time he came close to giving into the urge he would hear Misaki’s voice echoing in the back of his mind. ‘That means to you the Blue King was your King all along,’ and he would find himself suddenly unable to go through with it, even though Munakata was technically no longer a King, and so he endured their visits speaking little and ignoring every attempt at comfort. He wanted to go home, or at least to get out of the hospital, unable to move past the thought that if they had all been faster in those final moments, they might have got to Misaki in time to get him to the hospital.

He should be lying here not me…

    It had been Kusanagi - a quiet, dishevelled looking Kusanagi with red-rimmed eyes and barely dried tear tracks on his face, who had come and told him that the official investigation into the vanguard’s death had concluded that the main cause was blood loss from a deep laceration to his side. The crimson staining the side of his top when he left me…The realisation that Misaki had been that badly injured right in front of his eyes without him knowing had nearly shattered him. And as much as he wanted to blame the others for not reaching the vanguard in time, that blame had shifted nearly entirely onto himself even though Kusanagi and others had tried to assure him that it wasn’t.

 If I had just noticed, if I had actually commented…

    Mixed in with his guilt and self-blame was a small flicker of anger towards Misaki himself, there was no way that the vanguard hadn’t realised how badly injured he was, and yet he hadn’t asked for help or warned them that he was hurt. Yet he hadn’t been able to cling to that anger, unable to find it in himself to blame the person that had managed to understand him in a way that no one else, even himself, had been able to.

Misaki…

*

   Finally, at the end of the week, he was released with a pair of crutches and a strict command to rest the leg, an order that he swiftly broke as he sneaked out of the hospital without even letting Munakata know that he had been discharged. Originally he had intended to go home and hole up in his lonely room now that he was allowed back into SCEPTER 4 headquarters, with no intention of seeing anyone or doing anything until Misaki’s funeral. Because as much as he wanted to avoid that event, he knew that he couldn’t, that he owed the vanguard that much at least. However, as he stepped into the cab, he had found himself giving HOMRA’s address instead, his chest aching at the thought of the place where all of this had begun.

   From the outside the pub had looked the same as always, as though nothing had changed and he had hovered by the door, awkwardly propped on the crutches as he stared at the handle. It felt almost like if he took that final step and opened the door he would find that all of this had just been a nightmare. That he would find Totsuka playing his guitar on the couch, Mikoto sat in his usual seat and Misaki - idiotic, happy Misaki would be noisily trying to drag him into the centre of things regardless of his protests and scowling face.

Misaki…

   His fingers brushed the handle for a second before he yanked it away, reality seeping back in and he knew that if he went inside, he would be confronted with the fact that everything had changed. It’s over. He was just turning to limp away when the door opened from the inside, and he froze, eyes widening as Kusanagi stepped out, the older man stilling as their gazes met.

“Fushimi?” Kusanagi’s voice was soft, and he looked only marginally better than he had the last time the Blue had seen him, dark shadows under his eyes as he glanced between Fushimi, lingering briefly on the crutches, and the door he was holding open. There was a weary twitch of his lips as he stepped back slightly, and gestured for Fushimi to enter, his tone warmer than any he had ever used on the Blue.  “Come in.”

“No,” Fushimi shook his head, stumbling back a step and hissing as he jolted his wound, although the pain helped to clear his mind and he managed to straighten. Dark eyes stormy as he met Kusanagi’s gaze once more, holding up a hand to stop the older man who was clearly contemplating coming to his aid, although unfortunately, his voice wasn’t as together as the rest of him and to his irritation he found himself tripping over his words.   “I- I shouldn’t have come.” What did I hope to find here? The only thing that ever made it seem like home is gone!

“Saruhiko…”

“Sorry…” Fushimi muttered, flinching at the use of his given name - something that only Misaki had ever really used, even if had mainly been accompanied by insults and curses. Feeling the now familiar prickle of tears in his eyes Fushimi hastily turned around, refusing to show that kind of weakness around the former second-in-command, his hands turning white from the tight grip that he had on the crutches as he moved as fast as he could away from the bar. Running away. Just as you ran away and let Misaki go on to die, a cold voice sneered in the back of his mind, and he nearly stumbled as the world seemed to tilt around him. Then there was a warm hand on his elbow pulling him to a halt, and with a defeated sigh he let go of the crutches so that they hung loosely from his arms.

“Wait,” Kusanagi’s voice was soft, and there was no hint of judgement or anger in his eyes when Fushimi glanced up at him, unwilling to admit just how much the warm hand on his elbow was helping to ground him. Hating himself for finding comfort in HOMRA when his actions and his need to be rescued had robbed them of their vanguard.  “Here…I think you need this more than us,” the older man finally released his hold and Fushimi immediately missed the warmth, although he was distracted by the feel of something being pressed into his hand and he instinctively curled his fingers around it.

“What?” He asked uncertainly, slowly glancing down at what he had just been given and his heart ached as he took in the small key attached to the cheap, bright-red skateboard keyring that he had won years before in the arcade for Misaki. It had just been after the other teen had started skateboarding, falling in love with it to an extent that had startled Fushimi. You kept it all this time? There was the same surprise and warmth that he had felt when Misaki had called him for help when Anna had been taken. He’d always believed that the vanguard would’ve done everything in his power to wipe his presence out of his life and yet here was another fragment that Misaki had apparently hoarded all this time.  “M-Misaki’s key?”

“We haven’t been able to bring ourselves to deal with his flat yet,” Kusanagi admitted quietly, his gaze distant as he glanced back to the pub. It had been hard enough seeing the photos of Yata in the bar, and finding the odd thing belonging to the teen strewn around the building. The thought of going to the tiny flat that the vanguard had called home, being surrounded by everything that had been part of the teen. He doubted that any of them could handle it at the moment, but somehow he knew that Fushimi of all of them would need to do it, he just didn’t know how to put that thought into words.  “But…”

“I get it…” Fushimi cut him off, eyes fixated on the key for a moment longer before he quietly slipped the key away in his pocket before taking a slow step away from the older man and turning to leave. However, he found himself hesitating, his hand hovering by the pocket where he had just stored the key and with a sigh he found himself glancing back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I just wish,” Kusanagi began softly before trailing off with a sigh, and Fushimi stiffened before turning away and glaring up at the sky as his eyes began to burn again, and his voice was glacial as he replied.

“Wishes won’t change anything…” Without glancing back, he grabbed his crutches and began to hobble away, and this time Kusanagi made no move to stop him, although his eyes were sad as he watched until the Blue had crossed a corner and passed out of sight before sighing and turning back towards the pub.

“I know, but wishes are all we have left.”

**

    Fushimi could feel himself beginning to lose what little control he had over his emotions as he stared up at the run-down building that Misaki had called home. There had been numerous times over the past year or so when Misaki had been offered a room in the HOMRA bar or could have taken a nice flat in a better area, but the vanguard had clung to this area. Clung to the first building and flat that they had looked at when they were first starting to plan how they could move out of their homes and in with each other, in the end, they had gone for one in a different area. However, when he’d left, Misaki had been unable to afford it on his own and had moved here instead. Stupid Misaki always clinging to the past, he thought without heat as he forced himself to move forwards, waving off a man coming from the building who made as though to assist him the stairs. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your pity.

    Still, his leg was throbbing by the time he made it up several flights of stairs to Misaki’s flat, leaning heavily against the wall beside the front door to catch his breath. It had been months since he’d last been here - he’d come to try and talk to Misaki. However, in the end, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to knock on the door, afraid that if he did, that the chaotic relationship that they had managed to cling to might be lost, and too unsure of what might remain. Now he regretted not taking that step. How much could have been changed or saved if he had just knocked on the door that night? I’m so sorry Misaki. Feeling dampness on his cheeks as he finally lost the fight against his tears he straightened with a muffled curse, unsure of who or what he was actually cursing this time. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, his vision blurring as he pulled it out and stared blankly at it for a long moment before finally pushing it into the lock, his fingers trembling as he turned it and pushed the door open.

  He hesitated before hobbling over the threshold, feeling like an intruder as he stepped onto the scruffy mat on the inside and carefully pulled the door shut behind him. It was eerily quiet, Misaki had never been quiet - when he wasn’t laughing and talking, he was playing video games or listening to music, and now it just felt dead. Like Misaki, he thought with a bitter laugh as he awkwardly nudged off his shoes and lay them aside, abandoning his crutches against the wall before limping into the living room only to come up short as he stared around with wide eyes. It was like taking a step into the past, and for a moment he was nearly overcome by the urge to turn around and flee. He was barely able to cope with what had just happened, let alone the mess that was their past, but instead, he moved forward.

   The furniture was battered and mismatching, but it gave the room a warm feeling, and he felt the odd sense of being an intruder trickling away, it almost felt like he had come home something he had only felt around the vanguard even if he had tried to deny it. Misaki are you still here? He found himself glancing around wildly even though logically he knew that of course the crow was gone, and he staggered forward trailing his fingers over the furniture, recognising several pieces from their old flat. You sentimental fool, He wanted to scold the vanguard for clinging to these remnants of the past, and yet he couldn’t muster up proper irritation, because just by having them here it meant that the past wasn’t dead - that his Misaki, not the lifeless one in Kusanagi’s arms, but his Misaki was still here. I don’t care if it’s just a memory…

“Misaki…”

*

   Slowly he worked his way through the rest of the flat, finding more and more traces of their old friendship and he’d long since given up trying to wipe the tears off his face, and by the time he finally hobbled into Misaki’s room he was feeling drained and exhausted. However, those feelings faded the moment he stepped into the room, dark eyes darting to the assorted pictures cluttering every surface of the room. Many were of HOMRA, but there was also plenty of the two of them, some as far back as when they had been in school and others showing their time together in HOMRA. Swallowing he cautiously moved across to look at them. We looked happy and innocent back then. So, how did we let it end like this? His gaze locked onto one photo, in particular, it had been taken by Totsuka on the day they had both graduated from school, both of them grinning like loons, excited by the fact that they would no longer be trapped in school. Maybe we should have stuck to school, gone to university or something, avoided getting involved with clans and Kings... But that could never have happened, in one way or another they had both been destined to follow a King.

    Picking up the picture he clung to it as he looked around, taking in the warm orange walls, the piles of abandoned clothing - Misaki had always been a messy person, and they had bickered endlessly about trying to keep the flat tidy when they lived together. Petty arguments. We wasted so much time Misaki, so much time. Turning he glanced at the bed, still unmade from the morning that Misaki had left, only never to return, and he stiffened at the sight of it before he forced his gaze to move onwards. Finally, it landed on the bedside table, and his eyes widened as he spotted the small notebook poking out from under the alarm clock, and he was moving forward before he even realised what he was doing. He had been the one that originally suggested that the hot-head keep a journal, aware of the fact that there were facets of his life that he kept hidden even from Fushimi and wanting to give him something, anything to help him deal with it. Even after all this time, he carried on doing it. Did you never let go of the past Misaki? Fushimi had done everything in his power to block out the past when he left, knowing that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to stay gone, even if he didn’t belong in HOMRA like Misaki did but he regretted choosing that distance now.

    His hand was shaking as he pushed the alarm clock out of the way, stilling as he realised that the notebook was open as though Misaki had been working on it just before everything had gone wrong and he hesitated for a moment before carefully picking it up. In the past, he would never have even contemplated prying in this method, but now it was his only way to keep that last promise with Misaki, the only way he could talk with the vanguard even if it were one-sided.

    I was an idiot…I kept all this stuff so that I wouldn’t forget the real Saru, wouldn’t forget that we were friends before all of this, and yet I couldn’t see that he was still the same person that I grew up with. It took the Blue King of all people to make me realise that…to show me what an idiot I was and the worst thing is, if he hadn’t I would never have worked it out of my own I never would have. What would I have done if Saru died and we never spoke? If we never fixed what went wrong?

I won’t let that happen…no matter what it takes, I’m going to bring Saru out of there and fix this…Wait for me Saru, don’t you dare die before I get there.

    Fushimi’s eyes were stinging with fresh tears as he stared down at the messy scrawl, did you have an idea of what could happen? Nausea welled at the thought that the vanguard might have rushed in, not caring about the risk to himself. You idiot! I wasn’t worth that. I’ve never been worth that. Misaki had absolved him of being a traitor, but deep down he knew that he was. He might not have betrayed Mikoto if Munakata was meant to be his King, but he had betrayed Misaki.

I am a traitor…

   He swallowed hard, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and he turned his attention back to the journal. He had never realised how much Misaki wanted to fix things, and yet it was blatantly clear from this entry and the way he had hoarded the mementoes, and the diary slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers.

“Misaki, why didn’t you tell me!” Fushimi whispered as he dropped onto the bed, his fingers trembling as he clung to the picture, fresh tears trickling down his cheek as he ran a finger over Misaki’s face before his gaze shifted back to the diary lying on the bedroom floor.  “You scolded me for not telling you things. So why…? Why?” Because I was a jerk, and I wasn’t ready to listen to what you had to say. He answered his own question silently and with no small amount of bitterness. I was the reason it broke, and the one that stopped you from having the chance to fix it. How often had he taunted the other, riling him up for a fight whenever he felt the other teen was looking elsewhere or was going to encroach on painful topics.

I was a coward…

    Just as it had that day in the street when he’d seen Misaki, a sob welled up in his chest, painfully loud in the silence and he flinched at the noise even as more sobs followed, shaking his entire body, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to fight them back. But it had been a losing fight from the start, the pain flooding his chest too much for him to bear in silence and slowly he curled up on the bed, hugging the photo against the chest as though it was a talisman against his pain. No longer having to fight against his efforts to suppress them, the sobs welled up freely now, and he clamped a hand over his mouth in a weak attempt to smother the noise even though there was no one there to hear him. To hear his weakness.

    He wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there, sobbing out his grief and frustration, but by the time he was finished, he felt drained and empty. Misaki…His eyes felt heavy, and he huddled around the picture as he gradually let his eyes drift shut, wanting a brief escape from the pain, although he knew that the only thing that awaited him was the same nightmares that had haunted his sleep in the hospital. Dreams of an alternate future that could never be, not without Misaki…

Misaki…

**

    The sharp knocking on the door roused Fushimi from the exhausted doze he had fallen into, and he shot up on the bed, glancing around through bleary eyes as he tried to work out where he was. It was only when his gaze landed on the orange walls and the picture that had fallen onto the sheet beside him that he recalled where he was. His heart ached anew, and for a moment he was tempted to let his eyes drift shut once more so that he could block out where he was, but the knocking came again, and this time it sounded far more impatient. With a sigh he slipped off the bed, nearly falling as his leg struggled to bear his weight, biting his lip to stop himself crying out from the pain as he began to stagger forwards, one hand slipping down and attempting to rub out the dull ache from sleeping in a curled up position.

“I’m coming,” he called as there was another impatient knock, only to come up short as he realised that he had responded as though it was his own house and without knowing who was at the door. After all the only person who should have a clue that he was here was Kusanagi, and possibly the rest of HOMRA, he admitted with a sigh. However, after a moment he forced himself forwards, knowing that he had already given his presence away with the shout. It took him longer than he cared to admit to reach the front door, and he had to lean against the wall for support as he finally reached for the door, immediately regretting it as it swung open to reveal Munakata standing on the other side of the door.  “Captain…”

“Everyone has been looking for you,” Munakata told him sternly, gently pushing his way through the door without giving the younger man the chance to stop him, pausing only to remove his shoes before moving through into the living room and leaving Fushimi with little choice but to close the door and follow after him.

“I doubt that…” Fushimi muttered under his breath as he settled on the couch while the older man settled on the shabby, faded armchair, but he found himself ducking his head under the weight of Munakata’s gaze, and his voice was softer as he added.  “I just wanted some time alone, with Misaki.” With what I have left of him at least…The rational part of his mind knew that he was only making himself worse by being here, and by thinking about staying here. Misaki isn’t here anymore, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this last little bit of the vanguard, even though he could feel Munakata’s eyes burning into him and catching the hint of worry in them when he glanced up at the older man. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not crazy…I’m not…

“Fushimi-kun I…” Munakata trailed off as he caught the lost expression on the younger man’s face and the desperation in the dark eyes. He had never seen Fushimi look like that, and he was worried that if he said the wrong thing he could push him over the thin edge e was moving along. “You shouldn’t stay here for too long,” he settled for saying, knowing that it might be better if he dragged the teen home now before he became too attached to the place, but after everything that Fushimi had done, and what his own prompting to the HOMRA vanguard had cost him he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet…

“I won’t,” Fushimi mumbled but he wasn’t sure that he believed his own words, as his gaze shifted around the messy room so different from his own Spartan home, and he carefully avoided glancing across at Munakata certain that the older man would see the lie in his eyes and decide to tear him away after all. After a long moment, the King sighed and sat back in his chair, already able to tell that the teen was lying, but uncertain of what he could do to help without risking making the situation worse.

“Alright…” He said finally, forcing himself to focus on the other reason why he had come to find the younger man, gathering his thoughts for a moment before adding quietly.  “I came to tell you that Kusanagi Izumo contacted Ms Awashima, they’ve set a date for his funeral.” He carefully avoided saying the vanguard’s name as Fushimi had reacted badly to hearing him say it the other day, and not about to risk it at the time being, especially as the younger man had flinched violently at his words.

“When?”

“Thursday,” Munakata replied quietly. Three days…Fushimi went still as he realised how little time he had left, knowing that once the funeral happened his ability to pretend, to hope that this was all a nightmare would be torn apart. His eyes were wide as he stared at the older man, wondering how he could sound so calm when announcing something that was threatening to tear apart his world again, although he knew that it wasn’t his fault.

“I see,” he forced out finally, knowing that this was something that he couldn’t stop, even though he didn’t think that he would ever be ready to say that final farewell, flinching backwards when Munakata reached out to try and place a reassuring hand on his knee. “Don’t…Please.” It was hard enough to retain his composure around the older man, and he didn’t want to risk falling apart as he had on the day that Misaki had died.

“I will see you there.”

“Yeah,” Fushimi muttered numbly, not even bothering to look up as the older man got to his feet with a sigh before heading to the door without a word, his gaze once more locked on the floor. Munakata hesitated for a moment in the doorway before reluctantly turning away, hoping that he wasn’t making a mistake leaving the younger man on his own, and hoping that some time alone would do what the last few days hadn’t.

Misaki…

****

   The day of Misaki’s funeral had dawned obnoxiously bright and sunny, something that he was sure that the vanguard would have appreciated, although it did little to ease his anger and fear for what the day would hold. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the crow yet, and yet that was what was going to be expected of him. He still hadn’t managed to leave Misaki’s flat despite his promise to Munakata, and he had even taken to yanking on bits and pieces of the vanguards clothing even though they were far too small for him. However, he knew that today he couldn’t wear that and that meant he would have to venture home before then, so reluctantly he let himself out of the flat, carefully securing the key in his pocket as he knew that he would want to come back here after he got through today.

    His dormitory room felt foreign when he slipped inside, and he found himself shivering as he realised that he wasn’t the same person that had last walked out of the door. Gripping his crutches tightly he headed for the wardrobe, completely ignoring the uniform that had been washed and hung on the front of the door, there was no way he that he was going to wear Blue to Misaki’s funeral even if it was probably the smartest thing he owned. Abandoning the crutches, he rooted through the wardrobe, finally admitting defeat and turning back to his uniform although he tossed the blue coat onto the bed, at least without it he could pretend not to be a member of SCEPTER 4.

   Slowly he changed into the smarter clothes, taking his time to fold up his street clothes and settle them neatly on the end of the bed, anything that could be used to waste time, to put off the moment when he’d have to leave. However, eventually, he knew that he was going to have to leave if he was going to be on time, especially as it was taking him longer to get everywhere at the moment. Quietly he retrieved his crutches, cursing the contraptions as he nearly fell over them before steadying himself and heading for the door, thankful that he had a room to himself as there was no way he would be able to deal with any of his fellow clansmen at the moment. He froze as he stepped out of the room, only to find Munakata leaning against the opposite wall clearly waiting for him.

“Fushimi-kun,” Munakata greeted him quietly, and Fushimi blinked as he realised that his King had abandoned his uniform as well, the only sign of his rank and allegiance to SCEPTER 4 was a small badge on his shirt.

“Captain,” Fushimi marvelled at how steady his voice was, especially as he felt like he might fall apart at any moment. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Blinking he shook his head and took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself before asking quietly.  “Why are you here?”

“I thought I’d find you here,” Munakata replied quietly, not taking offence at the harsh edge to the question as he studied the younger man, Fushimi looked paler and more stressed than when he’d last seen him, and he knew that he still hadn’t managed to leave the vanguard’s flat before today. He wanted to broach the topic, but today - or at least this morning wasn’t the time to push him on the issue as it was clear that he was far from ready for the funeral, although he would never admit it aloud.  “Do you want a ride?”

“Sure…” Fushimi agreed with a defeated sigh, knowing that he didn’t really have any other option as it was clear that the older man had no intention of letting him make his own way there, a thought confirmed by the satisfied look on Munakata’s face as he straightened up.

“Ms Awashima has gone ahead, and she’ll meet us there,” he explained as he began to herd the slower-moving teen down the corridor. His consideration setting Fushimi’s teeth on edge although he carefully bit back his irritation, knowing that it wouldn’t help the situation and so he settled for allowing Munakata to lead him outside to where a car was waiting for them.

I’m not ready for this…

*

   When they arrived at the church nearly half an hour later, Fushimi was stunned by the size of the crowd that had begun to gather outside, who were these people? He could see several of the HOMRA members, and he was fairly sure that he had spotted Dōmyōji and Benzai as they climbed out the car, but he couldn’t recognise the majority of the crowd, and it hurt to realise how little he actually knew about Misaki’s life since he turned traitor. If Munakata hadn’t been sat there waiting for him to get out of the car he might have given into the temptation to just turn away and leave. I’m not ready for this. I can’t say goodbye to Misaki just yet, especially not in front of all these people…I…

“Fushimi-kun?” Munakata’s quiet voice broke into his panic, and he turned wide eyes towards the older man, the understanding expression on his face threatening to break the thin barrier that Fushimi had around his emotions, and he hastily glanced away.

“I’m fine,” he muttered as he fumbled for the door, knowing that he had no choice but to get out now, and he heard Munakata sigh behind him before also climbing out of the car. He couldn’t bring himself to glance at the older man as he began to limp towards the crowd, knowing that there was no way that Munakata would have believed his false assurances and desperate to avoid being called on it and he was relieved when the other seemed content to quietly follow behind him.

   Fushimi had intended to stand separate from everyone else. He wasn’t ready to share his grief, let alone deal with anyone else’s. However, before he could find a quiet place to stand, he caught a flash of crimson out of the corner of his eye, and he automatically flinched back. Misaki…Breathing heavily he turned around and froze as he found Anna and Kusanagi heading directly towards him and his mind went blank as he realised that he couldn’t avoid them. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to see her since the day of Misaki’s death, and I’m not ready now. He carefully turned his gaze towards the floor so that he wouldn’t have to see her too-knowing gaze, missing the way that Kusanagi’s eyes narrowed at his reaction or the way that Munakata had taken a step back to give them all space.

“You came…” The I was worried you wouldn’t, was unspoken but clear as Anna halted beside them flicking a brief glance towards Reisi before focusing all of her attention on Fushimi.

“Of course,” Fushimi replied in a deadened tone unable to stay silent in the face of her relief and feeling a very distant flicker of irritation. No matter how unprepared he was for this, there was no way he could have really stayed away, that would have meant abandoning Misaki again.

“Saruhiko,” Anna already had tears on her cheeks, but she managed a weak smile as she peered up at Fushimi before reaching up to gently cusp Fushimi’s cheek and he struggled not to flinch away from her touch. Why? Why are you able to touch me? He had thought that she would hate him - blame him for what had happened to her vanguard. After all, if Misaki hadn’t come after him that day he would never have gone up against Sukuna, all he would have had to deal with was lower ranking goons, and there was no way that, that would have been enough to stop the vanguard. “It wasn’t your fault,” her voice was soft but certain, red eyes glittering as she met his gaze and he blinked, his voice trapped behind the sudden lump that had formed in his throat.

“Anna…leave it at that,” Kusanagi cautioned as he shared a worried look with Munakata, moving forward to lay a hand on her shoulder when she frowned and removed her hand from Fushimi’s face, her eyes darkening as she realised that her words hadn’t helped. “It’s time to go in,” he added quietly as he realised that the crowd was starting to enter the church, his eyes darkening as the lines of sorrow in his expression became more evident and Fushimi who had glanced up at those words swallowed at the reminder that he wasn’t the only one in pain over this. It had been so easy to forget while he was on his own in Misaki’s flat.

“Saruhiko?” Anna asked softly turning back to the teen and catching the lost look on his face, gently grasping his sleeve and tugging on it to try and get him to follow, steadfastly ignoring Kusanagi’s disapproving nod. She wasn’t going to leave him on his own, even if he wasn’t ready to hear her words just yet. “Are you coming in?”

“Y-yeah,” Fushimi managed to find his voice, at last, glancing at Munakata for a moment before reluctantly giving in and allowing Anna to pull him forwards when he realised that she had no intention of leaving him be, numbness settling over him as he quietly mumbled. “I’m coming.”

*

    The service had passed by in a blur as Fushimi had found himself unable to focus on anything that was said after his gaze had fallen on the casket at the front, barely even able to breathe at the realisation that Misaki was right there in front him. Misaki…Munakata had a strong grip on his arm as though worried that he was going to try and rush to the front, and that thought had crossed his mind. However, it wasn’t the grip on his arm that had kept him in place, but the fact that Anna was sat beside him, her face buried against his other arm as she struggled to muffle her sobs. He didn’t feel that he was the person to offer comfort, or that he had any right to even try, yet he didn’t move. The thought that Misaki would kill him if he dared do so making his own tears fall once more. How the hell am I supposed to move on when you’re right there? Barely even a thought away…

    When the service had ended, Fushimi allowed himself to be herded away by Anna and Munakata, the world a distant hazy impression as he knew what they were going to do. Knowing that this even more than the service, than the meaningless words that had just been spoken was supposed to be the moment when he said goodbye. But I can’t. I’m not ready…As that thought formed he tried to pull free and back away, his breathing quickening with panic especially when he realised that they weren’t allowing him to break free.

“Fushimi!”

“I can’t…” Fushimi muttered frantically as he shook his head, unable to look at any of them, not wanting to see the disappointment and disapproval he was sure would be in their eyes. Not wanting to even begin to imagine how Misaki would react if he could see him right now. “I can’t…”

“You need to,” Kusanagi said gently, his heart going out to the younger man, waiting until the wild eyes glanced in his direction before continuing. “I-I’m not ready to do this either, none of us is. But we have to…and Yata-chan would have told us that as well.” His voice was wavering by the end, and the hand that he raised to brush away his tears was shaking, and somehow the sight of that helped to calm Fushimi’s panic somewhat, although it didn’t make the thought of going through with this any easier.

“But…”

“Saruhiko,” Anna was the one who interrupted him this time, her eyes soft as she stepped forward, brushing her hand against Kusanagi as she passed, making sure that she had Fushimi’s attention before she turned her gaze towards the sky as she added softly. “We have to let him fly free…”

*

    The cemetery was both better and worse than he’d expected, Anna’s words still ringing in his ears, and her hand gently entangled with his despite his weak attempts to convince her to let go. And, in all honesty, he needed the gesture, as it gave him something physical to cling to as everything else still felt as though it was reaching him from a great distance. It was only when they reached the isolated corner that belonged to HOMRA, his eyes briefly landing on where Totsuka and Mikoto were buried that the world came back to him. And he almost wished that it hadn’t as he caught sight of the casket being borne towards them and he hastily stepped back so that he was at the back, relieved when Anna didn’t protest the move.

    The crowd here was much smaller, limited to HOMRA, those of SCEPTER 4 who had turned up and he found himself surprised by how many there were, the silver clan carefully keeping in the background and people that he vaguely recognised from either Misaki’s apartment building or the surrounding area. People who knew about his Misaki than he did, but also less, as they had no idea of what had really happened to the vanguard, of what the clans and their Kings really were. Fushimi blinked, realising that it bothered him more than he thought that there was so much of the vanguard’s life that was hidden. Did anyone really know the real Misaki? If he had stayed in HOMRA would he? If they’d both survived and got to have those later chats they had promised one another would he have had the chance to know the real Misaki?

   His eyes were beginning to burn again, the swirl of unanswered questions adding to his grief, and he was only pulled back to the present by Anna’s grip tightening on his hand. For a second he glanced down at her before he slowly followed her gaze as he realised that tears were once more streaking down her cheeks, feeling the burning intensifying as he realised that they were already lowering the casket. Grief mixed with rage rose in his chest - they were taking Misaki away again. Misaki was leaving him again, and he still hadn’t said goodbye, still wasn’t ready to say the words, to accept them. Yet there was nothing he could do but watch helplessly as it disappeared from sight, flinching at the noise as it gently landed on the bottom. It didn’t help that he knew it was just an empty shell in there, it still felt as though he was losing the crow all over again, a muffled sob welling up before he could stop it.

    It took several moments for him to realise that everyone had begun to file past the grave, dropping in roses as they passed and murmuring soft farewells. A touching but terrifying gesture as he knew that he would be expected to participate, even though he still didn’t have the strength or the words to make that farewell. He was relieved that the four of them waited until everyone else had gone, drifting away towards the exit in small groups before beginning to approach, Anna finally releasing his hand as she moved forward to pick up a rose. For a moment she held it against her lips, crimson eyes swimming with tears as she stared into the grave and Fushimi wondered if she felt the same as him - that it was too soon to be saying goodbye…

“Thank you, Misaki…fly free until we’re all together again,” her words carried clearly, filled with sorrow and love and Fushimi flinched. How? How can you find the words to say? He demanded silently, watching as she gently tossed the rose into the grave following it until it landed amongst the others before stepping back.

“Sleep well Yatagasaru,” Kusanagi went next, his voice solemn but steady and there was a small smile on his lips as he tossed in his rose, waiting for a moment before moving to stand beside Anna. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she turned her face into his side, and Fushimi found himself glancing away, unable to watch her grief, so similar and yet so different to his own. Instead, he found himself watching as Munakata slowly picked up a rose, wondering what on earth his King would say, after all, he could probably count the direct interactions the older man had, had with Misaki on the one hand. Yet there was honest sorrow in Munakata’s expression and a hint of guilt that Fushimi couldn’t fully comprehend, and the Blue King hesitated for a moment before throwing the rose at the same time as he murmured a quiet.

“Thank you.”

     Fushimi wondered what on earth he was thanking Misaki before, but whereas in the past he might have tried to find out, he couldn’t bring himself to care right now as he realised that it was his turn. His steps were hesitant and slow as he hobbled forwards, stubbornly waving aside his King who had moved forward as though to help him. He certainly didn’t want to do this, but if he had to, then he would do it on his own. His hand shook wildly as he picked up the rose, staring blankly at the vivid red of its petals, remembering Misaki’s crimson as the crow streaked through battle.

Misaki…

    He knew that he had to say something, a farewell of sorts, and yet there was so much to be said, so much that he had wanted to tell Misaki for years. Words that he had thought that he would get the chance to say in the future after their last conversation. Words that the vanguard would never get to hear, and that he could never utter in front of the audience he had now. There was no way he could make it a proper farewell, not yet at least, as at the moment there was still too much of Misaki’s presence in his life for him to fully accept he was gone, something that he knew would have to change and soon whether he liked it or not. But, perhaps I don’t need to make it a farewell…

    Straightening he took a deep breath, feeling fresh moisture on his cheeks as he finally gave the answer that he hadn’t been able to find the words for the last time he’d seen Misaki, the rose falling in a graceful arc as his words rang out in the silence.

“Yeah let’s talk some more later…”

*

   Thankfully they had chosen not to have the wake at HOMRA, not that the pub would’ve held this number of people, but Fushimi was more relieved that he didn’t have to face those memories on top of everything else. Not that it really helped. It was still too much. Everywhere he turned there were people, people that he didn’t know talking about his Misaki, telling stories that he had never heard of and painting a picture of the man that the vanguard had slowly been becoming.

The man he’ll never get to become now…

   He shuddered at that thought, guilt pooling in his stomach and he backed hastily into a corner in the hopes that he would be able to regain his composure before everyone saw.  As naïve and idiotic as Misaki had been, he had always been warm-hearted in a way that Fushimi could never be and it seemed as though he had shared that warmth with many of the people gathered here. He’d always known, even early on during their time at HOMRA that the other teen was reaching out and making connections, making friends, but being faced with the enormity of the life that Misaki had built for himself after Fushimi had walked away was too much. Misaki, why did I never realise how much I missed? How much I was unable to see?

    Sinking into a free seat, he clenched his hands together in an effort to hold himself together, his eyes sliding shut as he began to pay attention to the stories that were being exchanged around him. His eyes began to burn as he listened to amusing tales of where Misaki’s fear of the fairer sex had landed him awkward situations, sweet tales of Misaki going out of his way to help a wide variety of people not just in his own neighbourhood but across the entirety of HOMRAs territory.  Each story hitting him like a blow. Misaki. Had he ever really understood the vanguard? He had always thought that he knew everything there was to know about Misaki even with their time spent apart and that Yata hadn’t had the slightest clue about him, but now it was clear that it had been the other way round.

I really didn’t have a clue did I…?

    The burning sensation in his eyes was intensifying, and he knew that he was going to be able to keep himself together much longer, and there was no way he could fall apart here. Not surrounded by people that had known Misaki far better than he had, not with people who knew him there to witness just how far he’d fallen. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself back to his feet, waving off a concerned looking woman who moved forward to try and help him as his leg threatened to give way beneath him, barely managing to catch himself with his crutches as he glanced around wildly for Munakata. As much as he would just like to leave, he knew that he at least owed it to the older man to let him know that he was going. Finally, he spotted the familiar head of blue hair by the bar, and he began to carefully push his way through the crowd, relieved for once that most people seemed to back away at the side of his crutches.

“I’ve got to go…” He murmured urgently as he finally managed to reach Munakata’s side, the older man immediately rising from his stool as he took in how pale and shaky Fushimi was looking and the way his eyes were darting around nervously.

“I can drive you if…”

“No!” Fushimi denied urgently, blinking as he realised how he had sounded and he forced himself to relax although his voice continued to shake slightly as he tried to explain what he’d meant. “No, I need the walk…to clear my head.” There was no way he wanted Munakata to realise that he was heading back to Misaki’s flat yet again, knowing that the older man would try to stop him. Although a part of him knew that was what he needed, and his hands clenched at his side. Misaki…

“Fushimi…”

“Please,” Fushimi pleaded with more than a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Alright,” Munakata said softly, realising that Fushimi was on the verge of falling apart and not wanting to trigger a breakdown like that in the middle of the crowd. “Just be careful,” he added, already knowing that the words would fall on death ears and sure enough Fushimi turned away without another word, limping away from him as fast as he could and carefully avoiding the few people who tried to reach out and stop him.

“Sir?” Awashima appeared at his side, her eyes worried as she followed Fushimi’s progress out of the door…she had been unhappy with how Munakata had been dealing with the situation, but that had disappeared now beneath concern after getting her first proper look at Fushimi since he left the hospital and she regretted not stepping in herself. There was an urgency in her gaze as she turned back to her King, silently pleading with him to do something and he sighed before readjusting his glasses.

“I know,” he murmured softly, his eyes softening as he caught the relief in her eyes. Straightening he took a deep breath, knowing that the upcoming discussion with Fushimi wasn’t going to be easy, but that she was right and that he had left it far too long already. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Please don’t let him destroy himself…

****

   Fushimi nearly face-planted as he stumbled up the last couple of steps, relief flooding him as his eyes landed on the door to Misaki’s flat…Safe…Misaki’s there…He thought frantically as he began to root through his pockets for the key, his hands curling around the skateboard with almost desperate fervour, fumbling as he stumbled towards the door. However, just as he was about to get it into the lock an arm grabbed him, and he instinctively lashed out in an attempt to protect the key, freezing briefly when he realised that it was Munakata who was holding tightly but gently to his arm.

“Why are you here?” He demanded, not even making the slightest effort to keep his tone polite, and his eyes widened with alarm when Munakata simply snatched the key out of his hand and dropping it into his own pocket, more than a hint of desperation in his voice as he tried to grab it back. “No, give that back!”

“No,” Munakata replied softly, deep sorrow written across his face as he easily held the shorter man back, waiting for flashing dark eyes to meet his before adding gently.   “I’m sorry, but you can’t keep doing this, it’s not helping you. It's just letting you hide from the truth of what happened.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

“No, it’s not,” Fushimi denied, ruthlessly quashing the small voice in the back of his mind that was urging him to listen to what the older man was saying, to admit the truth of his situation. Instead, straining even harder to reach the pocket holding the key. “Please, just give me the key.”

“No,” Munakata was firm, even though he hated the raw emotion written across the younger man’s face and he knew that his next words were only going to make it worse, but it had to be said.  “I’ve spoken to Kusanagi, and he’s arranging for someone to come and change the locks tomorrow, and then they’re going to deal with the flat and Yata Misaki’s personal effects.” A full body shudder went through Fushimi’s body at the mention of Misaki’s name, his eyes darkening and beginning to shine with unshed tears, and his voice shook wildly.

“But…”

“It’s not something you can do right now,” Munakata pointed out softly, although he already knew that the words weren’t going to be enough to get through to the younger man, not just yet anyway, as Fushimi took on a darkly, stubborn expression.  “Now please come away.”

“I won’t!” Fushimi growled furiously as he abandoned his attempts to get the key back, instead flinging himself towards the door, and it was only a quick twist of his upper body that allowed Munakata to keep his arms around the younger man.

“Fushimi!”

“I hate you!” Fushimi hissed venomously as he glared up at the older man, forgetting all about the tears still trickling down his cheeks as he tried to fling himself towards the door once more, crying out with fury as Munakata seized hold of him once more stopping him from being able to reach the door. “I hate you! Let me in!”

“I’m sorry,” Munakata said quietly, struggling to hold the teen in place as Fushimi continued to throw himself furiously towards the door, snarling up at him even as he continued to cry and he could feel the tremors wracking him, and he knew that it wouldn’t take much more for him to crack and hopefully let him in.  “I should have done this on the first day. I think I just made it worse for you by waiting, and I apologise for that.” Awashima had been nagging at him for the past couple of days, angry at him for not insisting that Fushimi come away that first day, and as was often the case he found himself wishing that he had listened to her much sooner.

“Let me in!”

“Fushimi-kun…”

“LET ME IN!” Fushimi shouted over him, not wanting to hear the commiserations, the promises that things would get better with time, knowing that of everyone his King was the one person that might actually make him believe those things…and he couldn’t. If he let himself believe them then Misaki’s memory might begin to slip away from him, and he couldn’t allow that to happen, he couldn’t lose him all over again. He was sobbing and wailing even as his struggles began to weaken, fingers straining frantically to reach the door even though he knew that he wouldn’t be able to open it without the key, and there was fresh desperation. In his voice as he cried “MISAKI IS…Misaki is…”

“Gone,” Munakata finished strongly, and Fushimi went completely still at the strength of his words, even as he began to shake his head furiously in an attempt the deny the older man’s words. Munakata took the opportunity to get a better hold on the shorter man, mindful of his still healing leg although he was careful not to loosen his grip as Fushimi could be dangerous regardless of his mental state, or maybe because of his mental state, and his voice turned softer as he continued. “Yata Misaki is gone, and you’re destroying himself over a memory of him.” He mourned for the loss of the HOMRA vanguard in his own way, regretting his own involvement in the events that had led to his death, but he was not prepared to lose one of his clansmen because of that.

“No!” Fushimi denied but his voice was weaker this time, and he made no move to break free from the older man, instead huddling further in on himself as though he could hide away from the truth, but already he could feel Munakata’s words seeping in and wrapping around him. “No he’s not…he’s not gone…” He can’t be gone. Can’t you see I’ve only kept going because I had this? I had his memory, what am I supposed to do if you take that away…?

“Saruhiko…” Munakata murmured softly knowing that they were close now, and he was ready when abruptly all the fight drained out of the teen, and he slumped against him, weakly shaking his head from side to side as he continued to murmur frantic denials under his breath.

“N-no...no…no…Misaki…”

“Let it out,” he urged as he tightened his hold on Fushimi carefully lowering them both to the floor as felt the shudder that went through the teen, before he abruptly twisted and buried his face against Munakata’s chest as he gave in, letting the older man’s words break through his barriers at last.

   Munakata merely held on as Fushimi was swept away by his tears and sobs, knowing that there was nothing that he could say that would make this easier. Instead, he allowed his gaze to wander to the door behind them, I promise that I will do my best to help him, he silently promised the memory of the vanguard wishing that he could promise that he would get Fushimi back on his feet. But as he glanced down at the sobbing teen, he knew that such a promise was beyond him at the moment, and his arms tightened at the thought that he might still lose the younger man to this. It was nearly ten minutes later that Fushimi finally stilled against him, his body going limp as he gave into his exhaustion and a cautious glance down showed that his face was streaked with still drying tears and lined with grief. Sighing he reached out and carefully wiped away as many of the tears as he could, for the first time wishing for the careless, emotionless mask that Fushimi had adopted so often in the past. Once he was satisfied he carefully lifted the sleeping figure, stilling when Fushimi stirred with an unhappy mumble, waiting until he had settled again before slowly heading for the stairs. Just before beginning to step down he glanced back and inclined his head towards the lonely flat, knowing that neither of them would be coming back again.

Farewell…

****

    When Fushimi woke later that evening it was to find himself in the guest room of Munakata’s apartment, the Blue King sitting quietly in the chair beside him reading through what looked like a pile of reports and a bitter laugh welled up before he could stop it, even now you’re carrying on as though nothing has changed…why can’t I do that? The noise alerted the man to the fact that he was awake, and concern flashed across his face as he hastily abandoned the files, leaning forward to study Fushimi with a searching gaze that made him want to squirm uneasily. Don’t look at me like that…I don’t want you to see all the shattered pieces…The thought that Munakata had seen him fall apart earlier made him feel sick to his stomach, and he swallowed hard, feeling everything beginning to press in on him again.

“How are you feeling?” Munakata asked after a moment, and Fushimi was torn between wanting to laugh and cry at the question, but instead, he found himself shrugging. How did he feel? Exhausted and in pain, and it felt as though someone had reached in and scooped out everything from inside him, leaving him hollow and dead inside, but somehow he doubted that was what the older man wanted to hear. Although from the knowing look in the blue eyes watching his every move, perhaps he already knew. That he had already realised that Fushimi was broken, perhaps beyond repair and he turned away so that he could stare blankly up at the ceiling. Deep down he knew that Munakata had been right to drag him away from Misaki’s flat, and yet he couldn’t quite quell the spark of resentment in his chest as he realised that he no longer had any idea of what he was supposed to do now. What do I have left now?

“What am I supposed to do now?” He asked finally after the silence had dragged on long enough to make him feel uncomfortable, even with the strange, detached numbness that he was currently feeling, his earlier breakdown draining him at least temporarily of the ability to feel much of anything. He wouldn’t have minded keeping hold of this feeling, it was better than the constant ache of grief that he had been feeling since Misaki’s death.

“Finish recovering,” Munakata replied so swiftly that it was clear that he had anticipated the question, and Fushimi turned to glare at him, resenting the fact that the older man was able to see a path forward when he couldn’t see anything, and his temper flared even more at his King’s next words. “And then find a way forward.”

“How?” He demanded as he sat up abruptly, eyes flashing as he stared at the older man with a fierce scowl on his face.  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Don’t you dare make it sound so easy. Don’t you dare…

“That’s for you to decide,” Munakata replied quietly, unfazed by the show of temper and despite himself, Fushimi found himself settling down in the face of the other’s calmness. After all, what was the point if he couldn’t get a reaction. “There will always be a place for you here, but it is not a cage, if you want to fly away I won’t stop you.”

“I…”

“There’s no need to decide now,” Munakata said softly as he got to his feet, easily able to tell that the younger man was becoming overwhelmed.  “Take your time, but don’t let yourself get trapped in the past. He wouldn’t have wanted that for you, would he?” Fushimi wanted to snap at him for thinking that he could speak for Misaki, but he bit back the words as he knew deep down that the older man was right. The last time they had spoken the vanguard had been looking to the future, and even if they’d still been at one another’s neck, he knew that Misaki would want him to move forward.

“No…”

    Munakata nodded in satisfaction at the response, quietly letting himself out of the room and leaving Fushimi to his thoughts. For a half a minute Fushimi contemplated calling him back, needing his ability to be able to see a future beyond the current situation but he forced himself to hold his tongue, aware that when it came down to it, he was the only one who could make sense of what he wanted. I want Misaki back - an impossible wish unless he decided to follow the crow in death, but he didn’t want to that. As badly as he was hurting at the moment he did want a future he realised, feeling guilty for wanting something that had been taken from Misaki, but Munakata had been right when he said that Misaki wouldn’t want him to stay stuck in the past or do something stupid. Stupid Misaki always thinking of others…

“I don’t know what to do, but I’ll try to move forward,” he whispered, easily imagining the vanguard standing in front of him and wearing the same stupid grin he’d had when Fushimi had promised to find a way to say things so that Misaki could understand.

It’s a promise…

****

Chapter Text

    Despite his determination to try and move forward, it wasn’t as simple as that, as he was unable to forget what happened or what had been lost. He spent a week staying with Munakata, the older man forcing him to rest his leg properly until the stitches were removed and he was allowed to ditch the crutches, unfortunately discovering that his refusal to rest it properly had left him with a limp. Under normal circumstances it was barely noticeable, but when he tried to move faster than normal or go up the stairs it became more pronounced, it was irritating but he couldn’t bring himself to really care about especially as neither Munakata or Awashima who was there nearly every day commented on it or rushed to help him.

    SCEPTER 4 had been spared dissolution, retaining their position as a special police force even though they no longer had access to the sanctum. Fushimi had no idea how that had happened, but he got the general impression that it was because they had been one of the few departments with no trace of JUNGLES corruption…Munakata merely smiled when he’d asked how his own ‘defection’ hadn’t been taken in the wrong way, and in all honesty, he didn’t care enough to push the subject. However, it meant that he still had a job as neither of his superiors felt that his leg was reason enough to hold him out of the field, pointing out that Zenjo was still capable of taking the field, which had made him fall silent as he realised that he had no way of countering that argument.

    He just wasn’t sure that was what he wanted. After all, while he had accepted that Munakata was his King - was still his King even though he no longer had his powers, it had been SCEPTER 4 that had taken him away from Misaki, and he wasn’t sure that he could continue to embrace it. Rather than being irritated with his uncertainty, he had given leave for as long as he needed it, with the promise that if he ultimately decided to leave there would always be a place for him to return to. Fushimi had no idea how to react to the kindness, and he tried to spend as much time as possible away from his superiors to try and work out the mess that was his life. And trying to find a way to preserve Misaki’s memory in a way that wasn’t going to end up destroying him as his previous efforts would have.

**

    It was because of that search for a way to be close to Misaki’s memory that he had found himself buying a skateboard a week later, and why he now found himself about to do something completely stupid. This was a mistake, Fushimi thought to himself as stepped onto the skate park, memories with Misaki rushing over him with a wave, his fingers curling tightly around the skateboard he was carrying. This was where the vanguard had first learnt and practised the moves that he would later turn into a unique fighting style. They had spent long afternoons here together before HOMRA, Fushimi pretending to do homework or play games while really he had been unable to take his eyes off Misaki. He had been the one to buy Misaki his first proper skateboard, saving for months so that he could buy it and he had never seen the other teen smile so brightly as he had the day he got it. Misaki.

“Can you skate mister?” He was broken out of his reverie by a loud voice that made him flinch back slightly, before glancing down and finding a young boy with rollerblades standing beside him, staring curiously between him and the board that he was clinging to. Clearly, he had been standing there longer than he’d thought, as he realised that some other kids, clearly friends with the one that had been brave enough to approach him were also staring at him. Blinking he turned back to the boy, his heart aching as he noted the dark beanie that the boy was wearing and it took him a moment to focus on the question that he had been asked.

“No…” Fushimi admitted after a long moment, a somewhat rueful smile on his lips as he glanced down at the board. How many times had Misaki tried to get him to try? Wanting something else for them to share, but Fushimi had never been able to bring himself to do it, feeling that it was something that belonged to Misaki only - it was Misaki who could fly not him. Now though he wanted to have something that he could hang onto to remember the vanguard, something that had meant the world to Misaki. “But, I want to try…” He wanted to groan as he stumbled over his own words, but thankfully the kid didn’t seem to have noticed as he’d begun to grin brightly.      

“Really?” He asked cheerfully, before frowning as he seemed to study Fushimi properly for the first time. “But you’re kind of old…” A pang went through Fushimi, and his arms tightened around the board, Sukuna’s smirk flashing through his head and the memory of Misaki walking away from him…never to return… and for a moment his breath caught in his chest, and it took a minute for him to register that the boy was tugging on his sleeve and calling to him. “Mister? Hey Mister?”

“Yeah, really,” Fushimi replied brokenly, swallowing hard as he glanced down at the board in his hands, fingers tracing over the crow printed in the middle as he added softly. “It’s for a friend…” Something in his tone seemed to have told the boy that there was more to this than just skating, and with a shy mumble, he disappeared, tearing off to meet up with his friends although Fushimi noticed that he kept flashing curious glances back towards him.

   Sighing he turned and headed for the opposite side of the park, not wanting everyone to witness his efforts, certain that he was going to make a fool of himself. Yet despite that and the memories pressing in around him as he passed once familiar jumps and ramps, he found himself feeling a little lighter than he had for a while, and slowly his protective grip loosened on the skateboard. He was fairly sure this was not what Munakata had meant when he’d told him to find a path forward, but at least it was progress, and as he set the board on the floor and cautiously placed a foot on it, he could almost imagine that Misaki was watching him with an approving grin.

*

    Fushimi ached as he headed down the street, slowly drifting back in the direction of Munakata’s apartment, the board held loosely under his arm. True to his expectations he had spent most of his time falling off the board, and he was fairly sure that he was going to be covered in bruises by tomorrow. The kids had wound up watching him and trying to call out helpful information and encouragement, something that would usually have resulted in him snarling and snapping at them, but today it just made him sigh and shoot mildly irritated looks at them even as he found himself trying to take their advice.

    He stumbled as his leg threatened to give way, protesting its overuse and he was startled when someone managed to catch him, bracing him until he managed to take his own weight once more and his eyes widened as he glanced up to find that it was Kusanagi that had managed to catch him.

“Kusanagi-san?” He hadn’t seen the older man since the day of Misaki’s funeral, carefully avoiding straying too close to HOMRA territory since Munakata had forcefully made him leave and he found himself at a loss of what to say, or how to act. After all, the older man had seen the mess that he had been in.

“What the hell happened to you?” Kusanagi asked seemingly unconcerned by the awkwardness, his eyes ghosting over the grazes and bruises he could see on the younger man’s arms and the particularly painful looking graze on his cheek. Seri had been keeping him up to date on the Blue’s gradual improvements, and he was worried that the younger man had potentially taken a step back.

“I was at the skate park,” Fushimi admitted after a brief hesitation, glancing off to the side as he caught the older man frowning down at him, his lips quirking up as he added quietly.  “It’s not as easy as Misaki made it look…” He paused as he realised that it had been marginally easier to say the vanguard’s name than it had been before, although he knew it would take a lot longer before he managed to lose the dull ache of that loss completely -  if he ever did.

“I’m sure Totsuka would’ve agreed with you,” Kusanagi said with a sad laugh as he recalled the former Red’s pitiful attempts to imitate Yata’s tricks, unsure of what to make of the idea of Fushimi trying to mimic Yata by skateboarding, but relieved to know that there was such an innocent reason for the injuries. “Do you want to come back to the bar and clean up? Anna would love to see you,” he added cautiously, unsurprised when Fushimi immediately stiffened and pulled away even as he shook his head, although there was sorrow rather than anger in his expression as he met Kusanagi’s worried gaze.

“Not yet…I…”

“You’re not ready,” Kusanagi finished for him with an understanding smile, and Fushimi gave a small relieved nod at not having to explain, panic still churning in his chest at the thought of going back to the bar.

“Tell Anna I’m sorry,” Fushimi said softly after a moment, and Kusanagi knew that it was an apology for more than just not visiting, remembering how the younger had acted around Anna at the funeral but knowing better than to comment on it. “But…”

“It’s okay she understands,” Kusanagi reassured him, knowing that Anna had been far more worried about the Blue than bothered by his avoidance. She had never once blamed him for what had happened to Yata, and while he knew that she felt responsible for having relied on Misaki to the point where he had been willing to push himself too far, Anna had been dealing with it admirably.

“Yeah…”

“Take care of yourself Fushimi,” Kusanagi said as he stepped back with a small smile, reclaiming the small bag of shopping that Fushimi hadn’t noticed that he’d dropped.

“You too,” Fushimi replied, surprised to realise that there was none of the irritation or resentment that he had once felt towards the older man even during the days of their alliance. Kusanagi looked surprised at his reaction for a moment before smiling warmly at the younger man and nodding.

“There’s always a seat in HOMRA for you…and not just because of Yata-chan,” Kusanagi added before he walked away, leaving Fushimi staring after him with wide eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to work out how he felt towards that invitation and he blinked as he felt eyes beginning to sting slightly.

“Maybe one day,” Fushimi agreed softly when he found his voice, aware that Kusanagi could no longer hear him, but feeling an odd feeling of hopefulness welling up when he realised how easily those words had come out and there was a little extra energy in his steps as he continued on his way.

 Maybe one day.

****

   It was a month to the day after Misaki’s funeral that Fushimi finally pulled on his SCEPTER 4 uniform again, feeling somewhat uneasy in it, although he had to admit that the normalcy was reassuring. He had moved back into his dormitory room a couple of days after his encounter with Kusanagi, not wanting to rely too much on his King, although at the time he had made it clear that he was nowhere near ready to return to work. Instead, he had spent his days between his room, the skate-park and wandering around the city as he tried to work slowly through his memories so that he wasn’t overwhelmed as he passed by every place that he had shared with Misaki, and he had spent more than one afternoon visiting the vanguard’s grave. At first, he had been able to do little more than stare silently at the headstone, or plead with Misaki to come back, but with time he had started to talk, about their past, about what he was doing and what he was contemplating doing in the future. It helped to feel that he could still share stuff with the crow, even though he knew that he was gone.

    Sighing he glanced across at the picture that now decorated his bedside table, one of the few things that he had kept out of the things that Kusanagi had brought to him after they’d cleared out Misaki’s flat. The vanguard’s bright smile encouraging him, and his hands were steadier as he retrieved his sword off the desk and carefully attached it to his belt.

“Well…I’m off,” he murmured with a soft smile before turning and heading out of the door, not giving himself a chance to hesitate or change his mind as he had several days before, closing the door firmly behind him he took a deep breath before setting off down the corridor.

Here I go.

*

   Fushimi was relieved when there was no uproar or fanfare when he slipped into the office, although he felt the palpable wave of excitement that went through the clansmen who’d noticed his arrival and he could tell that Dōmyōji was barely resisting the temptation to come and greet him. He hesitated for a moment before swallowing hard and silently heading for his desk, somewhat startled to realise that it was untouched from when he had last sat there, and for once forgetting about his limp he sped up not heeding the whispers that he could hear spreading around the room. Reaching the desk, he sighed as he took in the files awaiting his attention. Clearly, Awashima had been prepared for his return, and yet it was a reassuring sight, and after a moment he slipped into the chair, carefully settling his weapon beside him, one hand drifting up to check the daggers he had automatically stored in his clothes before letting out a quiet breath.

    Glancing up he blinked as he realised that while everyone had continued to work, they were flicking frequent glances in his direction, something that in the past would have made him snap or lash out at them. Instead, he reached for the top file and pulled it down in front of him, flipping it open with a sigh, no matter how glad he was to be back, it didn’t make paperwork any more enjoyable, before looking back at them.

“I’m back,” he announced awkwardly, and everyone seemed to relax, and for a moment he wondered if they were about to lose their previous restraint, but then they turned back to their work with notably more enthusiasm than before. He watched them for a moment longer before turning back to his work, one hand slipping down to feel the skateboard keyring in his pocket. See Misaki. Its only baby-steps still, but I’m moving forward, and I listened to you for once. Munakata is my King, and I belong at his side regardless of everything that’s happened….

    They’d all been working in near silence for nearly an hour when the door opened, and Fushimi knew who it was before he’d looked up. He was somewhat surprised that the older man had managed to stay away for this long as he had sounded more enthusiastic than Fushimi had ever heard him when the teen had called him to say he was coming back to work today.

“Welcome back Fushimi-kun,” Munakata greeted quietly as he passed his desk a moment later, the relief evident in his tone although he didn’t make a huge show of it, barely even glancing at the younger man and Fushimi bit back a groan at the thought that he owed the older man for that as well. Since when did you understand me this well? Awashima was close on Munakata’s heels, but there was a soft, understanding expression on her face when she glanced at him and Fushimi ducked his head slightly, even more, uncertain of how to handle her concern than Munakata’s before turning his attention back to Munakata.

“It’s good to be back,” Fushimi admitted softly, before pulling a face as he caught the brief flicker of disapproval on Awashima’s face as she glanced at him and reluctantly adding.  “Sir.” There was a familiar flicker of irritation as he caught the amused smirk on the older man’s face as he turned to glance at him, and he clicked his tongue as he turned aside to avoid the other’s stare.

 Business as usual then.

****

One Year Later:

    Fushimi hesitated at the gate of the cemetery, glancing down at the small bouquet he was holding with a frown. There had been a time when he had been coming here multiple times a week, but gradually that had become once a week, then every fortnight and now it had been two months since he’d last been here. He couldn’t help but feel guilty…he had promised to move on, to carry on living…but he had never meant to get to this stage, to the point where he’d left Misaki on his own to this extent. Misaki. Over the months it had become easier to think about the vanguard, to say his name aloud, although the dull ache had never truly vanished and he doubted that it ever would. Rubbing at the dull ache in his leg he forced himself to move forward, following the once familiar route through to the private corner where Misaki lay.

    When he finally reached the small corner that held the three HOMRA graves, he was relieved to see that someone had been by lately to tidy them up, noting the fresh flowers that lay on Suoh and Totsuka’s grave and the empty vase waiting on Misaki’s grave…Had they known that he was going to come? Realising that the other bouquets were made up entirely of red roses, he felt a small smile tugging at his lips. Anna - the former red king, had regained an element of her powers a couple of months after the battle with JUNGLE although no one could explain why. Shaking his head, he crossed across to Misaki’s grave, his steps slowing slightly, but he forced himself to close the last of the distance.

“Hey Misaki,” he greeted softly as he crouched down and carefully placed his flowers into the waiting vase, his fingers trembling as he arranged them, finally letting his hands come to rest on his knees as he studied the headstone, eyes tracing the crow carved into the stone with the HOMRA mark between its legs. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long. I…life just caught up with me.” Life… He felt bad for saying that to Misaki, even though he had long since come to agree with Munakata’s belief that it was what the vanguard would’ve wanted for him…and it was true.

    Life at SCEPTER 4 had settled into a new normal, the entire clan far closer than they had been before the events at the waterworks even without the sanctum to bind them, and Munakata was far easier and open than he had been without the pressure of keeping his sword in check or guarding the slates. He was still gradually working on his skateboarding, although it was slow progress now that he was working again and he knew that he would never be able to match Misaki for skill. And he had spent the last couple of months beginning to spend the odd evening at HOMRA, finally able to take Kusanagi up on the offer he had made ages ago now that the pain of his memories had begun to fade. It still felt odd and slightly awkward as some of the HOMRA members had been less than happy to see him, although Anna had welcomed him with open arms. It was a strange kind of normal, but it’s what I needed and what I want…

    Fushimi blinked as he realised that he’d been speaking aloud, sharing those thoughts with Misaki without meaning to and he reached up to brush at his cheeks as he realised that they were damp with tears that he hadn’t noticed falling. Only this time there wasn’t the heart-breaking sorrow that he had felt at the start, and a weak laugh bubbled up as he realised that at some point he had managed to do something that he had never thought possible. I moved on. I really managed to do it and I never even noticed.

   Although that explained why Awashima and Munakata were no longer visiting him daily in the office, forcing him to check in over the weekends, and why Kusanagi looked calm and unconcerned when they chatted in the bar. I am an idiot, he thought, realising that the signs had been there all along only he had never managed to connect the dots. I guess we’re both idiots…

    He sat there for another half an hour, not talking. There was no need to say anything else, and eventually, he climbed awkwardly to his feet, grumbling under his breath as his leg protested the movement and rubbing out the ache. Once it had eased, he turned his gaze slowly back to the grave, wiping away the last of his tears as he studied the inscription beneath Misaki’s name, the words as always echoing through his mind.

Fly free Yatagasaru.

Shield. Friend. Family.

    Fushimi leant forward and traced the first bit with his finger that had always been the thing that resounded with him most, and he wondered if Anna had known that when she chose the words. Misaki is flying freely now. He glanced up at the sky, remembering all the times that Misaki had leapt through the air, propelling his skateboard with a skill and power that Fushimi had always envied. I guess you found a new way to fly. Sighing he straightened, resting his hand briefly on the top of the gravestone before taking a step away and turning, hesitating slightly before he added quietly.

“I guess that I’ll be seeing you…”

******

 “It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds’. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it has never gone.”

Rose Kennedy