Chapter Text
“You know, you’re not really what I expected of the Blue King,” Munakata says, looking over Suoh Mikoto’s lazy grip on his sword and unbuttoned uniform.
“I could say the same for you, Red King,” Suoh drawls. “How does a stuck-up nerd like you end up in charge of a bunch of punks and troublemakers?”
Munakata shrugs, shifting his stance and bringing his fists up as they glow red. “By accident, mostly.”
It really had been an accident, at least at the start. Munakata had somehow miraculously prevented a plane crash, and upon landing he’d been greeted by the Rabbits and immediately whisked away to Mihashira Tower for a crash course on the Dresden Slate.
“Any questions?” Kokujouji Daikaku had asked, looking unruffled even as Munakata was still reeling from the revelation that superpowered people were real and had apparently been secretly running the country for the better part of the last century.
“Uh,” Munakata had said, feeling very uncomfortable. “Do I need to…quit my job?”
Kokujouji had waved a hand dismissively. “No, the Red King doesn’t have any particular obligations beyond obeying the Protocol.” In an undertone, he’d added, “Considering what happened to the last Red King, having a normal day job to occupy you might be for the best.”
“I’m sorry,” Munakata had said, trying to keep his voice calm and failing, “what?”
So yes, Munakata would like to avoid ending up as a smoking crater. It’s not exactly easy though, not when the past few months have seen him repeatedly getting jumped by terrifying yakuza-types who are expecting him to carry on Kagutsu Genji’s legacy of crime and violence. Kagutsu and Rengokusha may be dead and gone, but their reputation lives on in Shizume Town, and it’s not as though Munakata won’t use his newfound powers to defend himself.
It certainly doesn’t help that those powers feel like they’re constantly churning just under his skin, screaming for release like steam in a teakettle.
Suoh brings his sword down right into Munakata’s face and he ducks out of the way just in time, swinging a fist out in return. A brief glance around him shows the other clansmen engaging in combat as well, Awashima going up against Suoh’s lieutenant, and Akiyama and Benzai facing down a pair of Blues, one brash and loud in his attacks and the other using throwing knives alongside his sword.
Awashima had definitely been an accident. She was on the same plane that Munakata had saved, and afterwards she had managed to somehow track him down, declaring her fealty and becoming his first clansman. The others had come through a variety of channels, either connections through his job working for a defense contractor or through other chance encounters in his day-to-day life.
To be clear, Munakata has no intention of engaging in organized crime. But as he became known as the Red King, local businesses started asking for his protection from other petty criminals, and people started coming to him with problems that needed investigating, and so he supposes that he’s now the leader of a vigilante justice team of sorts.
“Listen here, Red King,” Suoh says, slashing again with his sword. “There are rules that need to be followed.”
Munakata parries the attack. “Forgive me, but you don’t particularly strike me as the type to be following rules yourself, Blue King,” he says. “Let alone telling others what to do.”
“And I bet you think you’re too good for the rules to apply to you,” Suoh replies.
Despite himself, Munakata finds that he’s starting to enjoy the back and forth with Suoh, someone who is evenly matched against his power and can respond in turn. “Only when the rules are meant for others,” he says.
Suoh grins, and as if in response to that Munakata’s powers surge eagerly.
Munakata suddenly remembers that an all out King-on-King conflict is exactly how the last Red King met his end, and he hastily stifles his powers. Not to keep circling back to the aforementioned crater, but he really would like to avoid that.
Suoh apparently has no such reservations. “What’s the matter?” he taunts. “Tired already?”
Munakata blocks the next few blows, staying on the defensive. “There’s no need for us to fight,” he tries, backing up and holding up his hands. Maybe he can defuse the situation. “Whatever your issue with me is, can we at least talk it out first?”
“I hate talking,” Suoh replies, and punctuates it with a massive burst of power in Munakata’s direction.
Munakata just barely manages to get his arms up in time to block it from taking his head off, but he still ends up getting thrown backwards across what feels like half the city and crashing through the glass wall of a retail storefront.
Once he’s recovered his wits, he gets to his feet, still wheezing a little from getting the wind knocked out of him. There’s a growing crowd of civilians gathering, including the very alarmed employees of the store.
“I’m very sorry about this,” Munakata says, brushing the rubble and dust off of himself. He fishes out a business card and hands it to one of the employees. “Reach out to me tomorrow and I’ll help you set this right.”
“Should I, uh, call for an ambulance?” the employee asks.
“I’m perfectly alright,” Munakata reassures, “I just have some business to attend to. I’m so sorry again for the inconvenience.”
Munakata makes his way back outside, just in time to see Awashima run up. She looks startled to see him unscathed. “What…” she starts, clearly debating whether or not to ask if he’s okay. She eventually ends up going with, “What do you need me to do?”
“Ah, Awashima, great timing,” Munakata says. “Can you coordinate with the store employees to sort out repair plans for the damage?”
Awashima nods. “I’ll send the invoices to SCEPTER 4. But what about the Blue King?”
“I’ll deal with him,” Munakata replies. Picking another piece of debris off of his clothes, he mutters under his breath, “What a dick.”
His powers surge again, feeling almost a little sulky this time. “Fine, you insatiable thing,” Munakata relents, “I’ll go all out now.”
A shadow falls on him as his Sword of Damocles materializes overhead. Even so, any respite from the blazing summer sun overhead is swiftly negated as Munakata lets his power flow through him, feeling the warmth of the flames spread out from his center all the way to his fingertips.
He turns back in Suoh Mikoto’s direction and takes off at a run.
The next day, Munakata and his clan receive an unexpected visitor.
“It’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?” remarks SCEPTER 4’s Lieutenant Kusanagi Izumo, looking around from where he’s sitting next to Munakata at the restaurant’s counter. “Having a sushi restaurant named ‘HOMRA.’ I can’t exactly imagine there’s a lot of flames involved in the food prep here.”
“We do offer some seared sushi options,” Munakata says. He nods in thanks to Kamo as their plates are set down in front of them. “But you’re not wrong. I renamed it when I bought the location, to give it a fresh start.”
The restaurant had initially belonged to Kamo, and Munakata had visited it on what was supposed to be its last day before Kamo was forced to sell it. In one fell swoop, Munakata had paid Kamo’s debt off himself and recruited him, setting up the restaurant as his clan’s base of operations.
(Upon showing up for his first day as Munakata’s clansman, Kamo had looked oddly relieved to hear that his primary role would still be a sushi chef. When prompted, he’d explained, “For some reason, I thought you were going to ask me to be some kind of yakuza enforcer or something.”
“I liked your sushi,” Munakata had replied.
“Thank you—”
“That being said, you are going to need to learn how to use those sushi knives offensively,” Munakata had continued. “Or some other weapon, if you’d prefer. It turns out that there are quite a few people out there who want me dead, and they’ll probably also target you once they find out you’re working for me.”
Kamo had been less relieved to hear that.)
Kusanagi laughs. “Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,” he remarks. “It’s a very nice space; you could do a lot with it. You folks ever thought about adding a bar in here?”
Munakata considers it. “I’m not sure that would be suitable for this location,” he replies.
“Hm,” Kusanagi says, “I bet you could make it work.”
“Multifunctional restaurants are quite trendy these days,” Munakata says. “I wanted to see if we could do a board game cafe, but Kamo here wouldn’t let me.”
On the other side of the counter, Kamo looks up from where he’s prepping ingredients and says, “I don’t know what health code violation it would be specifically, but there’s got to be some kind of rule against putting board games and raw fish next to each other.”
“Sounds about right,” mutters the Blue clansman sitting on Kusanagi’s other side.
“Fushimi,” Kusanagi says, turning to address him, “you’ve hardly eaten anything.”
“There’s nothing that I can eat,” he replies, sounding bored. Munakata recognizes him as the one from yesterday’s fight that had been using throwing knives, and doesn’t doubt that even now he must have several knives stowed away under his uniform coat.
How fascinating, that the clan ostensibly representing order would have a wild card like a hidden weapon user among their ranks.
“Don’t be picky,” Kusanagi scolds. “That’s rude to the chef.”
“Then the chef should make better food.”
“Fushimi!” Kusanagi turns back to Munakata and Kamo. “I’m sorry about him. I’m having him shadow me since I’m trying to train him up in what I do, but I might have to stop that if he’s going to keep being an asshole.” The last part is delivered pointedly over his shoulder, but Munakata notes that Fushimi doesn’t look particularly distraught by the possibility.
“No worries,” Munakata says, chuckling. “It’s refreshing to have someone so honest. After all, it’s our responsibility to ensure that our customers are satisfied.” Observing the way that Fushimi has picked at his plate, he makes an educated guess. “Would you want some tamago sushi, perhaps?”
Fushimi looks startled by Munakata’s nonchalant reaction. Recovering quickly, he shrugs and says, “Sure.”
Munakata gestures at Kamo, who nods and gets to work.
When he turns back, he’s entertained to see that there’s a look of mild alarm on Kusanagi’s face. Good, let him be knocked off-balance.
Kusanagi clears his throat. “Look,” he says, getting back to business, “I’m here to apologize for our King’s actions yesterday. We’re just trying to get Basashi back.”
“Like…back on the menu?” Kamo asks slowly. “We don’t serve that here.”
“Sorry, I meant the horse Strain,” Kusanagi clarifies. “Our princess is particularly fond of it, and she was very sad to find that it had run away.”
“Ah, I see,” Munakata says.
Hidaka had turned up for his shift at the restaurant a few days ago with the horse in tow, explaining that he’d found it wandering nearby. The other clansmen had mostly responded with either excitement or confusion, other than Kamo who had nearly had a conniption over Hidaka bringing a live animal into the restaurant. Munakata had been entertained enough by the sight to let Hidaka keep it for the time being.
Presumably ‘our princess’ is referring to the young girl that he’d seen yesterday watching the fight from the sidelines, wearing a frilly red dress that had looked very out of place beside the sharp blue uniform of the Blue clansman accompanying her.
Kamo sets a new plate down on the counter in front of Fushimi. He picks up a piece of tamago sushi with his chopsticks and eyes it suspiciously before eating it, and then another. Munakata watches with interest, pleased that his intuition had been correct.
“We were just trying to catch it after it got out, and we ended up chasing it all the way to Shizume Town,” Kusanagi explains. “There really was no need to fight.”
“The Blue King certainly neglected to mention any of that,” Munakata says. “I don’t take kindly to someone showing up in my territory and starting a fight without any explanation.”
Kusanagi rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Yeah, sorry. That’s just how Mikoto operates, and there’s really only so much that I can do to rein him in.” Fushimi clicks his tongue in irritation, and Kusanagi smiles. “Sorry, low-hanging fruit,” he says. “But hopefully you understand now why we want Basashi back?”
“Basashi?” Hidaka must have shown up at some point, Munakata realizes, and now he stands up, looking aghast. “No! You can’t let them take it if they’re going to eat it!”
“I think it’s a joke, Hidaka,” Gotou mutters as he passes by, carrying a stack of dirty dishes.
“The naming choice does concern me a little, Lieutenant,” Munakata says. “I’m not sure I’d be willing to return the horse to SCEPTER 4 custody if it came here seeking asylum from barbarians.”
Kusanagi’s smile fades a little. “I don’t appreciate the insinuation, Munakata,” he says. “We treat it just fine.”
“It told me its human rights were being neglected,” Munakata says, enjoying himself.
“Human rights—it’s a fucking horse!” Kusanagi splutters. Behind him, Munakata can see an amused expression growing on Fushimi’s face. “And I’m pretty sure that last I checked, the Red King’s powers don’t include talking to animals.”
Kusanagi seems to realize that he’s being messed with. “You Kings are all the same, huh? Just completely fucking nuts.” He sighs. “Look, we’ll make sure that Basashi gets the highest standard of care, okay?”
“Very well,” Munakata says. “Hidaka, could you get the horse and meet Lieutenant Kusanagi and Officer Fushimi outside?”
“But—” Hidaka protests.
“Oh my god,” Kamo groans. “Please just get it out of here, or I’ll turn it into actual basashi so we don’t get shut down by the health inspector.”
Hidaka shuts up. He still looks upset, but runs off without a word.
“Thank you,” Kusanagi says, and stands up to leave. “I’m glad we could resolve this peacefully.” After a moment, Fushimi gets to his feet and joins him.
“Fushimi, when we get back, let Bandou know that he’s off the rotation for taking care of Basashi,” Kusanagi says. “I think they don’t get along.”
“Yes, sir,” Fushimi replies in a bored tone, managing to make even his assent sound like insolence.
Kusanagi sighs. “Thank you, Fushimi. We’ll work on your attitude later, I suppose.”
Well, Munakata’s not going to miss out on that good of an opening. “If he’s not a fit for SCEPTER 4, I could always use a hidden weapon user like him,” he offers.
Silence falls over the restaurant as Fushimi’s eyes widen in shock.
“That’s…not a very funny joke, Munakata,” Kusanagi finally says, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“I assure you, I’m not joking,” Munakata replies. Fushimi is still staring at him.
Kusanagi places a hand on Fushimi’s shoulder. “I don’t think he would be well suited for your clan,” he says, all pleasantness now gone from his voice. “Look, it sounds like we’ve sorted this all out, so if I could just get the check, we’ll be leaving now.”
“Oh, there’s no need,” Munakata says, smiling beatifically at them both. “It’s my treat.”
Kusanagi’s face tightens. “Thanks, I guess,” he says. With his hand still tightly gripping Fushimi’s shoulder he swiftly ushers them both towards the door, as though afraid that Munakata will try and snatch Fushimi away from him if they stay any longer.
Even so, Munakata doesn’t miss the glance that Fushimi sends back over his shoulder as he leaves.
The next time that HOMRA receives a visit from the Blue clan is just a few weeks later, when Munakata is interrupted from what had been shaping up to be a pleasant dinner by someone bursting into the restaurant.
“Saru!”
Munakata quickly recognizes the blue-clad arrival as Yata Misaki, SCEPTER 4’s vanguard, who is now pointing his sword at HOMRA’s newest clansman.
“Oh, Misaki,” Fushimi says. “It’s been a while.”
“What are you talking about?” Yata replies, his sword dropping a little in his confusion. “I saw you at the dorms just yesterday, asshole.”
Next to Munakata, Awashima moves to stand up, reaching towards her handbag where he knows she keeps a collapsible baton that she’s more than capable of using. He extends an arm in front of her, gesturing for her to sit back down.
“Let’s see where this is going, Awashima,” Munakata murmurs, and she nods, settling back into her seat.
Neither Fushimi nor Yata seem to have noticed. “What are you doing here?” Yata asks. “Kusanagi said you’d joined HOMRA?”
Munakata can imagine that the Lieutenant must not have been pleased to hear about that.
“That’s right, Misaki,” Fushimi replies. There’s a playful tone to his voice that Munakata’s never heard before, in stark contrast to his usual surliness. “I got tired of being a bureaucrat. We have these powers and we’re just using them to chase down petty criminals? It’s a waste. Here I can actually make a real difference.”
If he was trying to provoke Yata, it fails. “Cut the crap, Saruhiko,” Yata says, looking incredulous. “You’ve never once in your life given a shit about ‘making a difference.’”
“I certainly want to make more of my life than you,” Fushimi replies. “I’ve upgraded, Misaki. Moved up from the Fourth King to the Third.”
This time it works. “What—how could you say that!” Yata demands. “Did you forget what Mikoto did for you?”
Fushimi laughs coldly. “What he did for me? Suoh Mikoto doesn’t do anything; he can barely even run a clan. I don’t think he’s ever done a single piece of paperwork in his life.”
Munakata coughs lightly and takes a sip from his drink to mask it.
“I’m better off without him,” Fushimi declares.
“You don’t even have a job!” Yata shouts. “What, are you going to work at a sushi restaurant with these assholes?”
“Hey!” Hidaka yells, having paused in his sweeping to watch the proceedings.
“I’m done working for the government,” Fushimi scoffs. “I’ve gone freelance now. It pays better, and I don’t have to do boring grunt work.”
The two of them show no signs of losing steam in their argument, and around the restaurant, the rest of Munakata’s clansmen are sharing uncomfortable glances with each other. Munakata had gathered them all tonight to introduce their new clansman, but it looks like they’ll be getting both dinner and a show at this rate.
Akiyama sidles up to Munakata. “Should we do something, sir?” he asks quietly.
“I keep telling you, you don’t need to call me that,” Munakata replies. He hasn’t managed to win the fight against Akiyama and Benzai’s military backgrounds yet, and it’s unlikely that he’ll succeed today either. “But no, there’s no need to interfere with Fushimi’s personal affairs.”
“Look, Misaki,” Fushimi is saying. “I don’t expect an idiot like you to understand any of this, so you should just leave.”
“Saruhiko!” Yata exclaims, hurt. “We’re comrades, aren’t we? Why are you doing this?”
When Fushimi doesn’t respond, Yata turns and Munakata sees that he has a second sheathed sword with him, which he holds out hilt-first to Fushimi. “Come on, Saruhiko,” Yata pleads. “Remember our pride as SCEPTER 4.”
Fushimi stares at it for a long moment. Finally, he reaches out and unsheathes the sword in one smooth motion, leaving the sheath in Yata’s hand as he holds it out horizontally in front of him.
A hopeful smile grows on Yata’s face.
With his other hand, Fushimi grasps the blade of the sword. Munakata can feel the ambient temperature in the restaurant drop as Fushimi activates his Blue aura to freeze the blade. Then, with a burst of power, he shatters it.
Yata watches in horror as the pieces clatter onto the floor.
“There goes your pride, Misaki,” Fushimi drawls, a deranged grin on his face.
“Saru, you…” Yata whispers. “Your hand!”
Fushimi glances down at his free hand, now dripping with blood. “Oh, this?” he taunts, holding it up. “This is what I think of SCEPTER 4 and all that bullshit about being comrades.” With his other hand he tosses the sword’s hilt onto the floor in front of Yata. “So instead of yapping at me like the government dog that you are, watch what I’m going to become!”
The expression on Yata’s face transforms to fury. “You fucking traitor,” he says, low and dangerous. “I’ll kill you!”
Munakata clears his throat and they both look over at him, startled. “Might I remind you where we are?” he says. “I will not tolerate threats against my clansmen, especially not within my territory.” This time, he doesn’t stop Awashima from getting to her feet and pulling her baton out of her bag, snapping it out to its full length and infusing it with her aura. Around the restaurant his other clansmen start to glow red too, Kamo even raising his sushi knife.
“Oh, bring it on!” Yata shouts, to his credit looking not at all intimidated. “I’ll take on your entire shitty clan and drag Saruhiko’s sorry ass out of here if I have to!”
Before he can follow through on the declaration, the restaurant’s doors open again to admit yet another Blue clansman. “Yata! What are you doing?”
Yata whips around. “Kamamoto?”
“Kusanagi said you’d probably be here,” Kamamoto says. “He told me to come find you before you got yourself killed.”
“What—I’m not going to get killed,” Yata protests. “We need to get Saruhiko back!”
“He’s made his choice, Yata,” Kamamoto says. He grabs Yata by the back of his jacket collar and pulls him away, effortlessly ignoring Yata’s flailing limbs. Addressing Munakata, he says, “Sorry for the inconvenience,” and heads for the door.
“Let go of me!” Yata shouts, struggling futilely against Kamamoto. “Saruhiko! Saruhiko, you fucking traitor!”
“Bye, Misaki,” Fushimi calls out as the door swings shut behind them.
The door slams shut and an awkward silence descends upon the restaurant.
“I feel like that could have gone better, Fushimi,” Munakata finally says.
Munakata heads to the restaurant one morning with the intention of getting a head start on some work. He keeps an office there despite not having an active role in the running of the restaurant beyond nominally owning the business, as he finds it useful to have a dedicated space for clan-related work.
After a while Munakata puts down the latest set of papers that he’s reviewing and decides to take a break to stretch his legs. He pokes his head into the front of the restaurant where Kamo and the other clansmen working at the restaurant are setting up for the day’s service.
Hidaka in particular catches Munakata’s eye as he makes his way over to a booth in the corner, where Fushimi is intently typing on his laptop.
“Hi, Fushimi!” Hidaka says, sitting down next to him. Fushimi immediately scoots over as far away from him as he can, but given that Hidaka has boxed him in against the wall, it’s not very far. “We’re going to be hosting a party tonight, me and the other guys, do you want to come?”
Munakata is glad to see that Fushimi’s standoffish nature (and his perhaps less than stellar first impression) hasn’t prevented the other clansmen from trying to socialize with him over the past couple months, despite all of Fushimi’s efforts otherwise.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Fushimi says without looking up from his computer.
Well, that won’t do.
“Oh, a party?” Munakata says, making Hidaka jump in surprise. “That sounds like a great idea!” He takes a seat in the booth as well, sitting opposite Fushimi just in case he gets desperate enough to try to escape by slipping under the table.
“Um…” Hidaka starts, clearly not having intended for Munakata to even know about said party, let alone take part in it.
Disregarding Hidaka’s obvious hesitance, Munakata continues, “Why don’t we host it here at the restaurant? It’ll be a great team-building opportunity!”
Munakata won’t deny getting some amusement out of the look of abject disgust on Fushimi’s face.
Fushimi goes back to typing on his laptop, and Hidaka seizes the opportunity to change the subject. “Are you coding something, Fushimi?” he asks. “What’s it for?”
“Work,” Fushimi says curtly.
“Oh, is it one of your freelance projects?” Hidaka asks, persisting in the face of Fushimi’s obvious disinterest in maintaining a conversation. Apparently, Hidaka is the one person who can match Fushimi in sheer stubbornness. Munakata appreciates that kind of optimism in his clansmen.
“Yes.”
At least Fushimi is responding to Hidaka and not just ignoring him. Munakata will count that as progress.
Now that he thinks about it, Fushimi had also been here working on his projects when Munakata had left the restaurant yesterday evening. “Fushimi,” he says, a little chiding. “Have you been here all night?”
Fushimi shrugs. “The Wi-Fi’s better here,” he says.
Munakata looks over at the sushi counter, where Kamo is prepping ingredients. “Has he at least eaten anything today?”
Kamo just gestures at the pile of empty coffee cans next to Fushimi. “Not for lack of trying on my part.”
Not for the first time, Munakata wonders if it was the healthiest idea for Fushimi to leave the ordered environment of SCEPTER 4 for somewhere as chaotic as HOMRA.
When he voices the thought, Fushimi just shrugs again. “Maybe not,” he says, showing remarkable self-awareness. “But anything’s better than staying in that hellhole. I’m not going to be part of a hierarchy if it means that I have to be subservient to Suoh fucking Mikoto.”
Munakata considers how best to respond to that, but before he can say anything he’s cut off.
“Wait, wait,” Doumyouji exclaims, popping up from the next booth over to perch behind Hidaka. “There’s Wi-Fi here? Since when?”
Munakata smiles. “Fushimi was kind enough to set it up,” he explains. “I’m sure it must be quite good, given the size of the bill that I recently received.”
“You said I could expense whatever I needed,” Fushimi says. “I got us the best high-speed internet that money can buy.”
Doumyouji’s jaw drops. “We can expense stuff?”
“Within reason,” Munakata says. “If there’s something that you think would enhance the restaurant, or if you want to use a particular type of weapon—”
“I want a sword,” Doumyouji immediately says.
Fushimi clicks his tongue. “If you wanted to swing a sword around, you should have joined the idiot brigade at SCEPTER 4,” he says.
“No, no,” Doumyouji says. “I don’t want to join SCEPTER 4. You guys would miss me too much.”
“Doubtful,” Fushimi mutters.
“I just want to use a sword. I’d look really cool with one, don’t you think?”
Before Fushimi can reply, Fuse joins in on the conversation from where he’s setting tables. “Why are you even here, Doumyouji?” he asks. “We don’t open for another hour.”
“It’s the weekend, I don’t have any classes today,” Doumyouji replies. “So I’m just hanging out.”
“If you’ve got so much free time, why not work here with us?” Hidaka asks.
“Nah,” Doumyouji says. “I’m too busy with schoolwork.”
Focusing on schoolwork certainly hadn’t stopped Doumyouji from joining HOMRA. Munakata and Enomoto had been at Doumyouji’s university for a recruiting event for their shared day job, and while Doumyouji hadn’t been enticed by that, he had been interested in their less official occupation.
Between them, Akiyama and Benzai’s positions as military reservists, Kamo running the restaurant assisted by Fuse, Gotou, and Hidaka, and Awashima’s own day job as a highly successful businesswoman, they all have something with which to occupy themselves while not doing clan activities. Munakata would like to think it helps combat their image as a gang of hooligans.
Throwing a party for said gang may not help as much with that, but he’s sure that they can keep it from getting too rowdy.
“Will you be attending tonight’s party, Doumyouji?” Munakata asks.
“Oh, uh, you’re going to be there?” Doumyouji asks, looking nervous. “Um, I…I guess so?”
Munakata turns expectantly to Fushimi, who grumbles and rolls his eyes. “I already said no.”
“Team-building is important, Fushimi,” Munakata says cheerfully. “Especially if you want me to keep approving your expense reports.”
Fushimi clicks his tongue again. “Fine.”
The bell over the front door jingles as Awashima arrives, nodding at the gathered clansmen in greeting.
“Ah, Awashima, good morning,” Munakata says. “We’re planning on hosting a team party tonight here at the restaurant, will you be able to attend?”
“Of course,” Awashima replies. “How can I help? I could provide the food.”
Munakata is reminded of the menu planning process for the restaurant, and the colossal effort it had taken from Kamo to limit her proposals for red bean paste dishes to the dessert section.
“Thank you, Awashima, but I think we’ll let Kamo handle that,” he says. “Why don’t you look into decorations instead?”
Awashima looks a little disappointed but nods, and the other clansmen all subtly sigh in relief.
Despite Kamo’s warnings about health code violations, Munakata keeps a large selection of board games and puzzles in his office, which he very happily breaks out for the party that evening.
“What should we play first?” Munakata asks.
Doumyouji chokes on the drink that he’s definitely too young to be having. “Wait, this is going to be a board game party?” he exclaims.
“Of course,” Munakata says. “It’s the best way to promote team-building. Speaking of, Fushimi, why are you working now?”
Fushimi freezes as everyone looks at him, his fingers stilling on his laptop’s keyboard. “I have a deadline,” he mumbles.
Munakata isn’t about to let him get away with token attendance at this party. “And we both know perfectly well that one night off isn’t going to impact your ability to meet that deadline,” he says, still smiling but with a tone that leaves no room for argument. He holds his hands out expectantly.
Fushimi rolls his eyes but shuts his laptop and hands it over.
“And your PDA,” Munakata adds.
“Asshole,” Fushimi mutters as he pulls it out of his pocket.
“Do try to enjoy yourself tonight, Fushimi,” Munakata says as he takes the PDA. “It’s a party, after all!”
Throughout the course of the evening Munakata leads the others through one game after the other, consistently winning each one to the consternation of them all.
“What’s next?” Munakata asks brightly.
“Oh god,” Fuse moans. “This is impossible, we can’t win against him.” Next to him, Doumyouji collapses face down onto the table and Enomoto stares blankly into the distance.
“Are you all having fun?” Munakata asks. “I’m having fun. Perhaps we should make this a regular occasion!” He disregards his clansmen exchanging panicked glances as he starts sorting through the games to find their next one.
In his peripheral vision Munakata sees Hidaka slip away, and he watches as Hidaka makes his way over to where Fushimi is sitting by himself in the booth furthest away from them.
“Come on, Fushimi,” Hidaka wheedles, “don’t you want to make friends with everyone?”
“Hell no,” Fushimi says. “I’m not here to make friends; I left SCEPTER 4 specifically to get away from all that buddy-buddy comrade crap.”
Instead of being put off by the statement, Hidaka just laughs a little. “Alright, we don’t have to be friends,” he replies. “But like it or not we are teammates, and that means we need to be able to work together. Even if it’s just to stop Munakata from winning everything tonight.”
Munakata can’t quite tell from where he is, but it almost looks as though Fushimi is smiling a little at that.
“Besides,” Hidaka continues, “if you’re here already you might as well eat some food and hang out with us, instead of sulking alone in a corner.”
“I’m not sulking,” Fushimi lies.
Hidaka lets him be not long after that, but Munakata is pleased to see that Fushimi does eventually come over to join the rest of the group, and he deals Fushimi into the next game before he can refuse.
“Have you ever played poker before, Fushimi?” Munakata asks.
Fushimi shakes his head. “I know the general idea though,” he says.
Munakata is pleased to see that Fushimi does in fact pick up the game quickly, spotting the others’ tells with ease and taking ruthless advantage of it. Between the two of them, they manage to swiftly and thoroughly clean up against the others.
“Noooo,” Hidaka whines as Fushimi scoops up his winnings from the latest round. “How did you know I was bluffing?”
“You clench your jaw when you have a bad hand,” Fushimi says.
The other clansmen all make suitably impressed noises. Fushimi looks disaffected, but Munakata can tell that he’s pleased by their attention.
“Ooh, do me next!” Doumyouji exclaims.
Fushimi rolls his eyes. “You’re not even trying to hide it, dumbass. You literally yelled ‘Oh shit, I’ve got a flush’ last hand.”
Doumyouji laughs. “Oh, right.”
It appears that Fushimi, despite his best efforts, is having fun tonight. He’s actually engaging in conversation with the others, and isn’t bothering to hide his smirk each time he catches someone in a bluff. The only one he can’t seem to read is Munakata himself, and Munakata tries not to show his amusement at Fushimi’s growing frustration.
In the next round, Munakata finds himself looking at a potential royal flush. He takes care to maintain the same calm smile he’s worn all evening, even as he starts mentally calculating how much he’ll be able to fleece out of the others.
Benzai reaches for the deck, and then pauses. “Um, sir?”
“Yes?”
Benzai gestures at Munakata’s hand, and he looks down to see that it’s glowing red.
Munakata sighs. “Quiet, you,” he says. His aura fades away, but he can still feel the thrum of power in his body, simmering just beneath the surface. So much for not giving anything away.
The room is dead silent as Munakata inspects his cards. Thankfully they’re not singed; he would rather not have to buy a new set.
“Were you…talking to your Sanctum?” Fushimi asks.
“Hm? Ah, yes,” Munakata replies breezily. “I find it helps to calm it down.”
He used to have a much harder time keeping his powers contained, but as of late they’ve been surprisingly cooperative. Presumably it has something to do with the increasing frequency of his clashes with one Suoh Mikoto.
They’re both terrible enablers of each other, really.
Fushimi scoffs. “There’s a fire extinguisher in the back,” he says, “should I go get that?”
“I trust you to use your judgment, Fushimi,” Munakata replies.
Unfortunately, it’s not always that easy.
“Munakata? Munakata!”
Munakata jerks awake to the sound of Awashima’s alarmed voice. He gasps through the sudden tightness in his chest, struggling to breathe as his heart pounds in his ears. Flames fill his vision, blocking out the sight of anything else.
He had slipped away from the party back into the quiet of his office, but apparently he’d ended up nodding off at his desk, the party having taken more out of him than he’d expected.
“Can you hear me?”
Hands grasp his own and Munakata clings to them as tightly as he can. He still can’t see anything beyond the flames, but he does his best to face the direction he’d heard Awashima’s voice coming from and nod.
“Good. I need you to breathe with me, can you do that? In for seven, then out for seven.”
Munakata nods again and does his best to follow along as Awashima counts aloud, fighting against the overwhelming urge to let the fire burn, to leave no blood, bone, or ash behind. He focuses on the sound of her voice and the feeling of her hands in his to try and ground himself.
Inhale. Exhale.
Gradually the flames recede, and Munakata starts to make out a silhouette in front of him, which eventually resolves into Awashima’s pale and concerned face. Once he can manage to breathe without feeling like there’s glass in his throat, he forces himself to let go of his death grip on Awashima’s hands.
“Sorry about that, Awashima,” he says, attempting to sound casual. “I hope I didn’t hurt you. Are you alright?”
“I should be asking you that!” Awashima exclaims. “What happened to trigger it this time?”
This is unfortunately not the first time that Awashima has found him like this, and accordingly they’ve developed a protocol for how to get him to come down as quickly and safely as possible. Awashima had actually referred him to a therapist, which was also where Munakata had picked up the strategy of talking down his powers whenever they act up. He’s not so proud as to not seek professional help, not if it’ll make him less likely to accidentally blow up the city.
“Nothing really,” Munakata says. “I was just getting some work done, and I happened to fall asleep. It’s been a long day, I suppose.”
“You know, you can delegate your work if you need to,” Awashima says. She still looks concerned, but marginally less so now that Munakata has visibly recovered. “There’s no need to pull late nights when you have people who can help. That’s what we’re here for.”
She’s not entirely wrong, but while he is able to delegate most of their day-to-day clan or restaurant-related tasks, there are still some items of a more sensitive nature that he has to handle personally. “Are the others still here?” Munakata asks.
Awashima nods. “The party is still going on, you haven’t been gone for that long.”
“And—”
“And none of them noticed me leaving,” Awashima says. “They don’t know about any of this.”
“Good,” Munakata says.
He inspects his office and sighs at the damage—his desk and chair are badly scorched, and the papers that had been on his desk are all burnt to a crisp. Fitting, considering that it had been the latest readings from the Gold clan about his Weismann levels. Well, this at least saves him the effort of needing to shred them.
“I hope you’ll excuse me for saying this,” Awashima says, “but I really think you should consider telling the others about your…flare ups, as it were.”
Munakata chuckles. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“They can help with this too. And they’re going to figure it out eventually, but it’ll only worry them if you keep trying to hide it.” Awashima smiles as she adds, “Besides, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing if you let yourself be vulnerable around them. You may be their King, but you’re also a human being.”
“You may be right,” Munakata concedes. “Anyways, I really do appreciate your help with all of this. I ought to be paying you more, considering how often you’ve done this for me.”
“With all due respect, you couldn’t afford my consulting rates,” Awashima replies.
“Ah, fair enough.” Munakata would protest, but he supposes it’s the principle of the thing.
“If you really want to thank me, you could help me convince Kamo to make some changes to the restaurant’s menu.”
Munakata credits his bearing as a King for his ability to show no reaction in the face of extreme provocation.
Over the next few months Munakata and his clansmen inevitably clash with the Blues again and again, but the conflicts are mostly defused with minimal use of his powers. The paperwork has not gone away either, but on this particular day Munakata finds himself feeling restless and unable to focus.
After realizing he’s been reading the same paragraph of text over and over without processing a word of it, he puts his papers down and decides to step outside. He goes out through the back door to avoid being seen by his clansmen and makes his way to a bar near the edge of Shizume Town, taking a seat at the counter and ordering a drink.
Just as he lifts his glass, he hears a muttered curse from behind him, and turns to see Suoh Mikoto standing there, looking at him like something scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
Perhaps he really should take up Lieutenant Kusanagi’s suggestion of putting in a bar of their own at the restaurant, if he’s going to have to worry about running into the Blue King at a place like this.
“Are you here to pick a fight?” Munakata asks resignedly. “I don’t think I’ve broken any rules this time around.” In fact, the last time they’d come face-to-face, Munakata had even managed to deescalate the situation without needing to call on his powers at all.
“I’m here to drink alone,” Suoh says.
“What a coincidence, so am I,” Munakata says, taking a sip from his drink in emphasis. “So it seems that one of us will need to leave.”
He certainly isn’t going to be the one to do so, considering that he was here first.
Neither is Suoh, apparently. He sits down at the bar in the only available seat, which unfortunately happens to be the one next to Munakata.
Munakata gives him a withering look. “What, no sword today? I have to say, I don’t think this color suits you.”
It’s not entirely true. Although it’s a little strange to see Suoh dressed casually for once, he somehow manages to look less incongruous in the plain white t-shirt and jeans that he’s currently wearing than he ever has in uniform.
“It’s my day off,” Suoh drawls. His eyes flick up and down as he regards Munakata in return. “What’s your excuse? I don’t see any of your fucking groupies here, but you’re still dressed like an arrogant prick.”
“And yet it seems I still have a better sense of taste than you, considering the cheap cigarettes you’re smoking.”
Suoh pointedly takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling it slowly.
“Um,” the bartender says, cringing at the clear hostility in the air. “What would you like to drink, sir?”
“Bourbon,” Suoh says.
“On the rocks?”
“No need.”
Suoh takes his drink, and with a subtle use of his powers, chills it before taking a sip. He notices Munakata watching him, and narrows his eyes. “What?”
“…Nothing,” Munakata says.
He’s not entirely sure why he’s feeling bothered, and that’s even more frustrating considering how much effort he’s put into being in control of his emotions. After all, what Suoh had done was nothing compared to the scale of their head-to-head clashes; it was a practically trivial use of power that wouldn’t even come close to manifesting Suoh’s Sword of Damocles. But even so, there’s still something about the sight of him being so carefree about it that puts Munakata on edge.
Rather than call him out further, Suoh just keeps looking at him, examining him in a way that makes Munakata start to wonder if there’s actually any stock in the rumors that the Blue King’s powers include telepathy. Finally, Suoh says, “You don’t like me, do you?”
“Obviously,” Munakata says without hesitation. It doesn’t take mind reading powers to figure that one out. “Just being near you makes my drink taste worse.”
Suoh rolls his eyes. “I don’t like you either.”
Strangely enough, that exchange is what relieves the tension between them, now that they’re clear on where they stand with each other. Munakata feels a smile come onto his face as he says, “I suppose we’re on the same page, then.”
Suoh raises his glass in a mocking salute.
By the time Munakata leaves the bar, evening has fallen. The night air is cool on his skin as he walks back towards the restaurant.
Munakata wonders if perhaps what he was feeling earlier in the bar with Suoh was envy—envy that Suoh is comfortable enough with his control over his powers to use them so casually. After all, it’s not as though Munakata’s own powers are particularly subtle.
While he could probably fine-tune his own powers to the same degree, so much of his focus is just spent constantly keeping them contained at all that it sometimes feels like any release of his power in the first place would quickly escalate beyond his control.
Suoh doesn’t seem to have the same problem, irritatingly enough. He and Suoh both have the same Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, but Suoh is somehow able to remain aloof and uncaring in the face of it.
Munakata sometimes wonders what his life would look like if he was the Blue King instead of Suoh. He certainly thinks he could do more with the role than Suoh, who as far as he can tell primarily uses SCEPTER 4’s practically unlimited resources on catered lunches and team outings.
Then again, Suoh Mikoto as the Red King would almost certainly be a disaster, given his eagerness for starting fights. So perhaps it’s for the best that this was how the Slate had arranged things, to whatever extent a magic rock could be sentient.
When he gets back to the restaurant, he finds himself in much more of a mood to tackle financial paperwork. On his way to his office he pokes his head into the front of the restaurant, where his clansmen are just starting to gather their things to leave.
He’d been hoping to slip away again, but Awashima immediately spots him and comes over. “Oh, there you are,” she says. “I was just looking for you. Did you step out?”
“Ah, just for a bit,” Munakata says, evasive. “What can I do for you, Awashima?”
“I had a question regarding next month’s budget proposal,” she starts, and then trails off. A concerned look comes onto her face. “You smell like smoke!” she says. Lowering her voice, she asks, “Did you have another one of your…episodes?”
Taken aback, Munakata hastily says, “No, no, I’m fine.”
“I can arrange another therapy session if you’d like—”
“Thank you, but I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Munakata interjects. “I just happened to run into an acquaintance who has a penchant for terrible cigarettes.”
“Are you sure?” Awashima asks. “Because—”
“He was obviously out with Suoh Mikoto,” Fushimi calls out from across the room, not looking up from his laptop. Munakata hadn’t realized their conversation had gotten loud enough for him to hear, and then realizes that the whole room is staring at them now.
“Oh,” Awashima says, visibly relaxing. “You could have just said so.”
For some reason Munakata feels mildly embarrassed, like a teenager getting caught sneaking out by his parents.
Awashima gives him a sympathetic look. “You know that no one here has a problem with you being friends with him, right?” she says carefully. “Frankly, it’s probably good for you.”
Munakata doesn’t think he’d go so far as to call Suoh a friend, but either way it’s well past time to change the subject. “I…should get back to work,” he says, and turns back to his office.
Before closing the door he calls out behind him, “Don’t forget, expense reports for the month are due tomorrow!”
The groaning of his clansmen is audible through the door.