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Yata Misaki was too young to die.
It was something both Scepter 4 and HOMRA agreed on. The Red King, not even in his thirties, was already losing control of his power. It was much too soon, but Yata had devoted so much of himself into being the hero that beat down the bullies. It was an ideal he kept close to his heart, ever since he was a child. I’ll be the one to protect the weak.
It was snowing. The sky was terribly dull and the streets were empty. The wind bit at everyone’s cheeks. Yata had been given notice of a mafia group that had established an illegal drug business in one of the abandoned buildings near a park that overlooked Ashinaka High School. Being so close to a school, it was bound to cause problems, so Yata decided to burn the business to the ground.
What Yata couldn’t hope to avoid, though, was his Sword of Damocles slowly deteriorating with every second that his aura was visible for all to see.
“Burn them!” Yata cried out to the restless HOMRA members. With a loud cheer, they quickly and messily got rid of the group. With the abandoned building torn apart and burned to pieces, Yata was satisfied that the issue had been solved. His body ached, and shocks of red electricity coursed through his skin. Yata smiled sadly at the thought that today was most likely his last day. For the past month he had been feeling his sword slowly give out from over-usage. He didn’t think it’d give out so soon, though. Anna, holding onto Yata’s shirt, caught the smile and frowned.
“Misaki…” Anna said softly, much too softly for Yata to hear through the currents of electricity buzzing in his ear.
“Eeh? Done so soon?” a voice had called out mockingly.
When the smoke had been blown away by the chilly wind, Yata and the rest of HOMRA were once again face to face with the police force.
“What do you want now?” Yata spat, looking at the Blue King, the leader of Scepter 4.
His childhood friend.
“I was hoping to join in on the fun.” Fushimi Saruhiko said, shrugging. His smile was wicked, as if he was looking forward to bloodshed. He looked at Yata’s weakened state. Easy kill. “My my, Misaki. You’ve been working much too hard.” Fushimi looked up at Yata’s sword, fully aware that it was ready to collapse at any moment.
Fushimi recalled what Yata had told him the last time they were face-to-face like this.
“Saru, be the one to kill me when I become the villain.”
“But aren’t you already one? You cause way too much damage to this city to be considered a superhero.”
“Saru, you know what I mean. I won’t be here much longer to entertain you, so please at least accept this one request of mine.”
As Yata’s aura grew, electricity bounced off of Yata’s skin. His Sword of Damocles groaned in protest.
Both Fushimi and Yata ordered their clan members to stand down.
_____________________________
Yata Misaki had one last wish.
He wanted his childhood friend to be the one that killed him.
But he wanted one last fight. They both wanted one last moment with one another.
This impending fight was Yata’s last gift to Fushimi.
Yata remembered meeting Fushimi for the first time. How cold he was to Yata. How they eventually made their friendship work. How that friendship turned into something more somewhere down the road. How that road was viciously torn down when Fushimi had been chosen by the Slates to become the Blue King.
Yata was chosen to be the Red King not long after Fushimi was chosen. Fate was cruel that way, somehow pitting the two against each other like that.
Yata was wild from the start. He was just as reckless as he was compassionate. He wanted nothing more than the safety of all he held close, even if that meant destruction of property.
Fushimi had always been reserved. He trusted Scepter 4 to do the job without having him exert so much effort. He chose to side with justice and peace, and live long enough to see the day that Shizume City became rid of Strains once and for all.
It was cruel, how their personalities and affiliations clashed so harshly together.
Awashima Seri looked over the other HOMRA members, and spotted Kusanagi. He gave her a sad smile, as if saying it’s time.
She frowned and looked to their Captain. She had no idea what was going on. Fushimi did not look one bit upset at the fact that his only actual friend was going to die.
Fushimi whipped his head around to look at the troop that had settled behind him. “Leave.”
They all turned to file out, and Awashima gave Kusanagi one last look before turning to leave with the rest.
Yata ordered HOMRA to do the same. They didn’t deserve to see their King die this way.
After they had all wandered away in various directions, with Anna having been forced to out by Totsuka, only a handful from each clan had stayed behind.
Kusanagi stood by Awashima.
“It’s kind of hard,” Awashima said, “watching my Captain kill his best friend.”
“It’s the best thing Fushimi could have ever given him.” Kusanagi replied matter-of-factly. “Yata’s always harbored special feelings towards your King. He wouldn’t want to die any other way.”
“As did our Captain.” Awashima said sadly. “He keeps a photo of them during their middle school days on his desk. The frame is always face-down when people are in his office, but I snuck a look one day when he fell asleep on the desk.” She laughed, a tear threatening to roll down her cheek. “The photo was in pristine condition. It was amazing.”
“Did it happen to be the one of them on the grass and Yata pulling his cheek?”
Awashima looked at him. “Why yes, actually.”
Kusanagi laughed. “Yata has that same photo. He laminated it and brings it everywhere. It’s always in a hidden zipper in his shorts.”
Awashima and Kusanagi couldn’t help smiling through tears that were threatening to fall at any moment.
“The world is cruel, forcing these two to part like this.”
_____________________________
Yata Misaki wanted to hear one voice.
“It’s such a beautiful day.” Fushimi said, spreading his arms wide. “Why the gloomy atmosphere?”
“The only thing gloomy here is you, Saru.” Yata spat. His aura pulsated around him.
Fushimi smirked. “There you go again, trying to hide your feelings. I know you’re upset, Misaki.”
Both of their fronts were breaking with every passing second. Fushimi’s Sword of Damocles presented itself, ready for battle.
“Fushimi, ready for battle.” He said confidently, though he felt quite the opposite.
They were both in pain. Their hearts ached for one another. One last touch, one last look, one last…
Yata used his powers to burst the few hundred meters to Fushimi, fists glowing and ready to strike. Fushimi, sword and body glowing a bright, bright blue, easily dodged the attack and brought his sword forward to strike at Yata.
“You’re a little rusty, Misaki.” Fushimi remarked. Yata let out another series of punches, but none of them connected to any part of Fushimi’s body. “Come on, Misaki. You’re the hero, remember?”
A large crack had appeared on Yata’s sword. It ran diagonally across the base of the sword, right through the red crystal.
Sparks of red and blue flew in all directions as the two battled it out.
One last time.
_____________________________
Yata Misaki wished there was no loser in this battle.
“It’s sad that it’s so beautiful.” Kusanagi was referring to the sparks of blues and reds that ricocheted off of every jab and strike the two Kings made. They created the most beautiful of shades purple when they managed to mingle with each other.
“Captain…” Awashima murmured. This battle was taking a toll on Fushimi’s Sword. The tiniest of cracks that had appeared there from before were now more prominent, but it showed no signs of being completely destroyed anytime soon.
They watched as Yata’s movements became more and more sluggish.
“I think it’s time to say our regards.” Kusanagi said. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing from their faces.
“He had a good heart, your King.” She said, sniffling.
“He would have been a great father one day.” Kusanagi murmured.
Awashima laughed. “Fushimi would hate him if he ever had children of his own.”
_____________________________
Yata Misaki hated it when he cried.
Fushimi was shaking ever so slightly.
Soon.
The aura around Yata’s Sword was losing its luster.
Yata jumped back after another series of spins and punches, and looked up at his own sword. The sparks were jumping around in a frenzy now.
Fushimi dropped his saber, unable to bear the responsibility his best friend had given him. Yata reached one hand out to Fushimi.
“One more time.” Was all Yata said before Fushimi took off running, right into Yata’s arms.
Fushimi was crumbling under Yata’s embrace. ‘No’s and ‘Misaki’s filled the air around them as Fushimi finally vented out the pain that had been trapped in his throat the entire time. “You can’t go.”
Yata held Fushimi while he looked up to his Sword. “But I have to go, stupid monkey.”
Fushimi had his face buried in the base of Yata’s neck.
Yata lifted am arm off of Fushimi and dug for the photo that he kept with him at all time. He gently pushed Fushimi off and forced it into his hands.
“Take good care of it.” Yata murmured, taking hold of Fushimi’s hands. It felt so weak around Fushimi.
Yata’s aura flared out one last time before going out completely. His Sword was falling.
Faster, faster.
Yata pushed away Fushimi’s collar to reveal the tiny knife he knew Fushimi kept right above his heart. It had always been there, ever since Yata had given it to him as a ‘use this to protect yourself when I’m not with you’ gift back in middle school. He pulled it out if its strap and forced Fushimi to take hold of it with his other hand. Fushimi vision was blurred; his thoughts jumbled.
I can’t do this. Not Misaki. This isn’t Misaki in front of me. It can’t be. He’s not ready to die.
Yata gave him the warmest smile he could muster up. Time was running out. The Sword was falling, falling.
Fushimi looked at Yata’s face one last time. It was peaceful, unlike Fushimi’s.
He saw the sword falling from the corner of his eye. It was close.
So close.
And right before the Sword could crush the two Kings – and flatten Shizume City – Fushimi plunged the small knife into Yata’s chest. The Sword hovered above their heads ominously before slowly disintegrating into the most beautiful of red lights.
Yata crumpled into Fushimi’s arms, held up by the knife. His blood was dripping down Fushimi’s hands and arms. The photograph, protected by the laminate, was also being coated with blood.
Yata lifted his head up one last time to whisper something into Fushimi’s ear.
Then he was gone.
_____________________________
Fushimi Saruhiko hated the way the world looked through his eyes.
It had been days since the incident that almost decimated Shizume City. Fushimi was emotionally unable to continue his work, and was forced to take leave.
“It’s for the best.” Awashima had said. “I’ll handle things here.”
Fushimi could only nod. Why did the world seem so lifeless, so colorless?
He had Yata’s copy of the photo in his pocket. He never kept it more than an arm’s reach away.
Kusanagi took charge of HOMRA after the loss of their King. Everyone in HOMRA seemed to be disoriented. Their loud and lively King was gone. It was too quiet without him joking around along with the others.
Anna was especially quiet, and refused to leave Totsuka’s side. Even Totsuka wasn’t as lively as usual. He couldn’t ever hope to lighten the mood that had settled around HOMRA.
This was a wound that would greatly affect both clans for a long, long time.
With HOMRA’s operations at a standstill, it was difficult for Scepter 4 to keep tabs on them. It was especially difficult to obtain underground information now that Kusanagi was out of reach. They had to dig a little deeper to find more information, but it won’t be for too long. Life had to go on.
However, time seemed to stand still for Fushimi.
He pulled the photo from his pocket and flipped it over and over again in his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to get out of his bed.
He needed to snap out of this soon, but he just couldn’t.
Not until he solved Yata’s puzzle.
That photo contains something only meant for you. Were his last words.
He had yet to figure out what Yata had meant. It was frustrating. What was so important about his copy? Yata knew very well that Fushimi had kept his own copy.
He turned the photo to its side and noticed that there was a slight bulge within the laminate.
Puzzled and curious, he felt around the photo.
There was something inside the photo.
“This idiot.” Fushimi muttered. He took a knife from his nightstand and teased at a corner of the laminate until it gave way. He pulled at it until he was able to pull out the photo and a card.
There was a folded piece of paper inbetween them.
Fushimi’s breath hitched. He sat up, hands shaking.
The card had pasted cutouts of Fushimi’s smiling face, with just one cutout of Yata’s.
He was afraid of opening the folded piece of paper, but he did so anyways, knowing what was going to be in it. On both sides of the paper was Yata’s handwriting, tiny and messy, but legible enough to Fushimi to read. He’s had a lot of practice reading Yata’s tiny scrawls.
The tears wouldn’t stop falling.
Saru! You finally opened the letter. Took you long enough!
If you’re reading this then I’m probably dead, huh? That’s probably going to be a really big deal for you. I know how you are, Saruhiko. You’re an idiot that doesn’t deal with emotions very well!
Anyways, I hope you don’t hate me for leaving you so soon. I probably didn’t want to die when I did, but it had to happen eventually. I was being a little too reckless I guess, huh? Don’t be like that, okay Saru? You’re supposed to be the level-headed guy that can think straight in the hardest of situations!
Nee Saru, do you remember when we still lived together? Before you ran off to be the Blue King? I hated it when we fought. I honestly really hated it when you had to leave too. Do you still remember the time you accidentally fell on me and kissed me? That was really funny. But I didn’t mind it. I liked touching you because it made me feel safe. So to suddenly not be with you anymore scared me a lot.
And now it’s at least five years since then and I think I finally figured out why I felt so comfortable with you. Are you ready? Are you? Well you’re going to have to finish this letter anyways!
I think I love you, Saru.
There I said it! I know you probably don’t think of me that way, but once I accepted that feeling I kind of felt content with life, ya know? Like even if you don’t love me, I love you and that’s all that matters to me.
I’m already running out of room on both sides of this paper! I wish I could talk to you again, Saru. Like we used to.
I’ll be waiting for you.
Yata Misaki.
Fushimi ‘s tears were uncontrollable by the time he had made it to the last word.
“Why did you have to go?” he cried. “I don’t want you to go…”
He cried for what felt like forever. He had put the photo, card, and letter on the nightstand before he buried himself in his sheets and let out every ounce of pain he had contained in his chest.
This isn’t fair, this isn’t fair, this isn’t fair.
Yata had put the feelings to words, and now that Fushimi recognized his own it was already much too late to do anything about it.
He cried for all the years they had spent apart. For all the years they had spent thinking that the other hated them. For all the years they lost just because they had become kings.
_____________________________
Fushimi Saruhiko wished he was the one in the coffin.
Yata was buried in a cemetery that had been built specifically for heroes.
Fushimi demanded that he be buried in the corner, under the cherry blossom trees. Awashima had also demanded (in secret) that they leave the spot next to Yata vacant for Fushimi.
Fushimi spent a lot of his vacant time at Yata’s grave. It had become his place to find peace. He had laminated the photo and the card, and put them (along with the letter) in a small pouch he leaves next to the knife Yata had given him.
Yata’s burial was still very fresh on Fushimi’s mind. HOMRA and Scepter 4 clansmen alike wept as they said their final farewells to Yata. Fushimi was the last to go, and before he closed the casket he had tucked his copy of their photo into Yata’s folded arms and laid a letter on top.
It was his response to Yata’s own letter, which had been read and reread time and time again. It was a long shot, but Fushimi figured that a return letter was in order, as this was his last chance to see his friend before he was six feet under.
Fushimi hopes that one day they’ll be able to talk again, just like the old days. For as long as forever allowed them to.
_____________________________
Fushimi Saruhiko had one last thing to say.
Stupid Misaki.
Of course I remember all of that. I remember every day I spent together with you. You’re my best friend, remember? You’re really stupid, Misaki. And how long ago did you write that letter? You sound so childish. You need to work on your kanji, because you wasted at least three lines from all the katakana you wrote.
Misaki, do you remember when we went to see the cherry blossoms? I liked you since way then. Seeing you among all the cherry blossoms made me realize that I liked you, but I never got to tell you. I was so afraid of telling you.
Why didn’t you join me in Scepter 4 when I invited you to? Maybe you wouldn’t have been chosen as the Red King if you were already with the blue clan. Maybe we could still be together. All these imaginary scenarios of us being together still run through my mind every day. I try so hard to stay alive, why couldn’t you do the same?
Why did you have to be the superhero all by yourself? Why couldn’t you look to me for help? Why did we see each other as enemies? Because our colors were opposite? Why?
Misaki, did you see how beautiful the purple sparks were during our fights? I hope our friendship was that beautiful. You should have seen how the purple sparks lit up your eyes. It was breathtaking.
I’m going to cut right to the chase, because I’m really tired and busy. I don’t know what dead people do when they’re gone, but they’re probably not too busy. I hope you don’t mind me being a little more reckless though. Someone needs to make up for your absence.
I love you, Misaki.
Stupid Misaki. Why did you have to leave? You’re so unfair. I wish you were here.
When I die, you better be the first person I see, or I’ll never forgive you. You got that?
I’ll see you soon, Misaki.
Fushimi Saruhiko.