Work Text:
The bar was quiet. So, unbelievably quiet, and much to cold. Mikoto’s funeral was two days ago and everyone was off grieving on their own. Kamamoto had taken Anna to stay with him; saying a change of scenery would be good for her. Izumo agree.
Izumo pick up his half empty pack and lit another cigarette. Izumo sat on the cold flood. Looking around at his bar that was once filled with so much warmth and life. His once perfect bar now felt dead.
In only a few short weeks, Izumo had buried his two closet friends; and to make matters worse, he still had no idea what would happen to the boys. Izumo had full custody over Anna. But, it was her he was worried about. Izumo had no doubt given time, Anna would be alright. The boys on the other hand - Izumo wasn’t so sure.
Homra was home to the lost and the broken. The strays and the outcast, the ones with nowhere to call home. Mikoto took them in and gave them a home. Mikoto gave them a family. How was Izumo supposed to keep these lost boys together; especially now? When every one of them was more broken than ever.
Izumo felt tears run down his face. He didn’t care. His best friends were dead and his family was broken. Izumo couldn’t hold it together any longer. He let himself shatter. Izumo pulled his knees to his chest. As he sobbed in his soulless bar.
“Mikoto! You stupid, son of bitch. How could you? How could you do this to me – to us? We need you! Anna needs you. The boys need you. I need you! God damn it! You fuckin moron. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Huh? How do I take care of them? I’m…I’m not… I’m not you. I can’t take care of them like you did!”
Izumo whimpered as he sobbed harder into his knees. Lost in his own grief, Izumo didn’t hear the back door open, nor the footsteps coming up behind him. Izumo was caught of guard when he felt strong arms pull him into their chest. For just a moment, Izumo thought Mikoto was the one holding him. Izumo turned to see the tear stained face of the young man who was holding him.
“Its okay, Mr. Kusanagi. I’ve got you.”
Yata was comforting him. Izumo felt pathetic. He was supposed to be taking care of Yata, not the other way around. Izumo try to pull himself from Yata’s hold. But, Yata only held him tighter.
“Let me go Yata.” Izumo was thankful his voice came out stern and not desperate. Yata responded by tightening his hold. Izumo could hear Yata’s uneven heartbeat. Yata let out a heavy sigh. “Kusanagi you’ve taken care of us for years. For once in your life, let someone take care of you.”
Yata’s words hit Izumo like bricks, and then it dawned upon him. Yata was Homra’s vanguard. Being vanguard wasn’t just about leading a mission. It also meant taking care of everyone.
How many times had Yata taken an injury that was meant for someone else? How many times did he risk himself to keep others safe? How many times did he carry someone home on his back? How many hangovers did he soothe? How many wounds had he bandage? How many cartons of cigarettes did he steal; so no one was ever out? How many meals did he cook? Yata had his own way of taking care of Homra. Just like Mikoto and Tatara and even himself.
Yata was hurting. Yata just wanted to do his role has Homra’s vanguard, and take care of someone. Yata need someone to take care of; and just this once, Izumo need someone to take care of him. Izumo gave an uneasy chuckle and wrapped his arms around Yata.
“Damn it, Brat… when did you grow up?” Izumo meant it as a rhetorical question. Maybe he expected a halfhearted ‘fuck you’ or ‘asshole’ but, he didn’t expect what Yata actually said. Izumo blinked. “Huh?”
“I said: I grew up when you needed me too.” Yata mumbled. His eyes fixed on the couch where Mikoto always sat. Yata’s body start to fall taking Izumo’s with him. They lied on the dirty wooden floor, surrounded by old cigarettes and empty whisky bottles. Holding each other in comfortable silence.
After a while Yata spoke “You’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay. Because we’re Homra and just like Mikoto once said: our fire may smolder, but, our flames will always rise.*”
With Yata’s words Izumo began to feel the tiniest spark of warmth coming back to his soulless bar. Izumo held Yata tighter.
“Yeah, you’re right.”