Kiyoka caught up with him halfway back to Scepter 4. Dark clouds had whisked away the sun, and a light drizzle began to litter every surface of Shizume. What little warmth was given from the gleam they witnessed earlier was gone, and in its place, a chilling fog rolled in, the coming evening drowning out the day.
Out of breath from running, Kiyoka stomped through newly formed puddles to snatch hold of Fushimi’s sleeve. “Wait up!” She called, exasperated.
Fushimi shrugged her off and kept on walking.
“Sashimi, stop!” She called more forcefully, taking up his arm.
Fushimi whipped around, nearly throwing her off balance. “Why are you here?” He snapped at her. “Shouldn’t you be off with your new king?” He nearly spat out the words.
Kiyoka felt suddenly defensive. “Just because she’s my king doesn’t mean that I have to drop everything and go to her.”
“That’s exactly what it means!” He shot back with surprising force. “When you take on the power of a king, you’re bound to that person, whether you like it or not. You have to follow them.”
“You mean like the way you followed Mikoto Suoh?”
Alarm flashed through Fushimi’s eyes and he took a harrowing step toward her.
Kiyoka didn’t budge, keeping her eyes locked with equal force against his.
“You know nothing of loyalty,” he uttered low to her, rain drops dripping down his cheeks. “You don’t know what it’s like to take on responsibility, only to have it thrown away by someone else who doesn’t give a damn about you. All that talk of being a traitor, of leaving Homra to join Scepter 4 – you have no idea the truth behind it. You don’t know what a traitor really looks like. But I do. So do me a favor and leave me the hell alone.”
With an air of finality, partnered with a look of disgust, he back away from her and began to walk away, but Kiyoka intervened.
“Oh no you don’t! You don’t get to walk away from me,” she argued, speeding up to stand before him, blocking his path. “Just like I don’t get to hang up on you.”
“This is different,” he said.
“How?”
“Because I know where I’m going! Can you honestly say the same?”
His answer struck her coldly and she staggered back, her inability to offer a reply the very thing he expected from her.
“Exactly,” he said. “Like I told you: you know nothing.”
Again, he tried to skirt around her, but she tightened her grip on his arm, setting her other hand on his chest. “Then teach me!” She yelled, desperate to keep him there.
Fushimi had had enough. He took her by the arms and shoved her to a nearby wall. “Just get away from me!” He hollered.
He was so close to her, she could feel his heated breath on her nose, her lips, his trembling rage significant, though she hardly knew why.
Mouth hung meekly open, Kiyoka had no words to say, only a look of yearning in her eyes that told him not to go.
Fushimi seemed to study this, realizing his own madness for a moment before reeling himself back.
He released her arms, hanging his own limply at his sides.
He said nothing for a moment, nor did he attempt to walk away again. Despite his order, telling her to let him go, he didn’t make an effort to depart.
It was silent. Only the sound of the rain, now coming down in throngs, could be heard. In the growing cold, the warmth of both their ragged breathing shot the air in tiny gusts, instantly extinguished by the rain.
Kiyoka was the first to speak, peeling off the wall to draw in close to him. “Listen to me,” she said, staring up into his wandering eyes that tried and failed to run from hers.
She took him by his soaked lapel and held him there, allowing her firm gaze to steady him. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said, resolution in her voice. “I may not understand, but I know that this is where I need to be – where I want to be. So please,” she said, her brow pressed with concern, her eyes searching deeply into his. “Let me stay. I want to stay.”
Fushimi’s own brow quivered, his breathing coming shallow to his lungs, then letting out in small, obstructed bursts.
“Like I said,” he uttered low, his face hardening. “You do what you want.”
With his final word, he took her wrist and plied her hand off of him. Without another word, he departed from her, leaving her alone, his figure soon enveloped by the fog.
(K:Tales of Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)
A mere twenty four hours had passed since Fushimi heard those startling words uttered by Rei Kiyoka.
We’re going to kill Hisui Nagare.
Like a broken record, those words ran like chills again and again through Fushimi’s sleep-deprived brain. They didn’t want to go away. The more he heard their weighted echo ringing in his ears, the more unsettled he became, which was an even greater shock to him, given his utter lack of empathy for any person ever.
Of course, this is what you wanted, he would tell himself. You want him gone. He’s sick. He’s twisted. He needs to be stopped. Yet all the while, Fushimi failed to realize just what wanting him gone really meant.
Stopping Hisui Nagare wasn’t just about defeating him. There was no halfway mark that meant locking him up and hoping he’d learn his lesson. Only one solution would ensure that no more harm would come from Hisui’s aura-ridden hands. It was simple, really, only Fushimi hadn’t gotten that far mentally. Hence the growing feeling of unease he couldn’t seem to shake. Plus, of course, the notion that, to kill a man – even a sadistic one like Nagare – would somehow ruffle the unruffable feathers of Saruhiko Fushimi. If shame was ever something to be felt by Fushimi, it would happen over something so ridiculous and highly out-of-character as this.
Naturally, these troubling thoughts succeeded in deflecting any notion of sleep over the course of those twenty four hours since his obvious wall of naivety was shattered like a fragile piece of glass. What an idiot, he kept thinking to himself, hardly noticing the world around him. Nor did he quite comprehend the mission he was currently engaged upon, partnered with Rei Kiyoka for whatever reason. Oh yeah, he realized somewhat vaguely, recalling to his mind, an instance with the Captain several moments (or perhaps hours) before.
“I want you to find something for me,” the Captain had said ominously with his insufferable air of vagueness that Fushimi couldn’t stand.
Pricked as usual with annoyance, Fushimi asked, almost like he was talking to a child, “And what might that be?”
“You’ll know it when you see it,” came the worst possible answer that the Captain could have given.
Yes, how could I forget such a stimulating talk? Fushimi wondered with a jilt while traversing through the windy, uncrowded alleyways of Shizume. Kiyoka paced several steps ahead him. The sight of her cascading waves of jet-black hair, her angled features peering into passing shops and her roaming eyes that never once appeared to him as natural, produced once more the image from the day before, equipped with those same words remarked with such a casual air as to make even his hair stand on end.
Kiyoka, on the other hand, appeared in brighter spirits – innocently bright. Once again, a slight glimmer of humanity reflected itself off of her, her current gaiety centered on the city that surrounded them: the scores of people strolling down the windy streets, the storefronts and their catchy signs, bakeries wafting out delicious scents into the air; above it all, a shimmering gleam of yellow sunlight blanketing the scene.
Kiyoka splayed her featured over every single one of them, as though the view was somehow foreign to her, as though she had never witnessed a display of the mundane, of ordinary life, of the utter simplicity of being present in the world. It was, every bit of it, new to her, though Fushimi couldn’t imagine why.
Kiyoka had spent her fair share of time out in the world since her stint at Ignatius Banks (the thought of which still made Fushimi twitch). Yet it seemed she never stopped for very long to gaze out at the scenery, to grab a cup of coffee, to shop about aimlessly, or go on casual walks, exploring every facet of the city. She had done none of those things. Instead, she had focused all her power on her mission. On me, he couldn’t help but emphasize. A slight flush surfaced on his cheeks. Deliberately, he brushed the heat away with the cuff of his sleeve, as though he were only sweating from exertion and not from something else much hotter deep within himself.
Seeking to distract his wandering thoughts (since, clearly, the silence wasn’t helping), he chose the only option he could think of.
“I have a question,” he said, calling out to Kiyoka.
Maintaining her calm interest on a tea shop they were passing, Kiyoka answered mildly. “Of course you do.”
Pricked nearly back into silence, yet preferring an argument over the current terror of his thoughts, he persisted. “Why won’t the serum work to neutralize your powers? If that was what was in the vial you left for me to give to the Captain, why haven’t you taken it?”
“That’s two questions,” she noted, eyeing a passing stray cat.
“Are you going to answer or what?” Fushimi challenged.
He saw in her profile, a hint of amusement, partnered with the gentlest of chuckles. Spinning round, she eyed him up and down, appraising him and drawing more amusement in his growing discomfort under her gaze.
“Would you trust something you stole from your enemy?” She asked.
It was a simple question, yet blatantly true.
Of course not, was the obvious answer.
Discerning from Fushimi’s sudden pause that he had understood her meaning, she flipped back around and started up again, walking with her back to him and her long hair flipping side-to-side with every skipping step.
“We still have to analyze it to see if it would even work,” she continued. “The serum is meant for those who haven’t already gone through the Imperium Procedure, given that it’s essentially a hyper sped-up version of it in one concentrated dose, giving others the same level of power that I have.” She cocked her face halfway toward him. “Without the side effects, of course
“There’s no telling what it would do to someone who’s already been through the Imperium Procedure, and frankly, I’m not too excited to find out. I’ve been through enough experiments without my consent. I’m not about to go blindly into this one when I know I have the option to discover with absolute certainty what it’ll do to me.”
She said this so matter-of-factly, it almost didn’t register in Fushimi’s mind how deeply enslaved this woman was for so many years. Did she even realize it?
Then he slumped internally. Of course she realizes it, you moron. Who wouldn’t? Especially after having been freed? And yet her casual nonchalance made him wonder. If it had been him, … But you’re not her, he made a point specifically to remind himself. We may be similar in some ways – a lot of ways, in fact – but it doesn’t mean I can expect her to behave in the same way I do. Just look at her track record so far. She’s been anything but predictable.
“What if the serum comes back clean?” He pressed her. “Would you take it then?”
At this, Kiyoka paused, all sense of her surroundings fading back into the void as she turned slowly to look at him. Her deep green eyes studied him. “No,” she said, and began to walk again.
Fushimi stopped, confused, then picked up in a jolt and darted after her, speeding up to walk alongside her. “You mean you won’t even try it? Even if it meant getting rid of…” he motioned up and down her walking frame.
Kiyoka frowned. “Better to be flawed and alive, than potentially dead.” Then her voice took on a jaded undertone. "I would have thought a narcissist like you would have understood the concept of self-preservation.”
“And I would have thought that someone so reckless as you, who takes risks as easily as a kid popping candy, would have gone for something as questionable as this without batting an eye. Knowing you even a little bit, I’d bank on you finding a way to cheat yourself out of something so trivial as death.”
He had a point, and Kiyoka knew it. Her face, borderline appalled by his defiant comeback, showed him just how little she expected it, though far be it from her to be put out by it.
After a considerable pause, she opened her mouth to speak, either with a serious remark or with some lame comment on how precious it was that Fushimi believed enough in her to survive, as had become her natural, lewd inclination to do. But instead of saying anything, her attention shifted drastically to the side, cautious of another presence, some new force encroaching on the scene. Whatever it was, Fushimi couldn’t feel it. All he sensed was Kiyoka and her unmistakable power wafting all around him.
“What is it?” He asked, peering around, attempting to catch wind of whatever it was she had picked up.
Kiyoka’s eyes darted side-to-side until she locked onto the source. Her eyes squinted to a frown, probing it, deciphering it, her brow increasingly furrowed.
Fushimi took a step toward her, his own concern growing. “Rei, what –“ he began to ask, and was abruptly cut off as Kiyoka’s eyes shot unexpectedly wide and she took off down the street.
“Hey, what are you doing! He called after her, but she didn’t answer. “Rei, stop!” He hollered, racing after her. “Rei!”
She disappeared around a corner, forcing him to speed up. In and out, he weaved through the general throng of unsuspecting people as he tried keeping up with her.
When at last, he caught sight of her, paused before a storefront with an ardent gaze on something deep within, he made at once to race to her, then stopped himself in something of a recoil, his entire body bathed in apprehension and alarm.
The store that Kiyoka chose was none other than Homra, the regular watering hole of Red King Mikoto Suoh and his clan – Fushimi’s old home. Not that it ever felt like home, he couldn’t help but recall. But what was she doing there? Rei Kiyoka had no connection, no reason, to go there. Is she just messing with me? He couldn’t help but wonder.
It was then when the Captain’s shrouded words came back to mind. I want you to find something. You’ll know when you see it. Was this what he was talking about? If so, then it’s no wonder he didn’t tell Fushimi openly about it. Fushimi wouldn’t have gone if he knew he’d wind up there. Where he was. Creepily, those memories started surfacing, yet before they had a chance to scurry up, he clamped them down, back into the hole that was his past, from which, as greatly as he tried, he couldn’t see, to escape. Nor could he find a way to make himself forget.
Cast drastically into a horrid mood, Fushimi balled his fists, took a deep breath, and strode up to Kiyoka. Still, she stood there, silent, staring.
“There you are,” he said, grabbing her by the arm. She flinched and turned to look at him, her eyes wide open, totally exposed.
“It’s here,” she breathed, hurried emotion in her eyes.
Fushimi frowned, his own urgency to get away from there obstructing his ability to comprehend her. “Rei, we have to get out of here,” He said, giving her arm a tug while glancing side-to-side, hoping no one would notice them. “You have no idea what this place is.”
“I’m going in,” she said, ignoring him.
“What?! No! You can’t —!” He tried to argue, but she slipped out of his grasp and strolled in through the door, the light ‘ding’ of the the bell atop it chiming as she did.
“Rei, get back here! You can’t –!”
“Oi! Saru!” Came a raspy young voice behind him.
Fushimi paused mid-step, closing his eyes in a dreaded blink.
“Perfect,” he mumbled low beneath his breath. Just what I need right now. Heaving out a grumbling sigh, he slid around to view Misaki Yata, the royal pain-in-the-ass that was Homra’s vanguard – and also his former best friend.
“Well if it isn’t Mi-sa-ki,” he sneered tauntingly. He eyed the young ma, who was quite a few inches shorter than he, yet with no shortness of aggression in his features.
“I told you not to call me that,” he sneered.
Mounted halfway on a skateboard with a baseball bat flung casually over his shoulder, the vanguard smiled wickedly at him. “You know, it’s too late to come back. Or are you just here so I can teach you a lesson? Traitor.” The word came like poison from his mouth.
Fushimi grinned, bursting into a wicked laugh that was anything but pleasant.
“By all means, try,” he answered. “I haven’t killed anyone yet…today. And I’ve gotta tell you, I’m really in the mood for it.”
From within his sleeves, he drew his red-soaked daggers, a rakish smile present on his face as he advanced upon an equally exhilarated Misaki. The two of them neglected what went on beyond their own immediate sphere that had, by then, completely formed itself.
Inside Homra, Rei Kiyoka had her mind on other things –of the wave of onyx power wafting through the halls, of her own power dominating fully in this tiny, compact bar that she could not, and cared not, to remember the name of. All she sensed was the same void of pitch-black darkness that entwined the very essence of her being, only it wasn’t coming from her. Her aura – that mystical force she loved, yet never knew the source of – was radiating out to her from somewhere else. From someone else.
The place itself was empty, save for the bartender, a tall man in glasses; and a woman seated opposite him with her back to Kiyoka. Her long white hair dripped past her waist in shimmery silver tendrils, and as Kiyoka entered, she turned, sending her red stare across the room to scrutinize the person, in whom, she sensed as well, a similar power.
It’s her, Kiyoka thought. It’s coming from her.
Instinctively, she knew. Standing face-to-face with a woman of so obvious a supernatural connection to her, that the person she was looking at was not just another like her who bore that same magnificent power as she, but the very source from which her own originated. At last, after so much time spent thinking she was all there was, the missing piece of her puzzle had finally been found.
“How is it possible?” She breathed, lost to understanding and entirely in awe.
The woman, likewise, shared in some surprise, for her features, though calm, seemed suddenly pleased. She rose, a regal presence standing before Kiyoka, and approached until she stood a mere few inches from Kiyoka’s face.
Gently lifting one slim hand to cup Kiyoka’s cheek, she breathed a wistful chuckle of relief. “It’s you,” she said with such affection, Kiyoka hardly realized the emergence of emotion in her eyes. “My beautiful Midnight power,” the woman said. "It belongs to you as well.”
Overcome with an emerging bliss, Kiyoka nodded. “I thought I was the only one.” Tears started streaming down her face.
“As did I,” came the response. “But that was not to be, it seems.” Her large red eyes squinted in a contended smile, calling forth a similar smile from Kiyoka as she wiped away her tears.
“What’s your name?” The woman asked.
Regaining her composure with a shaky breath, she answered. “Kiyoka. My name is Rei Kiyoka.”
“Rei Kiyoka,” the woman repeated, seeming pleased with it. “I am Anna Kushina. I’m the Midnight King. And you, it appears, are my clansman.”
Eyes shot wide, Kiyoka’s mouth dropped open. A sense of purpose filled her, partnered with a feeling of true kinship and belonging. Never before had she felt these things so purely, like a weight that had been suddenly cast off, or like a trick equation she had finally found the answer to.
“Sit down,” Anna offered her. She took Kiyouka’s hand and lead her to sit down at the bar. “Izumo, fetch another drink, will you?” She asked, and the man behind the bar nodded.
“Mei oui, mademoiselle,” he said in his slick, cool tone, and began tinkering with the bottles of alcohol stacked neatly behind him.
“Tell me,” Anna said, leaning on her elbow and leveling her ardent gaze on Kiyoka. “How did you come by my power when I don’t even remember giving it to you?”
Her presence, imperial and beautiful, was not at all oppressive or accusatory. Instead, it was kind, soft, riddled with the same power that wove about inside Kiyoka.
A mutual understanding sprung up between them as a result. Kiyouka felt free, able to speak without restraint, unbound by this new feeling of inclusion. Finally she could speak to someone who would truly understand and who would truly know her for who she was, regardless of having never known one another until that moment.
Truthfully and unabashedly, she replied. “So, you had no idea that I existed?”
Anna shook her head. “I would have come for you, had I known. Because, you see, this power is special. You know it is. You can feel it.”
It’s true, Kiyoka felt it. It was a rich, deep power, giving her a sense of everlasting will to overcome the world. It was comforting, pure. And she knew full well that if it weren’t for it, she would have died long ago at Ignatius Banks.
A sudden light sprung in her mind. “Ignatius Banks!” She said excitedly. “That was where I first came by this power.”
Anna’s face grew stern, concerned. “You were at Ignatius Banks?” She asked, a genuine pain in her eyes. “You were also at that awful place?”
Kiyoka sat up straight, curiosity in her tone. “You were a prisoner there, too?”
Anna nodded. “For a brief time. It was many years ago, long before I came to be here. I remember very little from it.” She shook her head, as though attempting to be free of some invisible force that sought to erg her down. “They did many things to me,” she went on, reflecting painfully with both eyes closed. “Later, I realized that what they were attempting to do was harness my power. To this day, I still don’t know why.”
“I think I do,” Kiyoka chimed in, prompting Anna’s attention.
Kiyoka then proceeded to tell Anna the story of her time at Ignatius Banks, of the Imperium Procedure, and how it was their mission to replicate supernatural power to be used on non-aura wielders. “They probably thought your rare abilities as a black aura wielder would help them,” Kiyoka posed.
This time, it was Anna who sat up straight with alarm. She clutched Kiyoka’s hand that rested on the bar next to hers. “Did they use my aura to harm you?” Her face was full of fear.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Kiyoka assured her as the bartender, Izumo, placed a drink before her. “Thank you,” she nodded to him. “In fact, it was your aura that saved me. I don’t even think they knew I had somehow gotten it, and to be honest, I don’t really know how it happened.”
She then recounted the day she had spent in her cell alone, how Anna’s aura burst through the walls, straight into her, and how it had remained her constant companion ever since, fueling her and aiding her in her survival against the Imperium Procedure’s brutality; how it had inevitably saved her time and time again when Imperium took her powers too far.
“That was no accident,” Anna said to this. “Your power is greater than most auras. It can destroy all that it touches. But it has another name for it as well.”
At this, Kiyoka peered a question at her.
“It’s called ‘Restore,’” she revealed. “As I’m sure you’ve already discovered, it is a healing aura that can return anything it touches to an earlier stage of its existence. Therefore, just as Midnight brings death, so also can it bring about new life. And for that, I am so glad that it found you when it did, for now I can sit here with you like this and marvel at the clansman I inadvertently created. In the midst of so much darkness at Ignatius Banks, at least this one bit of goodness came from it. You are a true miracle, Rei Kiyoka.” She smiled, relief and happiness flooding her features.
Kiyoka smiled back, her own sense of familiarity and relief breaking down a whole new set of barriers she didn’t know she had. For once, she truly felt both heard and seen.
Filled with this new sense of peace, she studied the glimmering amber-hued drink in her hand and took a sip, it’s profound flavor smooth and comforting on her tongue.
She swallowed, allowing the full potency of the liquor to waft down her throat. “That’s one good bartender you have,” she said, only then aware that he was no longer in the room but had most likely slipped off to some side room behind the bar to give them some privacy.
“He’s much more than the bartender here,” Anna laughed, and Kiyoka rose an inquisitive brow.
“Oh? Are you two, uh…” she twiddled her drink in the air, furthering her emphasis, but Anna merely laughed.
“Would you like to meet my love, Kiyoka?” She asked, fondness in her voice.
Kiyoka made to answer, stopping herself curtly at the sound of her cell phone’s muffled ringing coming from her pocket. With an apologetic glance to Anna, she drew it out and answered it.
“Hello?”
“What the hell are you doing!” Came the distinct, agitated tone of Fushimi.
Kiyoka paused. “Hello?” She said again.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Can you?” She snapped. “Your phone etiquette is appalling.”
Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Do you have any idea who that is?”
Kiyoka, unperturbed, peered backward to the door, glancing out the window. “Where are you?” She asked.
“You’re just now realizing I’m not with you?” Again he clicked his tongue. “Listen, that woman is with the Red King! You have to get away from her!”
Delighted, Kiyoka turned an interested expression to Anna. “Ah, so your love is a King as well – and a regular bad boy, at that. Well done.”
Anna winked back at her.
But seriously, where are you?” She said, redirecting her attention to Fushimi.
“Just forget it,” came his grumbling reply. “Just get out of – Ah! Hey!”
A residual boom erupted on the other end. Kiyoka frowned. “Sashimi? Hello?” But Fushimi didn’t answer. Instead, another zapping boom cracked painfully through the phone, causing her to wince.
“Ow,” she said into the phone. “Sashimi, what are you –?”
She paused mid-sentence, silenced by a laugh, somewhat maniacal and sounding eerily like Fushimi’s (or what he would sound like if he did laugh, for she realized that she’d never heard him do so before).
“Is that all you’ve got?” She heard him say in the most giddily twisted voice she’d ever heard.
“Sashimi…?” she ventured in.
“I haven’t even started, yet, Saru!” Came a distant, gruff response.
Another set of blasts and zapping booms commenced.
Kiyoka blinked, nearly bored. “Sashimi…” she said patiently again, to no reply.
She looked to Anna, shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the words What is going on?
Anna merely grinned, seemingly knowing something she didn’t.
One of the explosions on the other end made the ground beneath her rumble, and she glanced back to the window, witnessing Fushimi and another young man battling it out with conflicting red and blue auras that looked about ready to kill one another.
“Oh, there he is,” she said as trivially as though commenting on the weather.
Fushimi and a young man that Kiyoka had never seen before were deeply engaged in all-out war with one another in the street.
The young man wore a white sweatshirt and a beanie, donning around his neck a set of headphones, a red shirt tied around his waist, and a baseball bat in his hand as he paraded in an aura-ridden circle on a skateboard round Fushimi. He bounced around so quickly, it was difficult to determine how tall he was.
Meanwhile, Fushimi parried every red-aura blow that came by way of the baseball bat, countering with his blue sword of Reisi Munakata, partnered with his red-aura daggers in a startling display of warfare – one that Kiyoka couldn’t help but think they’d had before.
“Who is that?” She asked Anna, casually observing them.
“That’s Misaki Yata. He’s a member of Mikoto’s clan – Mikoto Suoh, I mean.”
Kiyoka gave her a sultry look. “Your love,” she crooned.
“Indeed,” Anna answered, blushing a little.
“Misaki and Saruhiko grew up together. They were inseparable,” she added.
Kiyoka nearly choked as she attempted another sip of her drink, spitting scotch into her glass and spraying it all over her nose.
Sending a perplexing glance to Anna, she couldn’t decide whether to be shocked at Anna’s casual use of Sashimi’s name, or at the prospect of him being ‘inseparable’ to anyone. With so many questions swirling in her mind, she chose to ignore all of them for the time being.
“So, they’re fine, then?” She asked, nodding to the seemingly destructive battle beyond.
Anna shrugged. “Oh yes, they’ll be alright.”
Kiyoka held the phone back to her ear. “Did you hear that, Sash? I’m going to hang up now, okay?”
No answer. Instead, “Don’t you think you’re getting a little old to be throwing temper tantrums, Mi-sa-ki?” Fushimi taunted.
“We’re the same fucking age, you moron!” Came Misaki’s reply, followed by a whooshing zoom of an aura blast that boomed over the phone.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Kiyoka offered politely, then nodded against the non-response she received. “Brilliant.”
Hanging up the phone, she smiled in Anna’s direction. “Right then, where were we?”
“You’re not worried about him?” Anna asked, amused.
Kiyoka shrugged, studying the remainder of her drink. “He’s been through far worse from me. I think he can handle this.”
Anna gave her a perceptive smile as the door burst open and Fushimi barged in, Misaki trailing behind him.
“Oi! Where do you think you’re going?” Misaki hollered after a completely disinterested Fushimi. “This is Homra, idiot! You don’t belong here anymore!”
Fushimi ignored him, strolling up to Kiyoka and snatching up her arm.
“What do you mean you’re going to hang up?” He said deliberately, earning a blink from Kiyoka.
“You were actually listening?” She asked, a hint of a smile creeping along the edge of her mouth.
“Like I can tune out something so piercing as the sound of your voice,” he answered, pulling her up out of her chair. “And you don’t get to hang up on me. Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
“But Sash,” she tried to argue. “She’s –“
“I don’t care!” He shot back, dragging her toward the door.
“But I do!” She cried, emitting a brief tremor of her darkened power outward through the room. The reverberative thrust shook Fushimi off her and he turned to her, stunned.
Locking eyes with him, Kiyoka’s own widened pleadingly. “She has my power, Sash!” she conveyed to him. “My aura,” she clarified to Fushimi’s deepening scowl, and then his brow shot tall, sudden understanding flooding in.
“You mean she’s…” He peered from her to Anna and back, at an utter loss for words.
Kiyoka nodded. “It was hers to begin with. Sashimi, she’s my King.”
That word struck him like a dagger, and in a fumbled attempt to speak, Fushimi stumbled backward, eyeing her with what she could only assume was betrayal.
He cocked his head emphatically to the side. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He shouted, coming back to stare at her with malice. Taking a heavy step toward her, he pointed one long finger at her. “Is there no end to the havoc you can wreak!”
Kiyoka blinked again. This had successfully dumbfounded her.
“W-what are you talking about?” She stumbled out, her tone soft, confused, hurt. But he wasn’t looking at her. Sure, his eyes appeared to be, but somewhere deep inside, he was looking elsewhere. A darkness settled over him that Kiyoka didn’t recognize.
A weighted silence took them, Kiyoka staring up at him, disarmed; Fushimi bearing down on her, holding her ensnared.
Then that strenuous bond snapped as he tore his stare away from her, glancing briefly at the silent Anna still seated at the bar, then back to Kiyoka, an entirely new distance between them.
“Fine,” he uttered flatly. “You do what you want,” and he turned his back to her. He hardly seemed to notice Misaki’s look of hatred as he slammed the door behind him, the bell above it giving a parade of irate jingles in his wake.
Kiyoka watched him go, her mouth drawn open, emptiness abounding in the room. “Sash,” she nearly whispered, her steps drawn toward the door.
“Kiyoka, wait,” came Anna’s voice behind her.
Kiyoka turned to find the Midnight King no longer seated passively but standing tall beside the bar. Compassion and resolve swirled about her form.
With a regal step, she strode toward Kiyoka, taking up her hand.
“You will always have a place here,” she told Kiyoka. “Though, I understand all too well that a person must find her own place in her own way and in her own time.” She cast her red gaze over to the door, the remnants of Fushimi’s presence lingering like a passing scent that wafted down the street. “Whether yours is out there or in here, or someplace entirely different,” she continued, turning back to Kiyoka, her gentle features emanating warmth, “That is up to you. Go. And I promise you: we will see each other again.”
Bolstered by Anna’s words, emboldened to return a nod of certainty, Kiyoka clutched both hands around Anna’s, giving a tight squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, then raced out the door to find Fushimi.
(Chapter X: Answers // Chapter XII: Traitors)
(K:Tales of Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)
He could hear his breath whooshing fiercely in and out. It was a lot louder than he remembered – faster, too. He couldn't seem to stop it growing more and more intense. He needed air, but couldn't seem to get enough, no matter what he did.
He stumbled down an alley, gripped the wall with one hand, his chest with the other. He could always feel the heat of his own fire, but today he felt a sweat as cold as ice begin to rise up from the depths of God knows where inside his furnace of a soul. The burning in his chest was not a fiery one but froze him to the core.
Huh, that's weird, Mikoto thought, tensing as the pain coursed like a hammer, sending shock waves through his bones. Is this that thing that Tatara always talked about?
He heaved another precious breath, swallowed it, then let it out again, feeling none the better for it.
Mikoto had been trailing passing Shadows since the night atop Shizume, the night he fought the Blues and their insufferable King. Mikoto ducked out early, though. A call to Munakata had informed them both of something that Mikoto simply couldn't lay to rest:
The Shadows had escaped.
Mikoto's jaw invariably tightened, the memory just as vivid as the moment that it happened. The Shadows, he recalled, clenching his fist deeper to the wall. The stone beneath it cracked. I have to...
The freezing burn shot through him once again. Unwittingly, he caved against it, falling to his knees.
Yeah, he realized, blinking through the haze of it. I'm pretty sure that this is what he meant. A mopy sigh escaped him. What a pain.
But then the thought of her came flooding back to him, and all those freezing burns became at once a warmth that entered him like nothing his own red had done to satisfy before. It filled him with a softness that belayed his thoughts of bitterness. It lifted him, empowered him. It made him leave behind that brooding air he loved so much.
Again he clutched his fingers in a fist, though not against the wall this time, and not with pain, nor emptiness, with grumbling or despair. No, this time, it was held before him, partnered with a second fist, the pair of them ignited into flames.
"Anna," he said down to them.
The labored breathing stopped, replaced with something shaky like a gasp. His heart beat ever faster and he closed his eyes against it, feeling, listening, as though he sought to hear her voice inside of him the way he always had.
Wait for me, he called to her. I promise I'll come back to you.
The air, by way of answering, came swirling up to him, entering his lungs as though to offer him new life, the life he fully recognized in her. He knew it hadn’t come from her; but then, perhaps it had.
Slowly, he regained his feet. Anna, he called out again, frowning his eyes open to reveal a heavy stare. The flames he bore spread rapidly to cover him, something of a fierceness in his stature and a longing in his eyes. I can't let this end, he said. I won’t...
...not without you knowing...
His chest began to throb again, a fiery red encompassing the pain he felt before, piercing him the more, but with a fervid savagery that spoke of all the things he ever wanted but was too afraid to hope that he could have; yet somewhere in the course of time, those things he was afraid to have had somehow found their way to him. She had found her way to him; and now his only fear was that she’d somehow disappear before he had the chance to tell her.
A hollow breath escaped him, swirling into fumes. I promise, he repeated resolutely to the air. I promise you’ll know everything.
We strolled into his room, Mikoto and I, the pair of us exactly how we wanted us to be. Finally, I thought.
"I'm tired," he mumbled out. I couldn't have agreed more. Vengeance always had a way of wearing people out. Of all the time I spent with Mikoto, with Homra, that one truth had stuck with me the longest.
Mikoto sauntered over to the bathroom. Probably for the best, I remember thinking. He's filthy and could use a shower. Though I'm surprised he has the motivation for it.
On his way, he plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and set it on the desk, but stopped as he discerned the gentle click of a lighter, the bursting of a flame, and the hollow snap of the lid. I heard him shuffle back to look at me, no doubt shocked to see me smoking that same cigarette while staring out the window.
I peered around my shoulder, meeting his surprise with kind of mild amusement. Still he wasn't used to seeing me parading as an adult just yet. I found this rather funny.
"Really, Mikoto,” I said chidingly. “It's not like you were the only indulgence I was missing out on.”
I think that was the first time I could actually see Mikoto's smile ー his mild, brooding, passive grin that wasn't necessarily a smile so much as a slightly upward curl of the left side of his lip. Either way, it was his and it suited him perfectly. Further still, I knew that he'd been saving it for me.
Then came his iconic "Hmph" that was his bustling laugh, at which, he turned again and vanished into the bathroom.
A moment later, I could hear the water running – not that it was anything out-of-the-ordinary but that somehow I was saddened by it. I think because I knew that there was something I could do about it then. But instead, I just stood there, partaking in what was no doubt the greatest cigarette I had ever had, yet nevertheless wracked with the knowledge that what I should have been doing was something even greater.
Sacrilegiously, I scrunched the half-smoked cigarette into the ash tray and made my way the bathroom.
The mixture of steam and Mikoto's natural heat gave way to a nearly incoherent scene, so I knew he had no way of knowing I was there. Slowly, I undressed and tiptoed over to him. The air was thickly weighted like a blanket, warm, lovely, wrapping me inside.
I could see him then, blurred and hazy, through the glass. His hand was drawn against the wall, his face brought low. His eyes were closed in something of a frown.
Cautiously, I touched the door and slid it open just, glancing down, suddenly shy.
"...Mikoto?" I said, peering up to find him staring with a sort of awe and wonderment at me. I'd never seen him give me such a look. I suppose it's how I'd always hoped he'd look at me, and yet I was surprised that it was actually happening.
Unconsciously, I turned my face away from him, stepped inside, and moved to close the door. As I did, he caught me by the arm and pulled me fully in, pressing me against the wall and him against me, both of us silent, breathing heavily. Still, his frown remained, an earnestness pronounced among his features that conveyed to me how serious he was.
Lacing his warm fingers into mine, tightening his grip on me, I saw his stare was stronger than before.
"Can you understand how much I've wanted this?" He asked.
I searched his face and saw it in his eyes. "Yes," I nodded
"Tell me," he said, water streaming down his face. “Tell me, I want to hear it.”
I looked at him – or rather, through him. His hand drew up trace the outline of my jaw. "Because..” I said.
His hand closed in, cupping my face. Tightening. Pulling me in.
My heart was beating faster than I ever thought was possible. “Because I’ve wanted it just as badly,” I breathed.
Amidst the streaming water and the steam, I clearly saw a tear begin to form itself and slip out from the corner of his eye. Drawing near, he dipped his face to mine and softly caught his breath. "Anna," he said low to me, "I love you," and knelt in close to kiss me.
(Previously // Chapter Ten: Midnight)
(K:Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)
Caught within his arms, the object of his gaze, a shuddered gasp commanded me to silence, and all that I could do was stare into the ruthlessness abounding in his eyes, entranced, yet wholly unafraid of what I saw. Equally, he looked at me as though I, too, were just as rare and dangerous as he.
Anna Kushina on Mikoto Suoh
K: Midnight: A K Project Fan Fiction: Chapter Ten: Midnight
