K Red King - Yatagarasu

[NicTheDjinn]

Mikoto’s death hit all of HOMRA hard. Kamamoto lost weight rapidly in his distress, the rest of the members slowly trickled away, no longer seeing the need of staying without a King, and Yata felt the sorrow of losing what was essentially his family once again in one tragic turn of fate. Anna was still there, Kusanagi and Kamamoto were as well; but with so much loss, they brought little comfort. He spent most of his days in the bar, watching all of Totsuka’s homemade videos, heart aching for his family, lost in his grief.

And then his fever hit.

Ever since becoming a Red Clansman, Yata had known no more illness. The only time he ever felt weak was after injuries, and even then he healed faster than ever before. His willingness to fight to protect his family always had him jumping right back into action, even at his worst. It was like his Aura was fueled by pure determination, if not just his hardheadedness. But seeing him fall to a fever that just wouldn’t let up no matter what was done to try and remedy it was foreign to everyone who knew the Vanguard of HOMRA.

Anna had whispered in Kusanagi’s ear, how Yata’s Aura looked different. How it kept burning brighter and brighter, looking like living flames within him, surrounding him. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, she said, but the power reminded her of Mikoto; and Kusanagi knew that could only mean one thing. He left, to investigate further with Awashima helping him, and left Yata in Anna and Kamamoto’s care while he did. Except, of course, nothing can go well for anyone for too long, now could it?

It was one of Yata’s better days, his fever hadn’t gone down at all but he felt coherent and stable enough to stumble his way to the front of the bar, flopping into a seat after preparing a glass of juice for himself that seemed to be an inappropriately monumental task for him. Head in his arms and on the bar, he felt like taking a nap right then and there when the door flung open, revealing an injured Kamamoto, his heart crashing at the news that Anna had been taken. Feverish as he was, he put all of it aside as he stood, falling to his knees almost immediately. They’d called someone in to patch Kamamoto up, but Yata had to hurry, he had to save Anna; what little family he had left was precious and he couldn’t risk not saving her, or waiting for someone else to. So he stood, and made his way to his chest.

“Yata, you’re not well, you can’t go out there on your own.” Kamamoto began, arm around his middle as he stood and walked closer to the younger man who was digging through his things, looking for a suitable weapon, “We don’t even know where she is.”

Yata froze, hand around a pipe, eyes closing as his head swam with the stress of it all. “Fuck.” He breathed, using the pipe to hold himself up.

“I think… it’s best you call Fushimi.” Kamamoto looked ready to receive a physical blow, but nothing came. Instead, he got a devastated look sent his way which was almost worse and watched Yata fall onto a couch, holding his watch in front of himself. Unable to keep looking at him looking so defeated, Kamamoto left the room.

Yata stared at the device on his wrist blankly for a long few moments before he breathed and pressed on the contact, “Saru?" He was greeted by silence, it tasted like failure and bile, "They took Anna. They- They took her, please, I need to know where she is, she’s all I have left so please-“ he choked on his next breath, disappointed in himself, feeling pathetic. Feeling sore and hot and lost, with droplets of sweat trailing down his cheeks. Or maybe those were tears. He never could tell since the fever started.

-----

ollowing the death of the Red King, Saru found himself in a disorienting limbo of neigh indescribable emotions. He felt a distinct, aching loss, an anger that he couldn’t quite quench, a sadness that weight on his every movement. He also felt a soaring, elated happiness, an excitement, a nostalgic longing that felt for once not like a burden but a promise. He felt hope.

The scar across his mark itched like it hadn’t since if was first healing, a constant reminder than his clan needed him now more than ever. No. Not his clan. He pushed that thought away over and over and over again, though it still came back to plague him. He had its aura. It was his clan, no matter how he denied it. If it wasn’t, he would be nothing more than an immolated corpse in a back ally. Instead here he stood, for all purposes lost.

His face betrayed none of his inner turmoil as he leaned against the wall

His wrist pinged, and Saruhiko didn’t immediately bring it up to answer. He had come here for seclusion. Even from Reisi. Then it pinged again, longer this time, and he had to actually look at it because that wasn’t Reisi’s pattern. It was Misaki’s. That hope again hit him like a truck and he choked back the need to answer. He didn't know what he would even say, but he knew that it would come out painful and mean and Mikoto was gone. He didn't need to do that anymore. Misaki would speak with him again, it could go back to how it used to be.

He tapped to answer, but kept that silence, no matter how his heart leapt to his throat when he heard his voice. Sympathy quickly turned to anger. He liked Anna, yes. He didn't want to see her hurt, and he knew what was gong on as much as a third party could, but the assertion that that brat was the only thing that Misaki hads left when he was the one contacting him was infuriating. He took a second to flip though a couple of things on his phone before sending Misaki where he could find Anna. Finally, he spoke, voice coming off more level than his usual sardonic mania.

"You sound like shit, Misaki."

-----

Yata pressed his forehead to his wrist, the sweat from his brow soaking into the band of his watch. Everything felt like too much; being forced to beg the man that left him behind without a second thought for help retrieving what was left of his family, the fact he just had so little left. He couldn't handle much more, but right then it didn't really matter what he could or couldn't handle it. Yata would simply have to, Anna needed him. What was left of HOMRA, of his family, would need him. Yata couldn't disrespect the memory of Mikoto and all he had given him by letting something as simple as a fever take it all away. But calling Saru after all they had been through since he left, asking something of such magnitude no less, he wouldn't lie and say it didn't just further hurt him.

And if he said no? That would be a new level of heartbreak that Yata knew for a fact he couldn't handle at all. Not now, and probably not ever.

Then his watch pinged again and; since the beginning of his odd fever; Yata was sure he had never moved that quickly. It was just the way he whipped his head up, it shook his world and made him nearly fall over. He pressed his forehead to the pipe he'd been holding, hand tightening around the chosen weapon in place of his bent bat. 'Thank you, thank you." he breathed as a hot wash of relief burned a trail down his spine, but settled as a pit in his stomach. He was still feeling faint but it didn't matter because at least some part of Saru still cared about them enough not to say no to his pathetic cry for help. At least he hadn't gone so far as to let Anna suffer if he could help it.

He choked a little when Saruhiko actually spoke to him, even if it was just to mock him. He just wasn't well enough to return the ire anymore. He just felt so defeated with everything, but Anna? No matter how he felt, he had to help her, he was very much the only one she had left as well. Maybe now he felt guilty for having wallowed in his grief, when he knew she was going through the same, maybe worse since she'd lost both her father figures and then the rest of her family. He should have been there for her, even through the unrelenting fever. Like she had been for him through her own pain.

"I just... I have a fever. It's fine. I have to find Anna. She needs me." She needed him all along. Yata tried to stand, which wasn't his smartest move on his end considering he was still very much dizzy from before, and leant heavily on the pipe again. "Fuck."

-----

To Saruhiko, it sounded much more serious that just a fever. That, and if Misaki was sick, then he shouldn't be rushing out to go an stage a rescue. It was entirely irresponsible and hot headed... and exactly something that Misaki would do without a single thought for his own well being. Saru pulled his write away and heaved a great sigh, not believing even himself about what he was going to do, but his heart was pounding with the sudden anticipation and his fingers were trembling slightly in his excitement. Still, his voice sounded flat and only slightly annoyed when he spoke again.

"Stay there. You're at the bar, right? I'm coming over there." Saru said, then hung up the call before Misaki had a chance to respond. instead, he brought up Reisi in his phone, and shot him a message saying that he would be indisposed for the rest of he day.

About a half hour later, he walked into the bar like the last time he had been there was days ago, rather than years, grocery bag with assorted medicines in it. He didn't know the extent of Misaki's condition or if there were any other symptoms, so he had come as prepared as one could possibly do by just popping into a pharmacy on the way. Gaze even, he looked for Misaki first a foremost.