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ridiasfangirlings · 1 year

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Title: Lovely, Dark and Warm (13/15)

Fandom: K Project

External: AO3

Pairings: Sarumi

Ratings/Warnings: M

Summary: Totsuka Tatara was dead, Homra was certain of that. But rumors persisted, that he had been seen wandering the alleys of Shizume, with blood on his shirt and a mouth hanging open.

In retrospect, that was how every zombie apocalypse started, after all.

Notes: Getting to the big climax now, buckle in :)

Mikoto’s flames destroyed yet another door as he strolled through Mihashira Tower. Whoever was in charge of the place seemed pretty hell bent on stopping him but Mikoto wasn’t terribly concerned about that — so far he’d already burned his way through a few of the ‘Rabbits’ (who had smelled like death, like old blood and rotting wounds) and now on the upper floors he continued burning, straight through metal doors and iron bars clearly intended to contain intruders.

He had lost the others a while back. Mikoto had left most of the Homra members who had accompanied him on the lowest floor, where Kusanagi had yelled at him to go ahead and that they could handle the rabble while Mikoto went after the real enemy. Mikoto figured ‘that guy’ would probably be on the top floor with the Dresden Slate and had moved forward accordingly.

He could feel the Slate pulsing as he got closer too. To be a King was to always be aware of it at the back of your mind, to always be in ‘sync’ with that steady beat, but it was different here, so close to the physical Slate itself. The pulsing was deeper, stronger — and off rhythm, just slightly. He’d noticed it a little prior to this, a hiss in the back of his mind, but it was even clearer now, here in the heart of Mihashira Tower. Something was wrong with the Dresden Slate.

“What a pain.” Mikoto took a drag on his cigarette and then tossed it aside, stepping on it to put it out as he strolled forward. Another metal blockade slid in front of him as a handful of undead Rabbits came shuffling out of one of the innumerable doors lining the hallway, and Mikoto smirked as Red flames roared up around him.

As everything around him fell to ash Mikoto thought he heard the sound of high-pitched laughter, and he turned.

Another enemy walked into the hallway in front of him, with the same stilted gait Mikoto knew indicated another undead. There was a smile on this one’s face, twisted into knots, impossibly wide — Mikoto knew that face, and knew how it smiled, and this wasn’t that at all.

“So it’s you, huh?” He’d half expected it already, but somehow the knowledge still felt heavy as he moved forward to attack.

Totsuka — or the thing using his body — dodged instantly, far faster than any of the other undead Mikoto had encountered before. The jerky movements were gone now, replaced by the movements of a human (albeit a slightly stiff one, still navigating how to use arms and legs). Totsuka laughed, another high pitched sound, and his eyes glinted as Mikoto’s body lit up with flames.

“Are you having fun? Red King.” An unfamiliar voice poured from Totsuka’s mouth and Mikoto looked up at him, eyes meeting.

Something white crossed the space between them and Mikoto’s head snapped back. There was suddenly echoing laughter inside his head, something whispering — a million masks shaped like a fox, laughing and reaching and digging their teeth in and biting—

“Get the fuck out.” Mikoto didn’t even so much as stumble. Red filled his vision and he heard a sound like the fox bastard screaming — cursing — and Mikoto grinned as he poured all his power into a single word: Out.

“I will have you!” The scream echoed. “All of the Kings will be mine!”

“Hmm. Yeah.” Mikoto chuckled to himself as the presence pulled back, in full retreat. His vision cleared and then he felt it — the tiniest spike of pain.

Totsuka was clinging to his arm, teeth digging into the flesh.

Immediately Mikoto felt it again, that something trying to work its way into his veins. It was more insistent now — his legs wouldn’t move forward and it was hard to lift his arms, and he was keenly aware of the irregular pulse of his heart, and he beat it back — fire, fire, and he beat it back.

One hand touched Totsuka’s shoulder and blank eyes stared up at him.

“King.” He could hear that voice in his mind, see that smile. Mikoto knew this person, knew those eyes. This wasn’t Totsuka, not anymore, and so there was no need to hesitate further. He would be the one to light the funeral pyre.

Flames burst from his hands and the body burned without a sound, until not even ashes remained.

Mikoto finally let himself fall to the floor, leaning against the wall. His hands were trying to rebel against him but he still reached for the cigarettes in his pocket, still pulled one out and lit it. His blood was burning, and he beat it back.

“Gonna try and take me now, huh?” Mikoto put the cigarette to his lips and smirked, even as his forehead became soaked with sweat. “Just try it, you bastard.”

–

“Saruhiko! Let me go!” Yata struggled against Fushimi’s arms as he was pushed back hard against the railing of the stairs, nearly throwing them both off balance. Fushimi grit his teeth and held firm, fingers digging into Yata’s arms and Yata barely noticed the pain, too focused on the burning sensation at his chest that was starting to dwindle now that they had exited the previous floor.

“Shut up, Misaki!” Fushimi’s voice was ragged, torn and waving in the wind, and Yata could barely register it. He pulled up one leg sharply, trying to knee Fushimi in the stomach, and was blocked by the scabbard of Fushimi’s sword. Yata grunted and slammed his head up into Fushimi’s forehead, swinging them both around as he tried to break free of Fushimi’s iron tight grip, but Fushimi didn’t even flinch. “Weren’t you paying any attention, idiot?!”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” Yata kicked at him again, his legs making contact with Fushimi’s and sending them both crashing to the ground, Yata below and Fushimi above, skidding hard on the steps. Yata grabbed at Fushimi’s collar, dragging him close. “You felt it too, right? Mikoto-san is��”

“Mikoto-san is dead.” Fushimi spat out the words, suddenly energized as he grabbed onto Yata’s shirt and slammed him against the stairs roughly enough to knock the air from Yata’s lungs. “Don’t you get it, Misaki? That man’s been a zombie since the day you idiots rushed into this tower without bothering to think of the consequences. Captain suspected it all along. Why do you think he stayed behind?”

“That’s—” Yata tried to stand and Fushimi pinned him again, both of them breathing hard. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Saruhiko? Don’t you even care anymore? Mikoto-san is there and we’re just going to walk away? To hell with that! I need to go back, I can help—”

“How?” Fushimi’s words were poison, injected straight into an open wound. “How do you intend to help someone who’s already dead, Misaki? By getting yourself killed too?” Fushimi finally stepped back, glaring down at Yata with frozen eyes. “Ah wait, I forgot. That’s what you do best, isn’t it, Misaki? Running headlong into trouble without caring about what…or who…you leave behind.” He clicked his tongue and stepped past Yata to move up the stairs, where their three companions were watching them in silence. “I don’t have time for this. If you want to die for a pointless reason go ahead. At least this time, I’ll be the one leaving you behind.”

With that he brushed past Kuroh, Neko and Shiro, not even looking back as he continued up the stairs.

“Come on!” Fushimi’s words were a sharp bark of command, and after a moment Kuroh nudged the other two forward, leaving Yata still lying there dazed on the steps.

“Mikoto-san…” Yata punched the floor in frustration. What had he come all this way for, if he was just going to run away now, when he’d finally found his King?

But…

“At least this time, I’ll be the one leaving you behind.”

“Dammit, Saruhiko.” Yata cursed softly under his breath, pressing a hand to the mark on his chest and then letting it fall back at his side. It seemed like no matter what choice he made he was doomed to regret it, every time. And even so—

“Wait up, you asshole!” Yata jumped to his feet, taking the steps two at a time to catch up to the others in front of him.

Even so, I can’t leave that guy alone. Not this time.

—

“Suoh. What a pathetic state I find you in.” Munakata was smiling but there was no mirth in his voice. He had removed his sword from his belt but not drawn it, hands firm on the scabbard instead. Mikoto took another long drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the floor, putting it out with a heel.

“Figured you’d show your face here eventually, Munakata. About time.” Mikoto took a step forward and then his body jerked slightly upwards, like a puppet being pulled on strings. His face clouded and he closed his eyes for a moment before a feral grin appeared on his face and Red power flooded the area. His body jerked again, one arm shaking wildly before finally falling back to his side. “Hmmph. What a pain.”

“…I see.” Munakata narrowed his eyes. “That is the doing of the Colorless King, is it not?”

“You always gotta be the smartest guy in the room, don’t you, Munakata?” Mikoto shrugged. “It’s annoying, dealing with that guy yelling in my head all the time. Figured if he wouldn’t leave me alone to rest I might as well make things harder on him.”

“Ah. So that is why he retreated before, when I faced one of his avatars after he attacked our headquarters. I thought it was odd, that he seemed to be having trouble controlling a single zombie. But he was struggling to maintain his control over you, and had to retreat in order to focus all his concentration to that task.” A true smile hovered over Munakata’s lips. “Troublesome as always, Suoh.”

“Yeah, well…” Mikoto shrugged. “You’re not the only guy who needs to be punched by me.”

“I see. What a shame I am no longer special in that area. I had thought dealing with you was a duty cursed to fall upon my shoulders and mine alone.”

“Sorry if I hurt your feelings. Don’t cry about it in front me, Munakata.” Mikoto’s arms jerked again and his face suddenly hardened, the Red power pulsating slightly. The temperature of the room had warmed noticeably.

“I assume your presence means the Colorless King knows I am here?” Munakata asked quietly.

“Dunno. It’s not a two way transmission. That guy’s definitely agitated about something.” He gave Munakata a sidelong glance, purposefully languid. “If he’s focusing all this power on me though, it’s gonna be rough for him to control much else.”

“Which would make the path for Fushimi-kun and the others much simpler, to say nothing of Awashima-kun and her team. I see. So it seems it does indeed fall on me to keep you both entertained.” He raised his sword, scabbard and all.

“Don’t worry, Munakata. It’s annoying to have to dance to that guy’s tune, but at least this time he’s asking me to do something I’d be happy to do on my own.” He stepped forward, hands in his pockets but still glowing Red, and Munakata’s own body began to shine Blue in response.

“I’m afraid we both have no choice. Suoh Mikoto,” — Munakata’s face was set and determined — “I promise I will save you.”

Mikoto only laughed, and attacked.

—

The elevator slowly crawled upwards, jerking only slightly as they moved higher and higher. Neko, Shiro and Kuroh all stood in one corner, trying to ignore the obvious tension in the small space.

“It’s…a little heavy in here, isn’t it?” Shiro said quietly. In front of him both Fushimi and Yata shot a glare in his direction and he waved his hands quickly in an apologetic motion. The two looked at each other, hmmphed, and then went back to staring pointedly at the closed door. Fushimi’s hands were shaking but otherwise he remained utterly still. Shiro let out a relieved sigh.

“Perhaps I could offer some advice after all?” Kuroh thoughtfully put a hand on his recorder and Shiro hurriedly grabbed his arm, moving it away.

“I think it’s better if we don’t interfere?” Shiro suggested quietly.

“I cannot think of a way this mission will succeed with the current animosity between those two.” Kuroh put a hand to his head. “It’s unfortunate we had to leave the Blue King behind.”

“Yeah…” Shiro shifted from one foot to the other.

“Are you nervous?”

“Ah, well…Munakata-san kept saying it, right? ‘Silver King,’ ‘Adolf K. Weismann.’ That’s supposed to be me, isn’t it?”

“So he said.” Kuroh nodded. “But the truth remains to be seen.”

“If it turns out he’s wrong, won’t we be in trouble? And even if he’s right…I don’t even remember being a King. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You will know, when the time comes.” Kuroh put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I believe in that.”

“Kuroh…thanks.” Shiro smiled slightly. “Now if we can just get these two to stop giving each other the silent treatment.”

“It’s better than them fighting, I suppose.”

“We’re right here, y’know?” Yata grumbled under his breath.

“I’m amazed you had enough braincells to listen,” Fushimi murmured back.

“No one asked you, Saruhiko.”

“No one asked you either, Misaki.”

“No fighting!” Neko popped up between them, trying to link her arms around them both. Fushimi stepped noticeably out of range as Yata stumbled back, muttering something frantic under his breath. Neko put her hands on her hips, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“At the very least, if you could attempt to work together for the good of our mission,” Kuroh spoke up. “I don’t know what’s come between you but surely we have more pressing matters right now?”

“Tell Saruhiko that,” Yata stated, looking away.

“I’m the one doing the most work on this mission. We’re not all dead weight like you Misaki.”

“I said no fighting!” Neko stamped her foot and the elevator suddenly lurched, throwing them all to the ground. Neko gave a sharp yowl and grabbed onto Shiro as Kuroh steadied himself against the wall of the elevator.

“Is this one damaged as well?” Kuroh glanced over at Fushimi, who was already working on the elevator with his PDA, expression grim.

“No. It looks like this is as far as it goes.” Fushimi frowned, eyes narrowing. “We’re not at the top floor.” He clicked his tongue. “They know we’re here.”

“I suppose it was unlikely we could avoid detection the entire way,” Kuroh said, resigned.

“How far away from the Slate chamber are we?” Shiro crawled over towards Fushimi on his hands and knees, mindful of the way of the elevator was shuddering.

“Only a few floors. But why this one…?” Fushimi seemed to be almost talking to himself, looking over the map with a thoughtful gaze.

“We will need to be cautious.” Kuroh offered Shiro and Neko a hand up. The elevator swayed again and then came to an abrupt halt, doors opening.

“I guess…this is our stop,” Shiro said weakly. Kuroh motioned him back and poked his head outside the door, looking around before stepping out and gesturing at the others to follow.

The moment Shiro stepped out of the elevator he was immediately hit by a wave of stench that made him choke, clapping a hand over his mouth. Behind him Neko made a loud gagging sound, covering her nose and jumping up and down on one leg.

“Stinky…!”

“Dead bodies.” Fushimi’s voice behind them was like the tolling of a funeral bell, heavy and somber. “Tch.What did you expect, in a place like this?”

“It is…unnaturally thick here, however,” Kuroh responded, nose wrinkling. Shiro lurched beside him and Kuroh leaned over to steady him. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m fine.” Shiro waved one hand at him and then covered his nose again. “I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

“What the fuck, it stinks!” Yata stepped out last of all, looking around with a scowl, and Fushimi rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Misaki, we’ve noticed.” He looked back at his map. “We want to go this way.”

The hallway in front of them was dim, lit by a single lightbulb dangling on a thin wire above, and the sides of the walls were splattered with dark brown stains that looked like old blood. There was a door at the far end, blocked by two molding planks of wood.

“That is not the most welcoming image,” Kuroh murmured as Fushimi started walking towards the door.

“We don’t have much choice though, do we?” Shiro said, glancing back the way they had come. The elevator had gone back down but the doors were still open, revealing only a deep drop into darkness.

“I don’t like it,” Fushimi said, talking almost more to himself than to any of them.

“What’s wrong, Saru? Afraid?” Yata came up alongside him and Fushimi turned away with a scoff.

“Isn’t it obvious, you idiot? We’re being herded.”

“H-herded?” Yata repeated, a little taken aback.

“Even so, we can only go forward.” Kuroh walked past them to the door. He pulled out his sword and made a single swift motion, slicing the wooden planks in two. They fell to the ground as he put a hand on the door handle and pushed down experimentally. To his surprise it turned easily and the door swung open. Behind him Fushimi gave another click of his tongue, and Kuroh found himself thinking that he was really starting to hate that sound.

As soon as they stepped inside the stench of bodies grew heavier and thicker, to the point even Fushimi couldn’t hide how much it was affecting him. The meager light had dimmed to the point that only silhouettes could be seen in the gloom. The only sound besides their own breathing was water steadily dripping from somewhere off to the side.

“Misaki.” Fushimi’s sharp voice cutting through the silence made Yata jump. “We need a light.”

Yata nodded clumsily, the atmosphere somber enough that he couldn’t even bring himself to argue. He held up his baseball bat and filled it with Red power, letting it glow like a torch which cast a deep blood-red light upon the area, finally revealing their surroundings.

On either side of where they stood were innumerable cells, the red light reflecting off cold iron bars. Inside figures wearing rabbit masks lay unmoving, some in an advanced enough state of decay that Yata almost dropped the light when he saw them.

“This is…a prison?” Kuroh made his way to one of the cells, touching a hand to the bars.

“Criminal Strains get sent to Mihashira to be dealt with. Ones that can’t be handled by power dampening devices or be safely transported to normal prisons are transferred here.” Fushimi gave a grim smile. “Looks like this is where he keeps the rest. Or did.”

“It seems not all of the Gold King’s clansmen were turned into the undead. Perhaps he found these ones too troublesome to deal with.”

“Mmm.” Fushimi shrugged, barely listening. “The Slate chamber is just above us. Find the stairs.”

“W-wait a minute!” Shiro spoke up. “What if someone’s still alive…?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Fushimi snapped before Kuroh could respond. “Isn’t it obvious that everyone here’s dead?”

“But…”

“I’m afraid we do not have the luxury of checking every cell for survivors.” Kuroh was more sympathetic. He didn’t care for leaving any innocents behind either but his first duty was to protect Shiro, and every moment they tarried was another moment they could be attacked and overwhelmed. “If we are successful we can return to this room on the way back down.”

“I know, I know, just��”

“Come on, Saruhiko, have a heart!” Yata spoke up. “I mean, maybe someone here could help us?”

“How exactly do you expect a corpse to help us, Misaki?”

“That one’s moving.” Shiro stepped between them and pointed.

Inside a cell on the far wall something shifted, a tall figure straightening and unfolding itself in the dark. There was the sound of cloth rustling and then a soft voice like a sigh.

“Weismann…”

Shiro froze.

It wasn’t that he knew the voice. He was absolutely certain that he’d never heard it before, not in person.

But still…it was familiar.

“Misaki.” Fushimi’s voice was sharp, a knife sliding into his hand as he approached the cell. Without a word, in an almost practiced motion, Yata came up beside him with the light, the two walking in perfect sync to the cell.

The light from Yata’s power poured inside the cell and an old man in torn and tattered robes sitting on a bench stared back at them.

“Th-that’s…” Yata trailed off. “Wait, who is this guy?”

Fushimi didn’t even look at him, just reached out a hand and smacked the back of his head.

“Ow! Hey, Saru, what the hell—”

“So this is where you were.” Fushimi’s eyes stared coldly between the bars, not a hint of politeness in his voice. “Kokujouji Daikaku. The Second and Gold King.”

“Eh?” Yata looked up as the man gave a hoarse laugh.

“One of Munakata’s men, eh? To think you would finally come to give an old man some assistance.” He looked past Fushimi to where Kuroh, Shiro and Neko were slowly approaching. “Weismann. So you are still alive.”

“Um…yes?” Shiro shifted awkwardly under that gaze, feeling like the person who had responded to a summons meant for someone else. “I guess you could say that.”

“I’m afraid it is a complicated situation.” Kuroh stepped in to save him. “Your Excellency the Gold King. My name is Yatogami Kuroh. My late master, Miwa Ichigen, sends his regards.”

“He sends them late indeed,” Kokujouji said gruffly.

“Have you been here all this time?” Shiro asked.”I mean…ever since…all this?” He waved vaguely at the rest of the tower and Kokujouji laughed.

“The Colorless King found me harder to deal with than he expected.” He stood, then wavered slightly as if in pain.

“Your Excellency?” The red light of Yata’s bat dimmed slightly and Kuroh leaned against the bars as the Gold King steadied himself, looking up with piercing eyes.

“It’s nothing. Old wounds and a long time without proper food.” He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Is it possible?” Kuroh looked over at Fushimi, who was already studying the lock.

“It’s electronic. I should be able to override. Misaki, be useful and actually give us some light.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, the power just—” His bat brightened again, blazing red as the Gold King walked closer to the cell door.

“Not that much!” Fushimi waved a hand fussily as he connected his PDA to the door lock and quickly began to work. Kuroh positioned himself at the back of the group to watch their rear as Fushimi typed, waiting until he heard the small ‘click’ of the door unlocking.

“Careful, sir.” Shiro offered Kokujouji a hand as the door swung open. Kokujouji gave him a long look and then turned to Fushimi.

“My sword. It should be nearby.”

“Do we need to waste time with that?” Fushimi muttered, clearly exasperated. Kokujouji chuckled.

“I doubt you would want me to be useless, would you, child?” Fushimi’s eye twitched noticeably at the ‘child.’ Kokujouji appeared not to see it, slowly making his way down the winding hallway of empty cells. The stench of dead bodies grew heavier the deeper they moved inside the prison area but Kokujouji seemed unaffected by it all, moving with regal purpose. Occasionally he would stop as if trying to recall something and once or twice he faltered as if in sudden pain. Kuroh and Shiro moved on to either side of him to support him and they made their way to a large metal set of drawers just beyond the edge of the last cell. “Here.”

Kuroh reached out and tugged experimentally on one of the drawers. There was a physical lock on this one but it crumbled easily in his hands, covered in rust, and the drawer roughly pulled open.

Inside was a sword, still in its scabbard, along with several smaller weapons and a mask, this one a fox rather than a rabbit. Shiro picked up the mask curiously as the Gold King retrieved his sword and attached the scabbard to his belt.

“Can we move on now?” Fushimi glanced into the drawer himself, looking impatient. Inside lying amongst the rest of the weaponry were several knives and a shotgun, all of which he picked up and looked over experimentally before slipping them inside his coat. “I don’t like this. We’ve spent too long on this floor without anyone coming after us.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Kuroh asked.

“Maybe the Colorless King is busy?” Yata said with a light shrug. Fushimi gave him a disgusted look before glancing away, considering.

“Well… for once maybe you didn’t say something completely stupid, Misaki. If he’s busy dealing with things below, with Captain and Mikoto-sa—Suoh Mikoto, then…”

“Mikoto-san…” Yata’s fists clenched for a moment. He could see Fushimi visibly tense, and Yata took a deep breath to relax himself. “Let’s get out of here already. This place stinks.”

The door to the next stairwell wasn’t far from their current location and the Gold King moved ahead to lead the way this time.

“This will take us directly to the chamber of the Slate. I assume that is where he will await us.” Kokujouji put a hand on his sword, face severe. “I will do my best to assist in destroying that man, even in this state. I doubt he will expect all of us.”

Yata took a few steps ahead of the others and reached for the door as it came into view. He tugged on the handle and the door remained shut tight.

“What the hell? This one’s locked!”

“Do you know the password?” Kuroh turned to Kokujouji, who shook his head.

“All the locks on this floor were changed, in order to keep me captive.”

“What a pain,” Fushimi grumbled as he attached his PDA to the electronic lock. His PDA beeped quietly and Fushimi narrowed his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Shiro asked.

“This one’s complicated. It’ll take a minute.”

“That’s no problem, right?” Yata said breezily. “We could use a little break anyw—”

There was the sudden sound of crashing in the distance, as if multiple doors had been slammed open all at once, followed by the sound of stomping feet. Immediately the stench in the air grew thicker along with a feeling of danger that made Kuroh, Yata and Fushimi all tense. Neko and Shiro both took a step back, clinging to each other, and Kuroh moved to stand in front of them as he drew his sword.

“It seems we have company.”

“Tch. What shitty timing.” Fushimi was still crouched on the floor, fingers working furiously on his PDA.

“Continue your work. I will handle things here.”

“I can assist as well.” Kokujouji moved to stand beside Kuroh, drawing his own sword. “This old body has life in it yet.”

The footsteps moved closer and Yata’s bat glowed a brighter red, illuminating the crush of figures lurching slowly towards them.

Rabbits. Multiple shambling forms, all wearing the familiar rabbit masks and elaborate clothing. Most of the bodies were in some state of decomposition and Fushimi quietly cursed his own stupidity. There had been bodies in the rest of those cells and they’d already known they were being watched — a trap, just waiting for whatever idiots dared to enter this area of the building.

“Neko. Can you hide yourself and Shiro?” Kuroh didn’t turn his head but he heard Neko’s quiet noise of assent.

“This way.” Shiro tugged on Neko’s arm, the two of them moving to crouch in the nearest darkened corner away from the door, Neko in front of Shiro waiting to use her powers if anyone was to come too close. Fushimi was still sitting by the door himself, hands working furiously.

“I got this, Saruhiko.” Yata moved into a guarding position in front of him, bat at the ready.

“I don’t need you to stand in front of me, Misaki,” Fushimi said coldly. To his surprise Yata only glanced back with an easy smile.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you. Just keep working, okay?”

Fushimi’s eyes widened slightly, his heart suddenly pounding, and he quickly looked down with another tongue click. His fingers worked faster on the screen of his PDA.

“Just don’t let anything get past you.”

“They won’t.” Yata’s voice was firm and his eyes were already trained on the approaching undead. “I’m not letting anyone touch you, so don’t worry.”

Fushimi grit his teeth, fingers curling slightly for a moment as if he wanted to dig them into his skin before he shook his head and started to type again.

One of the Rabbits in the front of the approaching group made a break towards them. Kuroh began to dash forward but he was overtaken in a moment by the Gold King, who swung his own sword at the approaching enemy. The force of the swing sent the corpse flying backwards, slamming into several others that were directly behind it, and Kokujouji gave Kuroh a wide smile.

“See if you can keep up, youngster!”

“Yes sir!” Kuroh dashed into the fray beside him, the two of them meeting the approaching enemies head on.

Yata shifted anxiously on his heels, side to side and full of nervous energy as the wave of undead swept over where Kuroh and Kokujouji stood. The two of them quickly moved to stand back to back, swords moving with practiced ease to avoid each other, doing their best to keep a single zombie from escaping past their blockade. Even so, the sheer amount of zombies was impossible to stop with just two people and a few managed to slip past, heading towards where Yata stood. Yata grinned and swung his bat, crushing the skull of the first to reach him.

“Bring it on! No blood, no bone, no ash!” Yata stomped his feet and began his own counterattack, power blazing as he took out every zombie that came close.

Behind them Yata could hear Fushimi’s fingers furiously typing. The door beeped and Fushimi swore darkly.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro dared to peek over at him and Neko pushed him back slightly.

“This fucking door…” Fushimi grumbled under his breath and started typing again, faster this time. Even with the full efforts of Yata, Kuroh and Kokujouji the tide of zombies seemed endless, far more than could have been hidden inside the cells. Clearly the Colorless King had decided to finally make a move, summoning every zombie in the building to try and stop them now that they were so close to the goal. Kuroh and Kokujouji were just managing to keep the bulk of the enemy from getting past, taking full advantage of their position at the mouth of a narrow hallway, but even so more and more were starting to make their way past to where Yata was standing.

Kokujouji gave a soft grunt as one zombie pushed past him, clutching at his chest. Kuroh quickly stepped in to take down another one that had turned its energy towards the injured King but two more shambled past as he did, their arms outstretched as they approached Yata.

“Take this!” Yata slammed his bat down on their heads — and abruptly the Red power that had been strengthening his bat sputtered and died, the bat shattering into splinters as it hit its target. The room was suddenly shrouded in darkness, the already dim light from Yata’s bat snuffed easily and replaced by the small square of light coming from Fushimi’s PDA.

The zombies seemed to realize something had changed, as they suddenly ceased attacking Kuroh and Kokujouji and instead began to move forward in a mindless daze, straight towards the light. Kokujouji gathered himself and brought his sword down on several as they passed while Kuroh turned on his heel and hurried towards Yata, following the tide and cutting down as many as he could as he ran.

“Eh…” Yata found himself standing there staring dumbly at his now-empty hands. He tried to channel his Red power again but it was weak and sputtering, and his fists clenched. There was only one reason why this wasn’t working, and he was finally starting to guess the reason why.“Mikoto-san…”

“Look out, you idiot!” The sharp sound of gunfire cut through the air and Yata felt something fly past his face, missing him by inches. The bullets instead hit home in the zombie that had come up behind him, sending it falling back to the ground.Yata stared at it for a moment and then turned to look back at Fushimi, whose face was lit pale blue by the screen of his PDA that he had propped up on his knee, one hand holding the gun he’d taken from the weapons drawer earlier.

“Saruhiko…” Yata swallowed hard and Fushimi shot again, taking out another zombie to Yata’s left. Yata moved to stand closer to him, hands balled into fists. “What do we do now? These assholes just keep coming!”

“We need to get out of this area.” Kuroh and Kokujouji had retreated back towards them where there was at least the faintest bit of light. “If we remain here I fear we will be overwhelmed.”

“I still need time to get the door,” Fushimi said in a low voice from behind them. He wasn’t even looking at his PDA, fingers moving almost on instinct with his other hand still holding the gun.

“Then what do we do?” Yata felt a cold chill of hopelessness wash over him.

Suddenly there was the sound of gears grinding together and the whole room seemed to shake. A single red light switched on above them and a metal door slid down right where the long line of cells ended, slicing through the necks of the zombies nearest to it. The rest were immediately blocked by the door and in moments there was the sound of steady pounding as the zombies pressed against it.

“We’re…safe?” Yata said hesitantly, not quite sure what had just happened.

“Ah…it worked.” Shiro poked his head out from the corner, waving a hand.

“We found a lever!” Neko added proudly, pointing.

“That is…an emergency lever?” Kuroh and Yata exchanged a dumbfounded glance as Neko pranced happily back and forth in front of the small red box that had been nearly completely hidden in the darkness.

Kokujouji suddenly burst into laughter.

“Well done, Weismann! This is truly the ‘Luck of Kings!’”

“Hah…I guess?” Shiro rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. Kuroh gave a small chuckle himself, putting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“In any case, I believe we should not waste such a fortunate turn of events.” He looked back over at Fushimi. “They will get through that door eventually but this should buy us enough time to escape ourselves, I hope?”

“Hmmph.” Fushimi slid the gun back into his coat and focused his full attention on his PDA. “Give me two minutes.”

The sound of steady pounding had not abated a minute later when the door Fushimi was working on finally beeped again, followed by the creak of metal as it swung open.

“All right, Saruhiko!” Yata slapped him on the back without even thinking. He quickly pulled his hand back but Fushimi didn’t even look at him, standing up stiffly and putting his PDA back into his pocket.

“Allow me. The Chamber of the Slate is this way.” Kokujouji stepped through the door and gestured for the rest of them to follow.

Unlike the previous stairwells this one was still in perfect shape, without even so much as a speck of dust covering the shiny metal walls. Kokujouji moved forward in unhurried but sure movements, moving ever upward, as if he had climbed these steps a hundred times before.

Despite the cleanliness of it all Shiro found himself shuddering slightly as he walked.

“Are you cold?” Kuroh was immediately beside him, a hand on his shoulder, and Shiro gave him a shaking smile.

“Sorry. Something just feels…strange. Like I can hear a sound in my head?” He laughed weakly. “That sounds crazy, huh?”

“The Dresden Slate is calling you.” Kokujouji broke in before Kuroh could respond. “It knows you’re close, Weismann.”

“...You can just call me Shiro.”

Kokujouji only laughed in response, increasing his pace, and Shiro sighed as he leaned back against Kuroh.

“Does hearing that name bother you?” Kuroh asked quietly.

“No…maybe. It’s just…do we really know that’s who I am? Munakata-san kept saying it too, and now him…I don’t remember anything about this Silver King they keep talking about. It’s like everyone knows me but me.”

“Shiro.” Kuroh gave him a piercing look. “I do not know if what the Blue and Gold Kings have said is correct either. Whether you are the Silver King, or simply Isana Yashiro…that still has yet to be revealed. But even so, my resolve won’t waver. My loyalty has been pledged to you, no matter what your name turns out to be. You are the one I’ve chosen to follow, no matter the outcome.”

“Right!” Neko popped up between them, beaming. “Shiro is always Shiro!”

“Guys…” Shiro gave a wavering smile. “I guess…let’s keep going then. Who I am, or what I’ve forgotten…I want to see it for myself too.”

The three exchanged a nod, and continued upwards after the Gold King.

“Tch.” Several steps below Fushimi gave a soft tongue click, expression twisting.

“Don’t give me that face, monkey.” Yata was keeping step beside him, purposefully slowing his pace to match Fushimi’s. “You’re worried about this too, right? About…whatever’s up there?”

“I’m not ‘worried,’ Misaki,” Fushimi said coldly. “My mission is to take care of the Colorless King in Captain’s absence. That’s all. Unlike you, I have orders to follow.”

“Huh. Didn’t think you’d be the type of guy to play the hero.”

“This isn’t about heroics, you idiot.” Fushimi rolled his eyes. “And that goes for you too. I don’t need you to stand in front of me like I’m a helpless child. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, well…maybe I’ve decided on some stuff for myself too,” Yata said, unexpectedly serious. “You don’t want me to leave you behind again, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Fushimi snapped, ice cold. “Don’t act like you know me all of a sudden, Misaki. I’m not your friend. Once this is over, we’re enemies again.”

“I haven’t forgiven you for betraying Mikoto-san.” Yata’s hands clenched slightly as he spoke, remembering the way his chest had burned back on the lower floor where they’d left Munakata. “But I’m not gonna let that get in the way of you and me. Whether you want me to or not, Saruhiko, I’m gonna make sure we get out of this together.” He looked up suddenly, eyes meeting Fushimi’s straight on and steady. “And you saved me too back there, right? If you didn’t care, why didn’t you let me get bitten?”

“Because you’re already annoying enough this way, Misaki as someone who can’t die would be even worse,” Fushimi grumbled under his breath. Yata laughed softly at that, shaking his head.

“Fine, fine. Keep telling yourself that, Saruhiko.” Yata paused, hand just brushing against Fushimi’s, and then he coughed and started climbing the stairs two at a time, staying just far enough ahead for Fushimi to be staring at his back. Yata’s voice floated back to him, rough but clear. “I’m not leaving this time though. I’m gonna stay with you until this whole thing is through, and don’t you forget that!”

Fushimi didn’t respond, looking back down at his PDA, at his feet, at anything but Yata’s back in front of him. Yata could feel his own face getting warm but he forced himself to move forward on sure legs, heart pounding in his chest. He still didn’t understand all this, not really — he’d always thought that he and Saruhiko were two pages from the same book, and now he’d figured out that they were from different volumes entirely. But still — Yata knew it now, in the same way he could still almost feel Saruhiko’s heart beating alongside his when he touched the Homra tattoo on his chest.

He’d made a mistake before, by walking away. This time, he was staying by Fushimi’s side, right up until the end.

—

“Here.” Kokujouji finally stopped, placing his hand on a keypad in front of what looked to be a simple paper door, something that wouldn’t have been out of place in a traditional Japanese house. “The Dresden Slate is housed just on the other side of this door.”

“Then this is where the Colorless King will be waiting.” Kuroh placed a hand on his sword.

“Perhaps.” The door slid open and Kokujouji took a step back. “Weismann. See for yourself, what has been built.”

Shiro felt something like a shiver run through him and without even meaning to he stepped through the doorway ahead of the others, into the chamber of the Dresden Slate.

The room was impossibly wide, surrounded on all sides by colorful paper walls. Only one Rabbit seemed to have been standing guard, now slumped against the wall near the door and unmoving. Surrounding the walls of the room were bronze and silver pedestals containing small works of art, bonsai trees and flower arrangements, as if they were part of a museum. They formed a ring around the slightly raised platform in the center of the room.Visible on the platform was an enormous rock covered in strange markings, glowing with an eerie light.

The Dresden Slate. Shiro found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame, heedless of Kuroh’s voice behind him trying to call him back. There was something else there too, right in the center of the Slate. The Slate was humming and Shiro felt like his whole body was humming too as the figure there finally came into view.

A pale young man with closed eyes, his long silver hair spread about him like a halo, lay pinned to the Slate by the blade of the sword that was sticking out of his chest.

Shiro sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet.

He remembered it now, all in a rush — a man with long silver hair and a twisted smile, an airship flying far above the city, and he was falling—

—the bombs were falling, and his sister was—

I am--

He felt a sudden shock of pain and Shiro looked down to see blood blossoming on his chest along with the blade of the sword that had pierced right through him. There was the sound of rending flesh as the sword was roughly pulled out and even with his vision going blurry at the edges Shiro was just able to turn his head as he fell to the floor, staring at wide smile on the face of the Gold King standing there behind him with a bloody sword in hand.

“Ah ah ah. No touching! That’s mine.”

The voice had gone high and twisted, entirely unlike the way Kokujouji had been speaking up until that very moment, and the last thing Shiro heard as red rushed in to cloud his vision was the rising laughter of the Colorless King.

#sarumi #Fushimi Saruhiko #Yata Misaki #k project #Isana Yashiro #Yatogami Kuroh #Munakata Reisi #Suoh Mikoto #just everyone almost #fic #I said cliffhangers I mean cliffhangers #just one last chapter and then an epilogue #thanks for your patience everyone

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