Chapter 4 (2/2)

Fus.h.i.+mi’s admonition helped him regain his composure earlier, but the more he kept thinking about this affair, the faster his blood was reaching the boiling point again. The guy, perhaps realizing how close to exploding Yata was, was shaking uncontrollably in his boots despite being exposed to the hot summer sunlight.

“Anyway,” Fus.h.i.+mi spoke up again in the same cool tone. He was looking down at the petrified guy squatting on the asphalt with a gaze so inhumanly icy that it was hard to believe that it was a fellow human being that gaze was fixed on. “You’ve heard it too, right? That Scepter 4 is coming together at a breakneck speed since the new Blue King appeared. Causing trouble is a big nuisance. So don’t get involved in any monkey business ever again. …Ah, no, my wording wasn’t clear enough. Don’t get involved in anything, period. Until the order form the higherups comes, play possum and be afraid to even breathe.” Fus.h.i.+mi left him no room for objection. “I trust you can do it, right?” His lips curved into a frosty smile. “If you can’t, better say it now. We’ll help you and turn you into an exemplar corpse right here and right now.”

“I-I can. I will!” The guy bobbed his head numerous times.

A promise made by a guy like that wasn’t worth a s.h.i.+t, but it could be trusted when it was fear that was ensuring it would be upheld. Fus.h.i.+mi snorted in a clear show of contempt and said quietly but with sharpness of a razor, “Get lost.”

The guy gave a forced crooked smile in open relief and got up to leave.

But before he could, Yata stopped him, “Wait.” Neither his wrath nor the angry light in his eyes weakened any. “Tell me where to find Yamata.”

“—Hey.”

“You shut up for now, Saruhiko,” Yata cut off Fus.h.i.+mi who was about to object and took a step towards the guy.

The guy went pale and, not even trying to evade the question in any way, immediately ratted out his cronies and the name of the joint they  used as the gathering spot, then scuttled off. Even if he was ordered to, being so talkative still made him a thoroughly disgusting guy.

Once he was out of sight, Fus.h.i.+mi, a bothersome grimace on his face, clicked his tongue. “Enough with this already. I’ve been repeating this for G.o.d knows how many times: it’s not just them. Besides, no matter how much you beat up guys like them, they won’t change,” he spat out, scorn and disdain obvious in his voice.

Fus.h.i.+mi loathed guys like that, too, although the reason they turned his stomach was not quite the same as Yata’s, but as far as the degree of disgust went, he hated them perhaps more than Yata did.

“…I just can’t forgive ‘em,” Yata put all of his anger into that statement. “Not the guys who make a mockery of Homura, nor the guys who disgrace Mikoto-san with their shenanigans…”

Observing the frustrated Yata, Fus.h.i.+mi broke into a sarcastic smirk. “Look, because of guys like you who’re always going on about Homura this Homura that, praising it to the sky, the others start believing it too, and those sc.u.mbags get carried away as a result, you know? It’s not like Mikoto-san himself wants people to wors.h.i.+p him so much either, wrong?”

Yata, hard pressed to answer, whirled around to face Fus.h.i.+mi. Reading in Fus.h.i.+mi’s look how stupid the other boy found it all, Yata cast down his eyes and hung his head.

There was some truth in what Fus.h.i.+mi pointed out. Even Yata had to admit that much. There was no doubt that the king Yata loved and respected so endlessly didn’t care about how high or how low others valued him. Not bound by anything, he was free, inspiring and manly. Using cliched definitions, he was “cool” without any question. So much that Yata felt exhilarated and thrilled from the bottom of his heart.

And that was precisely why he couldn’t forgive those who denigrated that “coolness”.

“And anyway, even if those guys are trash, they’re still the Homura members, you realize? You sure it’s OK to press them and threaten them like that? Internal quarrels now that we have Scepter 4 to worry about will only worsen Homura’s situation, don’t you think?” Fus.h.i.+mi let out a low chuckle. “Don’t come crying to me when Kusanagi-san tans your hide,” he added mockingly.

His expression made it obvious that he found it all too amuzing to watch Yata’s face twist botheredly. Actually, it was precisely because Yata was enamoured with Homura so much that Fus.h.i.+mi wanted to avoid doing anything that could be disadvantageous to Homura.

But…

“…I don’t care.” Yata’s tone was completely serious.

Fus.h.i.+mi’s look turned weary.

“I just can’t. The unrest I’m feeling just won’t go away. So this time, I don’t care if Kusanagi-san chews me out. I can’t just sit and wait for his and Mikoto-san’s orders. I won’t be able to settle down if I don’t punch those guys before that at least once.” Yata was indignant, yet the way he said it was oddly dispa.s.sionate. He raised his head slowly and fixed his eyes on Fus.h.i.+mi. “If I see someone I can’t stand, I must punch them hard… Is it bad?”

“…” Fus.h.i.+mi didn’t give him an immediate answer, only stared back at Yata. Then finally, “…No,” he replied barely above a whisper, “It’s not bad… Fine, Misaki. That’s not bad at all.” His eyes gleamed.

Yata broke into a wide brazen grin approvingly and, nodding to Fus.h.i.+mi, asked, “You’re coming, right, partner?”

Fus.h.i.+mi gave him a smile of satisfaction - for the first time in what felt like ages. The deep smile that was a touch shady and dangerous. The smile of the one falling to his fate by his own wish. “Yeah, partner. Let’s go.”

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