#daikifuse

The chair creaked as Zenjo leaned back. He closed his eyes and rubbed the arch of his nose. That boy that he’d been helping & that he’d been helped by. He was no longer around. From what he had heard, a strain broke out of the grasp of one of the clansmen and attempted to shoot Captain Munakata, Kusuhara Takeru, being the only one that noticed, used his special instincts and aura to block the bullet before it could reach the captain. It had gone right through his head. He died on the spot.

Zenjo wasn’t there,so he couldn’t have seen how it happened. His imagination would only bring him so far. He had a liking to that boy, as if that boy had been his apprentice for years now.

“Without hesitation.” Those words rung in his head. Habari had said the same words before Zenjo had to cut him down. It was sudden, he assumed that they would have been okay and that the war between Scepter 4 & Purgatory House was over and down for. The next moment, he was covered in his king’s blood.

After the funeral, Hidaka crouched in the toilet, tears rolling down his eyes nonstop. He couldn’t believe it. Had his best friend really died? He bit his lower lip and thought of every moment they had spent together. Training in the Dōjo, every mission they had been on together & eating soba with Enomoto, Fuse, Goto and Zenjo in the dimly lit room after hours.

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to process his death over and over again. Thinking of every second and how he could have prevented it. If only he had locked the culprit up earlier. If only he had restrained him tighter. If only he had moved away the gun. Kusuhara wouldn’t have died.

At roughly 1am & technically a the day following the funeral, Enomoto sat at the desk in the Blue Sky dormitory, in the room he shared with Fuse. Despite being a hard worker, well-trained soldier and highly educated in the world of technology, he seemed to have a difficult time writing the report on the case.

He recalled Kusuhara jumping out, and as he looked at the captain in disbelief, the Blue King was stained by his clansman’s red blood. His glasses were splattered with that viscous red substance and mouth agape. The next thing he knew, his glasses were fogging up. Enomoto was soft and gentle in nature, but the gruesome scene caused him to run up to the corpse of his friend and grasp it, shouting his name over and over again.

At the same time, Fuse sat at the counter of the kitchen in the Blue Sky dormitory. Arms resting on the table, the cool water in the cup turned warmer by the minute. He looked at the table, trying to reminisce everything and even begun to question his life choices. At this time, Gōto walked into the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep huh?” Gōto asked.

“Seems like it’s the same for you.”

For a moment, silence was the only thing between the 2. Gōto walked to the kettle and filled his cup with warm water. He looked solemn and lost, as if in a daze. While he is often know to be quirky, weird or “supernatural “, he had never looked so sad before.

“Hey, you believe in ghosts and things like that right? Would it be possible to make him come back?” Fuse asked, with a quiver in his voice.

“Sorry...” Gōto replied.

A ball of air formed in Fuse’s throat. The closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fist. Hitting the table hard, “Godamnit...”

In the more refurbished female dormitory, Awashima Seri had just finished bathing after a long day of work. She too, had a lost look in her eyes. At the corner of the room laid a bamboo sword, one that she would often bring to dōjo practice. As she picked up the sword, she ran her hand over it.

She thought of all the times they had sparred in the dōjo. Kusuhara has always lost “beautifully”. And after their trainings, sometimes she would send an anko care package to help him recover, only to be whacked again next practice.

The one time that he had managed to hit her was quite shocking in all honesty. She even carassed the are he hit to verify it. A gentle smile formed on her face as she touched that area once again.

Fushimi Saruhiko walked across the outdoor training grounds of Scepter 4. Wearing casual clothes after returning from a private errand from the captain. He looked down at his PDA, with his other arm in his pocket. He was in the process of strolling back to the dormitory.

All of a sudden, the bespectacled boy stopped in his tracks and looked up. Then his eyes widened. Just for a moment, he saw what seemed like a high schooler, smiling at him and saying “Fushimi-Kun, were you out late again?”

In the main Scepter4 building, only one light was left on. In the captain’s office, he perched his arm on the table and rested his head on it. His other arm was fixing a puzzle.

‘Clack...clack’

That was the only sound that filled the room. Fushimi had left a few minutes ago but it seemed as though he had been alone in that room forever. Earlier that day, Zenjo had him pinned up against the wall by the collar so he was fatigued to say the least.

‘Clack...clack’

Kusuhara had often helped him bring the puzzle to the dōjo and back to the office. It was depressing to think that the task would never be the same again.

‘Clack...clack’

During the funeral, he remembered a man with a limp moving towards and exchanged a few words with Zenjo. Since he was from the riot police, was he close to Kusuhara?

‘Clack...clack’

Like his face, Kusuhara’s hands were somewhat soft. He had once requested Kusuhara to wash his back, but instead he watched over it and saved his life.

‘Clack.’

The puzzle was finished. Taking a look at the full picture he had fixed, he leaned back and thought to himself “To have such dedicated squadmen, I certainly am lucky. Thank-You.”