not your typical annihilatrix (furiosity) wrote,
not your typical annihilatrix

Fic: [K] Reboot Your Destiny (Fushimi/Yata; PG)

Title: Reboot Your Destiny
Fandom: K Project
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fushimi/Yata
Disclaimer: GoRA owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Summary: The only things he knows clearly are that his name is Misaki, he's from Shimizu City, and his favourite colour is red.
Length: ~2200
Note: Written for Short Precarious Anecdote Month.

Reboot Your Destiny


"Fushimi, call in the local police."


If they're handing authority to the cops, that means the mission's a failure, but Fushimi decides he's not going to give up just yet. That catgirl, the shining white Sword of Damocles -- these people should be in custody, and he doesn't trust the regular beat guys to do it. He pulls up a map of the area on a nearby screen and traces the likeliest escape route with a finger. Lots of blind alleys: not good. They could be biding their time in any one of them.

He considers taking some of the guys with him but decides against it. If they make too much noise, they'll spook the perps.

Fushimi takes to the rooftops, scanning the shadows below for movement, straining to hear any voices -- it's past curfew for this part of town, so anyone still out in the streets is probably up to no good.

When he finally lucks out, he hears the Miwa dog's -- Yatogami, his name was -- voice clearly. "This girl can create false memories in people, and make people who've met for the first time believe they're old friends."

Fushimi's so excited he can't hear the first part of what the Isana-something child responds with. What should he do? Alert the mobile HQ? No, they'd hear him -- or sense him, if the catgirl's as good as she seems.

"Fix this amnesia thing right away..." That's Isana speaking.

Amnesia? So the catgirl had messed with his memories for some reason?

"Let's talk about this once we've escaped..." Yatogami.

"...if we keep putting this off..." Isana.

Fushimi leans out over the rooftop as far as he dares, but it's still hard to hear them.

Yatogami's voice carries the best of all. "Undo your spell completely."

Fushimi's watches the three of them stand blank-faced and still for several minutes. If they're communicating in any way, it must be happening via telepathy. He is evidently not close enough to be included -- which is good, since the catgirl would then know he is there.

Isana opens his eyes suddenly. "Who was that?"

Fushimi leans back quickly. Has he been noticed? Better not take the chance. He can't take them alone: the catgirl might do something drastic, like turn him to their side by fucking with his memories. He creeps away across the rooftops, thinking about what he'd managed to hear.

So she can alter perception, establish telepathic links, manipulate memories and restore them. Munakata's right; that's a terribly dangerous power.

Dangerous and useful.

Dangerous, useful, and its wielder was stupid enough to have found someone to protect.

Fushimi giggles.


When he opens his eyes, he sees a rectangular pane of glass through which a bright light shines, making him squint and frown. Window. Sun.

"W-where am I? Is anyone there?"

He doesn't know where there is. Is he in a house? An apartment? A hotel? He knows what those are -- people live in houses, but houses are expensive and far from everything; apartments are where people live in exchange for rent money, hotels are temporary lodgings that also cost money -- but can't conjure any memories of himself being in a specific house, apartment, or hotel.

In fact, the only things he knows clearly are that his name is Misaki, he's from Shimizu City and his favourite colour is red.

When people can't remember things, that's called amnesia. He doesn't remember where he learned that or who taught it to him. Amnesia? So this could be a hospital. A place where sick people go to get better or die.

Die. Dying is the end of a life.

Could he be dead? Is that why he can't remember anything, because he won't need memories in the next life?

There is a noise to his left. A door opens into the room he's in. Doors are used to keep the cold out. The cold, and people. With locks. Doors with locks. There is a man at the door. If there was a lock, it did not keep him out.

Doors are...

"You're awake," says the man at the door.

Misaki doesn't know who he is, but there is a vague, conflicted emotion connected to him. Not a memory, a feeling. Does he know Misaki? Does Misaki know him?

The man is dressed in blue, he has very dark hair and blue eyes hidden behind black-framed eyeglasses. He is wearing a sword on his left hip. The clothes look like a uniform of some sort, though Misaki is not sure why he thinks so.

"Are you a doctor? Am I dead?"

"Of course you aren't dead," the man says with a small smile. "It's been a long time, Misaki."

"You know my name."

"Of course I know your name. Granted, we haven't seen each other in years, but I would never forget you as long as I live."

"I'm sorry," Misaki says, staring at his hands. "I don't know who you are. I don't remember anything at all. Can you tell me who I am?"

The man walks over and sits down on the edge of the bed. "I'm afraid I don't know much. You and I parted ways long ago, and I don't know what you've been doing since then. I found you passed out in the street last night and brought you home -- you didn't have any ID on you, or even a PDA, so I didn't know where else to take you."

"How did we-- do we know each other?"

"We spent a week in the same orphanage back when we were brats. You were sent away after that, and I haven't seen you since."

"So I am an orphan?" That meant he did not have parents. "How old was I when you met me?"

"Thirteen, same as me. That makes you twenty-two now. Your birthday was on July 20th. Mine was on November 7th, just last week."

"So it's November." Misaki tries to find any significance to the month but can only call up images of rain soaking into asphalt, morning frost, yellowed leaves matting a sidewalk. November is in the fall, which comes before winter comes before spring comes before summer comes before fall. "November."

"Tell you what. I'll take you to a hospital, where they'll be able to pull you up if you've ever been to one. I really should've done that in the first place but didn't know if maybe you were in some kind of trouble. If that fails, I work for SCEPTER4: we have data on everyone. I would have checked when I was at work today, but I'm afraid I don't know your family name and I hadn't thought to take a photo with me, since I wasn't aware that you had lost your memory."

SCEPTER4, the Shimizu City special police force. Misaki thinks he has something to say about that, but it just won't come. Again, there is a dull feeling that he can't identify. "Thanks," he says. "I really appreciate your help."

The man -- Misaki still hasn't asked his name -- leaves him alone to get dressed into a pair of fitted jeans that feel a bit too tight across his butt, a white T-shirt that's too short and keeps riding up to expose his belly, and a dark green corduroy jacket. Are these his clothes? They don't feel familiar, but then again, his whole body feels like a stranger's.

Misaki opens the door and walks out into a narrow corridor that leads him to another, larger room -- this one has a sofa and a television set in one half and a tiny kitchenette in the other.

The man in blue is on the sofa, reading a magazine. "Ready?" he asks, looking up at Misaki. "Let's go, then."

As they board the elevator, Misaki begins to feel dizzy. A fear gnaws at his chest, and a sense of impending doom invades his consciousness. As they disembark and begin to walk towards a well-lit foyer, towards a set of glass doors that lead to the street, Misaki begins to sweat. It's hard to breathe; his heart is racing. He is certain that if he steps past those doors, something terrible will happen to him and to the kind man in blue, something horrific beyond imagination.

His body is not his own; he can see his reflection in the doors as they approach, and he registers that the shorter young man in the jeans and the green jacket walking next to the blue man must be him -- he has very bright red hair and an unfriendly face, it turns out -- but it doesn't feel real. He feels like he is floating along beside that body, and he is not in control of it.

He shivers as his stomach roils, and his arms tingle as if someone had sat on them for a while. He stops just before the door and looks up at the blue man. "I can't," he moans.

The man's eyes are as blue as the night sky. "Misaki, what's wrong? You look unwell."

"Please don't make me go outside," Misaki says through his teeth, trying to clamp down on the panic rising in his chest, making him want to scream in terror. He feels improbably hot; there is fire at his fingertips, fire he can harness, fire that flows through his veins. He can see the fire all around him, feel it in his bones. It must be a hallucination.

The blue man puts his arms around Misaki; his broad chest shields the doors from view. "Whoa, whoa, it's okay," he murmurs somewhere far above Misaki as his consciousness slips away.

He awakens in the bed, though this time he is fully dressed and lying on top of the covers. The blue man is sitting on the windowsill and reading a book.

"I-- What happened?"

"You seem to have an unusually strong case of agoraphobia," the man tells him, snapping the book shut one-handed. "That means a fear of going outside. Perhaps your amnesia is related: you were outside when I found you. Maybe you ended up outside and it was so scary that your brain shut itself down. The amnesia could mean that your brain hasn't rebooted properly."

"Like a computer? Am I a machine?"

The blue man chuckles softly. "No, you're definitely not a machine. It's a bit of an occupational hazard to talk about brains like they're computers, please don't be offended."

"I'm not offended at all," Misaki tells him. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Fushimi Saruhiko. You knew me as Saruhiko, or just Saru."

"Saruhiko," Misaki says, tasting it.


Fushimi looks down at Misaki's sleeping face and exhales a long-held breath.

It all went down just as he planned. The years of background work, getting close to Isana, planting the poison capsule in his stomach while he slept, and then making his deal with the catgirl.

Do this, or I'll explode the poison capsule and Isana dies. Tell anyone what you've done, and Isana dies. Undo it, and Isana dies.

Fushimi hates that the catgirl knows, but she's too scared for her precious little King, and she has no interest in Misaki, the Reds, or any other clan. This was easy for her and a low price to pay. To Fushimi it is everything. Still, he might do well to get rid of the catgirl as soon as he can make certain that killing her won't undo the spell.

Misaki doesn't remember a thing, and he will be forever scared of going outside -- the catgirl assured Fushimi that there's no way anything will trigger his lost memories; his amnesia isn't normal after all -- but he thought it better not to take chances. Misaki doesn't need to go outside; if he needs exercise, there's a gym in the building's basement. Besides, something outside might put him in enough danger to trigger a Red Aura release, and that's something Fushimi wants to avoid. This afternoon in the lobby was bad enough.

And Misaki is still Misaki: smart, inquisitive, blunt, gorgeous. Fushimi hasn't had a chance to excite his delightful temper yet, but they have their whole lives ahead of them. He still needs to work out how to explain their almost-matching tattoos, but he'll figure it out. It'll be some time before Misaki wants to see him naked, anyway; he was a late bloomer in the first place, and they have to rebuild their relationship all over again.

But sooner or later Misaki will want him. They are, after all, destined for each other; Fushimi knew it as soon as they first met.

Just as he promised earlier, Fushimi will make every effort to find out who Misaki is and where he belongs. He will bring all of his search results home to Misaki. He will even let him use the SCEPTER4 network to look for himself, but there is no Misaki to be found out there.

No one will miss Misaki: no one remembers him. No one but Fushimi.

"You're mine now," he whispers as he shuts the door.

Tags: fic:character:[k]:fushimi, fic:character:[k]:yata, fic:fandom:[k], fic:genre:dark, fic:length:short, fic:pairing:fushimi/yata, fic:pov:multi, fic:type:slash

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