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Warning: Memories Are Flammable

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Yata aimlessly skated through the city without any intention in mind, it was a pretty cloudy day already and he wanted to get in at least an hour of skating before the rain poured from the dull sky. The scenery was a blur to him as figures and cars swept swiftly past him; his skateboard out speeding them all.

 

Occasionally, he recognized some areas which he associated with vast memories. There was the place where he, Kamamoto and Chitose had stayed out on patrol late which resulted in them being chased by the police: Chitose being too drunk for them to retaliate. He hadn't let that go since Kusanagi found out and punished them for it by a month of cleaning. The local skate park wasn't far from there either, so he considered going there. 

 

"Misaki, what are you doing?" A tall boy asked tiredly as the time lingered on, their break almost finished. No doubt the school would ask where they've been after they snuck out.

 

"Practicing!" He replied while annoyed his new skateboarding trick had yet again fallen in vain. 

 

The other 'tsked' as he stood with his arms crossed impatiently waiting for the skater's patience to run out. Which wouldn't be long from now.

 

"Ugh!" He groaned as the impact of the fall hit him hard, "Forget it!" 

 

"Finally," 

 

They wandered around, bickering with each other to distract him from the feeling of failure after that unsuccessful skate park trip.

 

"Hey, Saruhiko?"

 

"Hm?" 

 

He turned around, facing the taller one with a bright smile, "Thank you for staying with me,"

 

"Tch you don't have to thank me for that," 

 

"Oh! Okay then!" 

 

"Fushimi! Yata! Just where have you two been?!" An older woman shrieked as they were brought back into the school.

 

Nope. Nope. He turned his skateboard right around and went the other way. 

 

Just a peaceful skating session was all he wanted. 

 

Please. 

 

He managed to push the thoughts of that memory away (Not because he had almost been knocked over by a car by how distracted he was) 

 

But his attention was immediately brought to the notification his watch signaled. 

 

A red flash was inked on the holographic map, which meant a distribution was reeking havoc. 

 

However, the longer he continued to skate towards the location: the more nostalgia it brought along with painful memories. And soon enough, he dreaded in fear as he recognized the path he was being led on.

 

 

 

The middle school had been engulfed in flames. 

 

 

Scorching flames that brought mass destruction with its presence. It was nothing like the warm fire that Homra possessed that "was used for good"(-Totsuka) but it was like the kind of flames the devil itself used. Yata starred, caught in confusing feelings of fear and shock. It seemed unreal, like a distribution from reality. 

 

Another man was watching the scene unfold. 

 

A man wearing a long blue uniform and glasses.

 

Fushimi simply gazed at it as if he had expected it, or that's what Yata thought anyway. It was hard to tell behind the glasses he wore. 

 

"Saruhiko?" 

 

He flinched at the mention of his name, but he seemed to relax slightly when he realised who had called him. 

 

Fushimi laughed bitterly, "There it is."

 

"Huh?! You knew it was about to-" 

 

He just shrugged, "No. It just finalized it." 

 

"Finalized what?!" Yata screamed in confusion and weariness. 

 

No answer came but an antagonizing smirk. He hated that smile. So, so much. 

 

"You're so… you always do this. Never fucking tell me anything.. Is this why we didn't.. and never.."

 

"Never what? Misaki?" Fushimi jeered. 

 

"Never fixed this. Never became..you know… more. Like you promised." 

 

"You've got your gang of hooligans to blame." 

 

"Homra didn't do anything!" Yata argued. 

 

He was laughed at, "Please, if you weren't acting so pathetic: I'd have assumed you ordered it personally."

 

"WHAT?" The accusation hit hard, "I wouldn't of, Saruhiko." 

 

"It's not like the school was anything special though." Fushimi said sourly, as if he was more likely convincing himself. 

 

Yata stopped. He almost felt his breath being caught in his throat.

 

He swallowed a tear that threatened to fall.

 

 

"Fuck you Fushimi. You're such an asshole sometimes. I don't like who you are now. Why the fuck did I let you influence me so much? I liked you- and you knew that. But still.." 

 

He said nothing in reply. Yata didn't wait, he pushed past him and went.

 

He wanted to go. But he didn't know where to go.