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King's Game

Shizume Island

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a part of King's Game, by cl.love.

Locally known as Shizume Town

cl.love holds sovereignty over Shizume Island, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

449 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/k_(tv_series) https://www.roleplaygateway.com/universes/k-project-fall-of-the-grey-king

Setting

A relatively small island harboring a dense futuristic city. Hundreds of years ago, a singularity occurred, and ever since, magic has been commonplace on the island. This magic has been woven into the culture of the city and how the politics of the city are run.
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Shizume Island

Locally known as Shizume Town

Minimap

Shizume Island is a part of King's Game.

1 Characters Here

The Characters [5] Don't feel like making thirty of these, so all of the major players are described here.

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- King's Game -

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part one: The Unexpected


Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.

It was never supposed to be that way.


t

Ever since she was a child, Aika knew that one day, her father would die, and the crown of the Grey King would pass to her. Yoshio didn't believe in clouding the nature of death from his children. Aika and her brother, Akira, were always aware that one day the responsibilities of leading the Grey Clan would be theirs.

Ever since she was a child, Aika knew that one day, her father would die.

It hits her like a freight train anyways.


t

Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.

He had told no one but his personal doctor and lawyer that he was dying. That the cancer he'd defeated in his youth had returned with cruel strength. That he had ignored the symptoms until they were no longer treatable. That he had sorted all his affairs more than a year before he finally passed away in the dark of night.

Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected. He deteriorates rapidly in the dark of night, calling for his children through quiet halls. Only Aika answers.

She holds his hand as his vision clouds, as he gasps for breath, as he whispers empty comforts and tries to dry her tears with shaking fingers. She holds his hand as he calls for his son who is too far away to hear the plea.

She holds his hand as his grip loosens in her own, as her father slips from time.

Aika remains by his side, only letting go to comfort her brother when he arrives. Akira mourns in her arms and Aika allows herself this moment of grief, because she knows it is all she'll have. With her father dead, there is much to be done: the Council of Kings will need to be informed, a funeral arranged, a King Chosen-

Ikeda Yoshio's death is sudden and unexpected.

Ikeda Aika's Awakening is even more so.

It happens as she stands, wrapped in her brother's arms and her brother's grief, feeling the tears of her only remaining family upon her cheek. It happens as she gazes into nothing and wonders why her father kept his cancer from them.

It happens as she asks herself:
What happens now?

In a way, the Stone answers that question. It appears in a flash of dazzling silver light, specks of pale blue dancing across the room. It should be blinding, but Aika gazes into the light unflinchingly, a sense of calm washing over her like a gentle ocean wave. Her grief, her brother's grief ... the world around her fades away.

As the light begins to dim, Aika finds herself cupping a Stone in her hands. She has seen it many times before, carefully sealed away in a glass case in the Hall of Kings. She has never held it in her hands, but it is familiar all the same.

It is only when the light completely fades that Aika realizes her brother is no longer holding her, instead standing a few feet away, tear-streaked eyes caught on the massive Moonstone she holds. Akira meets her eye and smiles, so small, and only then does it dawn on her the weight of what she holds to her breast.

The Moonstone has chosen her.

She is the new
Grey King.

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t

News of that night's events travels surprisingly slowly. By the time the doctors and coroners arrive to document Ikeda Yoshio's death, by the time the body has been gently whisked off to the funeral home, by the time Aika and her brother arrive at the Hall of Kings to place the moonstone in its case, the sun has risen.

It is early morning when Nakamura Daisuke joins them in the Hall of Kings. The three of them together are able to contact the other Kings and inform them of the former Grey King's passing and the new Grey King's unexpected awakening.

The Gold King is the first to answer. Alistair La Fontaine holds any emotion within himself as he learns of this sudden transfer of power. He is calm, and quiet, and business-like as he thanks the Grey Clan for being so prompt with their call.

The Blue King does not answer the call, but Aika leaves a voicemail anyways, and earns a response mid-morning from a clearly tired Tsunemori Misaki. They speak in hushed voices for a long time, comforting one another in their grief. Then Misaki asks if a new King has been chosen, and quietly congratulates her friend.

The Red King does not get a call, because Aika does not know the number.

The Purple King, however, answers right away when she calls- an action that Aika will not disclose to anyone. Oda Tatsuyuki is solemn, and does not offer empty comforts. Aika does not mention the new Grey King, and Tatsuyuki does not ask.


t

The Green King does not get a call, but the Jade shimmers and trembles on Rui's shelf in the late hours of the night, just like the other Stones in their glass case.

Rui is not awake to witness this, but she grieves in her dreams nonetheless.

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t location: Créme de Violette
three days after Ikeda Yoshio's death


It's been one hour since the bar officially closed, two hours since the sun rose, yet only one resident of the Créme de Violette apartments is awake.

Tanaka Natsuki sways gently to Ella Fitzgerald playing on her radio as she flips an egg. There are no footsteps above her, but she knows there will be soon- it's almost seven. Louis Armstrong's voice joins Ella's and floats around the kitchen.

And there they are- footsteps. Just not the footsteps she was expecting.

She doesn't have to look to know who's on the stairs, entering the kitchen, quietly pulling out a chair to sit down. Natsuki finishes cooking her folded egg and plates it next to a piece of grilled fish, and only then does she turn around. Arata sits at the bar with his chin in his hands, eyes tired and distant and thoughtful.

Natsuki sets the plate down in front of him and leans her hip against the bar. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong's voices continue to fill the silence.

A long moment passes like this. Natsuki doesn't ask what's on Arata's mind- she already knows. Arata doesn't ask for Natsuki's opinion- he already knows she'll give it to him. But not before he becomes a part of the waking world.

Finally, Arata sighs and starts to eat. Natsuki smiles and steps away to make tea. The song on the radio fades into silence and is quickly replaced by a livelier tune.


"Have you decided what you're going to do yet?" Natsuki asks.

Arata sighs again, and Natsuki doesn't have to turn around to picture the look on his face- a mixture of annoyance and relief that she'll always know him better than anyone else. It's a nice expression, she thinks. Always satisfying. Arata doesn't offer her an answer right away, and Natsuki doesn't pressure him for one.

She finishes brewing the tea and pours a cup for each of them. A dull thud above them hints at some of their younger members finally waking up. About time.

Natsuki sets a cup of tea in front of Arata and they drink in silence. Natsuki trusts that he'll open up to her sooner rather than later- she knows he doesn't want to talk about this in front of the kids. They both know they're running out of time.

Arata sets his cup down and sighs, avoiding her gaze.
"It's a bad idea."

Natsuki raises an eyebrow at him over the rim of her cup. "Is it? Or are you just afraid to put yourself in the spotlight again after all these years?"

"I won't just be putting myself in the spotlight. It'd be all of us."

"You say that as if we're unaware. Each of us knew what we were getting into when we became your Clansmen. We're all prepared."


There's pain and fear in Arata's eyes as they meet hers. [color=#]"Are you sure?"[/color]

Natsuki knows who he's talking about, and a part of her wants to agree with him, validate his fears. Their world has not been kind to their Clan, and not everyone is prepared for the life-or-death battle that might break out at any moment.

But if she agreed with him, she'd be doing everyone a disservice.

Instead, she sets her cup next to his and places a hand on his shoulder.[/color] "They may be children, but they aren't ignorant, and they aren't weak. And you know what they're like, they'll be in the spotlight eventually no matter what we do to keep them hidden. They're both awful at keeping secrets."

A soft smile curls Arata's mouth and Natsuki can't help a smile herself. And, as if on cue, two sets of footsteps tumble their way down the stairs and into the room.

Tooru and Sachiko offer loud, barely-there greetings as they race past the bar in a beeline for the television. A jumbled argument and some frantic button-mashing later, and that morning's episode of some anime Natsuki can't recall is playing.

Natsuki barely reacts- they're like this every morning. But there's a sadness in Arata's eyes as he gazes at them, and she knows he's thinking about what it would mean for them if he does decide to attend Ikeda Yoshio's funeral.

She watches him, and he pretends not to notice, and Natsuki begins to realize that he's not going to make the decision on his own. Not this time. He's too afraid.

She understands why.

But now is not the time to bow to fear.


"Arata," She says, voice stern.

Arata looks at her with narrowed eyes, then at Tooru and Sachiko, who are too absorbed in their anime to notice anything around them. He looks back at her.


"There's plenty that can go wrong. The other Kings hate you, hate all of us. But it's been five years. A new King has been chosen. Things are changing, and I think you ought to make a statement while you have the chance."

Arata doesn't look away from her gaze, but there's hesitation in him still. Natsuki smiles and holds out her hand, conjuring a gentle flame nestled in her palm.

"You are our King, and we will follow you through anything. You know that."

And there it is- that spark in his eye.

The very thing that led Natsuki and so many others to call him their King.

Arata sighs, a thicker sigh, like the breath taken before a fight.
"Alright." Natsuki lets the flame in her hand die as she watches him stand and stretch. And though nothing she's ever done has ever been able to pull the kids away from their morning cartoons, all it takes is Arata stretching to draw their attention to him.

Arata grins at them, and Natsuki can see Tooru and Sachi vibrating in excitement.


"So," Arata says, "you two wanna go to a funeral with me?"

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t location: Saint's St. Chapel
religion is not relevant to this story but this is based on a roman catholic church bc it was easy

Aika's family had never been particularly religious, not so far as she can recall. But there's some mystic beauty to churches that she's always felt in her soul- the carefully built stone, the intricate glass windows, the soft, flickering candlelight.

It was her father's wish to be buried in the Saint's Street cemetery, beside his wife who had died when Aika was just an infant. As such, Aika and Akira thought it as good a thought as any to hold his funeral service in the Saint's Street Chapel.

Less of a distance to walk the casket, she supposed.

Aika stands atop the pulpit in a sparkling white and silver dress she'd worn to last year's school dance. Unlike her brother, she hadn't owned anything black, and to find a dress to rent or borrow had seemed too big a task at the time. She doesn't regret her decision- this dress is familiar, comforting. A Grey King's suit of honor.

The chapel has been filled for half an hour now, but Aika stands gazing at the box that holds her father and can't find a single thing to say.

What do you say to a room full of people who only ever knew him halfway?

The chapel doors open with a groan.

Aika turns around and all at once, the chapel is filled with light, the afternoon sun bursting in through the open doors. Aika raises a hand against the light but sees only the vague shapes of people entering. Many people. The doors begin to close again and hushed voices erupt in the crowd as Aika's vision clears.

She can't help the gasp of surprise that leaves her.

It's the Red King.

No- not just him. There's a crowd of people of all ages at his back, at least thirty of his Clansmen. They fill the walkway and the vestibule. A few glance about the room, meeting the other Clan's disapproving stares with arrogant smiles or glares. But many of them look dutifully onward, expressions hardened with determination.

Aika sees her brother rise from his seat in the front row and join her, standing on the pulpit steps a few feet away. She doesn't tell him to sit back down. She knows he won't. She may not believe the rumors of the Red Clan, but this display...

No one knows what to expect from the Red King and his Clansmen.

The Red King stops at the front row of pews and the crowd stills behind him. Aika eyes him with what she hopes comes across as curiosity rather than distrust. At his side stand a young boy with fiery orange hair and a tall, distinguished-looking woman. A tiny brunette girl holds his hand and gazes about in wonder.

This is the Red Clan, and it is not what she had expected.

Aika stands perfectly still beside her brother and watches the Red King gently pry his hand from the child clinging to him. He continues forward and this time, his Clansmen do not follow. Aika's eyes follow him as he ascends into the pulpit, but he doesn't stop or even glance in her direction.

The Red King pauses before the casket, and for a moment, it feels as if the room itself has held its breath. Aika stands still, and observes.

The Red King places a hand on the casket and bows his head.

He remains there for only a few seconds, but the action is clear. He is paying his respects to the dead. Aika lets out a breath and feels her nerves begin to soothe.

Arata turns from the casket with a fire in his eyes, and Aika can feel the tension rise once again. But she is not afraid. She stands with her head high and meets his gaze unflinchingly, hands folded neatly before her. Arata narrows his eyes at her, just a bit, and Aika gets the faintest impression that she's passed a test.

When Arata speaks, he speaks loud and clear, but he doesn't look away.

This message is for her.


"Your father did me a favor once. I never got the chance to repay him for it."

Aika feels her heart ache at the words, another reminder that her kind, kind father is gone, that there may be things he left undone, words he left unsaid.

Arata stands even taller, almost threatening. Aika does not look away.


"Since I can't properly repay what he did for me, I would like to offer you that favor in his place." Arata says. There is a knowing smile in his eyes.

Aika's heart skips a beat.

Instantly, the room breaks out into hushed conversation, exclamations of shock and accusations and questions of what reason could he possibly have for this?

Someone laughs. Aika's pretty sure it's one of the Red Clansmen.

Arata steps forward until Aika can see the lines of exhaustion and grief around his eyes. Again, she does not break his gaze, even as her brother flies to her side and hovers a hand at her back. Arata holds a hand out to her and a flame flickers into being in his palm, small and warm. Several guests cry out in anger.

But there is no malice in Arata's eyes, and all Aika sees is another test.


"One favor." He says, quietly this time. "If you ask, the Red Clan will answer."

This is nothing she could have ever expected.

The Red Clan appearing after years of absence from the Council, paying respect to her father, offering her one single favor that looks an awful lot like loyalty...

Aika doesn't have to think twice.

She trusts as she takes his hand in both of hers that the fire will not hurt her, and it fades the moment she touches it, a fleeting sensation like touching soft paper. She bows her head and smiles brighter as Arata does the same in return.


"I am honored to have earned such kindness from the Red Clan." She says.

Arata smiles, just a bit.

Then he gently slides his hand from hers and retreats down the steps, returning to his Clansmen. Aika smiles as she watches the crowd filter out of the chapel, each of them ignoring the tension around them. The Red Clan has not been accepted in the Council for many years, and there is hatred simmering among the pews.

But Aika just smiles, because she has gained an ally.

And today, in this room full of people who only ever knew her father halfway, who look at her with disappointment, an ally is all she ever could have asked for.

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t
location: Créme de Violette Apartments

Arata's phone rings six times before he finally picks it up. A glance at the caller ID reveals an unfamiliar number- an answer through the absence of an answer.

There's only one person who calls from a different number each time they chat.

He answers the call. He doesn’t offer a greeting.


That was really stupid of you, you know.

No preamble. Good. They aren’t going to beat around the bush this time.

Arata settles the phone comfortably against his ear.
Bold words for the guy who sent me my own special traitor’s invite. Did you want me to ignore it?

It isn't about what I want.

"Then why did you send it to me in the first place?"


There's silence for a long moment, then an answer so quiet Arata barely hears.

It was the right thing to do.

Silence.

Arata wants to laugh at the irony of this conversation, of that tiny, quiet sentence. He wants to laugh at the hypocrisy. Inviting him was the right thing to do?

Was abandoning him all those years ago the right thing to do, too?

Eli Sinclaire's voice filters through the phone, louder this time.
I know you aren't going to believe me. But you asked a question, and that's your answer.

Arata doesn't believe him. He also doesn't think it matters.


"Why did you call me?" He asks, hating how his voice is starting to crack.

He hears Eli sigh.
I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing. A lot of people were enraged by your display at the funeral, and the fact Ikeda accepted your offer can only make things worse. For you and for her.

"What, does the Council not like her or something?"

They didn't like her father much, either. You know that.


For the first time since he'd made the decision to attend Ikeda Yoshio's funeral, Arata starts to consider how his actions will affect Aika. He's agonized over what it would mean for his Clan, for Tooru and Sachiko, for himself. He's ran every awful possibility through his aching head since he learned Ikeda Yoshio was dead.

But he hadn't really thought about what it would mean for Yoshio's daughter.

The Council hated him- and now they hated her, because she had accepted his offer and shown him kindness and hadn't thrown him out like he knew the Council wanted her to. Perhaps they didn't trust her, because they didn't trust anyone, but surely any hatred they feel for her now is all because of Arata. Because of him.

Guilt starts to pool in Arata's stomach. He knows Aika is stronger than she looks, smarter than she appears. He wants to believe she knew what she was doing.

But the Council is cruel, and she's stuck in the thick of it, and he feels guilty-


I didn't say this to make you feel guilty, you know.

Silence.

Eli sighs again. He sounds exhausted.
I'm not saying you should have done it differently. And I'm not saying Ikeda can't handle herself- she's already proven that she can, she's been part of the Council for years. But you shook things up today. And its going to have consequences.

Consequences- yes. This he already knew.

You can't shake a hornet's nest without getting stung.


Just... stay safe, alright?

Eli Sinclaire doesn't wait for an answer; the line goes dead. It doesn't matter. He knew he wasn't going to get one anyways. It wasn't something they did- sharing comforts and platitudes and well-wishes. The time for those was long gone.

Arata tosses his phone onto the floor and curls into his bedsheets. He can hear footsteps from the apartment underneath him, Tooru and Sachi avoiding bedtime.

He has so, so much to lose.

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t
location: Bellflower Manor - Ikeda Family Private Residence

"Daisuke, do you know what it is that father did for Arata? What favor was so important that it had to be repaid, even though father is gone?" Aika asks.

Silence stretches in the room.

It's late, very late. Despite the Red Clan's interruption and the angry discussions that had distracted her guests after, the funeral service had left Aika with a sense of satisfaction. She had spoken to the audience only briefly, having had nothing to say but that her father would be reunited with his love, resting beside her forever.

She had watched the casket sink into the open grave beside the mother she had never met, and felt sure that he would be happy there, free of life's burdens.

She doesn't remember a single comfort any of the guests had offered, because not a single one of them had felt genuine. The only thing that came to mind was Arata's hand on the casket and the creases around his dark eyes.

Silence stretches in the room, but Aika doesn't take her question back.

Daisuke looks up from the pile of paperwork before him and meets her gaze.

They sit for a long moment- her, sitting on a plush violet chaise; him, sitting at a tiny vintage desk across the room. Her waiting for an answer to her question. Him weighing the consequences of ignoring her, and perhaps...

Perhaps, weighing the consequences of telling a story he shouldn't tell.

Akira sits cross-legged on the floor between them, picking at the world's ugliest rug, patiently waiting for the two of them to figure their shit out.

Daisuke sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, hands folded before his face like a cartoon villain about to monologue their evil plan to the captured hero. Aika pulls a blanket over herself and gets comfortable. Akira rolls his eyes.


"I do." Daisuke answers, quiet and calculating. "It was a long time ago, and it isn't a happy story. But I think you already assumed that."

Aika says nothing, her silence challenging Daisuke to continue.

Akira throws his head back and groans.
"God, you two are so tedious."

Ah.

Akira's frustration breaks the tension in the room, though the tension was only ever for show, a game Aika and Daisuke have played since childhood. Aika sips a cup of coffee to hide her smile and Daisuke allows himself a mocking laugh.

Then Daisuke sighs, and Aika knows what he said is true: this isn't a happy story.


"It was a long time ago, probably eight or nine years, you were both little." He begins, expression solemn. "That's why you were never told. The Red King had only been crowned for about a year, but he made quite the impression."

"As you know, he was chosen by the Rubellite at random after the former Red King died. He'd had no training, no guidance, and he didn't want any, either. He didn't care for the other Kings' opinions and made sure they knew. It's safe to say the Council hated him from the very beginning."


Aika recognizes these pieces of information from rumor. Years ago, she had often questioned the other Clans when they complained of the Red Clan and its delinquent King, her curiosity searching for a reason why they hated him so strongly when he never seemed to be around to do anything worth hating.

Eventually, she stopped asking. Now, she knows the other Kings, knows their pride and their entitlement and their small thinking, and she can see why a young man calling them out for their cruelty could have made them drive him away.

Daisuke continues the story with a pinched expression, his displeasure clear as day.
"It came to the point where the Kings were trying to have Arata removed from the Council entirely. But a case couldn't be made without evidence."

This part of the story, Aika does know. That the Kings despised how Arata chose his Clansmen from non-magic people, how he refused to care about status. And how nothing could be done, because there were no rules against it.

"There was no official Blue King at the time, but a former Clansman started investigating Arata. It was common knowledge that he'd been collecting runaways and making them Clansmen. But it was discovered that he'd taken in a minor who had run away from home. A child."

Aika sees him in her memory- the young redheaded boy who had stood resolutely at Arata's side. He'd been one of the youngest she could see in the crowd.

"It was the perfect weapon. An investigation was made, but no one could find evidence that he'd been reported missing. Child services were called and the first agent who tried to touch the child got burnt. It was chaos."

"A trial was called and the Council turned on him. They accused him of kidnapping, made a case for his arrest. They all agreed that the child should be taken from his custody and his place in the Council revoked. Everyone agreed, except your father. And it all came down to his vote. Grey King."

Grey King's vote. Yes, Aika knew. The Grey King held the highest authority in the Council. The Grey King's vote decided everything. It all came down to them.

But the Grey King was not allowed to be subjective. They were not allowed to follow their own opinions or desires, only the evidence presented to them.

Aika had a feeling her father had broken this rule.

"The vote should have been clear, but no one really knew what to expect. Your father was not known for his cruelty. In that trial, the Kings wanted the outcome to be cruel. And they didn't trust him to deliver."

"He didn't, did he."
Akira says. Not a question. A statement.

Daisuke smiles, a sad smile rarely shown.
"No, he didn't. He told the Counil they had skipped over a massive piece of evidence and said no vote could be made until that piece of evidence had been collected. And then he went to the little boy the trial was about and asked him what he wanted to do."

Aika's heart swells with love and grief.

"No one expected that. Somehow, none of them had considered trying to turn the kid against Arata. So when Yoshio asked him if he was afraid of Arata, if he wanted to go back to his family, if he wanted to be adopted by a new family, the whole case fell apart. Because he wanted to stay with Arata."

"Your father destroyed the case they'd built against Arata. The child was left in Arata's custody with proof that he was able to provide. The trial ended. And after that, none of the Kings trusted your father again."


Silence stretches yet again, this time a peaceful, contemplative silence, as they reflect on this perfect example of their father's unyielding kindness.

It does not surprise Aika that her father was able to find a kind solution, nor does it surprise her that the other Kings hated him for it. She has seen their distrustful eyes on him during trials or during particularly heated Council meetings.

She saw a room full of those same eyes sizing her up as she stood by her father's casket and shook hands with a man of whom she had only heard horror stories.

The Council did not want her father's kindness.

They will likely not want her kindness either, but she will be kind nonetheless, because she is her father's daughter. She will follow in his footsteps whether they want her to or not, because she is her father's daughter.

And perhaps she will learn to speak up, to speak her mind loud and clear even if the entire world is against her. Perhaps she will learn to be a little more like Arata.

And if the Council rejects her, then perhaps the Council is not meant to be.

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part two: Hierarchy


The 7th Street train station is bustling with idle chatter, as always, and Hiro's old corner-store earbuds can only do so much against the noise, no matter how high the volume. A headache pounds against his skull and his stomach churns from an unwanted breakfast, and Hiro wonders if he should've stayed home after all.

He didn't want to. He's already missed too many days this month. But standing in a crowded station in several levels of pain and discomfort can't be worth it.

Hiro forces himself onto the train as it arrives, taking the first open seat to avoid the risk of falling should his headache progress into dizziness. No one takes the open seat at his side, even as the train car slowly fills to capacity.

Being almost 6'3 will do that to you.

The station chatter quiets somewhat as commuters adopt the hushed, secretive tones expected on a public train. It does nothing to ease Hiro's headache.

It's going to be a long day.

Hiro turns his music up and closes his eyes and tunes out the world, leaning his head against the train window. The sun at his back casts colored lights behind his eyelids and warms him until it suddenly fades, marking the edge of the city proper.

Hiro opens his eyes and sits up straight, gaze landing on the train doors.

Her stop is the first stop at the edge of the city.

The train slides into Heartline station and the doors open. Only three people exit. A decent crowd filters into the car and Hiro searches for a head of red hair.

And there she is.


t

Hisako sees Hiro through a train window before the doors even open, his height a dead giveaway. A part of her is grateful for this easy way of finding him, though she would never say so. She knows he hates how much he stands out.

Hiro is clearly searching for her in the crowd and Hisako's heart swells, just a bit, as she steps between two rumpled businessmen and steps into Hiro's gaze.

She does not say good morning. Hiro does not say hello.

Hisako takes the pointedly empty seat beside Hiro and pulls a thick, hard-cover book from her bag. She passes it to him, without a word, and he trades it for one of his earbuds, humming with vibrant music so unlike his controlled expression.

She slips it into her ear and lets the music wash over her. She watches Hiro open the book she gave him and follows along as he reads, their pace perfectly in sync.

This is her favorite kind of morning- a morning with Hiro at her side.

But it can never last forever.

The closer to city center, the more students pour into the train, and Hiro begins to drift apart from her. Hisako refuses to feel hurt by this. Attention is the last thing Hiro ever wants, and for someone so unfriendly to be so clearly connected to the Student Council Secretary is as big an invitation for attention as one can get.

(Hisako does not believe him to be unfriendly, but they've agreed to disagree.)

By the time the train reaches the coast and heads across the bay to Alya Island, Hiro has retreated completely into his music and Hisako has tucked the book back into her bag, refusing to be anything but content with how much of it he read.

When the the train reaches Alya Academy, they exit the car in opposite directions, without so much as a furtive glance to serve as a goodbye.



t location: Alya Academy

Any other day, Eliza would be vibrating in her excitement to go to school. School never tires her- she loves sitting in the beautiful buildings, she loves her classes, she loves talking to her classmates and teachers and lunch ladies about anything and everything they'll listen to. She loves the views of the glittering sea.

Alya Academy is her safe space, a place where the standards set by her family can fade into the background. But today, for the first time, Eliza is tired.

Two days have passed since Ikeda Yoshio's funeral. Two days since the service was interrupted by the Red King and his Clansmen, since the Red King had stood in a room full of people who despised him and offered their leader a favor.

It had been somewhat of a magical experience, if Eliza was being honest.

But the second the Red King had left, reality came crashing down, and Eliza was left to ponder the possible implications of the Red King's reappearance as the Gold Clansmen around her whispered dark theories and accusations.

The Red King cannot be trusted, they whispered. And if he is allied with the Grey King, then the Grey King cannot be trusted, and the Council is doomed to fall.

Eliza had never met the Red King, but she had heard stories, good and bad. Less good than bad, for only one person in her life knew anything real about Arata.

Someone whispers her name, and Eliza finds Tanaka Tooru's sunny, sunny face.


"What on God's green Earth were you thinking?!"

Eliza doesn't mean to yell- she hadn't even realized how much anger was building inside her until she saw Tooru's face and was reminded of what it meant for him to have been at Ikeda Yoshio's funeral, showing his face to the Council of Kings.

Tooru's sunny smile slides from his face and is replaced by confusion- a pinch in his brow, a tilt to his head. Eliza fumes. Of course he doesn't understand.


"Why would you go to the funeral?! Do you have any idea what people said after you left?!" She cries. Tooru's brow pinches deeper. "You can't just show up uninvited to a funeral like that, not like that- not when you're- God!"

Eliza begins to stumble over her own words and her frustration only builds. What can say to convey how she truly feels? How can she make him understand?

How can she make him understand how afraid for him she was?

How afraid she still is?

Tooru, for his part, does not yell back. He is not upset by her outburst. He is calm. His confused expression fades and instead, finds its way to Eliza, because calm is not a word Eliza would ever use to describe someone like Tooru.

Tooru looks at the ground and says very simply:
"We had to say goodbye."

Something within Eliza begins to ache.

Ache because she sees in him something she cannot feel- grief. Eliza had never met Ikeda Yoshio, because she was not a prodigy and thus her father didn't care to involve her in anything of any importance. It was some small miracle that she'd been allowed to attend the funeral, and any loss she'd felt was second-hand.

But Tooru had met Ikeda Yoshio. Had known Ikeda Yoshio. Could grieve him.

Eliza aches for Tooru and as she considers his words, she begins to ache for Arata, too, because she had been invited to the funeral and he had not.

She had been invited to mourn a stranger, while those who loved him had not.

Eliza's anger fades completely and more complicated emotions begin to swirl in her gut. She can see the Tooru's calm exterior beginning to melt into something else, something painful, and once again her thoughts are running a mile a minute trying to decide the right words to say that can fix this mess of a conversation-

Someone calls her name, and Eliza's blood run cold.


"Eliza, darling, I've been searching everywhere for you! I'd have thought I'd find you in the cafe, not out here in the shadows."

Tsunemori Misaki's smile holds double meaning, just as her words do. Here Eliza stands in a shaded courtyard, a place she should not be. Here Eliza stands, with Tanaka Tooru, a friend she should not have. In the shadows, indeed.

Misaki must know this, with that choice of phrasing. Her eyes flit from Eliza to Tooru, narrowing just enough to convey the distrust and disdain that Eliza knows she is expected to feel. Tooru curls in on himself like a leaf deprived of light.


"Eliza, why don't you come with me to the Student Council office? That would be a much better place for a chat." Misaki asks. It is not a request.

Eliza quickly gathers her things from the bench she'd scattered them on earlier. She does not look at Tooru, but she does turn in time to watch Misaki face him with her sharp eyes and poison smile, everything about her screaming danger.


"I do not think you belong here." She says, then turns and walks away.

Eliza does not look at Tooru as she follows Misaki. The complicated emotions in her gut swell until she feels sick and her mind is filled with words unsaid. She has lost her chance to say what she really meant to say when she yelled at him.

She has lost her chance to tell him how afraid she is to lose him.


t

Every day, Hisako plays with fire, stepping close to someone who she, by all logic, should stay as far away from as possible if she wished to avoid detection.

Nothing important can be accomplished without a healthy amount of risk, Rui had once told her. She had been referring to something completely inane, and Hisako doubts Rui had even realized it could be taken as some form of sisterly advice.

But Hisako happened to agree.

And so she had applied to the Student Council in her third year of middle school and was voted in as Secretary the year after that, standing by Tsunemori Misaki's side through every tedious meeting, discussion, and impromptu club inspection.

Tsunemori Misaki, Student Council President. Tsuemori Misaki, the Blue King.

Every day, Hisako plays with fire.

Every day, Hisako becomes a little less sure that Misaki isn't privy to all her secrets, patiently waiting for the moment she can best use them to her advantage.

Every day, Hisako plays with fire, because her secrets are all she has.

Today, however, it isn't her own secrets Hisako is worried for. She had sat by in the council office, signing assorted club paperwork in Misaki's stead, whilst Misaki herself chatted ominously with Elizabeth La Fontaine over a cup of tea.

Poor Eliza had spent the entire chat looking mildly terrified, and Hisako could only guess at why. Probably it had something to do with Color Clan business.

Hisako dutifully tuned out the conversation, as she knew Misaki expected of her.

One Elizabeth had fled the office and Misaki had taken the rest of the paperwork to sign herself, Hisako sat up straight and asked about Ikeda Yoshio's funeral.


"I assume there must be a lot to consider, with the Council missing a King. I'm a little surprised to see you here today, I'm sure you have much to do."

Misaki smiled at her, a casual, unbothered smile. "Oh, there's plenty to do, but a King's passing can't pause life. It would be unseemly of me to let slide my responsibilities here, regardless of circumstance, don't you think?"

A part of Hisako understood- nothing could be done about Ikeda Yoshio's death. Perhaps a new King would be chosen, but only the Stones could choose a King, and they could not be rushed. To continue on as normal made sense.

But another part of Hisako began to wonder if Misaki cared at all that another King had died. That the head of the Council of Kings was no more.

Perhaps the absence of the strongest King could only benefit those still living.


"And I suppose I shouldn't mention this, but the Council won't be without a Grey King for long. The Moonstone has already chosen a successor."

Hisako couldn't keep her surprise hidden. "What? Already?"

"Oh, yes. I believe the public announcement is set to air tonight. Seems best to keep the city from worrying, hm?" Misaki said.

With that, Misaki gathered her paperwork and left, promising to have everything completed by the end of the day. Hisako sat in the council office for a long time after Misaki was gone, considering everything she had learned.

A new Grey King had been chosen, and quickly. Historically, there was always a decent period of time between the former King's death and the expected public announcement of a new King being chosen. For the announcement ceremony to be prepared and recorded only five days after the former Grey King's passing...

Hisako set the question aside to ask herself: why would Misaki mention this?

If Hisako had learned anything from observing Misaki these past few years, it was that nothing Misaki ever did was unintentional. Misaki was cunning. She knew how to use words as a tool, as a weapon. She knew how to twist your emotions until you felt exactly what she wanted, thought exactly what she wanted.

Hisako would never believe that Misaki had told her these things carelessly.

Hisako was playing with fire.