"Saruhiko!" Yata yelled, not expecting an answer as the Blue staggered back with a curse, faint blue glinting around his hands as he steadied himself, daggers glinting as he straightened. Just in time for his opponent – a Strain who looks to be in her late teens and wearing the uniform for their old school – is on him, and for a moment the vanguard wonders if it is that connection, that reminder of the past that makes Fushimi hesitate. He dismisses that thought a moment later because he had much stronger ties with the Blue and it had never made him pause in their encounters, but there was definitely something because Saru wasn't moving as smoothly as usual and it even looked as though he was going out of his way to avoid contact.

What was stranger, was that he wasn't alone, but the other Scepter 4 members were holding the perimeter and watching with concerned expressions, hands on the hilts of their swords. What the hell is going on?

He wasn't even supposed to have been in the area that morning, but he had been running errands for Kusanagi – supposedly as punishment for the scorch mark, he'd accidentally put on the older man's beloved bar when some roughhousing had got out of hand, although they both knew he'd have done them anyway. However, their usual store hadn't had what he'd needed, and so he'd taken a longer route back to the bar, to swing past another store, following the path alongside the river, and he'd been halfway home when there had been an explosion of light ahead of him. He hadn't recognised the almost turquoise light, and it had been close enough to HOMRA's territory, albeit just beyond the perimeter, that he'd felt justified in going to investigate what was going on… only to stumble on his rival, and Scepter 4 locked in combat with a Strain.

He'd almost left, after all, while they were on friendlier terms now, it was Scepter 4 who had decided to continue corralling the last of the Strains until the powers of the Slates had faded entirely. However, just as he had been turning away, idly wondering what Kusanagi would say if he knew that he'd actually walked away from a fight, when the turquoise flared again, and Fushimi hissed in pain, which for the reticent Blue was like a shout, and whirling he saw Fushimi stumbling back with a hand pressed to his side.

"Stay back!" Fushimi snarled, as some of his clan tried to move in, and while clearly reluctant to obey they did, and it took Yata a moment to realise why. While Saru had a faint glow of blue around his hands and blades, the others, had only the odd spark around their weapons, even when they'd darted for in panic and he grimaced. It was happening in HOMRA too, newer members or ones who had been content to remain on the periphery were already reduced to sparks of red, while the core members still had a little more power, although that too was fading. It's going to be gone soon, he still wasn't used to that thought, although he knew that it had been the only choice, they'd had to stop Nagare.

It made him hesitate now though, watching as Fushimi steadied himself, relieved to see no sign of blood when he pulled his hand away from his side, although there was a wariness to his movements that suggested that he was still in pain. The Blue was saying something to the Strain, but Yata was too far away to make out the words, but it didn't seem to have the result he wanted. She was shaking her head and gesturing wildly, and there was another flare of light, although this time Fushimi moved to meet it, blocking it with his own blue, although it flickered under the impact. Their power fading with each use and his hands clenched at his side…it might not be enough this time.

It wasn't.

With each clash, Fushimi's blue seemed to dim a little more, and he was losing ground. The strain, on the other hand, appeared to show no sign of tiredness or dimming powers, something that he vaguely remembered Kusanagi mentioning at some point. He was inching closer now, their newfound understanding, and their efforts over the past few weeks to address all the issues between them – admittedly not without the sharp words, and the odd tussle – meaning that he couldn't just walk away. He still had his red, although for how much longer he wasn't sure, and…

Fushimi was down on one knee, a sharp noise of pain forced out of him, and for a moment Yata was back in JUNGLE's base, watching the Blue staggering with a knife wound to his leg. Not again. There was no thought, no concern that he was about to lose a bit more of his red, that he was getting involved in something that wasn't his business…. He just moved, foot pushing hard against the concrete as he launched himself forward with one thought on his mind.

Get to Saruhiko.

The Blue wasn't down for long, but there was no blue around his hands this time, and it was clear that he was on the defensive this time. Appearing to lose ground with each step that Yata took towards them.

Six steps away, and he can see the pain that Fushimi can't entirely mask as iridescent light flared between the pair once more, and this time when he blinks there's a gash across Saru's cheek that's already beginning to ooze blood before the Blue even registers it.

Five steps away, and he's going to be late. Yata knows that he's nowhere near Fushimi's level of smart, but even he can work out how this fight is going as Fushimi grunted and staggered back, trying to put room between them, but instead giving the Strain more room to work.

Four steps, he takes a deep breath, eyeing the drop behind the grappling pair. The river is high for this time of year, and he can see the murky grey waters from his position, but it's enough of a fall to take her out of the fight.

Three steps, his aura flared weaker than he cared to admit, flames flickering around his feet as he propelled himself forward. The Blues had noticed him now, but they seemed to have realised that he was there to help… or at least, they didn't see him as a threat, as no one made a move to stop him.

Two steps, Fushimi had finally noticed him, eyes widening behind his glasses and Misaki could see him opening his mouth to protest, and he looked away, refusing to be deterred.

One step and the Strain had noticed him now, forgetting Fushimi in favour of turning to meet his charge. However, there was no stopping it now, even as he saw her lips twisting into a predatory grin as she opened her arms as though welcoming him into an embrace, and in the back of his mind he was aware of the blush creeping across his cheeks as it always did when confronted with a strange girl. However, it was forgotten as he slammed into her, his momentum forcing them both towards the top of the bank.

There were voices raised in alarm behind them, and he was reasonably sure that Fushimi's was among them, but he had no chance to shout a reassurance because while his plan had been to just push the Strain over the edge, she had other ideas. Just as he was trying to pull back, the side of the bank looming behind her she latched onto him with the same grin as earlier, and he had a split second of alarm before iridescent light blossomed between them. There was pain, a sharp piercing pain that seemed to appear in a dozen places at once and for a moment his mind blanked, unaware of the strangled cry that was torn from his lips, and when his vision cleared, they were over the edge and falling, her grip disappearing as they plummeted.

He tried to stop his fall, but it had been raining for the last few days, the grass wet and slippery beneath his grasping fingers and even as he reached mud, scrabbling wildly but finding no purchase, he was yanked backwards. The strain, he realised belatedly, gasping as the girl tightened her grip on his sweater, pulling it taut against his throat. I can't breathe. He was choking, wheezing, and forgetting all about trying to arrest his fall he clawed at his throat, trying to pull the material away again, a pounding building behind his eyes.

Focused on that he was unprepared for when they crashed into the water, his mouth immediately filling with water, and his body seizing as the cold river closed around him. He had a fleeting glimpse of Fushimi and other faces that he couldn't put a name too at the top of the bank, but the Strain still had hold of him, and her weight was pulling him down, and panic gripped him as the water swallowed him entirely, the surface disappearing into murky grey.

"Misaki! MISAKI!" Fushimi hadn't been able to believe it when he'd seen the idiot rushing towards him. Sure, they were on better terms these days, but to go this far… It had taken him a moment too long to realise what the vanguard had intended, and before he'd been able to react, the pair had gone over the edge and plunged into the river. "MISAKI!" It had only been seconds, certainly less than a minute since they had disappeared beneath the surface, and his voice came out strangled, panic beginning to take hold when there was no sign of Yata surfacing.

He'd seen the Strain grappling with Yata even as they'd fallen, had heard the shout of pain and seen the panic as the vanguard had swallowed water before disappearing below the surface. Misaki, please… In the past he knew that Yata could easily blast his way clear of the water, he'd done it once, when a mission had gone wrong, and they'd ended up in the water, but this was different…Misaki was different, and his red had been fading.

He was moving now, shedding his coat as he readied to dive in after the idiot, refusing to let Yata die because of this. Please, not now we're actually…friends again. The top of the bank was crumbling beneath his feet, and when he glanced down, he could see the furrows where Yata had tried to arrest his fall.

"Wait!" He wasn't sure who had grabbed his elbow, yanking him back, but he was about to turn and snarl at them, when he froze, realising what had caught their attention.

Misaki.

The vanguard had resurfaced downriver, splashing as he tried to tread water, although it was clear that he was struggling, his mud-streaked face twisted with fear and panic as he coughed and spluttered, and this time the hand didn't stop Fushimi as he moved. He made no effort to get down the bank gracefully, sliding down on his bum, with only a passing wince for his uniform, although at least his coat was safe and dry at the top. At the bottom, he dashed along the edge, breath catching when parts of it crumbled away, or his foot would catch a particularly slippery patch, eyes locked on Yata who had managed to grab hold of the greenery that drooped down into the water. He was making no effort to climb out though, and Fushimi felt something cold and unpleasant clench in his stomach as Yata bobbed under the water again for a second, before reappearing, spluttering.

"Misaki!" The colder, more analytical part of his mind was telling him to find a stronger part of the bank to pull the vanguard out onto, but he pushed it aside, cautiously approaching the edge and cursing as Yata slipped under the surface for a second. Throwing caution to the wind he lunged forward, grabbing the vanguard the moment he broke the water again. "I've got you, I've got you…" He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince as he found himself slipping forward, frantically digging his feet into the bank. Yata met his gaze for a second, and he growled under his breath at the raw fear in the other's eyes. "I've got you!" He repeated more firmly this time, gripping the vanguard hard enough to bruise as he began to pull backwards, trying not to panic as he felt the river threatening to yank Yata out of his grasp. No. His shoulders were protesting, his arms aching as inch by inch he managed to pull Yata out of the water, until suddenly they both fell backwards, landing with a loud squelching sound in the mud, the vanguard on top of him.

Yata was shaking, and Fushimi had a feeling that it wasn't all from the cold, but as much as he wanted to pull him into a tight hug, he had a good idea what was coming. Sure enough, the vanguard rolled to the side, as he began to hack and cough, trembling worse than ever as he brought up a mouthful of mud and water. Unable to do anything more to help, Fushimi sat up, gently easing Yata into a more comfortable position, and beginning to rub comforting circles on his back, feeling his own pounding heart starting to settle. Too close. He was going to have to have stern words with the idiot once he'd been checked out, and they were both dry and warm, noticing that he was beginning to shiver as his clothes clung to him with the mud and water that had splashed over him while rescuing Yata. It had to be a hundred times worse for Yata he thought with a grimace, moving to press closer, trying to share what little body heat he had.

"S…aru," Yata's voice was hoarse, as he spat out another mouthful, before tilting his head to look at Fushimi. Beneath the filth that was smeared across his face he was pale, eyes red and swollen looking, and now that Fushimi was looking, he could see the red marks around the vanguard's neck that he had a feeling would blossom into bruises. I could have lost him, it was only now that he had Yata here and mostly safe, although he would need to be properly checked out that Fushimi allowed that thought to register, and the cold dread from earlier, began to unravel, burning hot in his chest now and he yanked Yata into a tight hug.

"You idiot…" Despite the fire in his chest, the words were soft as Yata had immediately collapsed into his hold, twisting around to bury his face against Fushimi's shoulder. They were both trembling now, and Fushimi didn't say anything as he heard the muffled sob from the vanguard, instead, pulling him closer and resting his head against his as he murmured again. "I've got you."

"Y-yeah." He wasn't sure which statement Misaki was agreeing to, possibly both, but it didn't matter right now, because he was alive. Fushimi was distantly aware of voices and movement above then, the others hopefully having called for help and working out how to get Misaki out of here, as he doubted the vanguard was in any state to climb up the bank under his own steam right now. However, he couldn't bring himself to move or release his grip, for once deciding to trust his clan, because all he wanted to do right now was hold on tight and not let go.