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Chapter Two: Homra

Reika's PoV:

Smiling down at her beautiful child, Reika carefully tucked him into a red duffel coat. Although Daiki never needed her help, she had insisted on it today. Everything was as close to perfect as it'll ever be, and she intended to keep it that way. Their arrival had been smooth and efficient, both characteristics that her fathered favored. A man with the mask of a rabbit helped them settle into their traditional japanese house, and she accepted the help as she would have a few years back. Daiki was still uncomfortable with being served in that manner and had insisted on holding at least one of his own bags.

"Are you excited, love?" she asked as she lead him out the door, nodding a hello to the house keeper. He answered with a nod, a child of few words. A smile flooded her face at his answer. Once on the main road, Reika haled a taxi to get to their destination. Daiki tried hard to keep his sangfroid, only giving short glances to the moving city outside the window. Reika herself tried hard to muffle her laughter.

With a few words the prior night, she had found out that Izumo now owned the bar of his dreams that also served at Homra's headquarters. Hopefully within a few minutes, they would be there too. Then Daiki would have his father back, and they would be a family. Not a broken one, but a whole completed one. As the taxi screeched to a stop, she handed the money to their driver, and carefully plucked her way across the street with Daiki's hand gripped in her own hand.

"Wait a moment for me," she said as they reached the entrance. Daiki was her surprise for Mikoto, and she wanted it to be surprising. Not like the other times where Mikoto had only smiled quietly at her efforts, kissing her forehead in silent laughter. "It'll be quick, and I'll get you as soon as I handle the business first."

"Mmhm," he answered, bobbing his head in agreement. "Do you think I can borrow that umbrella though if needed?" Glancing around, Reika noticed several unsavory characters stand around.

"Of course," she said, ruffling his hair. "Just don't hurt them too badly, love. Not all of them are worth it." Without a second to lose, Reika swung the door open. The bell's jingle radiated through the interior. She spotted Izumo's blond head from behind the bar, and made her way through the few patrons that sat at their own tables. He looked at her, but no recognition flashed across his face. It didn't bother her, time and motherhood had changed her. The things she would do for her child were an endless abyss.

"Hello," She spoke calmly with a steady composure. Izumo stared at her, and she knew she had his attention now. "I believe you know me. Perhaps from a long time ago." A ghost of a shadow passed his face, as his face turned pale as fallen snow.

"Reika?" he asked out of disbelief. "But your father..."

"I know, but I was notified I could return a few days ago. Do you have any idea where Mikoto is?" Confusion and despair colored his face all at once as apprehension filled hers.

"Reika," he whispered. "Surely you know by now, there is no way you haven't been told."

"Of what?" she asked. Irritation and confusion raced through her. Something wasn't right, there was something wrong, but she couldn't place it until she saw the silver-haired girl that made her way to Izumo. Reika narrowed her eyes, furiously trying to doubt the heavy red aura that clouded the air around the child. Only a king had that kind of aura, and Mikoto was the red king. Mikoto was the red king.

Staggering as the theory that her mind had barely surmised, Reika denied it. There was no way. Mikoto was strong, powerful, and there was no way. Absolutely none, but the facts were sitting right in front of her. Oh, Daiki! What was she supposed to tell him? Her throat constricted, and she fought the urge to scream.

"Izumo," she murmured, her voice trembling. "This isn't true, right? You can't tell me it's true, right? Where is he? WHERE IS YOUR KING?!" Her voice rang higher with every word, and without meaning to she had let out her father's authoritative golden aura.

Izumo held out his own hands in caution. "Calm down Reika. I can explain." The silver haired girl sprung up her red aura in his defense, but Reika only extended her own.

"Can you?" she asked, her voice harsh like a knife cutting on stone. "Then perhaps you can explain to your new king that she will be losing a clansmen." She ripped back her sleeve, displaying her own Homra tattoo that Mikoto had given her.

"Just because Mikoto is gone does not mean you are not welcome t-" Izumo's answer was shattered as a familiar voice entered her ears.

"Mom," She flashed around to see Daiki with a red-haired teenager with a skateboard.

"Yo Izumo!" the red-headed stranger called out. "I found this kid outside, and look at this! He seriously resembles Mikoto-san and- WOAH WHY THE HELL IS A GOLD CLANSMAN HERE?"

"Yata," Izumo gritted his teeth. "She's not a gold clansmen and you can shut up about now." Daiki made his way to Reika, picking his way through the bar. Reika's voice was deadly cold as she spoke, cutting through Izumo and Yata's bickering.

"Well, I believe we have no further business here today. A good day to you all." Inclining her head in farewell, she pulled Daiki along with her out of the poisoned bar behind them ignoring the voices that called out behind them. It was in the taxi when Daiki finally broke the silence that his mother created.

"Where is father?" he asked.

"He's gone," she answered flatly. "I'm sorry, love. He's gone." Her voice cracked as she finished her last sentence.

"Where are we going now?" he asked again as the varied scenery flashed beyond the window.

"To meet your grandfather. I have some questions for him." she murmured, shifting her face away from him. Daiki didn't say anything else, knowing the tears that were now running down her cheeks.