A/N: Second work for this series! I think this one is a bit better than my last and I can always use constructive criticism if you have the time! There may be a few to follow this one on my account so feel free to follow me if you'd like to see more! This idea was a mix of my own and an anon on tumblr. There was a whole hour of ideas being thrown around at Misaki-the-red for feels purposes and this is one of the results. Expect more!

Mikoto didn't stick around most nights anymore.

Homra was crowded, as it always had been. There was hardly any moment of silence since their clansman's death days prior. There was too much exchanging of information, too many assignments, and orders to be followed to track down the one they were looking for. Izumo handled most of it, seeing as he was the most adept at getting the information they needed quickly.

It was too familiar and, at the same time, far far too different for him to stick around for very long. Anna knew this, had seen him leaving the bar by himself almost every night since. She had tried to follow him this time but, for once, her grip on his coat wasn't welcomed. He set a hand on her hair, silently ordering her to stay at the bar with the others. He didn't want company and she watched him go, a slight slump to her shoulders. Yata was the first to notice her standing there, frowning before nudging her back over to the others with a comforting hand on her shoulder. All the while she could not help but think on how Mikoto's red no longer looked as bright.

The sky was mostly clear tonight. Even with the city lights, Mikoto could make out the scatter of stars above. He stared at them for a moment before bringing his gaze back down to earth, focusing instead on the city lights. Tatara had compared them to candles once, and he could see where the man had gotten the idea. Nothing but a scattering of bright white and gold against the dark shades of the cityscape in front of him.

He slid his hands into his pockets, taking a long drag of the cigarette between his lips before releasing it in a large cloud of smoke. These things weren't even doing their proper job of curving the stress anymore. He had already gone through several packs in just the last two days and so far they have done nothing to alleviate the stressful, cumbersome weight settled in the space beneath his collarbone.

The flame reached the filter and he reached a hand up, snatching the burnt stick in his fingers before incinerating it to nothing. He stared at the flames coating his hand for a long moment, contemplating as a memory popped to mind.

"It can be really challenging and tiring to do, but I don't think you'll have any troubles, King!" Even in his mind's eye he could see the delicate butterflies of flame that Totsuka had perfected. They had been a work of art in themselves. None of the other member came close to having that kind of precise control over their abilities. He had even seen Totsuka trying to teach the technique to Yata once, with disastrous results. Izumo still hadn't quite forgiven the teen for the destroyed bar stool that had resulted.

He focused the aura in his palm, willing it to come together, wanting to form a proper shape. It was surprisingly hard to do, just as Totsuka had said. Taming the aura, forcing it into a condensed shape was much different than letting it loose when fighting. It followed his will and his fists in a battle, flowing out in harsh bursts to incinerate their enemies. Now it fought to do just that, wanting to burst forth, wanting to destroy and he could feel it in his gut as it burned. Still, he forced it to take shape, the bundle of energy throbbing in his hands.

The small bundle of energy suddenly erupted, shooting flames in all directions, refusing to be controlled and Mikoto gave a growling cry of rage and frustration. He punched the rail in front of him, his hand sinking right through the metal as it fell into a molten puddle on the concrete, leaving warped railing ends behind to mark the entrance of his fist.

Control never had been his strong suit. He had always preferred to do what he wanted and damn anyone who told him otherwise. It had become more difficult when he became king, as his powers seemed to have taken on the same attitude. They had been impossible to control at first and he had locked himself away to reduce the risk of it turning on Tatara and Izumo. That had been Totsuka's calling, however, as he hardly cared to listen to Mikoto's warnings and would be around him anyway. When it came down to control, Totsuka was always the one who could rein in the powers of his king with but a touch. Now that touch was gone.

He felt a flutter of heat next to his ear and turned his head, staring at the fluttering wings of aura that hovered there. It seemed he had managed to make something after all out of the remnants of his exploding flames. In a word it was crude. It was nothing like the delicate and gentle looking butterflies Totsuka had been so proud of. This one more represented a bird of sort in shape, with wings that seemed jagged and hardly seemed possible to keep it afloat. Regardless, it fluttered there and Mikoto held a hand under it, staring at it in contemplation before forcing it higher into the air.

He could imagine Totsuka's reaction had he seen him create this. There probably would have been some comment about how the thing seemed wild, just like King. He had no doubt the man would have been awed, even by something like this.

He forced the bird higher, watching as it became just a speck of light before he saw and felt it wink out of existence like a snuffed flame. He breathed out a long sigh, gaze fixed as if searching for some sign. "Did you see it, Tatara?"

The bar was dark when he finally returned, nothing but a small light left on the corner for him. He pulled the door shut behind him, snapping the lock into place more for the sake of not frustrating Izumo than any fear of a break in. There weren't many people stupid enough to even think of trying to break in here.

He saw a form settled on the couch and stopped, recognizing the light head of hair. Anna was dressed for bed, curled in the corner of the sofa with a blanket draped over her. Seemed she had dozed off waiting for him. That had been a habit she shared with Homra's hobbyist as well. This wasn't the first time and he doubted it would be the last he'd find her here.

He walked to the couch and her eyes opened, sensing his presence. She sat up, her hair looking mildly disheveled and falling into her face lightly. She turned her large eyes up to him, seeming to stare right through him for a moment before standing on the couch to reach his level and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He didn't say anything in response, settling a hand on the back of her head in way of comfort before she spoke into his neck. "He saw it." She pulled back, staring at him with a small downturn to her lips. "Totsuka." She settled her hands on Mikoto's cheeks as if to ensure he was paying attention to her. "He saw Mikoto's pretty red." Then she settled herself against his shoulder again and Mikoto could do nothing but settle his arms tightly around her, shoulders relaxing slightly in response.