(Challenge: for the writing_game prompts 'futility, pale'), 200 word limit. Lan and Haruhiko)
"What the fuck are we going to do?" Haruhiko asks, his face pale and his fists clenched uselessly at his side. "What the fuck are we going to do?" The heroes have fallen, the world is creaking towards its end, and Haruhiko has a hangover he can't remember earning. Lan is as white as he is, except for his hands which are stained red with (thankfully) someone else's blood.
Kagetora is gone. Matsuri is gone. Allen is dead, and the old lady is locked up somewhere safe. Sure, there are some adults left, but they're even more useless and lost than Haruhiko and Lan are. It's just them and the kids, and Haruhiko can barely keep his own shitty life straight, let alone figure out how to get them all out of this mess.
And Kagetora is gone. Sacrificed, and for what? In what world is even a thousand Haruhikos worth a single Kagetora? How the hell is he going to pay this forward, when he doesn't even think he's facing in the right direction, doesn't even know if there is a right direction from here when everything is spiralling downwards-
He hasn't got a fucking clue.