Another drabble from my H blog. Highlights what could happen if one of H's alternate selves turned him in to the Higher Plane for his actions during the Long Game.
He had fought for so long to stay out of this accursed realm, spent such an agonizing amount of effort into remaining anywhere but here. But, of course, they had managed to catch him, with the aid of the one who he trusted most, no less.
—
"State your identity, Fallen Angel."
"Sanae Hanekoma."
"And are you aware as to why you have been called before us, Sanae Hanekoma?"
Of course he was aware of what the Higher Plane had forcibly removed him from his cafe for. He would have to be an utter idiot to not realize such a simple fact as that. Hell, he had even been actively avoiding any possible contact with the higher-ups ever since the Long Game, conveniently being somewhere else wherever they looked for him.
Of course- he shot a quick glance over at the other version of himself currently occupying the unearthly-bright room, finding his head bowed towards the pristine floor- with him hopping about from place to place, they could not have found him without the help of someone close to him.
And that was where his dearest 'little brother', as he called him, came in.
For a reason completely unknown to him, his counterpart had decided to rat him out, telling the rest of the Angels of his presence so they could swoop down and apprehend him without his knowledge of the plot.
And so he currently stood, stiff as a board, behind a podium poofed into existence within the Higher Plane, glancing wearily at the assembly before himself. The jury for the trial, not that it would be necessary, consisted of a pack of higher-ranked Angels murmuring and muttering amongst themselves between withering glares sent his way. They were more witnesses for the trial than anything else, present only to behold the vicious, merciless punishment that the judge handed down with their own eyes.
At least, within the bright, featureless landscape that the plane consisted of, his brother seemed just as uncomfortable as he himself was, perhaps even more so with the seraphic judge looming right beside him. His head was bowed as he was seated behind a podium similar to the one before himself, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room, hands clasped together tightly in the semblance of prayer.
Not that any sane god would answer that plea.
"I am aware of the reason I was summoned here, yes." He replied quietly, choosing his words carefully and slowly as though speaking to a toddler. "I broke quite a few rules during the span of the Long Game."
"Utilizing Taboo without proper authorization, directly interfering with a Game, and rearranging a Player's Soul Code after her death to be used within the same Game she died in, to be precise." The judge snapped at him in a tone of disgust as he referred to the notes on the Producer before him. "And what is your reason for carrying out such foolish actions?"
"For Shibuya's sake, as I am sure you are aware." The relatively young Angel explained, bracing his hands against the wooden surface in front of himself and leaning forward slightly. "I would hope that news of how my Composer was planning to destroy the city he was charged with protecting would have reached your ears by now."
"Ah, but where the Composer fails in his duty, it is your job to ensure Shibuya's safety in his stead." The seraph's expression only grew more smug by the second, eager to punish this sinner before him with his own hands. "And, by introducing Taboo to the city, you ensured its eventual destruction as it will inevitably spread." At the soft 'tsk' that came as the response to that, that damnable smug look cemented itself firmly into a pleased grin. "So, Hanekoma, do you have any further comments on your behavior to add before the judgement time?"
A firm, final shake of the head was given as an answer, the Producer knowing full-well that any further words would have no effect on his sentence.
"Then court shall be adjourned until a proper punishment for such treasonous acts can be decided on." And with that ominous ruling stated, the court warped off to somewhere out of the criminal's earshot, leaving the barista alone.
With one other Angel.
However, he seemed to ignore the other's presence, slumping down into the chair behind himself, awaiting his no-doubt horrible fate. Although, he certainly made it difficult to do so when he situated himself in front of the now-seated man and ran a hand through his hair.
"Hey, big bro…" The free Angel greeted cautiously as though cornering a wild animal, which he somewhat was, considering both of their Noise forms. "How ya doing?" A heavy, uncomfortable silence blanketed the space between them in place of the expected answer, smothering them both in the quietness. If it weren't for the light flinch at the touch to his head, he would have thought that his other self had not even noticed his presence at all.
Letting a sigh cut its way through the sudden silence, he decided skipping the small talk was probably his best choice in trying to get his brother to respond to him. "Listen," He started, hand moving to rake through his own hair, "I didn't have much of a choice in this matter. They somehow found that I had been in contact with you and cut a deal with me; I don't get punished for harboring a fugitive and they lessen your sentence. I figured you were going to get caught eventually, so sooner and with an easier punishment than later, you know?"
That had managed to draw a reaction out of the other Producer. A messy head rose up from its lowered position to reveal mocha eyes that stared up at his former friend with a sorrowful disappointment rather than the anger he was no doubt expecting to see. He let a sigh of his own pass through his lips, the corners turned down into a light frown. "Yes, I do realize that they would've caught me eventually, but… I certainly didn't expect it to be like this…" A large hand was placed on his shoulder, his head tipping to a side in question to it before the other could speak.
"Yeah, people don't tend to expect things like this to ever happen to them, do they? Cheer up, whatever punishment they assign to you will be over before you know it, then we can go right back to tagging each other's Shibuyas together and everything else we used to do together, right?"
The look that he received told of an opposite tale. His eyes had softened in sympathy for his poor, foolish brother's ignorance, a tired weariness shining up from the mocha depths at him. A flat, resigned breath eased its way out from between his lips, the gesture heady with hopelessness. He looked like a prisoner on his way to death row rather than one who had been pardoned of a portion of his sins and had a fresh lease on life.
After the somber change had fallen over the elder of the two, the other found that nothing he said could garner any sort of reaction other than the occasional glance his way with those haunted eyes of his. Thus, he gave up after a few minutes, retreating back to his own spot in the courtroom, where he sat awaiting the other Angels' return with bated breath.
Luckily, or unluckily, the two of them did not have to wait long for the court to reassemble, the Angels beaming in one-by-one until everyone was back in attendance. The judge was the last to seat himself, leaning back in his chair slightly and unable to hide the triumphant smirk on his face.
"Sanae Hanekoma," He began in the authoritative voice that one of his rank is trained to hold at all times, "for the aforementioned acts of treason you committed during the time period commonly referred to as the 'Long Game', this court sentences you to erasure in hopes of salvaging the pieces of your Soul for a greater, more suitable purpose."
The sound of palms slamming down against wood shattered the silence mere moments after it had fallen. "You promised that his punishment wouldn't be as harsh if I turned him in!" The younger of the pair cried up at the judge, wings spread wide and face twisted into a look that merged rage and disbelief into one.
Leaning back in his chair, the seraph released a sigh, glancing down at the outraged one with an expression of utter boredom, clearly used to outbursts like this. "I am afraid that I am unaware of whatever deal you may have struck with my subordinates, thus his punishment shall remain in full. Besides, it is quite an honor to have your Soul recoded into something more useful." At the sign of further protests from him, the Angel simply raised his hand. "It has already been decided, so we are moving on to any last words of the guilty party."
Rising up from his seat, said guilty Angel looked significantly calmer than his counterpart, having a bitterly-resigned look on his face as though he had been expecting this to happen all along. "Well," He began, still with that slow, careful voice, certainly not having had anything of this sort prepared before now, "I can't say that I didn't enjoy my existence. It had its ups and downs, just like everybody else's does. I simply have to regret that it had to end on one of those downs like this."
"Is that all you have to say for the record?" Came the remorseless inquiry from the seraph presiding over them.
A slow nod was the reply, eyes lifting back up to lock with his still-shocked brother's from where he stood once his head rose up again. His lips quirked up into a small smile and shaped themselves over his truly final words, a silent 'Goodbye, brother'. Mere milliseconds after his lips closed, the sound of a gavel punishing a wooden surface rang out across the mute room before the condemned criminal was engulfed in a column of holy light.
The other version of the man had to throw his hands up to shield himself from the searing radiance and, as it died down, he kept them up for perhaps a little too long of a time frame to cover his eyes from a completely different painful view. However, he had to look sometime, and so he did just that. His arms fell, completely limp, to his sides as he opened his eyes.
Only to find nothing where his brother had just been standing.
Every nerve in his body tingled with a sharp, fuzzy ache, akin to how a sleeping limb feels while being shaken awake. His legs grew numb with the feeling, causing him to fall back into his chair with gaze still glued to that spot where his dearest older brother had just been. In his mind, the scene kept replaying, each time focusing on something different. That peaceful smile, those words that had ruined that smile before reforming it, how every facial muscle crinkled in the acceptance he had for his true death. Somehow, through the mental fog he was in, he managed to hear the rustling of papers and the judge speak up, voice sounding distant to his unprepared ears.
"Now that the most fetid of the filth has been dealt with, it is time to move on to the next matter. Deciding the punishment of the one who harbored him from our influence to begin with…"
