(My headcanon dictates that Hirato must have started developing feelings for Akari during his school days but Akari understandably disregards him at the time, probably figuring out his infatuation but finding it more of a bother than anything else. I like to think that this dynamic changes only later in their life, after graduation and end of their relationship as teacher-student, as Hirato grows maturer and Akari can at least start seeing him as his equal. I like to think that days of such transition must have been very painful for Hirato, though definitely a learning experience. Because that's how love is - that is how you learn to love. So this particular oneshot is about those early days, when they are not teacher-student anymore but not anything else either per se... A sense of familiarity and affection without any real name.)
"Akari-san..."
Hair dishevelled, tabletop almost a city of rising skyscrapers of paper, normally pristine and sharp white coat crinkled, dark crescents looming under his eyes disrupting his otherwise perfectly porcelain skin...
He is tired.
Probably pulled another all-nighter...
Yet his eyes are crystalline and his gaze piercing, as though it has some sort of supernatural power to bore into one's soul, thoughts, emotions. They do not. If there is anyone supernatural among them, it is not Akari, anyway. No, rather, Akari is a miracle of nature; what makes him the most beautiful in Hirato's sight is perhaps just that.
"What do you want?"
Always to the point, huh? Ah, he never changes...
"I will be going to my first official incursion tonight as a Second Ship Fighter."
Searching eyes, almost asking "why are you telling me this?" – truly, Hirato has no reason to tell him this. They are nothing more than an a former student and a former teacher to each other. Oh, how Hirato wished they were more... that they could be more.
"Well, good luck."
If it had been anybody else, Akari would say the same things too, probably. His eyes are already back at the paper. However, one infinitesimal thing has changed and Hirato has obsessively observed this man for quite a few years now that he does not miss it. He could not miss it. That very slight daze in Akari's gaze. Scattered clouds hanging over the previously lucid cerise beams.
He cannot collect his thoughts as clearly, now...
It amuses him and the fact that he is amused and the fact that the damned hope has started germinating inside him again... they make him feel immature to say the least, and he curses his immaturity inside but he just cannot help it. Love is a fiddle thing, it is of endless tricks and untimely bouts of youth. So it pushes him and he craves to see more. To just see more of Akari, more from Akari...
"I am going to the Coral Heights."
Another subtle flicker – Akari's lips slightly tighten. An almost unnoticeable wrinkle forms near the delectable orifice. And certainly Hirato notices this and his own lips curve up in satisfaction.
Oh he knows...
Of course, he knows!
The Varuga attack on Coral Heights had started last night, the first few brigades sent did not return back at all. The next ones were luckier, a fifth of them returned and of those half survived. Survival was thin and surely Akari knew it very well for he was perhaps the one mostly responsible for saving those few individuals from the greedy clutches of Death.
Akari swallows. On nothing. Or perhaps on many things, many thoughts, many feelings... At least that is what Hirato thinks. An untrained eye would not even recognise that Akari swallowed, that minuscule lump formed on that perfectly smooth neck for only, only fraction of a second. Hirato's eyes are well trained for Akari. Very well trained on Akari.
"Well... I wish you the best of luck, then."
There is a slightly despaired tinge to his normally clinically sterile voice and it soothes Hirato. Perhaps they are nothing more than a former teacher and a former student, but knowing that he cares, that he cares deep down even if he does not show, or rather even if he cannot show... That is enough. Even if he cares in a way much different in nature than the way Hirato cares, that is enough. That is enough to sooth his soul and be glad to be breathing, still. To be thankful, that he did not die before witnessing these subtle gestures of affection, however small or big. Even the most ardent devotion requires assurance and especially so if unrequited. These are the tiny assurances he cherishes. His sacrament.
There is nothing to say really, he got what he wanted too – a lovely tiny memory to take to the grave with him – there is no reason to stick around any longer but his feet linger inside the room of his dear one for just a few seconds more and how glad he is that they did; for much uncharacteristically, much unusually Akari speaks, his gaze targeting not the papers already worn from them but the pale and naked walls of the room,
"Why did you choose to be in the Circus anyway? Knowing that this is a path of misery and death, why is it that you so desperately wanted to be so close to misery and death like this? Is it for your nation? For your country? For humanity, perhaps? Does being a sacrificial lamb please you in queer ways?"
Is he really curious about that?
Hirato is not sure. Perhaps, it is a passing wondering for Akari, a careless question his lips uttered as his thoughts were wandering around life and death and the war... Perhaps it is not even about Hirato but the many souls he could not manage to save since last night. The ones he was not even given any chance to save in the first place. Regardless, before Hirato is able to answer, or rather even attempt to answer, it seems the wandering thoughts of the genius return home and he sits up better and his eyes quickly fall back to the papers,
"Never mind. It is a much unnecessary and ineffectual question at this point. More importantly, you will die regardless. You could die tonight or tomorrow due to a sudden and much inexplicable heart attack. Or you could simply fall from stairs and die of a head trauma. You shall die. I shall die. Soldiers or not, we shall all die."
Hirato does not want to let go though, suddenly filled with a longing. Not per se about answering the question, but to point out something he feels strongly about because he may not have any other chance to point it out. Because the odds are strongly unfavourable right now and it is more likely that he will not be breathing tomorrow. Thus, he must say it. A sense of urgency fills him to the brim. He has to say it when he is still breathing but how to say this, how to mould feelings into words... now that is the question. Worse is the urgency that harshly orders him to do something, say something, quickly, right now. So losing himself to the emergency gripping his heart... in that particular kind of clumsiness only the sincerest revelations bring alongside he utters, half consciously, half unconsciously;
"If it is about forfeiting life and facing death, my dear Akari-san, I could die for you as well, gladly..."
He could never even imagine himself saying such a thing of chivalry before, though in all honesty his words do not come from any sense of chivalry at all. No, instead they rise from a deeply insatiable adoration and omnipotent devotion. The words come out so easily, they rather spill from his lips and he can not control them. He could not control them and his own calm façade shakes under his own unexpected and surely unplanned honesty. He is bewildered by his own loss of control.
Akari's eyes grow large at the revelation, especially at the earnest tone it comes with, not even a slight tint of the usual mock politesse corrupting the words... Hirato is being sincere whether intentionally or not and it is extremely rare and surprising, even if the content had not been so scandalous for Akari.
It is not that he did not have any clue...
Hirato was sure Akari had figured it out years ago, when Hirato was understandably less skilled in hiding his desires and yearnings. And he had never hidden them so carefully anyway, had always felt the need to expose a little, here and there, surely subtly – well, mostly subtly – but he had revealed fragments. And Akari was too brilliant to miss these even if he was not the most socially adept human being.
The surprise passes through Akari's face like a gentle breeze of Spring, in three seconds (and Hirato is sure about this because he actually counts), rose coloured eyes lose every bit of the bewilderment that had made them blossom for exactly three seconds. Instead, his eyelids move with a particular judgement and narrow eyes start glinting like sharp pieces of topaz. Hirato realises a peculiar insight in this stare that he can not identify well, which in itself feels both dazzling and terrifying. When Akari speaks his voice is so clear and cutting, Hirato feels each and every vowel turn into an arrow and pierce through him;
"I think you have not understood me well. We shall all taste death and become nothing just as we were once. Our death in itself is not grand, it is not valuable. It is an absence. What is precious for mere mortals such as us is not death but life. The very state of being alive, our bare existence is miraculous. Thus, if you truly wish to devote yourself for a cause or a person, you shall not devote your death to them but your life. You must bear and do all to survive. Not forfeiting life, but death – that is the true show of devotion."
Akari swallows on emptiness again and turns his eyes away, back to the papers that sometimes rose a nonsensical jealousy in Hirato that no one had ever rose. The next sentences are akin to mumbling, unlike the clear shards masked as words from just a moment before,
"'Dying for me'? How preposterous! Such ignorant, clumsy words of youth. You have much to mature before even dreaming of devotion for my sake."
Hirato smiles then, repeating the words he heard, silently in his mind, both the ones that had cut through him and the ones that have now soothed him, again and again... as he watches Akari nibble the inner edge of his bottom lip very lightly. A gesture almost unnoticeable. And certainly, Hirato notices.
He does not have much time for the night though. A satisfied smirk shaping his lips gracefully, he moves for the door and just before he closes it, says in a polite but earnest tone,
"Good evening Akari-san. I shall see you tomorrow..."