I explained in 'Reparations' that I don't think Akari is Hirato's weakness. I figured I'd write a short drabble about that.

"Don't come any closer," Yogi demands, silvery hair falling into his face. Lavender eyes narrow in malice. "Or I'll kill him. I mean it."

Even from a distance, Hirato can see that he does. A sword to Akari's throat, the doctor's arm twisted against his back, this menacing version of his second-in-command has effortlessly claimed the upper hand. He uses the physician as a shield, and while the commander would most certainly attack under other circumstances, even the slightest probability of injuring his lover is dismissed outright.

Akari, on the other hand, is frustratingly reckless with respect to his own well-being. "What are you waiting for, Hirato? We can't leave him like this."

Yogi cackles, high and shrill, his voice echoing along the ship's corridor. "What are you waiting for, Hirato-san?"

In his jittery excitement, the young blond inadvertently nicks his prey. A thin, scarlet streak appears along Akari neck, dripping blood onto his shirt collar, claret droplets landing against pale blue cotton in a soft percussion. Anger—white hot and hellishly intense—courses through Hirato's veins, making him see red. He's become expert at handling this travesty of his typically-affable subordinate, at neutralizing him without causing any lingering damage, but right now, his fingers curl around his cane in murderous intent. Rage overwhelms, its only signifier the severity of a dark, indigo stare.

"Let him go," Hirato orders, tone clipped and precise.

Yogi cants his head, pantomiming thoughtfulness. When his lips curl in a demonic leer, the brunet knows that his command will go unheeded. "No. I want to play."

"Yogi," Akari says calmly. "You can't keep this up forever. If your host dies, you'll die as well."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you, Akari?" Yogi spits. "No more having to put me back in line when I get out of hand. You always did like him better, didn't you? All of you do!"

"Who I like better is irrelevant. I still don't want you dead." The doctor's sigh is exhausted.

But I might, Hirato thinks viciously. It's a strange sensation, feeling such rage against the child he once rescued. But Yogi has crossed an unnamed line, and for that transgression, he will pay dearly.

The brunet's cognition stalls completely when he hears a series of snaps as his lieutenant breaks his paramour's arm like so many dry branches. Akari yells in pain, his mouth hanging slightly open and drawing ragged breaths. Perspiration beads on his forehead. He closes his eyes and bows his head.

"How about now, hmmm?" inquires the aggressor. "Are you sure you don't want me dead?"

Hirato doesn't give Akari time to answer. He doesn't speak, even. He merely raises his cane, hesitating once more although every reflex in his arm is screaming at him to send his subordinate into oblivion without delay. His mind processes myriad offensive strategies, each as unfeasible as the last. He can't risk his beloved.

The doctor intuits his reticence; suddenly, cerise orbs level at him with unflinching resolve. "I trust you," Akari says breathlessly. "Do it."

The captain nods and makes a slashing motion in the air, knocking Yogi off his feet and sending him flying down the hallway and slamming into the far wall. The youth collapses to the floor in a tangled mess of long limbs. Sheep come to collect his unconscious form, binding him and taking him away. Perhaps they too sensed Hirato's lethal designs and sought to remove Yogi from his sight.

Akari also topples backwards as a result of the inertia. The commander flies forward and catches him in time to arrest his fall. He kneels, cradling the blond in one arm while the fingers of his free hand trace the laceration along the researcher's throat, assessing its extent. Akari hisses. Hirato draws back, and for once, he's unsettled by the scarlet staining his pristine gloves.

"Don't be too hard on him," the physician says, voice labored. He's bearing up admirably, but it's clear he's in agony.

The commander shakes his head. "I will discipline him as I see fit." It retains none of his trademark joviality. "He's lucky to be alive."

Akari does not doubt the seriousness of that assertion. But all his protests cease when he feels himself being lifted off the ground, Hirato's strong arms securing him tightly to a broad chest. The usually-metronymic beating of the captain's heart is mildly erratic, and he knows it's not on account of physical exertion. The doctor would be moved were he not so frightened for Yogi. "He broke my arm, Hirato. My feet are fine," he huffs anemically.

"This is faster," the brunet whispers, his exhale a puff of warm air against Akari's forehead. "I need to get you to the infirmary."

Later, when the researcher wakes in his lover's bed, he's met with a reserved kiss and a look of such sincerity that it nearly steals his breath. It's too much—Hirato's unabashed concern, his affection, his vulnerability.

"I've been thinking," Akari says. "Maybe it's not a good idea for us to be involved."

Careful lips graze the wrist of his uncasted arm, their gentle heat thoroughly at odds with the burning ire Hirato displayed earlier. "Akari," he begins.

"Let me finish."

The commander stills immediately, attention rapt.

"Yogi only attacked me to get at you. You're practically invincible when I'm not around. I don't want to be your weak—"

"You're not my weakness," Hirato states simply. "Without your intervention, I might have truly harmed him."

"I fail to see your point."

The captain laughs softly, prompting Akari to relax in spite of himself. "No, I don't suppose you would take my meaning. You save lives, after all. It's so ingrained in your nature that you don't perceive its extraordinariness. For a man like me, sparing Yogi was no mean feat." A contemplative pause. "So you see, Akari, you're not my weakness at all; you're my only strength."

So, like, for all my whining about Akari always being portrayed as some demurring weakling, I too wanted to see a scenario wherein Hirato saves Akari. Like, really saves him. And because I'm a fangirl, I wanted Hirato to carry him too.

I've been writing a lot lately. (I have a HUGE work thing coming up. Writing calms me.) Anyway, sometimes when I write a lot in a short amount of time, things get super crackish. Will you let me know if folks are OOC in this drabble? I'd appreciate it.