On the eight cycle of their second warp, Hizashi finally gathers the courage to try gliding again.
It's early in the cycle. Shinsou is sleeping in the room over, Shouta is busy grooming himself with closed eyes, and so there's no one to ask why Hizashi's climbing on top of a shelf and standing on the edge with his wings wide open for several long feeps.
He's been putting off flying and finding excuses even though he knows his flight feathers have been ready for cycles now, unnecessarily worried that he somehow forgot how to hold his body in the air, catch drafts and ride hot winds.
Hizashi nervously peers down. The ground isn't too far. If he falls, only his pride will be bruised.
Shouta's ears twitch when Hizashi starts humming a courage inspiring song, but he doesn't do anything more than that. Hizashi ruffles his feathers, flaring them until he's certain they're all aligned. He isn't a newly minted fledgling. There's nothing to fear.
Shouta tenses when Hizashi crouches low, backing up to get more momentum before jumping off the shelf. He falls for a terrifying half-a-click until muscle memory takes over. His wings snap open with no difficulty, his back limbs tuck themselves under his stomach, and the feathers trailing on the back of his tail flare to control his movements. Performing a sharp turn when he reaches the other side of the room is as easy as breathing. He swoops low, his abdomen feathers trailing the ground just because he can, letting out a loud overjoyed thrill before landing on his bondmate's shoulders. Shouta grunts under the impact, his scarf going up and creating a wall around Hizashi, who flaps his wings to gain his balance back so his abrupt stop doesn't send him careening into his bondmate's limb.
Hizashi lays down, draping himself all over Shouta's back. He keeps himself from thrilling again, because Shouta's sensitive ears are right there, so he squirms and rubs the side of his beak aggressively over his bondmate's head to expel the energy trying to burst out of his chest. When he feels like he won't blow Shouta's eardrums, he pulls back, a whistling laugh bursting out of his chest when he sees his bondmate's mussed fur.
He cards his sheathed talons through the black fur in apology. Some of the shorter tuffs refuse to go back into place, but Shouta won't be able to see how they stand out of place.
"Were you trying to shred me into pieces?" Shouta asks, amused.
Hizashi pecks his ear in mock affront. "You taking me for an amateur? I'll have you know that if I wanted to murder you, I'd leave no blood behind."
To mark his words, he hums, low enough to make Shouta's teeth clatter and to rattle the storage containers against the wall, but not enough to actually rupture his inside. He ignores the baleful glare Lamp sends him to focus on the completely besotted way his bondmate signs, "I know."
Shouta told him once that this particular frequency almost sounds like the rumble he does when pleased and comfortable, only louder. Hizashi had thought that his bondmate was joking, because it absolutely doesn't come close to his purr, but he's discovered that after a certain point, Shouta can't differentiate any of the sounds Hizashi produces. Lower than 50 frequency units, he only knows Hizashi is emitting anything when people start dropping unconscious or dead, which is a bummer because that's where most speaking sounds are situated in his dialect. There are so many intricacies and jokes and meanings that Shouta misses out on, cycles full of stories he'll only know in the form of a crude summary.
He's distracted from his thoughts when his mate's scarf comes up to caress the sides of his face, the end holding Shouta's brush not even wavering as he resumes grooming himself.
It's an old brush, with long bristles and an ergonomic handle with a design they could only find within their home quadrant. They'd bought several, stocking on them when there was a sale so they wouldn't need to come back to their quadrant or settle for one with an uncomfortable grip when Shouta inevitably breaks his brush beyond use, which is more likely than one might think with how hard Hizashi's bondmate tugs when he comes across a string of particularly stubborn knots.
The bulk buying had offered an advantage they couldn't have possibly foreseen. Hizashi had been able to give Shinsou a grooming brush six cycles ago, which is great because people with fur shed constantly, and Shinsou is no different.
He doesn't know if it's because he has gotten so used to Shouta's black fur that it doesn't register to his mind anymore, but he can't stop finding purple strands everywhere. For someone with so little fur, Hizashi feels like Shinsou sheds as much as Shouta. The grooming brush has helped greatly, but Hizashi has resigned himself to pulling out clumps of fur from the sweepers more often.
Shouta had grumbled about having scented his brushes recently and his mark having not faded away, but the sink's drain getting clogged again has quelled his complaints, although it doesn't stop his bondmate from being twitchy the first few cycles, often doing double-takes when Shinsou gets too close, at least until his scent mark faded enough to become undetectable for his weak-for-an-Eer'ahseer sense of smell.
He's helping his bondmate rearrange the fur around his ears when Shouta suddenly stands up with bristled fur, almost sending Hizashi tumbling down. Heart leaping up his throat, he jumps off Shouta and rights himself up, flicking the protective sheaths off his talons behind him.
His feathers catch a crazy amount of vibration coming from outside the room, just as fleshy fingers start prying the doors open, the metal groaning as the dented part is forced through the wall's guiding rail. Hizashi stares horrified as Shinsou stumbles into their quarters, fur wilder than usual. His eyes dart around, chest rising fast, upper limbs held tight. It's familiar, sends alarm lights flashing through Hizashi's brain, and he finds himself looking around for the glint of Feczoit armour, flaring his feathers out to expose their red underside and startle anyone about to attack.
Shouta's scarf billows, rapidly getting expelled until enough length has been pulled out for the inner slit to flatten over Hizashi, as if to hide him, while the rest hangs free. His tired stance has been washed away and replaced with coiled muscles and a hint of teeth. "What are you doing?"
Shinsou goes to take a step forward, blind to Shouta's question. It isn't until Hizashi's bondmate hisses loudly that Shinsou stops to look at him, face pale and slightly damp near his fur line. "I heard—Hizashi is—"
Hizashi's death rattle stutters, slowly comes to a stop when he realizes the absence of any threat.
There's scratches added to the floor, joining old ones from when he hadn't been careful enough to not damage the metal. He swallows down his panic, willing his skittering heart to stop trying to escape. "Oh shit, I'm really sorry Shinsou, I didn't mean to wake you up like that. Nothing bad's happening, I just got excited and made too much noise."
Shinsou stares incomprehensibly at him. He looks around, tense and prepared for someone to jump out from their hiding place but nothing happens. Like he's in slow motion, he tilts until his weight is mostly held up by the door frame, his breathing evening out. Before Hizashi or Shouta can say anything, he backs away. He signs tersely, "Sorry."
"No, wait—" The doors close with much too much gentleness for the way they were pried open, Shinsou already looking away.
Hizashi covers his eyes for a few clicks. "Fuck." The accomplishment he had felt from successfully gliding has left place for bitter guilt. He shakes his limbs, picking up his talon sheaths from where they've been flung all around the room. Somehow, one ended up in the mèos' empty cot. At one point, they had taken refuge in Shouta and his beddings, forming two lumps against the sunken walls.
He goes to find Shinsou, but Shouta stops him. "Let him have some personal space to collect himself. You'll overwhelm him"
It's probably for the best, but it doesn't mean Hizashi has to like it. "Does he sound alright?"
His bondmate's ears prick up. "I can't hear anything."
Hizashi can't feel anything either; they'd dampened the floor when his feathers had grown out enough for him to be disturbed when Shinsou moves in his sleeping quarters, and he moves a lot. They could probably look at the camera feed, but Hizashi dislikes the idea of watching his friend in a moment of vulnerability. By the stiffness of his scarf, Shouta is also uncomfortable at the thought of breaching Shinsou's privacy now that cycles have passed without any incident and it's apparent he didn't hold any ill intent when he barged into their quarters. While Shouta had been able to justify spying on Shinsou during the first few cycles, he'd disabled the feed from his resting quarters when it had been deemed unnecessary and Hizashi had called him a creep. Hizashi has the niggling suspicion he still checks on the sharerooms from time to time to supervise Shinsou though, but he does the same with Engine when he doesn't see her for longer than half a cycle.
He dejectedly goes through his routine, adding the feathers that fell during his sleep into a neat pile around his cot, rearranging the nest of beddings, and choosing talon sheaths that match his bracelets. They clink together softly, reflecting light on their polished surface.
A warm weight settles on his back, slithers around his waist. He can feel the muscles tremble. "It's going to be fine. It was bound to happen."
Hizashi pats Shouta's scarf, blindly reaching out behind him until his tail makes contact with one of his bondmate's many limbs to curl around it to steady him.
"I've been thinking about introducing Shinsou to the flock." The scarf stops for a click before resuming its rippling. "They won't say anything, as long as Shinsou doesn't pose a danger— which he doesn't—and the healers might help."
Shouta lays on him. It's heavy, but he keeps most of his weight on his limbs so as to not crush Hizashi.
It's sometimes like this after scares; Shouta keeps him close to his stomach, where he's easily defendable and his bondmate knows his position even with his eyes closed.
Hizashi doesn't mind it, since he isn't much better. On some occasions, the only way to deal with the fear gripping at his throat is to have Shouta half buried in his sand, feathers and trinkets braided into his fur, covered by Hizashi's spread-open wings.
"What about the others?"
His flock lives in a cluster, and Shouta knows that they don't meddle into each other's businesses, had witnessed it when they'd return with a 'Wanted' status, but it's difficult for his bondmate to fully grasp the concept that See'krtshes truly don't care about what happens as long as it doesn't affect their flock—and the ones that do move away from Hizashi's hatch region or they take work in space. He's lucky his flock isn't the type to cast out members. "Problems occurring outside of the flock remains—"
"—outside of the flock, yes, but—"
"No buts. Well, except for when we can get a young out of it, but that doesn't really apply here. Legally," he tacks on, because they don't really do it the traditional way anymore, for obvious reasons. At Shouta's unimpressed look, Hizashi throws his wings in the air in exasperation, "Mostly legally, fine! But those five nestlings don't count, we got the papers eventually. It was only a little bit sketchy, and no one in their flock noticed until second sundown, so really, it balances out."
Everyone knows you always count youngs before, during, and after interflock visits.
Hizashi shakes his feathers. He's gotten off topic. "So don't even worry about it, yeah?"
It's only then that Hizashi notices how Shouta's pupils have expanded sometime during the conversation, huge circles instead of the vertical slits they usually are, so much so that only a ringlet of yellow is visible. There's no stopping him from laying the underside of his jaw on Hizashi's head, and despite being completely gone, his mate is careful not to bend his crest. Shouta shifts so his front limbs frame the sides of his face and neck without touching.
Hizashi has been trying to get rid of the electric panic everytime something brushes his throat. It's better now that his feathers are acting as a thin barrier against the world, and time has sanded the edges of the pained memories the collar brought. He's at a point where neither his own touch or nor cloth resting on his nape unearth any of the uncontrollable anxiety, but he knows anything more than that is a no-go. It doesn't deter him from thinking about the fuzzy feeling that's always brought up when Shouta nuzzles him, before the Feczoits came in between him and his bondmate's affection, his cold nose a pleasant contrast to his warm breaths.
It's truly a relief. He's hoping the healers will share ways to speed up the process, but even if they don't have advice to give, there's enough progress for Hizashi to be confident he won't be stuck like this forever.
Shouta rumbles over him. He nudged Hizashi's tail until it's folded to his side instead of hanging out in the open. Talking like this is basically impossible, so Hizashi prepares himself to wait for Shouta to regain control. It's comfortable here, encased in fur. It's warm too.
Engine and Lamp peek out from under their beddings, twin tongues flicking out to investigate if it's safe to come out. As soon as they're within Shouta's reach, they're scooped to be tucked away, hidden in between skin and fur.
Eventually, Shouta moves and Hizashi can extricate himself from under him without sending his bondmate into a panic. He shakes himself until his feathers fall back into place.
Lamp flicks her tongue at Shouta, grinding her teeth when he pets her with his scarf, at least until she deems he's done enough, and then it's like a switch being flicked as she squirms and clicks indignantly at the treatment until she's let down, as if she hadn't been head butting Shouta to get his attention when he had been rubbing his chin over Engine just moments ago.
Shouta cradles the back of Hizashi's head with his scarf, pulling him forward until their brows knock together. "Are we stopping by another trading center?"
"If he's coming with us, then yeah, he'll need a few things. It's not like we can leave him on the ship when we land on my planet."
Shouta does a poor attempt at the 'I'm-innocent' hum the nestlings back home have mastered. "I heard DP-04's moons are a beautiful place to visit right now."
For suggesting to drop Shinsou on a DP-04 moon of all things, he squishes Shouta's face together until his ears pin down in annoyance, whistling laugh a little more Present Mic than Hizashi. He knows Shouta's only joking to lighten up his mood, and although it's a little too early and he knows the simmering guilt won't disappear soon, Hizashi plays along. "My favourite listener," he starts, "the lilt you added at the end of that hum implies you have gastrointestinal problems."
It's a complete and utter lie, but Shouta falls for it and a small scuffle breaks out.
Hizashi almost always loses if Shouta doesn't let him win, so it's not a surprise when his bondmate pins him down, butting their brows together. It's not that Hizashi's weaker than Shouta, but rather that most of his fighting methods can't be brought down to a level where they aren't lethal or injury inducing, and making his mate's brain leak out of his ears is not something Hizashi strives to do.
Hizashi's guilt returns in greater force when Shouta breaks away to go check on Engine and Lamp. Here he is, playing around, while Shinsou is alone. Enough time should have gone by for him to be able to go see Shinsou, right?
He signals to Shouta that he's going to talk with his friend. His mate isn't happy to let him out of his sight, but he doesn't move to follow and he reassures Hizashi that it's going to be fine, to which he sends a grateful chirp.
Hizashi goes to the hallway hatch, bouncing a little to get rid of his jitteriness. He just has to check on Shinsou, apologize for scaring him, ask him if he has more triggers that he knows of, and tentatively bring up the subject of his health and therapy.
Do Humans even know about that type of health? Shinsou having no concept of it might actually be one of the best case scenarios. If it's as stigmatized as it is in Shouta's culture, this might not turn out well.
Hizashi ruffles his feathers. He'll get there when he gets there. For now, all he has to do is get Shinsou to open his hatch.
Before he can wuss out, he flicks the door light a few times. And waits. And waits some more.
He fully expects Shinsou to ignore him when several feeps have passed, but right as he's turning away dejectedly, the doors open.
Shinsou's garment are all wrinkled and the lower fabric has been rolled up to his thighs. The front of his lower limbs, where bone rests right under skin, is bruised at the bend. Before Hizashi can comment on it, Shinsou signs, solemn, "I am very sorry. I thought—"
"It's fine, listener," Hizashi cuts him off. "Everything's… cool…"
He warbles in alarm when he sees reddish-brown on Shinsou's fingers, grasping Shinsou's forelimbs to inspect the damage before he can hide them behind his back. "What happened?"
It's a question to which he already knows the answer. The dried blood is flaky under his chipped talons, and on second glance, the bleeding doesn't stem from there. He lets go when Shinsou tugs his hands away so as to not hurt him. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize for that. Let's go to the med bay, yeah?" He doesn't let Shinsou answer, already pulling him by his garments.
Shinsou's wearing his ratty-but-clean human garments. Hizashi thought he had thrown them since he only ever sees him in one of the Afs'A outfits, but it turns out he'd been using them as sleepwear, which is a slight relief. Hizashi hasn't been given the hoodie back—not that he needs it—so he hadn't been sure what it meant for his position in the pack, but it would have been a shame for Shinsou to have gotten rid of it when Hizashi would have gladly taken it to add in his side of the nest as bedding, or sold it for a small fortune.
Shinsou remains standing while Hizashi takes out topical cream and a roll of extra adherent bandages.
"It is okay. I am not hurt. It is a waste."
Hizashi ignores the statement, pushing him until he sits. Hizashi doesn't know if it's a cultural human norm, or if someone taught his friend to view care as useless when it comes to him, but it's troubling all the same. Trying to convince Shinsou that ressources poured into his well-being isn't a waste only makes him double-down on it, and it reminds Hizashi of Toshinori in more ways than one. He slathers the cream on the front of his lower limbs, taking the opportunity to put some on the odd bruise here and there Shinsou somehow managed to collect.
Shinsou tries to keep his hands behind his back, but at Hizashi's heatless rattle, he quickly holds them out.
"Do they hurt?" Hizashi asks while pressing on his friend's talons. They're chipped, lines running through them. Shinsou's hands don't twitch or make a move to retract from pain, so Hizashi believes him when he denial-shakes his head. "Good. Okay, come down please."
Shinsou leans back further away when Hizashi tries to reach for his head. "I'm not gonna hurt you. We're pack, right? I just wanna help."
A long pause between them, and then Shinsou's bending his head to expose the back of his neck. Vulnerable, a show of trust. It adds to Hizashi's guilt, especially when he sees the amount of red bloodying his skin. Swallowing, Hizashi softens the crusted clumps of fur and blood so it doesn't hurt when he peels them away.
He inhales sharply when he finally gets a glimpse of what the extent of Shinsou's injury is.
The skin's been picked at, shallow gouges pitting the surface despite Shinsou having recently filed his talons blunt. The first outer layer of skin has been pulled away at some point, and small pieces hang where Shinsou hasn't ripped them off. Some of the wounds restart bleeding sluggishly, bright red trails sliding down to stain Shinsou's garment when Hizashi isn't fast enough to wipe them away. Hizashi's heart drops further when he sees more scabbed over wounds, all at different stages of healing.
Hizashi croons when his friend hunches into himself, pets his fur upward, partly so it stays out of the way when he sprays an antibiotic on it, partly to comfort him. Shinsou jolts a little when the mist hits the back of his neck, despite Hizashi warning him about the cold.
Shinsou tries to straighten up when Shouta walks in, but stops when Hizashi coos protect-safety-relax at him. He even goes limp when Hizashi scrapes his scalp lightly with his sheathed talons, making it easier for Hizashi to flap his other wing over the drying antibiotic.
His bondmate winces at the sight of Shinsou's wounds. He opens a storage cabinet and takes out a roll of wider bandage, glancing at Shinsou's neck before cutting a piece out, big enough to cover the area that's been picked at entirely.
Shinsou's made to lie down on his stomach so the medrepair can heal the wounds on his neck. Hopefully, the smooth skin will give less incentive for him to pick at it. Afterwards, Hizashi takes the bandage from his mate's scarf to stick it on Shinsou's neck, careful to avoid trapping any strands of fur. He smooths out the edges, pressing them firmly so they don't come unstuck and hopefully deters Shinsou from going at his skin again.
Shinsou doesn't move from his position, breaths deeper than before, and Hizashi doesn't stop petting his fur, scratching when his friend unconsciously pushes against his talons.
Shinsou's fur has grown so much softer. It's free of grime, with new shiny growth nearest his scalp now that he's finally getting enough nutrients. A few strands at the base have started to curl.
Really, everything about Shinsou is softer now. The frequent meals have filled him out, blurring the harsh shadows that used to be cast by jutting bones, and the sunroom has replaced his almost translucent skin with a healthier pink.
The obvious improvements don't come with only benefits though. They've made Hizashi complacent, have pushed him to spread out the full body medical scans to once every tenth of Shinsou's cycles instead of every fifth. He hadn't been sure how exposing Shinsou to the scan so often would affect his body and he couldn't read any of the data collected anyway, so Hizashi had thought it was a sound decision. Even if he still thinks it's the right decision, it shouldn't have stopped him from noticing Shinsou's habit of scratching at his skin, and there's no excuse for Hizashi missing whatever has been going on with his friend. He isn't quite sure whether he's an adequate packmember, but if Shinsou had been flock, Hizashi would have failed his duties.
He'll have to be better. Hizashi has Shouta and his flock, but Shinsou only has him, the rest of his pack out of reach. Hizashi's ashamed to admit that he hasn't been as tactile with Shinsou as when they were in the cell, more inclined to turns his ministrations toward his bondmate than a Human. He didn't pay it any until now—or, more likely, Hizashi didn't want to see it—but Shinsou always leans into his casual touches. As if Hizashi isn't feeling bad enough, the image of Shinsou wrapping his upper limbs around his torso when he thought himself in the privacy of his resting quarters pops into his mind.
He shouldn't use his own species and culture as reference, but it's difficult to not compare Shinsou to skin-starved younglings—the ones who are left on their own too often and whose flocks are too overwhelmed to notice their health's decline—when he has similar quirks. Usually, even when they are taken away to be brought back to his flock and shown appropriate care, they'll default to curling into a tight ball, wings pressed around themselves to mimic a brood nest instead of asking for comfort from a flockmate.
Shinsou isn't going to wither away and die, Hizashi has to remind himself of that. Even if his friend was a See'krtsh, adults are sturdier and more resistant to skin starvation. Still, he places his other wing on Shinsou's cheek, just in case.
Shinsou jolts up at the touch, and to Hizashi's discontentment, he shies away from him with an embarrassed flush rising up his face. Hizashi takes advantage of Shinsou flusteredly hopping off the med cot to shake away the purple fur that's entangled on his talons and feathers.
Shinsou resolutely avoids looking at any of them, even when Engine climbs on Hizashi to sit on the base of his tail so she doesn't have to wobble all the way to her food dish, although she's quick to runs off when they make a small detour to the washing room so Shinsou can scrub the blood crusted under his talons away.
Hizashi makes a shooing gesture at Shouta. After a few protests, Shouta reluctantly goes to feed his mèos and leaves Hizashi alone with Shinsou.
Shinsou looks at Shouta's departure with his furred brows lowering in confusion.
"Let's go to the shareroom for a moment, yeah?"
Shinsou follows him, steps silent behind him. He makes Shinsou sit next to him on the high cushions.
They stay in a comfortable silence, the same way they used to do back in the cell when there was only enough energy left to exist, but instead of being tightly coiled in the farthest corner from the cell door as possible, they're slumped on the high cushions, pillows sinking under their weight and carpet muffling the thrum of the ship. They aren't fearing for their lives, their stomachs are filled, and there's no chill to chase away.
While Hizashi wishes he didn't have to interrupt the moment, he should have broached the subject a long time ago. He doesn't want to put it off, not when Hitoshi's in a relatively better mood, Shouta is waiting in the scullery and won't interrupt, and they're in a comfortable setting where Shinsou can retreat to his resting quarters if he wants at any point in the conversation.
"It's been a long time since it's just been the two of us, hasn't it?" When Shinsou agreement-shakes in confusion, Hizashi continues, "It's kinda weird. One moment, I'm spending every cycle with you, and the next, we're on the ship, Shouta and the mèos are there, and there's so much to do. It's a little overwhelming, you know?"
Shinsou shakes his head more confidently. "A lot of place to walk. A lot of food types."
"Yeah, exactly!" Hizashi says, despite not personally experiencing any of that. He makes a note on slowing down the introduction of new foods. "I thought I would stop being so scared once I'm here, but I can't stop thinking something bad is going to happen."
Shinsou leans forward, so they're closer. He reaches out, slow enough for Hizashi to avoid his hand, and pats his wing two times. "It is okay. It is scary, but we are away from the Feczoits now."
While the sentiment is sweet, that's not what Hizashi was aiming for. "Yeah, we've got each other, right?" When Shinsou agreement-shakes his head, Hizashi continues, "I'm not going to be a bother if I talk to you when it's too much?"
And Shinsou goes all earnest and wide eyed. "Never. Never a bother."
Hizashi ignores his discomfort and pretends he's thinking it over. "Isn't it unfair though? For me to dump my problems on you?" Before Shinsou can say anything, Hizashi makes a noise of realization. "What about this: I talk to you about what's been troubling me, and you do the same with me? That's fair, right?"
At Shinsou's unsure expression, Hizashi goes further. "Or else, I'll feel too bad about it, and I don't think I can bring myself to drop everything on you while you have to keep your worries to yourself. Like this, it's an exchange. What do you say?"
Shinsou scrunches his face up. "You tell me about your problems, and I tell you about my problems?"
"Exactly!"
For some reason, Shinsou's face screws up even more, his mouth twisting in a way Hizashi has never seen.
"This is because of what happen before," Shinsou signs accusingly.
"I mean," Hizashi splutters, not expecting Shinsou to make the connection even if he really should have, "not entirely."
And Shinsou...Shinsou looks angry. Hizashi tries to convince himself that that's his friend, that the Human will never hurt him, but it's difficult to stomp on the nervous chirp when Shinsou stands up and towers over him.
"I tell you already, it will not happen again. I was stupid, heard you and thought you—" Shinsou inhales through his mouth. "I am safe , so you do not need to—"
"Hey, it's okay, you're not stupid for reacting like that. It's completely normal to be on edge after what you experienced. There's a few healers I know we could visit, so if the ones on my home planet don't work out, we can stop by quadrant KIP, I have a few favours I can pull—"
Shinsou stomps out of reach and makes a long noise of frustration. He whirls around to face Hizashi, holding up one hand with all fingers closed, except from the middle one. Even without the cultural context, Hizashi knows he's being insulted.
"Maybe we should calm down, yeah?" Hizashi cuts him off while he hedges closer, a flicker of irritation amongst the fear. He grasps it and fans it bigger, until he doesn't feel like his heart is going to beat out of his chest and fall right out of his chest. He's just trying to help, he doesn't understand why Shinsou is acting like this.
As soon as the words fly out, he knows they're the wrong thing to say. Shinsou's eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to tell him something in his human dialect.
He doesn't get the chance; the hatch opens and Shouta comes in, purposely putting himself in between Hizashi and Shinsou. His friend's face changes, the outer corner of his furbrows pull down and his eyes widen, before they go back to being narrowed.
Shouta's making himself big, standing up with his back bent until the front part of his body is lifted up. He doesn't hiss, but the skin of his mouth is tense, almost pulled back to show his teeth. "Back off."
It only upsets Shinsou more, the display aggravating the situation. Someone's going to get hurt if they don't defuse the situation.
Too late. Shinsou moves his hands fast, causing Shouta to jump back to avoid the blow, pushing Hizashi away in the process. Only, instead of going for either of them, Shinsou brings his hands to his head, grabs a chunk of fur, and pulls hard.
Hizashi warbles in alarm, but the fur stays attached to his scalp, the force distributed between every strand.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Shinsou's breathing hard, eyes shiny. His gestures are poorly controlled, thrown wide instead of his usual carefulness. "I do not hurt anyone, so stop—" He lets out a long yell, turning his back to them and walking to the wall to scream at it.
Hizashi stands frozen, his body locked up in place in a way he thought he had overcome a long time ago. Shinsou is frightening, all wild animal and spitting anger, Hizashi's fear compounded by the way it recalls vague impression from when he was half out of it and dragged by the wings, and the confusion and deep instinctual terror from before is mixing everything into a big mess he can't parse through.
He almost flies out and seals the Deathworlder in the room, but he's pulled back when Shouta says something sharp and reprimanding in his language when Shinsou goes to pull at more of his fur.
Immediately, Shinsou's upper limbs drop. All the fight drains out of him, and his face goes so pale, Hizashi thinks he's going to fall unconscious. The skin around his mouth wobbles, his shoulders go up to his ears, and he grabs his upper limbs to hold himself, but the shaking shows through.
Shouta is as thrown off as he is. The quick outburst quickly followed by this, Shinsou making himself small , is giving Hizashi whiplash, but the absurdity of Shinsou being the one who's scared helps him take control of himself. He's cladded in shiny trinkets, he's covered in Shouta's fur, the shareroom's walls are painted cream, he's safe.
Shouta lets out a long drawn out breath. He pulls out a collapsible dish from somewhere, pops it open, and pours water in. "Drink this."
Hizashi obeys, choking down the water while he tries to convince himself everything is fine.
Shouta throws a half crumbled snack at Shinsou's feet. "Eat."
Shinsou closes his eyes tight until the skin around them wrinkle. He lowers himself to the ground, keeping his limbs tight together, and he drops his head in the bend of his upper limb to hide his face away. The wrapper crinkles when Shinsou's fingers close around it. He opens it with shaky hands and takes a small bite.
Shouta doesn't say anything, only moves to stroke Hizashi's crest down.
The water helps. Hizashi gets to focus on breathing around each gulp, and his body untenses by itself, conditioned to associate drinking with being out of danger.
Shouta looks at him, and when he's sure Hizashi is stable, he makes his way to Shinsou.
His steps make more noise than usual, and he lowers himself to put his face at the same level as Shinsou's.
Shinsou turns his head enough for one of his eyes to peek through his limb. The skin around his eye is pink from laying on it. "I am not dangerous."
Shouta doesn't voice his disagreement. Shinsou waits, and when he's not refuted, he continues, "I can stay here. You cannot leave me. I am not dangerous, so I stay here."
"Alright," Shouta signs easily. "You can stay on the ship."
Shinsou's brows crinkle, but when he accidentally catches Hizashi's gaze, he shies away, retreating back into the safety of his upper limbs.
Hizashi resolutely reminds himself of little modeling compound figures and gentle hands petting Engine. Of the back of a neck, fragile spine bared to his talons. "Is that why you were upset?"
When Shinsou doesn't say anything, Hizashi goes against all of his instincts and grabs his hands. He's proud to say his tremor doesn't show. "It'll be rotations before we can even let you drive a ship," he says. "Seasons, revolutions even, before you'll be able to strike out on your own. And even then, you'll get a clipper, so many rations, and enough credits to buy yourself your own home. So don't worry about it, yeah? You can barely heat up your food right now. We have all the time in the world."
Shinsou somehow sinks even more into himself. A few stray crumbs stick to his garments.
"Don't you want to explore space? Find other people you can bond with? Me and Shouta, we'll only weigh you down, you'll never be able to go at your own pace, do what you want."
It's not that he's waiting for the moment he can kick Shinsou out, scary outburst and all, but they all have their own lives. Hizashi will have to socialize him with more people so he'll hopefully grow a bigger pack, show him places where he can settle down if he doesn't wish for a crew. Hizashi latches on to the idea. Everything to not think about his skipping heart and the heavy dread that grows every click he stays within grabbing distance.
"Because of what you do. Being heroes."
Hizashi almost falls back into his blind panic. He can't believe he almost forgot the lie he told Hitoshi. Beside him, Shouta shifts on his hind limbs. "Yeah, you're a civilian, you know? We can't just drag you around when we go on missions, not when you aren't properly trained. It would be unprofessional of us."
With how Shinsou's insistent about not posing any danger, Hizashi doesn't think he'll fit UA. Half of it is maintaining a reputation that puts fear in their enemies so they'll think twice before starting something in their proximity. It would be unfair to Shinsou if they didn't give him the opportunity to find his place first. Hizashi doesn't want him to be forced to a lifetime of piracy because he doesn't know anything or anyone else, especially when he isn't aware that this would be his outcome.
Disregarding his initial reasons for lying, this is for Shinsou's benefit. The less he knows, the better his chances are of having an ordinary life after this.
It's difficult to not feel like he's the scum of this quadrant when Hitoshi finds Hizashi's eyes and holds his gaze without saying anything. Hizashi isn't quite sure what's going on, but he keeps still and doesn't waver, even when his tail wants to flick in discomfort and his feathers twitch to flare. Eventually, Hitoshi has mercy on Hizashi's heart and turns away, breaking the tension that's been building up. He signs, the shaking falling away, "Okay."
Hizashi wants to offer more reassurances, explain that he's here if Shinsou ever wants to talk about it and that there are—albeit limited—ressources for what he's going through, but he doesn't want to accidentally set Shinsou off again.
"Come on, are you hungry? We'll cook something you like. What do you say about the meal we did a few cycles ago, the one with the boiled circle leaves?"
Shinsou agreement-shakes. Hizashi stays by Shinsou's side and for once, Shouta doesn't try to walk in between them, although Hizashi wishes he did for once. He reproaches himself for the thought; Shinsou hasn't even hurt them. All he did was yell and wave his limbs around.
They set up everything they need to prepare their meal. A lot of the tasks he gives Shinsou keep him further apart, but he tells himself it's coincidence. He's only making him do the easier tasks, he's not actively trying to put some distance between them.
Cooking helps. The sizzle and bubbling, the repetitive gestures, Shouta's calming presence, Hizashi can turn all of his attention to making food. Shinsou is quieter, but the tense hold of his shoulders loosen as time goes by, especially when the mèos comes out of nowhere when Shouta not so accidentally drops an offcut of meat and Lamp immediately shoots out of her hiding place, darting around their limbs to grab the treat she has claimed hers and scampers off before Hizashi even has the time to react. When he tells Shouta off for dirtying the floor, his mate has the audacity to drop another offcut, although this time, Engine is the one who goes for it, running up in her weave-like way and running off a little less gracefully to eat the meat in the shareroom.
When it's time to eat, Shinsou folds into himself and he keeps his eyes rooted on the spot in front of him, mechanically shoving his food in his mouth and barely chewing before he swallows. He doesn't try to interact except for when he's asked a direct question, and even then, his answers are short and closed off.
"Are you sure you don't want more?" Hizashi pushes one of the side dishes Shinsou seems to enjoy, the assumption only supported by the time he takes to chew and savour this dish compared to others. "There's a lot left."
Shinsou declines the offer and Hizashi almost resents the rejection. Shinsou refusing to take the plate is preventing him from absolving himself partly from the guilt of being scared of his friend, which makes him feel even worse because he shouldn't be feeling like this, much less hold resentment.
He reminds himself that Shinsou refusing second servings isn't anything new. Apart from the stolen snacks, seldom does he take a lot of food when it comes to actual meals, to the point where Hizashi has had to preemptively fill Shinsou's plate for him instead of letting him serve himself from the panoply of food.
They clean their teeth while Shinsou guards the door, because apparently, Humans only brush them two times a cycle. A warp ago, Shinsou had also stated—with confidence Hizashi would have thought to be true if it had not been for the nervous twitch of his fingers—that he would do his teeth washing after them. He'd been confused when Hizashi and Shouta had agreed easily without having to hear any of his reasons, but why wouldn't they? It's a step toward Shinsou's independence, they want to encourage him to establish boundaries. It's good that he initiated a moment in which he'd be separated from Hizashi, although Hizashi finds that if he hums or makes some noise now and then while he guards the washingroom door, Hitoshi has an easier time.
The hold on Hizashi's stomach lessens when he hums for Shinsou. He's useful, he's repaying being saved with more than blind fear, but it doesn't last long, Shinsou rushing through his cleaning and looking like he's going to head to his resting quarters by the time he comes out. Before he can escape to his quarters, Hizashi grabs him—suppresses the flinch when beady eyes stare him down—and turns him toward his sunroom. He doesn't want Shinsou to stew in his thoughts alone, and he selfishly needs to offer comfort.
Shouta takes the sunscreen bottle from Shinsou's grasp to squeeze a ridiculously large amount in his palm. Shinsou gapes and shoots Shouta an unimpressed glare, before he starts the task of using it all up when Hizashi's mate doesn't pay him any attention to him.
Irritation is better than the morosity Shinsou has been carrying, and Shouta's teasing assures that Shinsou will actually put the necessary amount even if he half-heartedly slaps it on, if only because the only other way to get rid of the mount of sunscreen is to wipe it off on his garments or the surrounding furniture. Hizashi can't help the sliver of amusement that almost puffs his feathers when Shinsou pushes the lower skin of his mouth out, in the same exact way Shouta does when he's pouting. He turns away to pretend he's adjusting dials and fixing the temperature so he appears busy and doesn't rush Shinsou.
When they aren't too sticky anymore, Hizashi ushers them inside, butting Shouta's forehead before he calls Shinsou to follow him out of the shaded area.
Shinsou's feet shuffle along the floor, dragging each step out. Hizashi doesn't pay his reluctance any mind. Shinsou gets a certain way when they're here and doesn't think anyone's looking. Occasionally, if Hizashi peers through his third eyelids at the right moment and keeps his breathing steady, he'll see Shinsou idly drawing meaningless patterns in the sand with half-lidded eyes, jaws unclenched and hands steady, all lazy with unrushed gestures. It reveals just how much leftover tension Shinsou is constantly subjected to, even now that they're safe on the ship and far away from that fighting ring.
Hizashi sits down in the finer part of his sand, beating his wings and shaking his tail until a comfortable divot appears beneath him, deep enough so they would have been invisible had anyone been looking at them from the horizon. He pats the space beside him.
Shinsou steps down into the sand pit to walk carefully toward Hizashi. He lays on his back hesitantly, limbs straight and unmoving, leaving a quarter tail between them. To close the space, Hizashi shuffles until their sides touch firmly and uses his tail to push some sand over their lower limbs, until only hints of scales and skin can be seen. If he can't will the fear away, he'll just have to pretend until it becomes reality.
Shinsou keeps glancing in Shouta's direction, his mouth pressed thin, the slight head movement causing the walls of sand to crumble slightly. Partly motivated to keep the walls from collapsing further, partly because Shinsou isn't relaxing, Hizashi brushes his fur always from his face, using the gesture to pass his wing over his friend's eyes and break his line of sight. Even when his mind is urging him to move away, he has to refrain from crooning when it barely takes five passes through his head-coat for Shinsou to melt under his touch and his hands start burying themselves into the sand, searching for the cooler underlayer relief. Everytime his wing lifts to pet the fur, Shinsou's eyelids droop more and more, until his eyes are slits and his pupils are barely visible.
It's nice. He hopes it's as comforting for Shinsou as it is for him.
Usually, there would be a deeper-digged hole holding more people, all layered one on top of each other until the more vulnerable ones are in the middle, surrounded on all sides by feathers and scales. He misses it, the slow rise and fall of a mass breathing in unison, the press of scales that aren't his own, nestlings learning how to crawl in between bodies to tuck themselves under the biggest wing. Although since he's brought Shouta back home, the youngs have learned that he runs warm even when hidden in the shade, and the bravest snuggle in between loops of scarf, or ask to be held while they nap.
Small puffs of air tickle his primaries where they're laid over Shinsou's nose.
Shouta grumbles all the way to the washing room.
Hizashi grabs his bondmate's head, pulling it down to rub their cheeks together in slight exasperation. "If you knew you wouldn't enjoy it, why did you join us?"
He laughs at Shouta pouts when he slithers his scarf out to wrap it around Hizashi's waist only for sand to trickle onto the floor. His bondmate rests the underside of his jaw on the back of his shoulders with a chirrup. "Wanted to be next to you."
Hizashi squirms in place with a giddy flutter, for a moment thrown back into his younger self, tripping over the way he held his padd or settled into a nap, and dreaming about sleek glossy fur and sharp canines. He'd been so smitten, he still wonders how he didn't immediately combust when Shouta had inadvertently used terms usually reserved for more intimate settings when they weren't bonded yet.
Shouta rubs their cheeks together, his fur slightly gritty. He leans more of his weight when Hizashi tries to escape Shouta's affection, laughing when he topples over from his bondmate's insistent nuzzling.
"Shouta, you're putting sand all over me," he complains. "I thought you wanted to clean?"
Just to be annoying, Shouta shakes himself right over Hizashi, sending sand all over the floor. He then signs, as if he hadn't been the one hurrying to the washroom, "There. Clean."
Hizashi rolls his eyes, something he picked up from Shinsou. While Shouta goes to start the washingroom sweeper, Hizashi drops his bracelets into a bowl resting on the side of the sink, dipping one talon to test the water. Satisfied, he lowers himself into the tub, fluffing his feathers as he's submerged. He doesn't take too long since he doesn't actually need to clean, and he's already sluggish from the nap. While falling asleep in the warm water becomes more and more appealing, Shouta doesn't move to go clean himself, staying by his side despite Hizashi's insistence that he should go wash, and Shinsou is guarding the door outside, having already cleaned himself. He'd claimed he'd use the sonic washer instead of the tub with as much bravado such a decision should elicit.
Hizashi resists the urge to splash Shouta when he's done. His bondmate finally heads to the sonic washer when Hizashi starts emptying the tub.
He dries himself and redirects the sweepers to prioritize a path between the sonic washer and the door so Shouta doesn't end up with wet—courtesy of Hizashi accidentally shaking his feathers outside of the tub—sand caked all over his paws.
When his mate comes out after a short moment, he flicks his scarf in appreciation. Hizashi lets himself be cradled in the scarf for a few clicks to chase the chill away, before he opens the door, just enough to slip through while Shouta's grooming his fur. The only reason Shouta doesn't follow him out is because he leaves the door cracked open with his tail still inside the washingroom.
Shinsou's sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall. He turns to wave his hand at Hizashi, using the other to push his wet hair away from his eyes. "I learn more about piloting?"
If Hizashi hadn't been there, he would have never guessed Shinsou had a breakdown. Humans bounce back fast, but it doesn't mean Shinsou doesn't have any lingering feelings.
Hizashi hums, an idea forming in his mind. Shinsou deserves to do something enjoyable, and what's more fun than watching them struggle with a subject instead of the other way around? Hizashi doesn't know if he can read Shinsou's grimaces better, or maybe there's simply more space for it in the safety of the ship, but Shinsou gets frustrated when it takes him too long or too much effort to express what he wants.
"How about you teach us Humanish?"
"Human...ish?"
"Yeah! I have my feathers back, so I can hear a lot better."
Shinsou thinks it over, brows lowering in concentration while his pupils look to the side. It's an interesting phenomenon Hizashi noticed once he got over the 'looking someone directly in the eyes for a prolonged period of time' thing. It's as if Shinsou is unconsciously searching for the answer, or watching his own thoughts projected out into the real world. "I do not know many words in -, but I know the easy words, if it is okay?."
Hizashi attempts to repeat the human word. It doesn't have the same base sounds as Shinsou's dialect. "What do you mean? You know plenty, I've seen you speak fluently."
"That is not -," he signs. "I speak in -".
"Oh. Did I overstep? You're not allowed to teach me, uh, -?" Some places were like that. One dialect for outsiders, another for the planet-born.
Shinsou blinks a few times, faster than normal. "No? But it is more… uhm… bigger amount of…" He exhales, annoyed, and when he can't seem to find what signs he's looking for, he gives up on grammar and sentence structure in favour of throwing out words in the hopes that Hizashi will understand him. "The more percentage of chance you can speak with another Human if you meet?"
Hizashi thankfully picks up what Shinsou's trying to communicate. "More Humans speak that other dialect, so if I see another Human, I'll have a higher chance of being able to communicate with them? Is that it?"
Shinsou agreement-shakes his head, the lines of frustration smoothing out to give way for relief. He fixes Hizashi with dark eyes. "Yes. More useful."
Forcing his body to be in proximity of Shinsou until it realizes his friend isn't a threat worked, because instead of being unnerved like he would have been a few tones ago, Hizashi just feels sad. "I think you misunderstood my intention," Hizashi signs softly. "I want to learn your home dialect so I can speak with you easier. I don't particularly care about learning a dialect you don't speak, even if that means I won't be able to understand the next Human I find."
Shinsou's mouth parts lightly, eyes wide before looking away, brows lowered while he ponders Hizashi's words.
While Shinsou's rendered speechless, Shouta joins them after he realizes they aren't having a deep and emotional private conversation, only the front of his fur groomed.
They move to the shareroom and Shinsou starts the lesson. "This is how you say 'My name is'." He makes them repeat it a few times, sometimes slipping into a bemused expression every so often as he watches how much effort they're putting into learning.
It's harder than Hizashi expects. He can get the cadence right, but any sound that involves the soft skin around the mouth is really difficult for him and he can't feel some of the sounds well enough to recreate them, although Shouta is having a harder time. There's none of the high pitched sounds his own language uses, and Shinsou's dialect is located in a range that's lower than Shouta's.
After Shinsou's satisfied with their efforts, he asks, slightly embarrassed, "Hizashi, you say before that you have another name? You say it after, like this." Shinsou enunciate the introduction sentence slowly.
"My name is Hizashi Yamada," he repeats as best as he can. Before he can ask whether the order matters, Shinsou smiles with his teeth hidden, shows him a closed fist with only the thumb sticking out and pointing to the ceiling, and turns to Shouta. "What is the name only for you?"
"What does that mean? I only have one name."
Shinsou blinks. "Only one?" When Shouta confirms, Shinsou asks, "You do not have a flock name?"
Hizashi can see why Shinsou would think that, but, "Eer'ahseers don't have flock. I was part of a temporary family unit," Shouta explains. Hizashi files away the fact that Shinsou does the gesture for 'same' and how he shakes his head in understanding, and notes that his bondmate seems to do the same. Pack is probably formed after Humans leave the nest then. "If it helps, I'm technically in Hizashi's."
"How do you know who is"—Shinsou gestures vaguely—"you know?" Hizashi looks over at his bondmate with a questioning sound. Neither of them 'know'.
Shinsou scratches at his cheek idly while he thinks. His talons don't bite into his skin, so Hizashi doesn't stop him, but he pays close attention, prepared to distract him the moment they do. "If there is a young, how do you know who is taking care of them? Who carry the young inside?"
Shouta parses through his words, ears tilting forward in confusion. "Why would we need a name for that? The kits smell like their caretaker, as long as they get marked. And for genetic lines, we have similar scents, so we can easily recognize each other."
Shinsou looks taken aback, signing the word 'smell' with a pensive expression. Suddenly, he seems to realize something. "Ah, sorry, I call you by—" he shakes his hands to dismiss what he was about to say. "You can say 'My name is Hizashi Shouta', because you are in his flock."
Hizashi nudges Shinsou's knee to get his attention with a small laugh to dispel any tension his question might cause. "Is using our individual name bad? Because Yamada is my flock's name, not Hizashi."
Shinsou flounders with the new information, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, although no sound is produced.
Hizashi laughs a little at his expression. "Are we only supposed to use the flock's name? Because I have a lot of flockmates, so it'll be confusing if you call us all Yamada."
"It is… weird? Impolite? It is only for close people, with permission."
Hizashi whistles again, this time slightly more nervous. "Well, we're pack, aren't we? And we lived in the same room for a long time, so we're close enough, I would say. Besides, how would it even work in See'krtshish? You've been using my bestowed name until now."
"Bes-tow-ed?" Shinsou pokes his tongue out when he recreates the word, staring at his gestures to make sure he's doing them well.
"It's, ah, complicated? I have a true name, a bestowed name, and I guess you would count my flock's name? There's also the name I used to introduce myself to you. See'krtshes don't usually have that last one, unless they have to go off-planet and register their identity with the ISC, who somehow still doesn't accept names that make no sounds or can't be written without exceeding two extremely small lines, which is so dumb, and then they think they can somehow translate my bestowed name in a language as dry as Standard, or cut up my true name like it'll still make sense with more than half of it missing—" At Shinsou's overwhelmed look, Hizashi cuts his rant off. He smoothes out his feathers, which have flared out without his notice, and buries his frustration deep under sand. "You can use the name I gave you. Just use my bestowed name like you've been doing and it's all fine."
Shinsou agreement-shakes, and hesitantly asks, "I do not use your true name?"
He laughs. "You don't need to. It's mostly used during special occasions, because it's really long. Well, it's short compared to other true names, but it's long for most people," he explains. Without thinking how much it sounds like a challenge, he adds, "You probably can't pronounce most of it."
And Shinsou straightens up at his words, 'try me' written all over his body language. He doesn't ask Hizashi outright, but Hizashi can tell even through the interspecies barrier. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
He inhales to fill his lungs as much as possible, before he starts singing his true name. The vibrations coming from his upper chest expand out to share for anyone able to feel them the story behind it, the path his soul took, death and rebirth time and time again until it landed in this body.
When he's done, Shinsou's staring at his hands like they don't belong to him, despite Hizashi almost being certain he couldn't hear half the sound Hizashi just emitted. Worry starts to trickle in his mouth when Shinsou doesn't say anything. "Are you alright?"
"You make my bone move." Before Hizashi can apologize for not warning him, he looks at him straight in the eyes, apologetic and awed, "I do not think I can say your true name." He turns to Shouta wide eyed, hands still held up in front of him, all anticipation.
Shouta shakes his limbs when he realizes what Shinsou's waiting for. "I only have 'Shouta'. My bestowed name, the one you use, isn't my legal name."
The way Shinsou's face just goes back to its original shape in absolute disappointment is hilarious, and Shouta's bristling fur is enough to send Hizashi into a fit of laughter. Everytime he regains his composure, just the thought of it sends him back, until his ribs hurt and his whistles turn into silent wheezes.
"Sorry, sorry, it's—"he bites down on the laugh that tries to escape him—"alright, I'm good, for real this time." To continue the conversation so Hizashi doesn't get to linger on Shinsou's disappointed expression, he asks, "What about you, listener? Do you have another name you prefer? I remember you introduced yourself with more than 'Shinsou'."
Shinsou's face changes, for half a click, too fast and too foreign for Hizashi to read it. "If I call you with your not flock name, you can call me 'Hitoshi'."
Hizashi's head quirks to the side. He can't help but repeat Hitoshi's name more than necessary. "Hi-to-shi. Hitoshiii. Hitoshi. I like it."
It's an understatement; not only does it resemble his standardized name, which he composed with most of his favourite sounds—because there was absolutely no way he was going to be assigned a random set of clicks and trills—it also matches Shouta's, whose name is composed of the rest of his favourite sounds. He can't help but repeat it another time, signing his bestowed name, 'Purple', simultaneously. At his side, Shouta is repeating Hitoshi's name under his breath to remember it.
Hitoshi's mouth pulls to the side and up, his shoulders drawing back. If he had feathers, Hizashi thinks he would be puffing them right now.
Shouta grunts to get their attention, looking bored. "What else should I know in Humanish?"
Hitoshi proceeds to teach them more words he deems important, answering Hizashi's questions about anything and everything to the best of his abilities. Toward the end, when Hizashi proposes a review, Shouta excuses himself to feed the mèos. He lingers in the doorway, before disappearing behind the closing hatches.
Hizashi does pretty well, if he says so himself. He forgets a few things, messes up some sentences, but overall, Hizashi is now one of the only non-human person in the entire Universe to know a human dialect, which makes him want to jump around and dive through clouds until he's airsick.
Hitoshi's gestures are animated, and his face doesn't hold any of that blankness from before. There's no trembling or tucked tight limbs. Instead, he bares his teeth and crinkles his eyes when Hizashi doesn't get the sounds out quite right, and Hizashi heart barely stutters to give out when he sees it. The expression suits Hitoshi.
Falling back into their usual selves is easier than he would have thought. There are awkward moments, sure, but surprisingly, Shouta is the one who breaks them by dropping food onto them or starting a seemingly randomly chosen lesson right then and there.
In a turn of events Hizashi could have never predicted, Shouta lets go of a lot of his distrust for Hitoshi. He doesn't even twitch when Hitoshi invades his personal space to look over his shoulder so he can observe what Shouta's doing with the control panels.
It takes Hizashi a while to notice it, even longer before he realizes Shouta is acting similarly to when he approaches spooked animals, all steady and slow gestures, and exuding nothing but calm.
Hizashi can now proudly announce that he can carry a very basic conversation in Hitoshi's home dialect. He, of course, mastered one of the most important concepts first: cursing.
He was right about the center finger being an insult, but he unfortunately lacks the coordination to bend his talons independently from each other. Hitoshi taught him how to tell someone they're dead by drawing a line over his throat, although his friend admits he only ever saw it used in the human equivalent of an entertainment holovid. It resembles an eer'ahseer gesture, where they mimic clawing over one's eyes to wish early retina degeneration on someone.
Even if he hadn't been absolutely fascinated by the human dialect—there's so many songs to discover, although Hitoshi has only been able to hum a few of them, too shy to do more even when he'd been away from Shouta's prying ears—the way Hitoshi perks up when Hizashi uses a word or two outside of their little lessons is worth it.
The Humanish lessons also allows Hitoshi an easy segue to delve into human life. He talks about means of transportations, food, and animals, elaborates on anything that would pique Hizashi's interest.
(Humans have governments. Hizashi can't shake the feeling Hitoshi's playing a trick on him, especially since he has difficulties describing them and barely goes into any details.)
For all that he's willing to answer questions and satisfy their curiosity, he seldom shares anything pertaining to his personal life, although things slip through when Hitoshi isn't careful with his words. Hizashi has a mental list of facts from his life on Dirt—Hitoshi used to sleep next to other people, he's shorter than his peers, and he isn't well-liked.
Shouta says he might have been a runt who never reached his genetic potential; his friend enjoys eating plant matter cooked over raw, he schools his expressions to be unreadable when he's sarcastic, and he likes small animals an inconsiderable amount no matter how dangerous—Hizashi isn't sure if Hitoshi likes the dangerous aspect or if he's just so out of their league that they only register as cute and cuddly—or how much they're considered as pest, especially if they have huge eyes and a big head with filled cheeks.
It's the last fact that allows Hizashi to keep a modicum of composure when he wakes up to an empty mèo cot. It takes him longer than he wants to admit to remember that he forgot to close their corridor door, Shouta's going to kill him.
He hurries out of the nest, shoving any sheaths he can find on his talons, resulting in a mismatched of colours and patterns. Thankfully, Shouta doesn't wake in the process, so Hizashi has a chance to find Engine and Lamp and bring them back in the quarters without his mate ever suspecting a thing.
It's not like Hitoshi hasn't interacted with them before, but it always ended up under supervision, whether it be his or Shouta's. When his friend ends up alone with them, it's for brief moments because the mèos run off to bat at Shouta's scarf or Hitoshi inevitably follows Hizashi when he realizes he isn't in the same room. Hizashi doesn't even know how long the mèos sneaked out of their resting quarters.
One last look behind him to make sure Shouta is still resting before he goes to find Hitoshi. He pokes his head in Hitoshi's resting quarters, the washing room, and the scullery, but he doesn't stay long to investigate; he has an idea as to where Hitoshi is.
Hizashi slows as he nears the shareroom, stopping right before he opens the hatch. Hitoshi is jumpy, some days jolting at the slightest sound even when Hizashi and Shouta give plenty of warning. He doesn't want to run the risk of spooking Hitoshi while he's holding one of the mèos.
Quickly taking out his padd, Hizashi flicks through the cameras until he falls onto the shareroom ones, and breathes in relief when he sees Engine and Lamp are safe, and immediately berating himself for thinking they are not.
Hitoshi is currently holding one end of his hoodie and carefully dragging circles around himself, fast enough that it stays away from Lamp, but slow enough that it isn't frustrating for her. He occasionally pauses to let her catch up and drag her teeth on the fabric, before pulling the hoodie away to start the chase again.
Engine is curled up in the crook of his upper limb, bruxing her teeth away. Hitoshi mutters at them with lips curled upwards, cooing softly when Engine flicks her tongue or when Lamp does a particularly high leap, the one that always allows her to pounce successfully on foreign insects that somehow get past the decontamination chamber.
When she's tired of playing, Hitoshi lets Lamp burrow into his hoodie. He picks the bundle up and holds it against his chest, and he looks so pleased, it might be the happiest and most content he's ever seen Hitoshi be.
Lamp wiggles to poke her head out, tongue slithering out one time, twice, and before Hizashi has the time to process what's going to happen and intervene, her nubby teeth sink into Hitoshi's upper limb.
Hitoshi jolts, a small sound that's more exhale than anything escaping his mouth. Hizashi almost keels over and dies when Hitoshi brings her to his mouth, but he only presses his mouth to the top of Lamp's head briefly, before bringing her away from his face, holding her up to look at her with a fond tilt of the head. He does the same to a sleepy Engine, the skin around his mouth stretched out until his teeth are fully visible.
Now that Hizashi's certain none of their well-being is in danger, he can admit that this is one of the most adorable things he's ever seen. Hitoshi is cradling both of them, occasionally pressing them imperceptibly to his chest and touching his mouth to their brow, all slow movements and adoring petting. It's like watching a mountain of an alien hold their tiny youngs gently.
Hizashi's brain stutters at the thought. It dawns on him that the way Hitoshi's interacting with them, making Lamp practice how to hunt and holding Engine just because she wants to be held, is done with ease and familiarity, attest to Hitoshi doing this exact thing many times before. He keeps talking to them in the same tone Hizashi does when he speaks with nestlings, and he drapes them in his garments, as if to hold them out of the cold. Hizashi hopes, desperately, that the reason Hitoshi doesn't talk about his life on his home planet isn't because he's been teared away from his youngs, that his refusal to fight in the arena wasn't because his opponent reminded him of people for whom he had to care for.
Just the thought of human younglings searching and crying out for their caretaker, only to be answered by silence, or worse, makes Hizashi's throat close up. His only comfort is that Hitoshi lived in a big human settlement, where the chances of his youngs being taken in by his own pack or another are high.
Hizashi ruffles his feathers. He's working himself into a frantic panic when he doesn't have any proof other than vague feelings and impressions. He can't do anything about it either, as reuniting Hitoshi with his potential youngs is practically impossible, and while a flockmate wouldn't have hesitated to confide in him and accepted support, Hizashi is aware that not everyone works like the flocks of his hatch region. Hitoshi's behaviour until now has aligned more to the likes of Shouta's culture, where family units are small and their more-than-often temporary state doesn't lend itself to sharing burdens as easily. Hizashi doesn't want to insist and accidentally set Hitoshi off again. As far as he knows, Hitoshi's youngs could already be out of the nest and aren't the source of any heartache.
Hitoshi must miss his packmates though. He clearly enjoys being around other people if the way he trails after Hizashi is anything to go by.
Enough dawdling. When the mèos jump out of Hitoshi's arm, he flicks the door lights, keeping an eye on the video feed while he does so, before entering the room.
Hitoshi is staring at him, frozen still, even when Engine pulls on his hoodie and tries to take off with it.
"Aww, that's so unfair, it took so long for Lamp to let me play with her." His words work to sand some of the tension away. Hitoshi's cheeks regain a bit of their pink, and he does an impressive artistic rendition of a deflating weather balloon.
Hitoshi recovers quickly when Hizashi doesn't show any indication of being upset and does his smug human posture, head tilted back slightly, accompanied with the corner of his mouth pulled up. "She likes me more."
"Yeah, yeah, more like she enjoys biting you." Lamp had looked so offended the first time she tried to sink her teeth into Hizashi's tail. Sometimes, he thinks she still holds a grudge against him for that. "If you don't stop her now, she'll continue doing it and you'll end up all chewed up."
Hitoshi sticks out his tongue at him in a human insult. This one, Hizashi can make, and it startles a hacking laugh out of Hitoshi. "You are jealous," he signs, gesture all singsong and mocking. "I taste good and you do not."
The absurd comment makes Hizashi choke on his saliva. He coughs in between whistles, thumping his sternum to free his airways.
"It is because Lamp thinks I am cute." Hitoshi beckons her by doing a repeating call that has a lot of 'p' and s' sounds. When she comes over, he picks her up, hands supporting her behind her hind limbs and under her front in a loose grip. He stares at her straight in the eyes, and in a serious tone, signs, "You are very cute also, I want to bite and eat you too."
Hizashi gapes. "That's a… that's a human saying, right? You don't want to actually eat her, right?"
Hitoshi lowers her to the ground, gently releasing her when he's certain she'll hold herself up. "Humans will squeeze cute things and bite them."
Hizashi is pretty sure Hitoshi is joking right now, but he did just see him put his mouth on the mèos. It's only when Hitoshi laughs that Hizashi relaxes.
"I do not hurt them," Hitoshi reassures, mouth twitching. "Even if I want to squeeze."
Okay, so Hitoshi was not joking about that part. At Hizashi's expression, regret immediately wipes off Hitoshi's mirth. "It is normal, but no one do it. I can still play with the mèos?"
"I don't—" Hitoshi's face droops down. "Sure! Sure, I'm sure it's fine, listener!"
Hitoshi doesn't look convinced. He glances at Hizashi when he goes to pet Engine, and when he doesn't meet any protest, his shoulders drop slightly.
Shouta chooses that moment to wake up. He comes walking down the hallway, ears flicking around in search of them. To Hizashi's surprise, he doesn't seem bothered by the sight of Hitoshi holding up Lamp.
His fur isn't groomed yet, and he's warm from sleep. Engine abandons Hitoshi to run to him, crashing into his limbs. She finally deigns to give Hizashi some attention once Shouta rubs his scarf over her and discretely checks her out for any injuries, flicking her tongue at his face, but takes off as quickly after Lamp when she manages to run off with the hoodie, both clicking excitedly at their new toy.
Hizashi eyes Hitoshi, but he doesn't mind them stealing his garment. Actually, he looks amused, eyes squinted lightly.
Did he packbond with them? Can Humans packbond with pets, or is it the same way the mèos are half part of Hizashi's flock? Lamp and Engine offer him nothing, unlike Hizashi, but he must have to have let them play with his hoodie.
"They're going to hide it somewhere." Shouta's signing slurs at the end of his sentence, and he drops the underside of his jaw to rest on Hizashi's head. His hearts are slowed down, thumping peacefully against Hizashi's back. "You should go find it."
Hitoshi glances at Hizashi, but doesn't move. "I will find later."
His friend can usually part with Hizashi for short periods of time, but he often gets into these types of moods, where he has to keep the door to the washingroom cracked open and he has to stand as close as possible to Hizashi.
By the way Hitoshi's leaning toward him and has managed to move half a tail closer sometime during their conversation, this cycle is going to be a particularly clingy one.
A/N: If you find typos or weird grammar, just leave a comment and I'll fix it :) Tell me what you think! I appreciate everyone who has left a review
