The extremity of his scarf hovers above the door panel, where he hadn't had time to input any information.
And yet.
The transition chamber lets out a dull hiss as it starts getting pressurized. Shouta stares incredulously at the barometer and humidity sensor, updated every split clicks until the oxygen saturation stops at the level adequate for his body's limitations. The light over his head stops flashing in warning, the aggressive high pitched alarm lowering into a pleasant hum. Safe to go.
He doesn't dare let himself hope, not when the life pod he has been following had no hint of the serpentine patterns Hizashi enjoyed weaving when he piloted, not when there has been no moving silhouette flickering behind the viewing panels. Not when his life pod received a series of distressed signals, sent one right after the other.
He briefly considers saying goodbye to Nemuri and Tensei, maybe leave a message for them to find, before discarding the idea almost immediately. He can't go into this fight with that mindset. Besides, leaving a death message like that is bad luck.
Something moves, beyond the transition chamber. It's blurred by the remaining water vapor that hasn't settled yet, but Shouta could recognize that form anywhere, had traced the lines of his body everyday until he could sculpt a model of his husband with his eyes closed. Even without his recognizable feathers or the shape of his beak, the way he carries himself is unmistakable.
Hizashi.
The sight is a punch to the lungs, a balm to his hurt. His limbs go weak for a click as he stumbles closer, shortens the gap between them. He throws himself through the hatches, only briefly envisaging that this could be a trap; some warring sentients sometimes puppeteered corpses to lure their grief-stricken enemies toward their death.
He discards the wandering thought when he hears the partner-whistle only Hizashi can produce. Decades of living with Hizashi instinctually makes him fall back into habit; he braces himself when Hizashi hobbles toward him, one wing wrapped in quick-dry bandages and a cloth covering his naked upper body—seeing Hizashi without his feathers is disturbing—opening his scarf to soften Hizashi's jump when he'll throw himself at him.
That's when he senses movement fluttering behind Hizashi, near the pilot area.
In any other instance, he would have taken in the fact that Hizashi hadn't been frightened, that he must have spent all the trip with the Human and had the occasion to dress his wounds. But Shouta's hearts are leaping in his throat, and all he can see is a Deathworlder lunging at his partner.
They're quicker than Shouta is, closing the distance between themself and Hizashi in long strides. Despite being farther away, they reach Hizashi before Shouta does.
He expects to see his partner get killed right in front of his eyes, for limbs to twist and bones to be crushed. How could he have missed them? How many times has he berated newbie pilots, only to let his guard down now?
The Deathworlder hasn't moved to kill Hizashi yet.
"Zashi," he signs, slow and steady, forcibly lowering his hackles and fighting his scarf to settle into a neutral position. Any sudden move could be read as a sign of provocation. Could sign Hizashi's death sentence. "Don't move."
Hizashi's tail is curled around itself, his eyes squinting in pain. They're holding him too forcefully, furless hands curled under his bandaged wing, crushing it between his body and the Human's, the points of pressure making it hard for Hizashi's thoracic cage to expand. The Human is uncaring of Hizashi's injuries, too busy baring their sharp uneven teeth in a show of territorial aggression, their face right up to his partner's fragile neck.
Of course, that's when Hizashi starts squirming in the Human's grip, pulling and nipping at their clothes in a reckless attempt to free himself. Shouta shifts, ready for the Human to lash out, stomach heavy with the knowledge that it's unlikely he will be able to rescue Hizashi in time if the Human accidentally crushes him in their frustration.
He falters when the Human sets Hizashi down more gently than Shouta would have thought a Deathworlder capable. As soon as Hizashi's free, Shouta can breathe easier, but his relief is quickly dashed. His scarf escapes his control to lash out when Hizashi takes a step closer to safety only to be unceremoniously pushed back.
"Hey! Stop that," Hizashi signs while batting the Human's grasping hands away. Most of the words have been modified and rendered almost incomprehensible to Shouta.
The Human doesn't respond even if their eyes follow Hizashi's gestures, breathing hard and loud through their mouth. Cogs are visibly turning behind Hizashi's head, and Shouta has to tamp down the urge to grin. Hizashi has a plan. He turns toward Shouta, and Shouta expects hidden signals, an indication to cover his ears, or even when to jump in to surprise the Deathworlder. Instead, Hizashi hums, way too calm for the situation.
"Shou! Love, I'm really, really, happy to see you, but can you stop threatening the Human please? He's not going to attack me." And then Hizashi steps closer to the Deathworlder instead of away, making it even more impossible for Shouta to wind his scarf around his partner and pull him to safety. He clicks his tongue to catch the Human's attention, who snaps their gaze toward his partner at the noise. Shouta instinctively lets out warning hiss to bring it back to him.
"Hey, no, look here," signs Hizashi, thwarting Shouta's attempts at saving his life. His partner bears the weight of those beady eyes without a flinch.
The Human looks conflicted, head twitching to try to keep Shouta in their field of vision, until Hizashi brashly pulls the Deathworlder down until they lower into a predatory crouch, ready to pounce at any moment. They would only need to snap their teeth out to bite a chunk out of Hizashi. His partner's tail whips behind him, the only sign of his agitation.
Shouta doesn't dare move. He wants to scream, fling his scarf toward Hizashi to get him out of the way before he gets mauled, but he's frozen by terror, the tension within him making his joints creak. He's seen how deceptively fast the Deathworlder is.
"That's my partner, love of my life, Shou." The pleased embarrassment that his name always brings out when Hizashi uses it in front of strangers mixes with the rush of adrenaline, and acid bile rises up his throat. "I told you he was going to come rescue us, yeah?"
The Human huddles into his partner's wings, signing something frantic, and Shouta can only catch glimpses of some words. "I—WHAT!? No, no, listener, he's not with the Feczoits. Why do you think that?"
The Deathworlder sends him a simmering glare, their brow fur lowered menacingly, staring him down while he signs to Hizashi, explaining how Shouta had tried to attack him during their escape, had wanted to eat Hizashi.
Shouta's fur puffs out at the blatant lie. He hadn't attacked the Human, they're the one who stole his partner. The Deathworlder throws their upper limb full of accusation toward him, one finger in his direction. If he was Hizashi's partner, why did he attack them without asking any questions?
A ghost of embarrassment arises when Hizashi sends a dry questioning tail flick in his direction. "I boarded a fighting-ring ship to save you, only to find you being carried off by a Deathworlder. How was I supposed to know the Human wasn't going to eat you?"
"Eat me? Why does everyone think people want to eat me?" Hizashi's exasperated groan makes him want to sheepishly curl up. At least, the Deathworlder cows under Hizashi's disappointment. "Why didn't you tell me you tell me about this?"
They lift their shoulders up to their neck, one hand twitching up before ducking their head, face pinking—vasodilation, a sign of anger?—while Hizashi looks at the ceiling, signing something too subtle and exasperated for it to be understandable. Shouta takes the opportunity to creep closer while they're not looking, but the Deathworlder's head whips toward him, an apex predator sensing subtle movement in their peripheral vision. Hizashi immediately puts himself between them, using his own body like a shield, as if he doesn't reprimand Shouta for his own self-sacrificing issues before and after every mission. And then, as if it isn't enough, his uninjured wing hovers near the Human's face and he starts petting their head fur, flattening it back and completely ignoring their aggravated jerk at being touched.
"Okay, so my lovely Shou is going to come closer, yeah? He's a hero, just like me, so don't attack, you got it?" Shouta keeps his face impassive at the blatant lie. Hero? He gives an ambiguous huff and adjusts his posture, correcting his slouch when the Deathworlder looks at him for confirmation. To Shouta's astonishment, the Human somehow misses the lack of insignia marking him as an ISC patrol, the closest thing he could potentially consider a 'hero'. Hizashi waits for the Human to shake their head up and down before turning to Shouta, gesturing him to approach. "Don't worry, the staring isn't a threat display!"
The staring is most definitely a threat display. The Deathworlder doesn't blink the entire time he makes his way to Hizashi, the white of their eyes showing unnaturally. Shouta looks away—he doesn't want the Human to take it as a challenge. "Shou, love, this is"— Hizashi underlined the Human's sign name with the whistle for 'new friend'—"Purple."
It's a cute name that doesn't match their frightening nature. Shouta's tension has nowhere to go, his body still in the mindset of 'fight fight fight', and the fact it hasn't been resolved yet makes him jittery and ready to snap. He hisses quietly, his signing sharp. "You named them?"
"Of course I did! We're friends, you know?" Hizashi says, offended by his valid question. And then, Hizashi let out the little nervous thrum that he always does when he's about to tell Shouta something he won't like. "We might have packbonded."
Shouta blanks at the statement. Packbond? A Deathworlder, a Human nonetheless, packbonding with Hizashi? It's something out of a badly written fiction story, and yet, Shouta can't deny the apparent human garment draped over his partner, the way they move to stand between Hizashi and him—the perceived threat. It doesn't ease his worries; they could accidentally injure Hizashi, or lose their temper and take it out on him.
His doubts show because Hizashi signs, "I know, I know, but Purple's super nice! Do you think Weq•itqs like egraks?"
Shouta and the Human both flinch, the Deathworlder when Hizashi's wing almost slaps his face and Shouta from the Human's reaction. For the price of a few hearts palpitations, the Human leans away to not get caught in Hizashi's enthusiasm again.
Thankfully, Purple isn't upset by it. Hizashi might not be lucky next time. "Careful."
"Don't worry, love. He's really nice!" Hizashi's tail hooks around his wrist, squeezing reassuringly while he turns to the Human, who's still crouched. His wrist feels warm and tingly where he's touched. "Wanna tell him your human name, listener?"
Purple points at themself with a finger and says, "Shinsou."
Their human name almost sounds like a hiss, with odd syllables in between. Shouta doesn't want to offer his own. What he really wants is to be in his ship, cuddling Hizashi in their den with Engine and Lamp. Away from this place and it's stench clinging to Hizashi's skin, where they'll be able to clean up and Shouta can take care of Hizashi's wound.
"Shouta." But it's more prudent to be polite while they're stuck in a small space with a Deathworlder—no matter how much Hizashi claims they're nice—until they can be somewhere safer.
Hizashi must sense his agitation, because he cuts through the staring contest that has somehow started between Purple—he refuses to use their actual name, and besides, he already forgot it—and himself. "I'm going to talk a bit with my partner."
Purple doesn't take the hint, staring at Hizashi and Shouta intently. There's a terrifying, albeit awkward moment when Hizashi tries to herd the Human toward the strewn blankets, only for the Deathworlder to immediately trail after him when he steps away. Hizashi has to push a modeling compound box toward him and push him down so he stays in the resting corner with a stern 'Stay here, listener' .
Hizashi pulls him toward the pilot area, the sustenance compartments giving them a mediocre of privacy by hiding them from the Deathworlder's view. It makes Shouta's stress levels rise; his fur stands on its ends, ears swivelling to catch the slightest sound that might indicate the Human's trying to sneak on them. It takes all of his restraint to not scoop Hizashi up and try to make a run for it toward his life shuttle, far away from the Human.
Hizashi clicks his tongue. "They're really not going to attack out of nowhere."
Shouta isn't delusional enough to not acknowledge that he's being irrational. He still signs, "So you are admitting they could attack for a reason."
His partner exhales loudly, the air tickling his fur. "You know what I mean. Come on, aren't you glad to see me?" Hizashi's teasing tone misses the target entirely. Shouta aches at the low trembling in Hizashi's usually assured words, the way he sags and collapses on himself in the same way he does after long missions that involve too many sleepless cycles and too few survivors.
Instead of answering, Shouta gathers his life partner in his scarf, careful to not jostle the makeshift cast and the thin pin feathers, while he rubs his cheeks and the inner parts of his scarf over Hizashi to cover the mix of human stench and acrid fear with his own. Purple's garment is dropped at his feet. It feels like coming back home, his supernova. Alive alive alive. "Zashi, I thought…"
He goes to bury his nose in the cold angle of his neck, intent on drowning himself in skin-dustyfeathers, but Hizashi flinches away as soon as he grazes the underside of his chin, tilting his head in a way that hides his neck.
Shouta takes in the bandages wrapped there, bulging slightly out. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, sorry, it's a little sensitive because of…" Hizashi shuts his eyes to regain his composure. "They had me in a collar to prevent my"—he gestures to where his amplifying organs rest in his chest—"you know?"
Something reaches in Shouta's stomach and twists. He suspected the Feczoits had done something to neutralize Hizashi, but to collar him, to bind him somewhere so private. The most restrained Eer'ahseer would have been rendered into a mess.
"And it broke during the escape," continues Hizashi, unaware that Shouta had been too blinded by his boiling rage to see what he had been saying, "and then I managed to cut off the outside metal with—so it's not like it can hurt me again… but there's still parts of it stuck, and I can't get some of the pieces out—"
"Zashi," he interrupts, keeping his anger carefully hidden away. It won't help, not when his partner's showing signs of hyperventilation as he works himself into full blown panic, and Shouta knows from experience that Hizashi needs to talk about his feelings but that he sometimes went too far in his head, and knowing when to listen and when to prevent him from spiralling down is something Shouta has learned through their time together. "We'll take care of it together."
"I…" Hizashi's trembling too much for the words to come out. "I don't… my feathers…"
He says it as if it's something to be ashamed of, as if he shouldn't be upset by the violation. It makes Shouta want to cry.
Gently, like Hizashi's fragile gold thread, Shouta coaxes him closer. Hizashi doesn't resist him, lets himself fall forward until he's cradled against Shouta's chest. Shouta kneads the tense muscles with his scarf a width away from his bandaged throat until the rise and fall of Hizashi's chest against his transforms into heaving and the slight trembling grows into full blown shaking. He loops his scarf tighter, partly to prevent Hizashi from falling apart by supporting most of his weight, partly to remind himself of his partner's presence. He's worryingly lukewarm from being unable to access his heating room, and Shouta intends on spending as much time in there with him when they go back home. For now, this, sharing his warmth, will have to do.