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Keito has observed hundreds of non-humans in the seven years of his life.
While non-humans--creatures, to many--aren’t a massive part of Japan’s population, they don’t hide in the shadows and hiss at the sight of the sun. Some have jobs in law enforcement, or the government, or appear on-screen while twirling and dancing on stage, their wings or tails or other extra appendage flailing around behind them as bright lights shine from above.
The first time he becomes friends with one is when he encounters Tenshouin Eichi at his great-grandfather’s funeral, which the Hasumi temple is in charge of performing. The boy is a contrast to the sea of older adults clothed in black, the morose atmosphere turning into something resembling intrigue once Keito sidles up beside him as priests begin hefting the closed casket into the hearse for its trip to the crematorium.
Or maybe he’s too fascinated by the tiny white wings fluttering at the boy’s back to pay much mind to the world around them.
“You’re an angel,” Keito says in lieu of an introduction.
The kid blinks at his words, dropping his gaze from the trio of muscular men sliding the casket into the trunk to ogle at him. “What?”
“An angel,” he repeats, motioning with his hand at the pair of wings. At Keito’s attention, they shudder on Eichi’s back as if afraid. He would stroke them to calm their anxiety, but that seems possible to cause a scene. “I haven’t seen other angels inside during the funeral, unless they’ve hidden their wings. You’re the only one. Is angel-hood not genetic?”
“You have eyes, don’t you? If you didn’t see any, there aren’t any.”
Keito frowns. “But your parents…”
“Who knows. Perhaps I’m a changeling.” Shrugging, he turns his gaze back to their previous location. “One day a human will arrive and say they’re the long lost Tenshouin heir and take my place. Although, who would give up an angel for a human child? That would be stupid, which my parents are not. Debatably. Who are you?”
“Hasumi. Keito, if you must.” He sticks his hand out like his mother has taught him, facing the other child with his head held high. Confidence is vital when meeting new people, she said, and showing vulnerabilities lead to becoming the weakest link. An odd thing to teach a kid, his father believed, but.. “An upcoming Hunter. You are Tenshouin Eichi, right? The great-grandchild of the deceased?”
A beat of hesitation before Eichi accepts his handshake. Despite his pale skin, frail body, and cold temperature, his shake is firm. “I am. A Hunter, you said?” His golden head of hair shifts as Eichi cocks it to the side. “A little young for fighting against us creatures. Are you planning on hunting me, Keito? Is this why you’ve decided to speak to me?”
“I said upcoming,” Keito grumbles. Handshake finished, he drops their hands and crosses his arms. “I have a lot to learn yet. And you’re an angel, your type bring good energy… Most of the time. There’s no point in changing you when you’re fine as you are. I’ll let you off the hook this time.”
“‘This time’...” Suddenly, Eichi is giggling into the back of his hand. His laughter is music to Keito’s ears, like wind chimes, like bells, and he wonders if such a soothing quality is a testament to his angel-hood. Eichi’s blue eyes glisten in amusement as he calms, though a thin smile sticks to his face as though glued there. “You’re something, Keito. You mentioned that angels bring good energy; tell me, what other energies are there? Does bad energy exist? Who creates those? Tell me all~ you know about being a Hunter, Keito, I want to know!”
W-what has he gotten himself into? For someone previously as silent as the grave, Eichi could sure talk up a storm…
Keito’s face is strangely hot with Eichi’s expectant gaze on him. “Fine,” he agrees, to which he’s gifted with a cheerful grin that makes the warmth burn longer, “but. I want something in return.”
“Hmm? What is it? If it’s money, I can’t see why you would need it at this age, but--”
“I don’t want money! I want… um.” He falters for the slightest bit as he tries to get it out. “I want… I want to. Touch your wings. Can I?”
The wings in question shiver when his request reaches Eichi’s ears. “You’re speaking to the scion of a wealthy family, and you want to touch my wings as a reward?” It’s unknown if he’s awed or distressed at Keito’s wish.
The heat worsens. A pang of worry shoots through his chest. Apologies spew from his lips before he's able to think. “I-I’m sorry. Are wings important for angels? Some creatures allow their loved ones to ever touch them like that. If I overstepped--”
“Stop that apologizing, it’s pathetic. Here.” Before Keito can tug his hand away, Eichi is gripping his wrist and showing him his back. His hand is placed at the bottom of the right wing, Eichi’s arms too short to lead him further up. Untroubled, he instructs: “Be quick about it. I want to hear more about Hunters before we have to leave. You have to promise that you’ll tell me all that you can, okay, Keito?”
Keito doesn’t promise. He’s too busy shifting his hand around in the layers of downy feathers coating the wings, feeling them slide between his fingers. This must be what clouds are made of, he realizes. Fluffy and silky, two strange qualities that leave him wanting more. The wings shift until they’re almost fully open the longer he rubs them, fluttering every so often like they want to lean into his touch.
Pretty is all he can bring to mind. He hopes the priest he arrived with doesn’t look over to see his charge utterly ignoring the funeral he'd been brought to help in, or else his parents would have a strict word with him.
Deep in his thoughts, Keito jolts as the wings rudely rip away from him. In their place is the front side of Eichi again, his pale skin oddly flushed. “That’s enough. We’re wasting time.” Behind him, those pretty wings beat against his back in a sort of agitated manner. A part of him feels the worry again; had he done something bad?
When Eichi slips his chilly hand into his own and starts to tug toward the front doors, he says, “You’ve gotten your reward, so now we’re getting to the main part of all this. I don’t want to be disturbed. Is there a room we can hide in?”
“There’s a closet I know of…?” he offers without much thought.
“Perfect!”
Perplexed at the angel’s ability to turn excitable at the flip of a switch, Keito is dragged along around the legs of the remaining adults drifting about in the funeral hall. He meets eyes with his older brother who looks as bored as any other pre-teen while leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, giving him a raised eyebrow with a short dart in Eichi’s direction.
Keito shrugs in response. To be fair, he has no idea how things came to be this way, either.
His brother rolls his eyes and leaves him to his fate.
As they climb the stairs and clamber into the closet he located during his prior examination of the funeral home, Keito flicks on the light and is thrown off by the anticipation brimming through the random angel he’d decided to start a conversation with over a vague whim. He has no clue where to start on his lesson about Hunters, so he starts with his maternal grandfather, the first member of the family to mention the lesser known aspect of the family business.
And, like that, Keito scores himself a childhood best friend.
Eleven years later they’re drinking way-too-expensive tea together in the rose garden of Yumenosaki Private Academy, and Keito genuinely believes he might snap in the next five seconds.
“Cut it out,” he grits out through his teeth. The lavender tea leaves a sweet aftertaste in his mouth.
Eichi does not, in fact, cut it out. “What do you mean?”
“That!” Having foretold his own outburst, Keito shoots out of his seat and jabs a finger at the spray bottle cradled in Eichi’s hand as it sprays more mist into the air. The water spray lands on Eichi’s stationary wings curled around his chest and causes them to flap for the nth time, sending waves of wind to shake everything on the table’s surface, including the tea cups. “If you want to groom, do it somewhere else. I didn’t come here to be bombarded with air every time I want to drink the tea you forced on me.”
“I’m not bombarding you with air,” Eichi retorts as the next flap of his wings slides the tea pot even closer to the edge. “And I didn’t force the tea on you. I wondered if you’d like to spend some time together. It’s not kind to make up your own reality for your own sake, Keito.”
What a joke.
“Besides, I can’t help it. The sun is drying my wings out and it’s instinctual for us to groom to stay in the best condition. Are you telling me that I should suffer so you can enjoy tea? You’re a bad friend. I’m disappointed in you.”
One of these days Keito is going to-- “There are private rooms you can rent in the school. Instead of doing this out in public, do it where no one can watch you pulling your feathers and dirtying the area. Do you want your reputation as Yumenosaki’s top idol dampened by your inability to clean up after yourself?”
“I’m not dirtying--”
The gesture Keito gives to the grass around them, pointing out the few white feathers Eichi had plucked while preening, stops that argument in its tracks. Eichi huffs in annoyance, a pout almost forming. “I was going to pick those up when I finished.”
“Sure you were.”
“I was.”
“You weren’t.”
“I was.”
“You weren’t.”
“Go back to drinking your tea,” Eichi grumbles. He returns to moistening his feathers in an effort to clean them.
Bastard. Keito sits down.
The violet-colored tea in his cup has grown lukewarm during their back-and-forth. Keito gulps its contents until he spots the dregs, the remaining little specks of lavender tea leaves.
Despite Eichi’s unnecessary need to groom, the time out in the garden is peaceful. Soothing. The surrounding rose-shrubs smell thick and heady, a savory scent that lends graciously to the calming atmosphere. Tension from morning classes and from dealing with rambunctious classmates drains from his shoulders. The factors combined almost form the most perfect summer afternoon.
So of course someone ruins it.
Intending to drink more tea, Keito places the cup on its saucer and sits it a few inches to the side. He leans to the right to pluck up the tea pot that Eichi almost sent clear off the table with his flapping wings. A sharp glare is sent over to his friend as the memory comes to mind. Keito is actively disregarded as Eichi dutifully cleans his wings, spraying his dry feathers and, despite his complaints, beating them without any care to the expensive tea set in front of him that could break if recklessly launched off the table.
Which is exactly what Keito’s empty tea cup does.
Keito startles at the scrapping sound the tea saucer makes before it and the cup are flung into the air. Upon realizing that his cup blew away, he drops the heavy teapot onto the table and shoots a hard glare at Eichi, who somehow manages to find it in himself to express bemusement.
“What did I say?!” he snaps.
Out of nowhere, another voice earnestly speaks up. “Oh, what did you say, Hasumi Keito-kun? Please, I am all ears!”
That voice. Ugh.
A hand cradles the back of his chair and Keito feels his hair stand up on end like a cat ready to pounce.
Keito growls, “Hibiki.”
In contrast, Eichi lights up like a Christmas tree. “Wataru!” His wings flutter in the wind.
Surprising him with a start, the tea cup and saucer that had flown away land on the table. The hand holding them leads up to Wataru’s arm and upper body, then his casually smiling face. Hibiki winks at him. “Good day, Mister Right Hand! And you too, Emperor. I must say, shouldn’t you two be more cautious with such pricey porcelain…? Had I not been around, this would have shattered quite prettily onto the ground.”
I told you so is implied in the look Keito sends across the table.
“Thank you for grabbing it for us, Wataru,” Eichi says, smiling up at him. The affection shining in his eyes force irritation to bubble in Keito's chest. To this day he still doesn’t understand Eichi’s fondness for that clown. “I was unaware that you were in school today? How are you? Come, pull up a seat. I’m glad to have you around.”
Talk about quick to the point. As Hibiki pulls a chair out of nowhere and happily plops onto it, Keito, irked, brings his returned cup closer and pours in extra tea. He sips as the two of them converse and laugh, chugging the drink like it offended him. But there’s no need to be angry. And he isn’t angry. Frustrated is the optimal word. Who has the gall to feel upset about a random third person butting in and ruining a two-person meeting? Not him.
When he finishes his cup of tea, the conversation between Eichi and Hibiki crawls into his ears.
“I’ll gladly assist His Majesty in tidying up his appearance!” Hibiki chirps. “Your wings are quite lovely; the off-chance of them losing such magnificent beauty would be a loss for humanity. They are wonderfully soft as well.”
The compliments makes Eichi preen. “They are, aren’t they? I have to keep them like so; who would respect an angel with filthy wings? I’ve been grooming myself while enjoying tea, but Keito over there sees me as a nuisance…”
Hibiki gasps. “My, Keito-kun, how rude! To disparage His Majesty over fine-tuning his appearance. How heartless…”
“Indeed. A horribly heartless human being. I’ve met other creatures with better manners than him.”
For some strange reason, that sentiment brings a smile to the clown’s face. He chuckles deep in his throat like he’s giddy. “Perhaps it is correct to recognize that humans and creatures can differ. Some non-humans may treat every existence around them like long-lost family, opening their arms wide to all… and some humans are like Keito-kun, mean-spirited even to their closest of friends--”
His tea cup clatters onto its saucer as he narrows his eyes at the joking duo. “Are you done?”
“Fufu, are we? Eichi?”
“For now,” Eichi says. Not yes. He’ll restart the jokes in the very near future, as is his wont. “I do need help with this, Wataru, if you aren't busy. I’ll moisten my feathers, so could you spread it across for me? Don’t worry if they fall off, it just means they're too old anyway.”
Before long the two of them have fallen into a rhythm of spraying and patting and (softly now) flapping Eichi’s wings to remove dirt and dust. As Eichi spritzes, Hibiki’s hands stroke from the center of his back to the tips of his wings, coating the feathers in a light sheen of moisture. In the sunlight the moist feathers glisten and appear as clean and perfect as ever.
“That should be enough for now,” Eichi announces once the two of them finish up primping the lower part of his wings. As Hibiki steps to the side, the wings lift off the angel’s back and stretch wide, their impressive wingspan putting to shame most winged creatures Keito has encountered (and/or hunted) over the years. “Thank you, Wataru. You were a great help.”
“Of course! Anything for you, Eichi. Ask and I shall always do your bidding~”
“Always, you say…? Then let me request one last thing from you.” Raising his hand, he directs their attention over to a rose bush. A rose bush with wilting roses clear to all their eyes, that is. “Grab a few flowers for me from over that way, would you? I want to brighten up this table. Those roses could do just the thing.”
“Is that so! Then please await my return, Emperor!”
Hibiki bounds off in the direction Eichi sends him in. Eyebrows raised, Keito offers a confused look about his decision to pluck dying roses. It’s common knowledge that the Oddball carries around dozens of his own flowers, so why would he have to use ones that aren't not his own? And dead ones, at that?
At the glance, Eichi waves his hand. “You’ll understand.”
… Okay.
A minute later, and with more tea in his stomach, Hibiki arrives with roses looking a little worse for wear. Their petals droop as if under a huge pressure, their scarlet color and plush texture graying and growing crisp. They’re the complete opposite of flowers one would use to ‘brighten up’ a place.
A thin silver vase poofs into Hibiki’s free hand. Keito will never understand how random objects pop into existence around him.
“They’re perfect,” Eichi smiles. Does he no longer have eyes? “But a tad dead, aren’t they? Could you fix that?”
“Oh? Not a problem in the least. Here ♪.”
Like that, Hibiki touches one of the petals on a dying rose with the tip of his finger. Nothing much happens for a second. Keito almost demands to know what trick he’s trying to pull--but as he opens his mouth, the rose shudders. The flower ripples from where Hibiki’s finger touches. A deep red spreads and smooths over the desaturated colors. The pale stem brightens until it’s as vibrant as a freshly bloomed rose. When he removes his finger and transfers it to another wilting rose, the previous one stays straight and sharp, not once regaining its dying air.
More magic tricks. Distasteful. He probably switched the dying flowers out with whatever he had on him, only throwing in little special effects to improve his act.
Once the bouquet of roses is intense and beautiful, Hibiki hums as he places each rose into the vase he conjured and settles it on the middle of the table. The scent is heavier than usual, as if rose perfume has been sprayed to emphasize it. Keito turns his head aside and sneezes.
“Gesundheit, Keito-kun! Are you allergic to flowers?”
“Would I sit out in a garden if I were?”
“Some would~”
Only fools would do something like that.
Paying him little mind, Keito swigs his tea. And then jolts when Hibiki leans over with a rose from the vase in hand, and tucks it behind his ear. Keito jerks to the side, eyes widening at the bursting of his personal bubble.
A slimy little smirk expands across Hibiki’s mouth. “It enhances your beauty, Mister Right Hand. Don’t you think?”
His eyebrows twitches. “You…”
As if anticipating his outburst, Eichi interrupts them. “As much as I love watching you two bicker, let’s keep it a little quiet today, okay? We can enjoy some time together.”
“Who would enjoy time together with him?” he mutters under his breath, scowling as Hibiki beams and sits.
After that… somehow, the afternoon passed without a hitch. While nothing could ever stop that clown from making a ruckus, he held back when Eichi was involved. Aside from the sudden bits of random confetti erupting from his sleeves, no other issues arise during their tea time. Throughout it all, Eichi and Hibiki are as relaxed as can be, enjoying their conversation. Over time Keito relaxes as well, joining the two in whatever they decide to bring up as a topic--foolish or otherwise.
The plucked rose sits in his hair, as light as a feather.
Archery Club activities for the day come to a close a week later.
The rest of the club members have already left. Tsukinaga was as irresponsible and evasive as ever, so his lack of attendance had not been a surprise; Suou had bowed and called for his car twenty minutes ago; Fushimi bid his farewell upon receiving a call from his testy master; and Kanzaki, his sharp cat ears pulled back on his head and sword on his hip, had stuck around after his Marine Life Club duties until Keito ordered him to quit waiting and go home.
When he’s changed back to his summer uniform, Keito locks the door to the archery grounds.
It’s rather late, the sky turning a burnt umber as the sun falls on the horizon. Keito feels at ease, the rhythm of nocking an arrow and shooting it out onto the grounds having been a stress-relieving action. The thump as the arrows hit the board abated the stress in his shoulders.
There’s nothing like having a successful time during an activity you put your all into.
Keito heads toward the school’s main gates. Most students are leaving or have already left, giving the campus a quiet atmosphere filled with anticipation for the weekend. Kanzaki had mentioned going horse-back riding a few hours earlier--Keito offered hopes that his silky dark tail would not end up causing him trouble.
He’s lost in his thoughts by the time he almost reaches the front of the school, which is where everything takes a turn for the unusual.
A soft chirping sound reaches his ears.
A bird?
Nothing surprising when outside, but the noise is too insistent. The call isn’t from the sky or anywhere higher than his head, either. Taking in the area, Keito notes that the fervent chirping originates from a bush around the left wing of the school. He wanders closer, eyebrows furrowed, until he’s in front of the shrub he’s located as the source of the noise.
It takes a moment to shove some branches to the side, but Keito soon finds a tiny leg sticking out from a shroud of leaves. Careful, he moves the foliage aside and stares into the beady black eyes of a small white dove with poofy feathers.
When it notices him, the bird wiggles around excitedly. Its wing is stuck on a few branches that forces it to stay in place. While curious about why the bird is there in the first place--it seems small, so is it young and inexperienced?--Keito guides the bird’s wing out of the cluster until, at last, it’s shuffling around in the palm of his hand.
Keito waits for it to flap its wings and fly. When a minute passes and it’s still hopping around, looking quite at home, he frowns. “Don’t you have a home to get to? I helped you so you could carry on your way. Don’t linger.”
It stays. It even chirps at him.
So he has to locate its home, too. Wonderful.
Saying is easier than doing. He doesn’t make out any tell-tale clumps of thin branches indicating nests in the nearby trees. The bird could not have come from nowhere, but there’s no sign of its home close-by the spot it was stranded in.
After a few minutes pass, he directs another scowl at the fledgling bird. “You’re becoming a problem for me. You're from somewhere, so why won’t you leave?”
As useless as ever, it continues to hop about like it’s never seen the outside before.
A sense of annoyance welling up in his chest, Keito calms himself as he muses on where he found the bird in the first place. The bush itself was crowded around by other bushes. As this particular bird seems quite young, has it not learned how to fly? If it fell from its nest then the area surrounding it would be the best bet…
The remaining shrubs have already gone through his examination. Keito studies the wall of the school behind them and focuses on the single open window directly over where he located the bird.
… That window. Isn’t it the room for the Theater Club?
He spots the thick blue curtain which is often pulled closed whenever he enters the club room, and his eyes dart right back down to the young bird. White plumage, pink beak, beady eyes…
“Hibiki…!”
One of his pets? Those doves are always on his person, ready for whatever stupid trick he pulls. The revelation of the bird’s owner is relieving in a way--up until he’s filled with justified irritation at the clown for leaving his window wide open and allowing for his pet to wander out and get lost.
Irresponsible little--!
Keito takes a sharp left at the corner of the school building and strides determinedly (with a hint of irritability) through the main doors. The route to the Theater Club room is at the forefront of his mind and he quickens his pace.
When he reaches the entrance, Keito throws the door wide open. “HIBI--”
The Theater Club room is empty of Hibiki and his two underclassmen. Keito does spot the window he’d seen from below, the velvet curtain offering a glimpse to the outside behind it.
Club activities ended not too long ago, so of course no one would be around… Damn it!
Feeling quite disappointed that his righteous lecture about keeping one’s pets safe has been foiled, Keito exits the room and shuts the door. Now what?
With his luck, Hibiki is already on his way home with the rest of his birds in tow. Keito can’t take the little one in his hands home. He doesn’t have bird feed! Or anywhere it could sleep! How is he supposed to take care of it?
Speaking of the bird, it pecks at the edge of his uniform sleeve, crooning.
“You’re as loud as your master,” he tells the bird. It pecks at his arm in response.
Giving a rough sigh at his current predicament, Keito leans against the windowsill displaying the main gates. The last few remnants of students are heading home alone or in groups. He's ruminating on what options he has available at the Hasumi temple for keeping the bird safe until the next school day, when a curtain of silver hair flashes in the sunlight below.
Cupping the bird between his hands, Keito is already running to the entrance before the image sets in his brain.
“HIBIKI!” he exclaims, exiting through the main doors.
He’s in luck. The head he’s focused on pauses at the shout of his name, probably having been on his way to where he parked his hot air balloon. Keito skids to a stop behind him, breathing heavy.
When Hibiki faces him, he's rightfully confused, which is an uncommon expression for someone who confuses others as a living. “Right Hand Man--”
“You!” Keito stomps forward, and his clasped hands shoot outward until they’re inches from Hibiki’s chest. Hibiki startles at the action. “What sort of pet owner are you? Take better care of your birds if you don’t want them to waste away due to your carelessness. If I knew you were this irresponsible, I would have alerted animal services months ago!”
Silence reigns as his words sink into Hibiki’s mind. He spares a glance at his hands.
“My, do you have one of my birds?” he acknowledges at last. “I was sure I had them all… Which one?”
“How should I know? Here!” Like that, Keito unclasps his hands. The fledgling’s head pokes up, curious at the switch from night to day. When it explores the area with its eyes and land on Hibiki’s face, both of them move into action.
Hibiki steps closer to Keito than he has the right to be. “Augustus! Is that where you’ve gone?”
The bird--Augustus?--flaps its wings in fast arcs but is unable to lift more than an inch off of Keito’s palm. Huffing, he extends his arms and dumps the bird into Hibiki’s hands.
“Take better care of your birds,” he reminds him.
“Indeed! Of course, I keep them as safe as could be! However, Augustus is quite the… mischievous sort.” Augustus chirps at that, which Hibiki follows up with: “Oh, don’t argue! Running off on your own when I wasn’t looking. What would I have told your mother, young one? Jeanne would have been worried had I returned home without you!”
He doesn’t have time for the clown’s weird acts. As glad as he is that the child is with its master, he doesn’t want to stick around more than he has to. “I’ve said my piece. I’ll be on my way.”
“Ah, one moment, Mister Glasses! You saved Augustus while he was trapped in a bush, yes? One of his wings was too stuck for him to wiggle out.” As the bird flaps around in his palm, as eager as ever, Hibiki grins. “He was worried when no one arrived to help him. Despite this one’s devious nature, he’s still rather immature in certain aspects… I, your Hibiki Wataru, am in your debt for the assistance provided to one of my own! Who knows what may have happened were you not in the area.”
Instead of listening in on what is perhaps the first genuine thanks Hibiki has ever given, Keito finds himself repeating one segment over and over again in his mind. “How do you know that?”
“Hmm~?”
“That I saved him from a bush.” Keito doesn’t recall lending that sort of information. The most he’d revealed was that he had a bird on him in general. “That’s too specific to be a guess.”
“It is not a guess at all?” Hibiki's fingers curl along Augustus’ tiny head to scratch at its neck. It warbles in affection, nuzzling closer. “He told me what occurred. He has quite a good memory for one so young… His mother will no doubt be proud he is following in her footsteps.”
“Birds cannot speak, Hibiki.”
“Who said they were speaking? Birds have their own language, and someone such as I can obviously decipher whatever they say. Such as… Augustus, tell me. Has that one--” Hibiki ceases his scratches and points in Keito’s direction-- “done anything else while you were in his care? Good or bad, it matters not.”
In a flash, Augustus shakes his feathers and emits a few cries. While the movement is nonsensical, Keito has to admit that Hibiki training the birds to respond to his voice in a back-and-forth way, similar to human conversation, is fascinating.
Hibiki nods his head along to the cries his pet bird creates. “I see… You first went to the Theater Club to look for me, did you?” he says. Keito balks at the on-the-mark assumption. “He says it was quite dark due to your hands, though. Now, Keito-kun, don’t leave him so long in the dark next time! He’s quite frightened of it.”
Alarms ring through his head at the details provided. “Y-You! How did you guess that! Were you watching me from somewhere?!”
“Not at all! As I’ve said, I can decipher what they wish to say. And Augustus here was rather clear on the details~. Besides, he’s too young for me to hook a speaker on like the rest. Yet he’s still so helpful despite it!”
“And as I’ve said, birds cannot speak! You can’t know that because your pet made noises for a couple seconds! Your tricks can’t extend to the impossible!”
Simply strengthening his anger, Hibiki laughs like he’s experiencing a funny joke. “My, Keito-kun, whatever do you mean? What tricks are you pondering? It’s second nature for me to understand my dear pets!”
“Because you taught them to respond to you!”
“Indeed I have, but I could speak with them long before I took them as my own. My dear Glasses-kun, it’s almost as if you’re--” A pause. For a moment the grin stretching Hibiki’s mouth actually falters--right before it widens and glows as brilliant as a megawatt light-bulb. “I see. I see. So that’s what this is. Fufufu, to think it’s like that! You’ve given me quite a surprise!!”
Now he’s confused. “What? What are you going on about?”
“Worry not about it!” His grin doesn’t lessen in the least as he focuses on Augustus. It does soften at the edges, however. “As for you, you must be quite exhausted. You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you home, little one. Jeanne will want to hear about this. Good day, Hasumi Keito-kun! Dream of me as you sleep!”
Keito doesn’t have a chance to gag at his request or ask for further information about how he’d known so much about his efforts to find him. In a flurry of movement reminiscent of a hurricane, Hibiki digs into his pockets and drops something on the ground, only for a puff of cotton-candy pink smoke to blossom forth and cover his form inside of it. When it fades--and when Keito uncovers his eyes--the bastard is gone.
Not entirely.
In the spot he left behind rests a paper-thin note-card with the words "Thank you for your help!" scribbled on. A doodle of a baby bird, a pair of spectacles, and a dozen hearts line the edges.
His eyebrow twitches.
Last time I ever help him out, Keito vehemently thinks as he shakes his head and leaves through the main gates.
Keito has always wondered if the hospital acted as a second home to Eichi.
Having been sick since birth, Eichi was in and out of hospitals all of the time. He recalls the few times as a child he’d been refused entry at the Tenshouin’s door during his trips to hang around for the day. The reason why he hadn’t been allowed to pass was always the same, said in the same strict, no-nonsense, monotone voice: Tenshouin-sama’s illness has spiked. He is in critical condition. Return later.
As much as Keito believed he knew everything back then, it had taken a while to realize that even angels grew deathly sick despite the stories about their supposed immortality. Eichi’s illness was always in the forefront of his mind--their childish consideration of planning his funeral was clear as he pictured it--but he hadn’t fully understood the ramifications and real possibility of Eichi dying until he fussed for days at end about the disappearance of his selfish, immature, dear best friend.
Having evolved from fondness at his constant fretting to groaning every time he opened his mouth, his parents managed to wring out a single visitation to whatever hospital had Eichi holed up inside.
Proud of himself for winning his parents and the Tenshouins over, Keito had scurried behind their legs as they wandered into the busy hospital. The staff directed them to the floor housing Eichi’s single suite. When the door came into view, he’d jogged forward to throw it wide.
Eichi was sitting up in his bed when Keito entered, coughing noisily into a white tissue, surrounded by wadded up balls of used ones. His skin was as pale as his sheets, his tiny hands trembled, and those beautiful angelic wings of his were limp against his back, lifeless, and losing feathers as he stood and watched at the threshold.
When Eichi checked who had entered his room, he froze as still as a statue. And then he yelled on hoarse vocal cords, as furious as when he was ordering one of his less responsible servants to do his bidding, his eyes sparking with rage.
Keito’s mother dragged him out as he was too startled to move an inch. He hadn’t even gotten a word in as she bent down, picked him up to hold against her hip, and carried him right out the hospital doors to their parked car.
Back then, he didn't understand why Eichi had reacted so negatively to his unanticipated presence.
He does now.
Late evening has fallen, casting dark shadows through the window of Eichi’s hospital room. The TV set is off after clicking through channels and channels of boring garbage; talk shows, in-depth views on the origins of particular creatures he knows are total trash, cartoons he has no interest in. Keito rests in a chair up against the hospital bed his friend sleeps in, thumbing through comics on his phone as Eichi dozes off whatever medication the hospital staff injected him with.
Eichi’s wings are gone, which is always a sight to see. It had taken a few years before he could rest them inside his body instead of out. He had said the experience felt like being cluttered inside his own form, straining against something invisible yet within. During times like this, where his wings would take up most of the bed space and made lying side-ways uncomfortable, he must have decided that a bit of discomfort was better than having no sleep at all.
As Keito reflects on the past, Eichi shivers in his sleep. He lowers his phone screen a tad and calls his name. “Eichi?”
No response. So he isn’t waking up.
Heaving a breath, he scoots the tiniest bit closer to the bed before returning to his screen. The comics aren't stimulating or interesting by any stretch of the means, but reading them is better than sitting around during nothing.
When he looks up again after being sucked into browsing for new reading material, it’s much darker outside. Keito can hardly see a few inches in front of him without the help of his screen’s light. His hand fumbles for the lamp on the nearby night table, switching it on. Yellow artificial light envelops part of Eichi’s hospital room. With it on he makes out Eichi’s resting form, curled up in an uncomfortable ball and crumpled sheets stuck around his hips.
Keito stands, his legs shaky with disuse. Leaning over the bed, he grasps tight onto the sheets and jerk until they slip loose. He hoists them up until they’re snug around Eichi’s chest, then sits again.
Ugh. If the brat were awake, he’d call him too many things. Mother-hen, worry-wart. When he’s asleep Keito is free to do whatever he wishes without judgement.
Almost as if knowing that Keito is insulting him in his mind, Eichi shuffles around in bed again. He messes up the sheets Keito covered him with, unconsciously yanking them off and to the side.
“Mmm…” he grunts in his sleep.
Keito clicks his tongue.
“It’s not that humid,” he scolds, dragging the sheets to wrap around him again. “Keep them on unless you want to risk a cold and stay here longer than usual.”
As his friend is fast asleep, he doubts the lecture gets through to him. It’s the thought that counts.
Or it would count if Eichi stayed still. Even as Keito sits and reaches for his phone, Eichi is already struggling against the sheets and shoving them off. Like clockwork, Keito fetches them for him. Rinse and repeat; by the sixth time, Keito is close to waking him up just so he can get yelled at.
Gritting his teeth, he mutters, “What is wrong with you tonight?”
In response, Eichi flips around until his back is to him--ruining the sheets again. Keito's irritable glare shoots daggers at the smooth back presented to him.
Something clicks in his head.
He freezes, considering the possibility. He raises his hand and settles his palm against the pale hospital gown.
Eichi twitches at his touch.
Ah--is the discomfort of his wings keeping him from resting peacefully?
He doesn’t quite know how to help with that.
Lost at his own helplessness, Keito rubs Eichi's back in (what he hopes are) soothing motions. His hand makes solid strokes up and down his spine. He has no idea if it works, but when a couple minutes pass and Eichi offers no more noises, he slides his hand away.
“Mmmmmm…”
Damn it.
Just as Keito groans and replaces his hand, someone hums behind him. “Is His Majesty having a bad dream?”
A hand slaps over his mouth as his head snaps up, covering his scream.
“Ah-ah, Right Hand! No waking up our dear Emperor! I’m sure we’d all feel quite bad about forcing him awake, don’t you agree?”
Heart racing in his throat, he hears the titles the new arrival mentions. Right Hand, Emperor--
“Hifibi!” The bastard’s hand muffles his furious yell. Glaring at nothing, he almost decides to bite the flesh of his palm before the though that he’d have Hibiki’s hand in his mouth catches up with him. Keito’s stomach roils at the image.
“Yes, it is I! Your Hibiki Wataru in the flesh! ☆”
“Lmm. Ho!”
“Don’t let go? My, Keito-kun, how forward~ ♪ In front of Eichi, no less--”
Hibiki's tease cuts off with a groan as an elbow rams back and slams into his stomach. Keito feels a spark of joy at the wheeze that blows harshly out of his nose.
The hand covering his mouth drops to sit on his waist. In no way is it a better position than the last--it’s worse, actually; Keito's stomach erupts with butterflies and he hates it--so he whirls around to give the clown a hushed lecture about personal space.
He’s introduced to the face of a rose, which perplexes him long enough for Hibiki to scoot past him and over to Eichi’s side. During the distraction Eichi had begun to move about in his bed again, curling and uncurling as if each position were a torment. Keito tosses the rose Hibiki gave him onto the table as he scowls at the intruder, then plops onto Eichi’s bed.
His hand finds its place on the expanse of Eichi's back. “What do you want, Hibiki? How did you even get in here?”
“The window, of course!” he answers gaily. The window sill is up and letting in warm air from the outside. “I seek to impress and tantalize~ Although Eichi is in no mood to be fascinated by my tricks, it seems. What an unlucky time to arrive!”
“Lower your volume!” Keito hisses.
Too late. Eichi’s eyelashes shudder, no thanks due to Hibiki and his loud mouth. A cold sweat has broken out on his forehead.
He clicks his tongue. “Look what you did. If you wake him up…”
The threat is unfinished. He’s sure the clown can conclude it on his own.
The next time Hibiki speaks, his voice is a tad quieter. “How affectionate, Keito-kun. I’ve never witnessed you caring for Eichi so closely.”
“Shut up. I’m doing what I can to make him feel better.” Heat rushes to his cheeks. Head down, his unoccupied hand fiddles with his glasses. “It’s his wings. He pulled them in and it’s ruining his sleep. It helps if I--”
“Ah, I know, you know! His wings are troublesome when they’re stuffed inside! Eichi’s discomfort happens quite often; I offer wonderful messages when I’m around to improve his antsy mood! He falls asleep rather quickly when I put my skills to use~”
“... Is that so.” Keito refuses to give that statement another thought. Not even as he senses something inside himself wilt while imagining the scenario. “Well, I’m here. You don’t need to help. So go home, Hibiki.”
When has he ever given up and left when told? As usual, Hibiki pays him no mind and rests on the bed behind the curl of Eichi’s legs. “Now now, no need for that. I can help you in this matter, Keito-kun! Don’t jerk your hand away.”
“What?” he questions, bemused by the order until Hibiki leans forward and presses his palm on the hand Keito used to ease Eichi’s pain. The warmth burns as hot as a stove top, and his hair goes on end like he’s been zapped by electricity. “Y-Y-You--!”
Keito almost does pull his hand away before a strange wave of… something runs through where they’re connected. It’s light like pressurized air, but there’s a sense of coolness to it, like feeling the taste of mint. A few seconds later it’s like his whole body is relaxing without receiving any signals from his brain.
He blinks, narrowing his eyes--a mixture of suspicion and sleepiness--at what he assumes is the source. “Hibiki... What is this?”
“Fufu, when have I ever revealed my tricks? Worry not, what you’re feeling is nothing bad. It’s a necessary component to the massages I give him when he’s awake. He’ll feel better soon. See?”
As whatever it is Hibiki releases flows into them--and he has to think about that, he has to think about that really hard, his mind whirling with possibilities and memories of their past times spent together--it does help Eichi loosen up. A long exhale removes all of the clenched muscles coiled up along his spine.
How nice it is, for Eichi to feel comfortable. Unlike him, Keito feels pinned; trapped between a rock and a hard place.
He can’t believe he just--never once considered --
“That’s it,” Hibiki mutters, voice deep. “Keito-kun, start up again. Do what you were doing beforehand.”
Mind moving a mile a minute, he responds to Hibiki’s instructions. Under that strong hand of his, brushing his palm in repeated strokes along Eichi’s back almost provides Keito with a sense of calm.
Soon, Hibki gives a cheerful hum and pulls away. Keito furrows his brows upon understanding he fell into the soothing rhythm. He expects rage to ripple through him like the crash of a wave but he feels… empty, terrifyingly enough. He rubs his hands together in an awkward motion, not knowing if he’s searching for warmth or more of that unknown coolness. His head aches.
“He’ll be asleep for the rest of the night,” Hibiki informs.
“Great.”
“It may have affected you too, Keito-kun. It did go through you, after all. Do you feel lightheaded? Sleepy?”
He does. So it’s a side-effect. Fantastic.
His vision blurs when he follows Hibiki with his eyes, watching him move closer.
“No need for the glare.” A smile lights up Hibiki's expression. “You’re tired, yes? You should make space for yourself on the bed unless you wish to strain your back.”
His tongue is thick in his mouth, making it hard to speak. “... Don’t need you… to tell me...”
“Fufu. Testy as ever even while you’re barely keeping yourself awake. Come on~. ♪”
Even as Keito tries to push his shoulder, it doesn’t work. His hands are weak and can barely form fists. Hibiki grasps his arm, keeping him upright as he carefully shifts the deeply asleep Eichi closer to the wall.
Hibiki croons, “Under the sheets for you~”
The next time Keito sees Hibiki, he’s going to punch him. For multiple reasons.
His vision blurs again. By the time it’s settled, the lamp at the bedside is off, shrouding the room in darkness. He’s laying horizontal, a large weight snoozing at his side. Hibiki stands above the both of them. As the moonlight streams in through the window, his silver mane of hair looks like an extension of it; whatever he is, the light enhances his innate beauty, making him shine in the dark of the night.
“What… are you?”
A whisper of the wind. Had he been the one to speak?
Perhaps, as Hibiki pauses. His violet eyes sparkle like amethysts.
“Fufu, wouldn’t you like to know~? … Have a good sleep, Keito-kun. I’ll consider my answer next time we speak.”
One second he’s there, the next, the window is sliding closed with a thump.
Keito… has a lot to think about.
But first, he desperately needs to rest.
So, Hibiki is a non-human. A creature, in other words.
As much as he wishes to not be surprised by that revelation, he really, genuinely is.
All those magic tricks he sprung around, his appearing out of thin air, his ability to perfectly mimic voices, his pulling off other people’s appearances down to the smallest detail--they weren't magic at all, but a hint at his hidden power.
And Keito fell for it every time. He, a Hunter. Someone whose job is to see through the most private of creatures and determine if they’re a hindrance to society as a whole. He believed his tricks for years.
Disappointment is an emotion he’s never been great at handling.
Anger, however, is.
Arms crossed, Keito sits at the student council room table. His shoes tap a rhythm into the floor as he waits in silence.
School is over. He had sent a message to his club members letting them know of his inability to attend for the day. Student council duties--not quite true, but he is expecting Eichi to arrive soon, so it counts. He’ll make it up to Suou and the rest later.
For the moment, he’s too busy working out the best way to start the conversation (interrogation) about Hibiki’s secret and which phrases are best to ask (demand) why Eichi never told him in the first place. With how obsessed Eichi is about everything Hibiki Wataru, it would be impossible for him to not know about his similar non-humanity.
He breaks out of his thoughts as the door flies open. Eichi steps in, bag in hand and wings listless on his back. He stifles a yawn.
Spotting Keito, Eichi nods in greeting and walks to his desk at the window.
Keito just has to… ask the question. Open his mouth and speak like he’s done every day since he was a year old.
Eichi slides into his chair when he works up the nerve.
“Eichi,” he starts.
His head bobs at the call of his name. “Hmm?”
“We have to talk.”
“Do we? About what?”
“Hibiki.” Leaving his chair, Keito stands in front of Eichi’s desk. Clueless blue eyes stare up at him. “You know, don’t you?”
“You’ll have to be more specific about what I know, Keito.”
“Don’t play coy. It’s about his secret. His non-human secret. You’ve known this whole time, haven’t you?”
“Oh.” Eichi studies the papers he has in his hands, expression uninterested. “Yes. Since second-year? An interesting time that was.”
“And not once have you seen fit to tell me?”
He shrugs. “To be fair, I thought you knew. It is your job to tell, you know, being the single Hunter in this school.”
Ghh. That stings.
“Besides, Yumenosaki has a ton of creatures running around, unknown or not. The Sakumas, those first year kitsune twins, that fiery child in Kiryuu-kun’s club. Speaking of him, even your two unit members are non-human. Unless you somehow missed their ears and tails, and failed to understand the purpose of Kiryuu-kun's monthly absences…?”
“I haven’t,” he snaps. “I’m well aware of their backgrounds.”
“So why is it you’re only upset about finding out that Wataru is a non-human?”
“That’s--” Keito… doesn’t have a response for that. Trying to scrounge up an answer is like digging for gold in a deep ocean and failing terribly. “I’m not upset. Just curious. I want to find out what he is.”
Eichi announces: “He’s a fairy.”
“What?”
“Wataru.” Pen in hand, he scratches away at the sheets of paper he has with him. “He’s a fairy. No idea of which variety he hails from, though. Does that answer your question?”
Keito gapes at him, slack-jawed.
“You seem shocked.”
“Obviously!” He shoves his desire for knowledge to the back-burner. For the first time, anger wells up in him for Hibiki. “What do you think you’re doing?! Do you know how taboo it is to reveal another’s identity? I wanted hints, clues--not the whole thing! How would Hibiki feel if he found out you told me his secret?”
Eichi ponders the question for a moment. “He would be disappointed that you didn’t guess? He likes playing games with you. I suppose I took the opportunity from him.”
“You’re not in the least ashamed?”
His attention returns to his work. “Oh, he’ll forgive me.”
Flabbergasted doesn’t come close to cover how he’s feeling. Keito drops into his chair, raising his hand to rub at his forehead. A stress headache is building. “I can’t believe this. You idiot. What if this ruins your relationship? I’m not to be blamed for this!”
“Relationship?”
A snort. “Please. The two of you are clearly involved, what with how often you’re touching one another. I do have eyes.”
They both pass over how his eyes had missed the truth of Hibiki's identity until recently.
Eichi’s tone turns amused. “So we’re involved because we’re close? That’s a broad action to term as romantic, Keito.”
“It’s not just that. There’s more.” Multiple scenes of the two of them acting so lovey-dovey pop into his mind. His stomach flip-flops when he focuses on them, saying: “The constant touching, the fondness in your words, the affection in your eyes. Only a fool would judge it as something as tame as friendship.”
“So… because we touch, speak nicely, and meet eyes, we’re dating?”
“If you want to boil it down to simple actions, yes.”
The sound of Eichi's scratching pen falls silent. He’s studying him from across his desk, hand curled around his chin as he muses to himself.
“Interesting,” he says, and Eichi stands up.
He maneuvers around his thick desk, heading over to Keito without a word. Keito frowns as Eichi towers above him, waiting for whatever it is he wants to say.
Oddly, he drops his hand on Keito’s shoulder and stares him in the eyes. “What now?”
“What?”
“I’m touching you and gazing into your eyes. Are we dating now?”
“What???”
“Oh, right. Not yet. The sweet words. Let’s try this.” Nodding to himself, Eichi falls to his knees and leans far, far too close, until their faces are inches apart and he can smell the bold scent of roses. His soft breath puffs against his cheek. “Keito, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now. You see, it’s been becoming quite difficult to hold in my feelings for you… This may forever alter our relationship, I know. Yet there’s a chance this will improve it into something a little more special. If you would, could you consider picturing me as your lover from now on?”
“W-w-w-w-w--”
Eichi’s hand slides onto his chest. “I won’t hold it against you if you refuse. I am asking for a lot. Just think about it for a little. I’ll wait.”
He’s dreaming. This is a dream. Eichi isn’t saying--he he couldn't be saying that, it’s impossible! How did the conversation turn to this when they were discussing Hibiki??
It takes Keito quite a while to realize that he’s stuttering and stammering like a broken record, as he struggles to figure out where to look. With his face as red and hot as a volcano, he can't look his best friend in the eyes.
“D-d-don’t be ridiculous!” Keito cries once his vocal cords can do anything other than squeak. “I won’t be the one to r-ruin what you have with Hibiki. I don’t tolerate cheating, Eichi!”
“Who said anything about cheating? Wataru would happily date you as well. He watches you quite often when you aren’t paying attention. It’s cute to see him fall for someone else.”
Keito's sputter of an answer is unintelligible.
“...Think about it, okay?”
“T-That’s--
“Please? For my sake?” Hands cradle Keito's face in their warm palms. Craning his head up, he’s forced to stare into Eichi’s blue eyes, taking in his sincerity.
“F--” His shoulders droop. A fluttery sensation he refuses to think about runs throughout his chest. Keito acquiesces. “Fine… Ghk!”
Eichi’s hands release him and descend to wrap around his neck. The two are pulled toward each other at Eichi’s whim. When Eichi's head snuggles into the crack of Keito's shoulder, his downy hair, smooth skin, and fluttering wings take up all of his senses, and Keito believes he might have actually died and gone to Heaven.
Lips move against his neck. “You’re allowing Wataru as well, right?”
“Y-Yes…”
“You’re sure?”
“I already said yes. I’m sure. Even if it’s Hibiki.”
“Keito…!”
As great as the hugging is, the arms surrounding him are growing rather tight… He’s already light-headed enough from what he agreed to, Keito doesn’t want to be choked unconscious.
He shifts around in his hold. “E-Eichi, relax a bit. I can’t breathe.”
“But I’m so happy, Keito~”
“I am too, really, but…”
Suddenly the door to the student council room clicks open. Heart leaping to his throat--the indecency of this situation!--Keito jumps in his seat, yanking Eichi off his shoulder by the back of his uniform shirt.
He’s spouting excuses before he properly sees who entered. “It’s not what you think! The President simply fell and I caught him--ah?”
“Hmm? The President?”
The person standing in the doorway is… Eichi.
Eichi? What?
Eichi (?) tilts his head as he takes in the two of them together. “Huh. What are you two getting up to? If you’re role-playing, wouldn’t it be best to do so somewhere more private?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” replies the Eichi in his arms. “We’ve come to a decision to start dating, so there’s no need to hide from public eyes~”
“Dating! Is that what you were talking about, Wataru? I was wondering how you would get it to work out… so transforming into me was your plan. From the looks of it, it must have worked. How nice.”
… Wataru?
“Oh, Eichi.” A pout in his voice, the Eichi (?) near him sways in his direction. “How horrible, announcing my plans so plainly! What have I done to deserve this?”
“You ditched me in the garden to play around in here,” he retorts.
As the real Eichi (??) saunters over to his desk, similar in all ways to the Eichi beside him, Keito regards the one he’s spent the past few minutes with. “You are… Hibiki?”
“If the secret is out now~.”
The voice he answers with isn’t Eichi’s; it’s deeper, extra exaggerated. Keito observes in awe and horror as the angel in his arms completely transforms. His blonde hair fades to silver and lengthens, his skin tans, the fingers resting on his biceps thin and their nails extend a slight inch. Even his clothes change, reacting and fitting to the size of their true owner.
Hibiki sits on his knees beside him when it comes to an end. A joyful grin is aimed at him. “It is I, your Hibiki Wataru! How was it, Keito-kun? Did I steal your heart? I know, Eichi is too lovable and endearing! It’s difficult to not fall for his charms, right?”
Whatever expression Keito is wearing, the sight of it forces even the enigmatic and well-masked Hibiki to waver upon encountering it full-force.
“Ah-ah-ah, stop with such a despairing look! Nothing said was false, my dear rival!” Hibiki cradles his head in his hands again. He’s going to bite him. He’s going to tear the bastard apart for fooling him with such a horrible, vile prank. “It is no prank! I cannot read minds but the belief is clear in your glare! I have no intention of playing you for a fool on this matter, Keito-kun. The words I said to you were quite serious!”
“The words you said to me while disguised as Eichi, you utter piece of--”
“While his methods may have been questionable, he was genuine in his attempt.” Interrupting the beginning of his righteous, justified lecture, the real Eichi observes them from where he rests in his chair. “I have been considering ways to bring the matter up to you. And while I don’t know the particulars of what he’s told you, Wataru has also wanted to bring the matter up. He’s rather infatuated with you; I’m a tad jealous.”
Hibiki’s long eyelashes flutter. “I always have time for you, Emperor~.”
“Up until you’re busy bothering Keito, that is.”
“Fufu, what can I say? He’s so interesting! His reactions send my pulse racing~.”
“Alright. That’s enough. Just.” His head throbs as he strokes the rising headache. Both of their words have killed most of the white-hot rage that had flared within him at the reveal. Still, he’s been on an emotional rollercoaster since the moment Eichi--Hibiki--stepped through the door. He needs some quiet time. “Let me think for a moment. Either shut up or I’m getting up and walking out.”
It works. Keito should threaten to leave them a lot more if it's so effective.
“You’re telling me,” he begins when he’s had time to sort through his heavy emotions and thoughts, “that you’re interested in… dating me. Being with me?”
They nod.
“You’re serious.”
A second nod. Eichi’s wings lift and drop back down on repeat, a move that Keito has learned over the years meaning he’s keeping his nervousness in check
Despite the ups and downs of the past few minutes, the gesture makes the corners of Keito's mouth twist upward. “Morons. Buffoons. You could have asked me like a normal couple.”
“Would you have believed us?” Eichi asks.
To be fair, no. “You could have tried. I can catch subtle hints.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you about Wataru’s creature status for weeks,” Eichi says, “and we’ve been a lot more handsy with you than normal lately. You never noticed.”
Well, there's not much he can say to that.
“For what it is worth, you’re an intelligent person, Keito. You’re just clueless in the art of love.”
“Thanks,” he frowns. “I’ll remember that as I consider joining the two of you in… whatever this sort of relationship is.”
The two sit up tall and their eyes brighten like stars as one. Hibiki asks, excitedly: “You’re accepting?”
“I’m considering. There’s a difference.”
“His Majesty and I are on the table?”
More like they’re the single dish he has eyes for. What an embarrassing thought. He feels embarrassment for himself.
Shaking his head, Keito scoots his chair until he’s no longer in view of their expectant gazes. “I’ll think about it. Don’t hold your breath.”
“Eichi~” Hibiki croons. “He didn’t say no!”
“I heard, Wataru. It’s technically a yes, right?”
“I do believe so!”
“An ‘I’ll think about it’ is not a ‘yes’!” The snap erupts from him as their cheerful voices start up again. “Don’t decide things on your own! I’ll make my decision when I’m good and ready!”
Which isn’t likely to last more than a week, as Keito gives the choice further contemplation. The feelings he’s held for Eichi, the feelings he’s been refusing to name for Hibiki… There’s only one real answer to their offer. The thought of agreeing to it is wild, it’s crazy. It’s like nothing he’s ever done before.
But if it’s with the two of them, Keito believes anything is worth it.
… He’ll let the two of them simmer for a couple days in worry, though, as he overhears their passionate conversation behind him. They deserve some trouble for putting him through the wringer for who knows how long, Hibiki especially. That should teach him to avoid acting as other people during a confession, of all things.
It’s only fair.