Work Text:
The time you have is limited; always make the most out of it that you can. These are truths that Adaman always keeps close to his heart. Never stall, never dawdle, never hesitate.
Except now, as the sky pulses above him like an angry, living being, he feels that his truths have suddenly become a bit too grimly applicable. He’s learned the centuries’ worth of lore passed down in his clan, yet he’s never heard of a story where the sky is broken and glowing with red like blood seeping from a wound. He only had one thought when he first laid eyes upon the sight: If almighty Sinnoh is truly the one behind this, then it must be pissed.
Adaman takes a split-second to glance at Irida as she walks alongside him. Her steps are determined and her eyes are focused on the horizon. He wonders if she feels a sense of foreboding at all from the swirling, shattered mass above them, or if she’s simply hiding it just as well as he is.
“It’s not that I doubt the Galaxy kid’s capabilities,” he starts. Irida tilts her gaze towards him. “But if almighty Sinnoh—or whatever’s inside the spacetime rift. If it turns out to be too powerful to handle and decides to bring judgement down upon us...”
“Then what?”
He lightly chuckles. “Then even you have to admit that I’m right for always making the most out of my time.”
Her scoff is a comfort that Adaman doesn’t expect to feel. “Then you first admit how right I am for valuing the ability to face our world’s vastness without fear. Without that, we wouldn’t even have gotten this far.”
Their pace is steady as they ascend the snowy grounds of the Coronet Highlands. From here, the spacetime rift is vaster and more imposing than ever, a massive, sprawled web of cracks spilling with light. He spots the cave entrance up ahead. Once they’re past this, it’ll be Commander Kamado next.
And once they’re past that, it’ll be whatever awaits them at the Temple of Sinnoh.
Adaman shakes his head, holding back a frustrated sigh. When was he one to mull over things like this? Ponder the future so deeply? He doesn’t like it.
“But do you think it’ll happen?” Irida says.
“What will?”
“That this might be the end for us?”
If she’s uneasy at the thought, her tone betrays none of it.
“If we end up failing, then what’s to say it won’t be?” he says. “Whatever is responsible for this is definitely powerful. And angry. Maybe it’s waiting to strike us down for meddling with its plans.”
They enter the cave together. It swallows up the view of the eerie sky above, as if lending them a last moment of reprieve. The echo of their steps are loud in the quiet space.
“That could be true,” Irida says. She pauses. “But no matter what it is, we have to see this through. As clan leaders, for the sake of Hisui.”
Is she trying to convince herself? Or is it Adaman’s own restlessness reflecting in what he hears? He can just barely make out her expression in the dim lighting. It’s as focused as it was before, but he doesn’t think he imagines the undertone of tension he now sees in it.
“Yeah,” he says. “Besides, I trust in us and the Galaxy kid. We probably have the most capable crew in all of Hisui here.”
Irida hums. “And Commander Kamado, I suppose. Surely he will see reason and aid us when the time comes.”
“He’ll come around. Right now he’s acting a lot less sensible than he actually is. And whatever happens next, we just need to maintain the confidence that we can handle it.”
It doesn’t come out as upbeat as he wants it to. He doesn’t know why. He’s not lying. He can’t help but glance at Irida again. It’s like there’s something stuck in his throat that he can’t cough out, and he hates it. Why? Don’t waste time dwelling on things and live in the moment—he’s done it his entire life, easy as breathing. Why is it so difficult now?
“But if we can’t?” Irida says.
“If we can’t,” he says, “then...”
He realizes that they’re facing each other.
“Then I would make the most out of the time we have left.”
Suddenly, he knows why.
“You would,” she says, almost hesitantly, “wouldn’t you?” It rings in a way that a question shouldn’t.
He isn’t sure when Irida turned to face him like this, back to the cave wall, gaze locked with his. He isn’t sure when this silence filled the air between them, tight and palpable and full of something that he can’t name. There’s a flicker in the depths of her ice-blue eyes. He can’t decipher it—anxiety, doubt, fear?
Or something else entirely?
“Yes,” he says, taking a step forward, “I would.”
And he isn’t sure who leans in first.
All he’s sure of is that their lips meet and time stands still. All the world’s histories and all its futures dissolve into this single instant of touch. For once, he doesn’t care how the time passes, whether it’s seconds or minutes or hours—not if he’s here, with her, like this. He can be here for a century and it will be worth it.
The kiss is a moment. It’s eternity.
-x-
The world is vast and unfeeling; you must face it head-on without fear. These are truths that Irida has known for her entire life. Never falter, never flee, never hide.
Above her, the spacetime rift crackles and flickers. On the peak of this mountain, an almighty being waits to deliver its wrath. All around her, the sky is ripped apart. And she must face it all when she emerges from this cave, firm and faithful like she always has been.
Except here, Adaman stands before her. Here, the space between them is so small and so warm. Here, she doesn’t want to leave.
“You would,” she says, “wouldn’t you?” She isn’t sure if it’s a question or a plea.
As Adaman stares at her, there’s a frantic flicker in his eyes, like he’s thinking a hundred thoughts at once. Yet he’s more still than she has ever seen before. In the silence that engulfs them, she doesn’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. All she knows is the whisper that rises inside her, soft yet so, so sharp—I feel it too.
Then he says, “Yes, I would.”
And she doesn’t know who moved first. It doesn’t matter. The distance between them dissolves into nothing, and suddenly all the vastness of Hisui is meaningless compared to the fingerbreadths of touch they share. The space around them closes in until the world is gone, until it’s just them, this touch, this kiss.
Her hands move to hold his face before she realizes it. At the same time, she feels his hand grab the back of her head. Something in her chest flutters wildly as their kiss deepens. The way they’re moving—it’s reckless and hesitant all at once. Like both of them are trying to steal as much of this kiss as they can, secretly, sinfully, two thieves in the dark.
When they break apart, she sees her own emotions mirrored on Adaman—eyes wide in realization, a faint flush on his cheeks, hair the slightest bit disheveled.
“Wow.” His laugh is breathless, disbelieving. “What a way to make the best of our time before our ends, huh?”
Before our ends. Cold and infinite as ever, the weight of the world presses down on her chest once more. Never falter, never flee, never hide. She should be moving to the Temple of Sinnoh as quickly as possible. She should be outside and beneath the red sky, poised to face whatever awaits before it can engulf all of Hisui’s land in its wrath.
But she doesn’t see the sky. And she’s not outside beneath its endlessness. She’s here in this dark little space and she only sees Adaman. Her enemy. The wrongful worshipper of a false god. The one who’s been at her side through everything, whom she’s come to understand and appreciate and find comfort in, whom she holds so tightly in her hands now.
“I think,” she whispers, “we need to talk about some things.”
He smiles crookedly. “This is the first time I have ever so strongly agreed with you.”
Have his eyes always carried such a bright, warm gleam? They’re pressed so close that her back is pushed against the cave wall and she can feel the movement of his chest as he breathes. Is this rapid, thumping heartbeat her own? Or is it his? She moves her hand, fingers brushing his cheek, and he leans into the touch.
“Let’s have a proper talk,” Adaman says softly, “when this is over?” His other hand moves across her waist to hold her by the back. Her breath leaves her in a slow shudder.
“Okay.”
It’s strange. It almost feels wrong. Generations of strife and hate run between their clans, yet it ends like this, the two of them holding each other in a hidden, quiet place as the world falls apart.
Then a blasphemous thought ripples to life inside her, nearly thrilling in its treachery—maybe this is right. The way it was always supposed to be. Her and him. Space and time. Holding each other, breathing in tandem, hearts beating in the same rhythm. Maybe this is the true law of creation.
“But,” she breathes, selfishly, “don’t let this be over yet.” She pulls him in again.