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Hazama Masayoshi could safely say that many things in his life really didn’t go exactly as planned.
In fact, he’d hazard to say that probably nothing in his life had ever turned out as he’d imagined it. Not his eventual career choice of becoming a model first, hero second (and then eventually reversing the order), not the… unique, set of friends and allies he’d managed to make, and certainly not the path by which he’d actually realized his dream of becoming a hero. In fact, while finally achieving the vaunted status of ‘super hero’ may have been the only thing that actually did turn out as planned, the road he’d taken to get there had been loaded with a myriad of curve balls he could never have seen coming; the irony, of course, being that it had been loaded with the sort of fictitious adventures he’d have loved to have planned for while growing up, but that he’d long since written off as being impossible in reality.
Still, all that said, Masayoshi had never particulary had any major problem with something as basic as transportation. He’d gotten so used to traversing the city on his bike, getting used to the various routes and shortcuts he could take to minimize travel time and building up the stamina to maintain any kind of ride, that he never imagined he’d run into trouble just because he happened to be running late.
Crap! I’m gonna be late, I’m gonna be so late! Ishihara-san is going to kill me!!, he mentally fretted, kicking his legs into overdrive as he increased his furious pace.
He’d just been on another of his routine visits to the juvenile detention center where Sawada Haiji was currently being held. He didn’t normally have any trouble squeezing such visits into his schedule, even on days where he knew he had work, but today… well, he’d gotten a little carried away regaling Haiji with his exploits from the day prior.
Not like he could help it! It had been an exciting day! He’d just finished moving into Goto-san’s place, and the MMM girls had decided to throw a housewarming party, and there’d been a hotpot, and curry... The night had ended with him and Goto-san quietly washing the dishes together, and Masayoshi just felt so incredibly content with the memory, he’d probably lost track of time while telling Haiji all about it.
Or rather, that was definitely what had happened. And now, he was going to be late for his shoot. No matter how much nicer Ishihara-san had become ever since he’d taken his job seriously and come into his own, she’d never forgive tardiness, this much he knew for certain.
Still, at the pace he was currently moving at, he just might make it in time! Maybe a little sweaty for Ishihara-san’s liking, but that was nothing his makeup artist couldn’t fix, right? He just had to keep it up, and…
The oncoming intersection surprised him. He must not have noticed how quickly he’d actually been moving, because he wasn’t expecting to have hit this downhill stretch so quickly. Reflexively, he tried to put on the breaks, only to hear an unsettling rattling sound. A quick glance down showed him that he’d managed to dislodge his bike’s chain. With few remaining options, he tried to turn himself away from the intersection, aiming toward the only object that might bring him to a stop: a single lamp post sticking out of the side walk.
It may have been better than the intersection, but this wasn’t going to end well. Masayoshi had a moment to remember his smile from the previous night while he watched Goto-san’s profile, quietly drying the dishes Masayoshi had offered him. It was a nice memory to focus on before his forehead made a very solid impact against metal.
Nothing ever did go quite as according to plan.
It was quiet and peaceful at home when the call came in.
He’d been expecting to hear from Masayoshi sooner or later – he always did, after all. The model would likely be getting a break from today’s job sooner or later and would proceed to use that time to call up Goto, complaining about being bored or something like that, and he’d probably guilt Goto over refusing to go with him to see Haiji (even though they’d both know Masayoshi wasn’t being serious about it). And then, Goto would eventually cave and reluctantly (not really) head over to Masayoshi’s shoot to watch the rest of it, before escorting him back home to Goto’s apartment, which they were currently sharing. Maybe they’d stop somewhere for dinner on the way, or Masayoshi might feel like cooking instead.
It was all so routine at this point. Not that the police officer particularly minded, whatever he might otherwise say on the matter.
The fact that Masayoshi had become such a constant in Goto Hidenori’s life was, frankly, something he found himself incredibly grateful for. He’d been nothing short of a nuisance when they first met, and sure, Goto had called him a freak on more than one occasion, but the guy was just… tenaciously good. For all his weird habits and obsessions, he was probably the only truly good person Goto could say he knew. Well, that he knew anymore, anyway… And being able to admit for even second, even just to himself, that She was no longer here, was another thing he could thank Masayoshi’s influence for.
Masayoshi never hesitated to help people, or even to bend over backwards for them, and in spite of Goto constantly telling him that he couldn’t do it in the beginning, Samurai Flamenco had actually managed to change the world.
And he managed to change you as well, he noted quietly to himself with a rueful chuckle as he continued to flip through a magazine. He barely registered the fact that he happened to be reading an article about the man who was currently in his thoughts, probably because it was pretty impossible to avoid Masayoshi in any major magazine these days.
(Though, once again, it wasn’t as though Goto particularly minded seeing the model’s face everywhere with that annoyingly infectious grin of his.)
The sound of his phone ringing broke the peaceful silence of his apartment.
About time, he found himself thinking as he reached for the device, fully expecting to see Masayoshi’s name on his phone’s screen and prepared to be badgered into coming to see him.
It was not Masayoshi. It was a number that, given Goto’s field of work, he had become pretty familiar with at this point.
And as soon as he registered what that number was, he felt a sinking feeling in his gut.
The steady beep of a heart monitor and the soft whirring of ever-active machinery served both as a grim reminder and a distracting blessing. On the one hand, the constant sound only made him all too aware of where he was and why he was here. On the other, if he kept his eyes closed he could force himself to focus on it, washing all other thoughts from his head. He could use it as something to keep himself grounded, and to keep his mind from wandering to dark possibilities he didn’t want to consider. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, though, because every few minutes he couldn’t help but to open his eyes and glance at the unconscious figure lying still on the hospital bed in front of him.
Hazama Masayoshi was not meant to be seen like this.
He was supposed to be smiling a radiant smile, with wide, bright eyes so filled with unbelievable optimism it almost made you want to hit him. He was supposed to be making spastic, embarrassing motions and imitational hero poses, or chattering animatedly about his favorite shows, or justice, or curry, or whatever other trivial thoughts jumped to his head.
He wasn’t supposed to be lying in a bed looking broken, his face covered in patches and bandages while devoid of any expression, attached to machines that stuck into him and remaining utterly motionless save for the thankfully steady rise and fall of his chest. He wasn’t supposed to look so beaten and bruised over a bike accident.
This was Samurai Flamenco! The hero who had taken down thugs, monsters, aliens and even the Prime Minister of Japan! He’d come back victorious from impossible fights with little more than a few bruises or maybe a scar to show for it! And yet, of all things to put him out of commission…
Goto blinked back the pinprick of tears for maybe the fifth time in as many hours. Masayoshi really wouldn’t have wanted him to cry, and like hell was he going to do so when the guy could wake up at any time and catch him in the act.
Nice try, he thought, forcing a pained smile onto his face. I’m not gonna fall for it, though.
That had to be it. Any minute now, Masayoshi would wake up. He’d open his eyes and say something like ‘Hah! As if a lamp post could defeat an ally of justice!’ Goto would give him a punch for trying to give everyone a scare, and they’d go home.
Any minute now.
This really wasn’t a very funny joke, Masayoshi.
Five minutes passed, and Masayoshi still hadn’t opened his eyes. He was being stubborn about it, clearly. Really wanted to make sure Goto bought into it. Well, Goto could be stubborn too. Extremely so. He’d wait for as long as it took.
But, in the meantime, maybe he ought to close his eyes again and try to focus on the sound of the machines. He just needed a small distraction from Masayoshi’s childish game, just for a moment.
Oh god, please, Masayoshi. Please wake up.
“It seems to be a severe concussion,” the doctor had said, addressing the small group that had gathered.
Ishihara-san was there, of course – she’d been one of the first people to be called as one of Masayoshi’s emergency contacts. Goto had been the other. He’d called Mari and the girls, apparently, but to be honest he could barely remember doing so. Honestly, everything after getting the call from the hospital, right down to his arrival in this very room, was pretty hazy.
He still felt numb.
“Is he going to be alright?” Ishihara was asking, concern incredibly evident in her voice, and anyone could tell her primary concern was not merely the possible loss of an asset for Caesar Pro. The woman who was usually so strong and sometimes severe spoke with a wavering voice, and her eyes had a telltale shine to them.
“We can’t be certain,” the doctor replied, causing an even heavier hush to fall over the room. “Right now, there’s a definite lull in neurological activity. It isn’t quite to the level of activity loss we’d associate with being comatose, but…”
The word seemed to put the room on edge.
“…at any rate, we can safely assert he will not be waking up right away. The next couple of days will be crucial for him, in regards to mental activity. We’ll need to run CT scans, determine the state of his cerebral cortex, find…”
The words started to drown themselves out into white noise. Goto could no longer bring himself to focus on them. His eyes wandered the room, taking in expressions; Mizuki, looking concerned but standing firm, while Moe appeared to be on the verge of tears. Despite her usual antagonization, Mari looked to be at a loss, an empty sort of expression sitting on her features as she gazed toward the hospital bed.
Goto didn’t want to look there.
The Flamengers were here, too; he couldn’t honestly remember who’d called them. Hekiru and Anji seemed to be stoic as usual, though the creases on their brows told a more accurate story. Souichi was barely containing his distress. Even Sakura managed a strangely tender expression that Goto had figured only Kaname Jouji ever got to see.
Kaname himself wasn’t here. He was apparently off on some function or another, though Goto might have heard that he was making rush return plans upon receiving the news.
The doctor had stopped talking at some point and left the room. The others seemed to be talking amongst themselves in small groups now, their gazes never straying from Masayoshi’s quiet form for very long.
Goto continued to filter it all out.
This was some kind of joke. It had to be. Masayoshi wouldn’t… he couldn’t…
He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. A glance to the side showed him Mari, her jaw set in a firm expression as she stared unwaveringly at the sleeping man on the bed. She said nothing, and Goto didn’t really need her to.
His eyes snapped open as he jerked awake. He was unaware he’d fallen asleep in the first place, and it took a couple of moments to figure out where he was. It didn’t take his memory very long to catch up with him, and in an instant he was looking ahead to see…
Masayoshi sleeping. The same machines beeping and whirring. The same barely-visible motion that indicated he was breathing.
Goto waited expectantly for a moment, and then slouched backwards in his chair.
“Still…?” he asked himself quietly, his head tipping back to stare at the ceiling. He was alone now. The others had left, hours ago if the dark sky beyond the window was any indication. Goto had a moment to wonder why he was still there; he was pretty sure hospitals had a strict policy on visiting hours, and he had a distinct feeling it was more than just a bit late in the evening.
He brought his gaze forward again, taking in Masayoshi’s form as a deep, hollow sort of feeling took root somewhere in his chest.
“Did they really let you spend the night here?” Mizuki asked, eyebrow raised as she took a bite of one the sandwiches from the hospital cafeteria.
“I thought they didn’t even let family members do that,” Mari added, her own sandwich untouched.
Goto shrugged, not really having a particular answer for them. Not like he really knew why he hadn’t been booted out, either.
The girls had brought some food up for him as well, the wrapped item sitting in his lap, but he barely paid it any mind. His fingers itched for his lighter, and he felt jittery. It had probably been a full 24 hours since his last smoke, but he really didn’t want to leave this room unless absolutely necessary.
And he certainly wasn’t about to light up right there in the hospital room. They’d certainly kick him out then, and of course Masayoshi would lecture him for hours about it if he woke up to catch Goto in the act.
That idea almost made him consider doing it.
“If Mari-san was in the hospital,” Moe announced, continuing the conversation where Goto had failed to do so, “I wouldn’t budge from her side, no matter what! The doctors couldn’t make me leave.” Mari sighed, though she wore an affectionate smile, as Moe cuddled up to her side at that, happily munching away at her sandwich. “I’m sure it’s the same for Goto-san.”
She might have had a point. If Goto had actually been conscious when any nurses had come around to usher out visitors, he probably would have refused to budge regardless.
“Hey… are you doing alright?” Mizuki asked. Goto glanced up to see her fixing him with an appraising look. “We already know you slept here, and you don’t look like you’ve eaten anything in a while. You haven’t touched the food we brought you, either. Have you even been out to wash up?”
A sigh escaped his lips as he finally spoke up. “No, I haven’t. I don’t need to right now.”
He could see Mari glaring slightly, and he could never quite be sure of the exact reason for why with her. Mizuki took notice as well, but stepped in again before the other girl opened her mouth. “He’ll be right here, Goto-san. You’re going to need to take care of yourself, too.”
He didn’t feel like saying out loud that he didn’t want to miss it if Masayoshi woke up while he was gone. Either way, it seemed like Mizuki was intent on being rather firm about it. His fingers and toes continued to twitch, and that hollow feeling in his chest was demanding to be filled with something, something that could distract him. He really needed that smoke.
“Alright,” he relented. “Keep an eye on him.”
Under Mizuki’s insistence (which probably stemmed from Mari, who wouldn’t say a word to him but seemed to be using Mizuki as a proxy. Probably because they both knew she was too blunt for her own good sometimes), Goto had gotten out of the hospital for a bit.
He’d eaten, had a smoke (or two, or three, or four… it was easy to lose track), and had considered washing up in one of the bathrooms. Upon further consideration, though, he opted to return home instead. It’d probably be more convenient if he grabbed a few things from home to take with him back to the hospital, after all. Some instant food from the cupboard (definitely not Masayoshi’s curry), a few DVDs (definitely not Masayoshi’s shows), some clothes (definitely nothing the model had picked out for him), the usual sort of fair…
His eyes settled on his cell phone charger, an item he’d left behind the day prior in his haste. He became suddenly more aware of the weight in his pocket. Come to think of it, he hadn’t sent a single message, hadn’t even thought about it, since receiving the news. His phone had been so far away from his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed when the battery died.
It was startling, honestly, to realize that he’d managed to pass so much time without Her entering his thoughts even once. Of course, now that she was on his mind he couldn’t help but to imagine what she might be saying to him right now.
Cheer up, Go-chin! Yoshi will be fine, you’ll see! ( ° ∀ ° ） ╯✧
He sure is lucky to have someone like you looking after him! I know you won’t give up!!
Imagining the words was honestly more painful than he cared to admit, but he tried not to dwell on it. Masayoshi needed him right now, and for as long as Masayoshi had constantly been there for him, even when he definitely shouldn’t have bothered sticking around, Goto sure as hell wasn’t about to cave to despair so soon.
Furious. Absolutely furious. Beyond furious. He was going to kill this kid. He was going to kill him if it was the last thing he did, even if it meant life in prison. Sawada Haiji just smirked at him, and Goto knew full well he was doing exactly what the little bastard wanted, but he didn’t care. Because of him, Her last message… the last thing he had of her… it was gone. There was no getting that back. It couldn’t be undone.
But there was Masayoshi.
Masayoshi standing in the way, ridiculous and naked as the day Goto had first met him. The situation was oddly familiar, actually. Goto staring at this strange, naked man and yelling at him, telling him to shut up and stay away, Masayoshi frantically waving his arms and trying to prove a point Goto didn’t want to hear. And then a jarring action which grabbed Goto’s attention unlike anything else.
Except this time it wasn’t a spontaneous fire in an alleyway.
“Goto-san, let’s get married!”
The words shocked him. His grip on the gun slackened.
And Masayoshi kept going. He repeated the impromptu proposal, started prattling on about promises of protection, of being there forever, of doing everything for Goto his girlfriend would have. Goto called him an idiot. It was the first thing that came to mind, honestly; he was too completely flustered to really process what was happening right now. Had Masayoshi seriously just…?
“I’m serious!!” he declared shortly thereafter as though to answer the thought. He wasn’t budging. He started talking about love, and Goto could not, would not entertain this conversation, not right now, he couldn’t do it, he-
Masayoshi started calling him an idiot. A lot. A whole lot. Goto lost count of how many times he managed to spit that word out at him. He was crying, too.
‘How?’
The thought reverberated through him solidly.
‘How can he be like this?’
‘How can he say these things to me?’
‘How can he mean it?’
‘How is he still standing here with me after all of this?’
He’d fallen to his knees that night, quiet tears falling while confusing and overwhelming thoughts of Masayoshi and Her paraded through his devastated mind, questions with no clear answers echoing in his skull and all of them being connected to the naked, crying, desperate man in front of him.
A new message arrived on his phone. Masayoshi was crouching in front of him. She was promising to depart on a journey. For the faintest moment of clarity, Goto thought maybe that’d be fine, because there was still someone else here with him now.
He awoke again to find the night sky outside the hospital window.
The room was empty again, save for its sole two, quiet occupants. Goto supposed this just confirmed that for whatever reason, the hospital staff was content to leave him alone in here.
The police officer rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he regarded Masayoshi. Still no signs of activity. The doctor had been in earlier that day and made some vague statements about slight mental activity but he’d offered nothing conclusive regarding whether or not it was assured that Masayoshi would actually wake up. They were nearing their second day. That alone was a bad sign, as far as Goto was concerned. People didn’t usually take two days to just sleep off an injury.
Quietly, the man scooted his chair closer to Masayoshi’s bed, closer than he’d dared to allow himself previously; the cowardly part of him hadn’t wanted to see his friend up close if there was a risk he’d never see his eyes open again. He pressed forward, though, not stopping until he’d managed to set himself right beside the other man, close enough that his arms could rest on the edge of the bed.
He almost wanted to smack Masayoshi out of a faint sense of irritation when he saw him up close; of course he managed to still look stunning even after a head injury and while covered up in bandages.
“Damn model,” he spat with no real venom, his dry snort possessing at least a drop of humor. “No mercy on the rest of us, huh?”
Idly his thoughts wandered back to some time ago, when Masayoshi had once appeared before him in a police uniform he’d had to wear for a photo shoot, asking how it looked. Goto had flatly told him to die then, overcome with a brief sense of jealousy that Masayoshi made it look so incredible.
In hindsight, he really regretted ever saying that, even jokingly. He also pondered, once again in hindsight, that maybe it wasn’t just jealousy that provoked such a statement from him, followed by averted eyes. Maybe it also had something to do with how embarrassed he’d gotten when Masayoshi had gone on to assure Goto that he was handsome too, even going so far as to bring up specific features he liked.
He lifted a hand, hesitating briefly, before bringing it up to Masayoshi’s face. With a feather-light touch he brushed a few strands of chestnut-colored hair from his smooth cheeks. He’d have killed to see a slight twitch from Masayoshi’s eyelashes at that, but his face remained still.
Goto rested his hand more firmly against the other man’s cheek then, a deep frown on his face as his thumb absently rubbed a small circle against the sleeping hero’s face.
“Masayoshi,” he murmured. “…I’m not sure what I can say to you right now.”
What was he supposed to say? Nothing? Everything?
There was honestly a lot to say, and he wasn’t even sure how much of it actually mattered if it was put into words or not, especially when Masayoshi might not even hear them. Or rather, when he almost definitely couldn’t.
Masayoshi might be slipping away at this very moment. He might be falling deeper into a sleep he’d never wake up from and it terrified the officer. It terrified him because it almost felt like when he was losing Her all over again. The helplessness.
He’d searched for days and never found her back then. He’d sent messages and received no response, not until her defeated father had brought the phone to him with pleas that he stop what he was doing. He’d been powerless to do anything back then; nothing he could do could change her situation.
Of course, back then, he also had no idea what had even happened to her. He still didn’t.
Not like now. Now he had Masayoshi sitting right in front of him. He wasn’t missing, off somewhere where no one could find him, sitting at some mysterious, unobtainable status. He was real and physical and right here and yet Goto still couldn’t do a damn thing for him.
For the second time in his life, Hidenori felt the worst kind of helplessness. He felt the sinking feeling in his chest that signaled the resignation of loss and yet the refusal to accept it. And he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to endure this again if it actually came to pass.
“Do you remember… when we met?” he asked. Masayoshi, of course, offered no response. “I told you before, that night at the park. I thought you were seriously a freak.”
His thumb continued to rub what he hoped were soothing circles against the sleeping model’s cheek. His thoughts became filled with everything that had happened since that meeting. He told Masayoshi he trusted freaks more than he trusted heroes. And Masayoshi had certainly earned that trust.
He remembered Guillotine Gorilla, and how close Masayoshi had come to losing his head right alongside Hidenori’s fellow officers that day. He remembered the terror he’d felt at the prospect.
He remembered looking up Masayoshi’s webpage the day after having met him, oddly intrigued by this weirdo and staring at his face for probably a lot longer than was necessary.
He remembered driving a car into a rocket because Masayoshi had asked him to, too pumped up on the adrenaline of the situation to think about how concerned he was at leaving Masayoshi to handle King Torture alone.
He thought about that time Masayoshi’s face had gotten really, really close as he talked about the heroes he loved so much, probably completely oblivious to the idea of personal space, and he thought about how completely flustered he’d been over it.
He thought about looking at Masayoshi’s name in his phone, the night before the battle with From Beyond, and how heavy his heart felt. He’d had something to say to him back then, he knew he did, but for the life of him he had no idea what that something was. He might have even been relieved when Harakiri Sunshine had told him he wouldn’t deliver a message to Masayoshi on his behalf, because he was half sure he still hadn’t figured out what exactly that message would have been.
He thought about how Masayoshi had warmly wished him a Merry Christmas, and how his face had lit up when Hidenori had promised to spend Christmas with him, eating a Christmas cake and watching Red Axe.
He thought about staring up at the moon as he chain-smoked his way to an early grave, waiting for Masayoshi to return from his battle with the Alien Flamenco and refusing to budge from his spot until he did.
He thought about Masayoshi hugging him that time after Hidenori had aced the trivia game show, and how soft his fair felt as he leaned into it, and how comfortable he refused to admit to being with Masayoshi’s arms wrapped around him.
He thought about Masayoshi on the verge of tears talking about loving him and offering a naked proposal of marriage and swearing to do everything for him and protect him for the rest of their lives.
And he thought about the idea of Masayoshi never waking up from the spot he was in now.
“You know, y-you,” he began, his words shaky and his eyes hot. “You just showed up in my life one day, a damned weirdo pervert walking around nude. God knows I’d have had a lot more peace without you, but you had to just…” He heard himself sniff. “You had to shake up everything. You turned the world upside down, pretty damned literally, you showoff, and…”
His hands were shaking. He could feel the wetness on his cheeks but as long as he was alone right now, he wasn’t about to care. At this point he wouldn’t even care if Masayoshi woke up and saw him. Please let him wake up.
“You changed things,” he said. “You really did it. You started from, the most—, the simplest, stupidest little things, and you built from there and now…”
Hidenori’s other hand found its way up onto the bed, fisting at the sheets, and after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed the unresponsive hand of the other man and squeezed.
“Now the world is different. I’m different. I’m…”
I’m incomplete without you around, now.
“You stuck on me like a leech, and I guess somewhere along the lines… I really stopped minding it. You’ve done… so much. For the world, and for me, too. Probably more than you even realize you’ve done.”
If Masayoshi had been awake right now, Hidenori was fairly sure he would not have managed to say any of these things. The truth was he was still a coward when it came to this area, when it came to facing up to feelings he was scared of admitting to, feelings that carried implications he didn’t usually want to consider, feelings that could mean truly letting go of a piece of his past he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.
But Masayoshi was not awake. And Hidenori was alone, and desperate, and right now the thought of please wake up, please was more important than his subconscious fears.
“I never got a chance to give you an answer, you know,” he stated, even more quietly than before. “About… your proposal. You’re not ever gonna get it if you don’t… wake up.”
The hand on Masayoshi’s face slid away, joining its twin at the hero’s left hand. Hidenori clasped it between his own and bowed forward almost as though in prayer, Masayoshi’s hand pressed to his forehead.
“Wake up, Yoshi… please. Please just wake up.”
At some point he’d moved away from the bed, his face buried into the palms of his hands as he quietly, minutely, shook. Sleep came eventually.
It had been two full days and was approaching a third, and the police officer had forced himself to leave the room again to handle a few essential activities. Visiting the bathroom, having another few smokes, grabbing a bite to eat, and other such mundane things.
Mineral Miracle Muse had come again, and had been surprised to find him in somewhat better spirits. He was glad they thought so, at least. Goto figured he was probably just doing a better job of keeping it together on the outside; after last night’s break, he didn’t need to be showing remnants of that fragility to anyone.
Ishihara had come by for a while as well, staying for a while before she’d had to excuse herself for other business. Goto couldn’t blame her, though. She was hard at work ensuring that things were kept smooth for Masayoshi’s return, an event which she acted as though she was completely assured of.
Goto envied her confidence.
Harazuka and Kaname had come again, and with the way Harazuka spoke earnestly with Masayoshi’s doctor on the state of his condition, you’d never know the man didn’t professionally practice medical science.
At the moment, though, it was just the girls in the hospital room with Masayoshi. The officer had excused himself to go find a drink, not particularly willing to leave Masayoshi’s side but wary that Mari and Mizuki would just get strict with him if he didn’t.
“…The melon bread looks nice~”
Goto blinked. Moe’s musical voice was recognizable anywhere, and he found himself sweeping his gaze across the cafeteria until he landed on the familiar head of dark blue hair. She was gazing hungrily at some of the bread on display near one of the serving counters, Mari following her gaze as she pointed it out while Mizuki stood nearby, ordering something else.
Alright, correction. At the moment, the girls were supposed to be in the hospital room with Masayoshi. Goto gritted his teeth and marched over.
“Hey!” he called, grabbing their attention immediately. “What are you all doing down here? I thought I left you upstairs to watch him!”
“Busted,” Mari stated, though her expression didn’t indicate any particular anxiety. “Come on, Mr. Police Officer, try and relax a little. Samumenco’s not gonna disappear if we step away for a few minutes. We were hungry, too.”
“That’s not the point!” he replied, his clear irritation doing nothing to dissuade Mari’s slight grin. Oh, they may have reconciled over their differences but this girl could still drive him up the wall with not a lot of effort. “What if he wakes up and there’s no one there!”
At this, Mari simply sighed, holding up a hand when it looked like Mizuki might be about to step in and speak for her. “Goto-san,” she stated with a level voice. “He’s going to be ok.”
Goto had to take a moment to wonder if he’d ever actually heard her call him by that name before, or if it had always been ‘Mr. Police Officer’. Her words seemed very serious, too, which was certainly an unusual tone to hear from her.
“I may not know much about the whole ‘boundless optimism’ thing,” she said, offering the man a soft smile. “But there’s one thing I do believe. Samumenco can’t be beaten. It just can’t be done.”
The simple words had somehow managed to leave him with no retort. Mari only let the silence hang for a second, though, before immediately cutting back in with her usual vigor. “But if you ever tell him, or anyone else, that I said that, I’ll kill you!” she threatened, her heel stomping the ground in an additional, unvoiced threat that Goto knew all too well of.
Moe giggled behind her while Mizuki gave her a placating pat on the shoulder, muttering “Hey, now,” while Mari maintained her challenging stare.
Goto straightened up and tried not to let on that Mari’s words had actually improved his spirits a bit. Instead, he blew a derisive snort, muttered “Unbelievable,” and then proclaimed that he was off to check on Masayoshi, taking very deliberate steps the whole way.
The triplet smiles that watched him go went ignored.
Darkness gradually gave way to a blinding white.
It took several moments of this before the whiteness started to dissipate a bit, shapes gradually coming into focus. The brightness dimmed to tolerable levels and eventually, solid images began to form in front of him.
A grainy ceiling. A metal pole of some kind sitting off to his right, out of the corner of his eye. Sound came back next. There was… beeping. Beeping and humming, like from the computers in Ishihara-san’s office. Then there was feeling, the first of which was a dull throb in his head that made him wince. His right arm felt heavy, too, and he gradually realized he had something sticking out of it.
He moved his head around, relieved to find that he could (unsure of exactly what, but sure by now that something must have been wrong) and managed to get a full look around at his surroundings.
“Weird…” he mumbled, taking in the sight of an IV attached to his arm, his slightly raised bed, the beeping monitor, and a bouquet of roses nearby. “This is…”
A hospital?
That was so strange. Hadn’t he been in the Edo period a moment ago? Had he managed to get home? How did he manage that? He remembered traveling through time and meeting everyone’s ancestors, who all bore uncanny resemblances to their future offspring, and… Someone had helped him! There was a burning building, and Masayoshi had had to save Goto-san’s ancestor, who had been trapped beneath a wooden beam! Right, that’s right, because Masayoshi certainly couldn’t leave him behind to die. He couldn’t bear even the thought! And just when he’d been so relieved in the morning that he’d saved him, and his heart felt so full, he… heard something… Someone telling him to… wake up?
Wait, now that he thought of it, how had he traveled through time again? There was… something… He couldn’t quite remember…
The door to his room suddenly opened up and Masayoshi found his gaze drawn to the familiar face of Goto Hidenori, who was wearing an incredibly gloomy expression. That is, until he looked up and saw Masayoshi staring back at him.
His eyes shot wide open.
“Masayoshi!?” he exclaimed, practically sprinting to the model’s bedside with a stunned expression. “Have you finally come to?”
“Goto-san…” Masayoshi murmured, oddly transfixed by everything he saw on the other man’s face.
There was evident distress, and disbelief, and his eyes were wider than Masayoshi was sure he’d ever seen them. He looked a bit disheveled, too, and Masayoshi wanted to ask if he was feeling alright but couldn’t seem to find his voice. And then there was relief, and… oh, wow, were those tears? Masayoshi had only seen this maybe two times (and the first time was only a glimpse while Goto-san claimed to have something in his eye), but there were definitely tears sitting in the corners of Goto-san’s eyes right now, threatening to fall.
Masayoshi had no words to really describe the sort of expression Goto-san was making right now. But as distraught as it looked, if he had to place it on any spectrum… he was pretty sure he might go with happy. And he wasn’t sure why, because there was nothing about it that really looked happy – the flushed cheeks, the barely contained tears, the frown – but there was just… something. In the eyes, maybe. Something told him Goto-san was happy.
“Tha…” he started, and then abruptly the man practically toppled forward, bracing his arms against Masayoshi’s bed and bowing his head. His hands seemed to catch on Masayoshi’s IV-free arm, resting beneath the sheets, and he could feel how Goto-san clutched at it.
“Thank God…” he said.
For a long, quiet moment, nothing more was said. Just as Masayoshi seemed to have found his voice, though, Goto-san’s head snapped back up and he was wearing a more familiar, angry sort of expression (though Masayoshi didn’t miss the tears which seemed to still be barely there).
“Don’t ever let me worry like that ever again, idiot!” he shouted.
“S-sorry?” Masayoshi squeaked back, a nervous smile on his face.
“You’ve been out cold for two days, idiot!” Goto-san continued, his volume never decreasing. “Who gets in a bike accident so bad they have to be hospitalized for two days!? Are you some kind of idiot?”
Well, you do keep calling me one, Masayoshi thought, though he figured it best not to vocalize this.
It was silent again, and when Masayoshi dared to take in Goto-san’s expression the heat seemed to have left him, and instead he was just staring at Masayoshi almost as if in disbelief. By now, Masayoshi could remember what he’d been doing just before his escapade into the past, though it’s not as though Goto-san hadn’t spelled that out for him pretty clearly just now anyhow.
Speaking of that…
He grinned triumphantly, prepared to lighten the mood instantly. “Goto-san, was your ancestor an Edo-period phantom thief?”
“…Huh?”
Masayoshi blinked. “Your ancestor. I’m pretty sure I met him! I traveled back in time after my accident, see, and-”
The other man instantly clapped his hands to his face, covering it up and breathing a sigh through his fingers.
“…Goto-san?”
“You just wake up from a two-and-a-half day coma, worrying me sick, and the first thing to come out of your mouth is a story about time travel.” Gradually, the officer slid his palms down his face resignedly, revealing perhaps what might have been the fondest smile Masayoshi had ever seen. Goto-san was really surprising him with the expressions today. “You… complete and utter moron.”
A few giggles escaped the bedridden man at that, and he could feel warmth flooding his cheeks. Something about being looked at the way Goto-san was doing it, just…
And then the expression changed again. Goto-san’s smile slowly slipped away and his gaze became more focused, and intense. He made a point of holding Masayoshi’s gaze, which only made the hero feel a greater, unexplainable sense of anxiety. Once again, he wasn’t sure how to describe the way he was being looked at now, but…
But when Goto-san suddenly stooped down and drew closer and Masayoshi’s heartbeat sped up, he didn’t even have to think before his lips were parting slightly and his eyes were closing and there, there were Goto-san’s lips pressed firmly against his own, pressing with an urgency that made it seem like he was scared Masayoshi was going to vanish.
Absently, he noted that this was his first kiss. He’d never given much thought to the subject, honestly, or to the idea of love in general up until recently, in fact, but with Goto-san’s lips pressed so solidly against his own while his hand held softly to Masayoshi’s cheek, and with the hero’s heart beating maybe a mile a minute (and the heart monitor nearby making sure that that was apparent) Masayoshi found himself thinking: wow. Wow. He could get used to this feeling.
The kiss wasn’t anything special, really. Honestly, the two were simply pressing their lips together, not really moving or anything like that, but… But when Goto-san finally pulled away with a light smacking sound between their lips, looking flushed and breathless, Masayoshi was pretty certain that what had just happened was probably the most amazing thing in the world.
“Goto-san…”
The police officer seemed like he might have been at a loss for words. He was looking away now, and it was one of the only times Masayoshi had ever seen him looking thoroughly embarrassed with himself. Masayoshi wondered if Goto-san’s heart was beating as fast as his own was. He wondered if maybe this meant he hadn’t been wrong when he figured he definitely loved Goto-san.
“…If your ancestor had seen this, I guess he would have been even more wary of me.”
Had he actually said that out loud?
Goto-san fixed him with a very confused stare. “Huh?”
Masayoshi, flustered and now unable to shut up, continued. “When I met him, I ended up grabbing his face, and even hugging him, and he got worried about sharing a room with me after that…”
Goto-san’s perplexed look only grew deeper.
“Oh, but I guess he slapped me on the rear first, and even complimented my appearance, so…”
“Wait, wait, he—What?”
Masayoshi grinned brightly, pulling his sheets up his chest further like a child. “Maybe he was just nervous, like Goto-san then! He must have just been too embarrassed to be honest about liking me.”
At this point, Goto-san looked as though he might have been ready to walk out of the room simply from second-hand embarrassment.
“…Huh,” Masayoshi remarked, suddenly thoughtful.
“…‘Huh’?” Goto parroted, and then noticed Masayoshi staring at his legs.
“Goto-san’s ancestor had really nice-looking thighs. I wonder if it’s the same for Goto-san.”
“Y-You,” the officer stepped back, then stepped forward again. “You say you traveled back in time to meet my ancestor, and you were checking out his thighs!? Damn right he should have been wary of you!”
And without thinking, because it was just so routine by now, he reached out and pinched the other man’s cheek, still unable to believe the turn this conversation had taken, especially after they had just… Unbelievable! And that idiot was just laughing it up!
“Oh, that’s funny, eh?” Goto asked, tightening his hold.
Masayoshi stopped laughing at this point and started whining instead. “Goto-san, that hurts, that hurts!”
“Sorry for interrupting,” Mizuki’s voice called from the doorway, the sound of the door sliding open announcing the return of the Flamenco Girls. “Ah, you’ve woken up, kid,” she added, a smug tone in her voice which was clearly directed at Goto – she might have heard Masayoshi’s loud voice from the hallway, it figured…
“What are you guys doing!?” Mari then exclaimed, once the trio had noticed the savage cheek-pinching that was currently in-progress. “And to a patient, too.”
Maybe they really should have been the ones to have stayed behind and kept watch. Sheesh, were the Flamenco Girls the only competent people around??
After the doctors had been rushed in to check on Masayoshi’s condition and make sure everything was alright (which, miraculously, it was; the neurologist in particular seemed to actually be surprised that Masayoshi was awake after displaying so little mental activity), phone calls had been made and everyone had been alerted that their favorite hero was safe and sound.
Ishihara was on her way, and Souichi had promised that he’d be along as soon as possible as well, and that he’d be letting the other Flamengers know.
In the meantime, Masayoshi had regaled Goto and the girls with his story of how he’d apparently traveled through time while he was unconscious, visiting the Edo period and meeting everyone’s ancestors. Mari had had some choice phrases in response to how he had described her ancestor (supposedly rather timid and meek) and had to be restrained after she threatened to smack Masayoshi a good one and send him back to the past.
The story had been incredibly entertaining, honestly, and Goto had found himself paying rapt attention to it. And not particularly even because it was interesting, though it certainly was, but more so because… well, he was still processing that Masayoshi was sitting here, awake, telling his usual stories, and this time Goto didn’t particularly feel like taking that fact for granted.
Every now and then Masayoshi would toss him a sideways glance while speaking, and it wasn’t missed how his expression became just a touch more tender, especially as he described his valiant efforts to keep Goto’s ancestor on the path of justice.
“Then, what were your ancestors like?” Goto asked, after Masayoshi had seemingly finished and Mari was off complaining with Moe.
“My ancestors?” he asked, blinking.
“Sure,” Goto answered. “If my ancestor was there, then surely yours was too.”
And he couldn’t really say why he felt so sure of that. Maybe, though, when he thought about his own life now… When he thought back to last night… Maybe it had occurred to him that he could no longer conceive a life that didn’t have Masayoshi in it.
A scary thought.
An exhilarating thought.
A heavy thought.
A liberating thought.
He stared at Masayoshi expectantly, and he found himself hoping it was the same for him.
And then Masayoshi fixed him with the brightest grin he could muster, and proudly stated, “He was an ally of justice.”
Hidenori stared at him for a moment. And then he burst out into a bright smile of his own, laughing into his fist.
“I knew you’d say that.”
There was going to be a lot to think about later. And a lot to talk about. Frankly, it made Hidenori’s head spin.
But for right now, with Masayoshi awake and with him again, and with Mari exclaiming that he’d be treating them to hotpot when he was discharged as an apology for making them worry, and with Masayoshi repeatedly tossing him knowing, tender smiles, Goto Hidenori decided that, for now,
This is enough.