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Tsukishima sat by Koito’s side, on an old chair he had managed to find.
It didn’t offer much support, and every sway of the boat threatened to topple him over if he wasn’t careful. But it allowed him to be at Koito’s face level, working on his rifle maintenance, both of them awake and aware of each other’s presence, saying nothing.
“Why didn’t you follow Asirpa?”
A simple question from Koito breaking the silence. Tsukishima absent-mindedly halted his busywork, just for a second, trying to think. Trying to understand himself why he had stayed by Koito’s side.
“I wouldn’t have been of any help. If they hadn’t been caught then by someone else, then we wouldn’t catch them.” He went back to his rifle.
Another moment of silence, interrupted only by the mechanical clinking of the metal parts, the machinery humming softly in the background, the sound of the waves hitting the sides of the ship.
“The stab wasn’t life-threatening. I would’ve been fine.”
Tsukishima sighed and put his rifle down. There was no use in trying to get anything done, not when his mind was elsewhere. Back in Karafuto. And even further then, back in the Russian floes, where he had seen Koito get angry over Tsukishima’s injury, fight back against a man twice his size, slice clean through a grenade that had been sent directly towards him.
There had been a passion there, raw emotions from Koito that Tsukishima knew he had never seen from any of his superior officers. There was an anger and rage that had been fuelled by the desire to protect, rather than to destroy, an energy that came from caring for another living being, rather than the sorrow of a dead, wasted life. It was something he knew Tsurumi would have never done. It had been a stupid and brash decision, something an Intelligence Officer with years of experience and an obsession with control knew to be a poor move. But it had been genuine, a glimpse into a relationship that wasn’t a sticky sweet web of lies, entangling every aspect of his being regardless of if he struggled to break free or not.
“You tried to remove the bayonet. It would’ve caused lasting damage to the muscles.”
Tsukishima would rather die than admit to Koito that he had stayed there to try and pay him back for what no one else had ever done for him. That he had stuck by his side because he had been worried, and he didn’t want Koito to get hurt over stupid mistakes. And that despite everything he had told him the night before Tsurumi arrived, he still felt the guilt of abducting an innocent teen, of manipulating a boy just to get to his father. Tsurumi had saved Koito from his darkness then, showing him how much his father loved him. Freeing him of his guilt. And yet in doing so, he had doomed him to a life of death and hurt, trying to reach up to a man who had discarded feelings like guilt and regret a long time ago.
“And you would’ve bled out. Sir.”
Koito shifted in his hammock, trying to turn his head to look at Tsukishima. His efforts were rewarded with a sharp pain in his shoulder, and he hissed as his Sergeant got up to re-adjust the weight of his body so it wouldn’t all press down on his injury.
As Tsukishima backed away from the cot, Koito reached out to grab his hand, before he could leave his reach.
“If this happens again, you need to prioritize the mission.”
If this happens again, you’ll die.
Tsukishima bit back his retort, gritting his teeth against it. He sighed, and looked back at Koito’s determined gaze, expecting an answer.
“If you’re careful, sir, this won’t happen again.”
A non-answer. Left open for interpretation. Koito must’ve pulled the meaning he wanted out of his words, as he smiled at Tsukishima and let go of his arm, the glimmer back in his eyes. It broke Tsukishima’s heart.
“You’re right, Tsukishima. This won’t happen again.”
Tsukishima didn’t correct him. Being careful just wasn’t in Koito’s nature. He would need to be careful for both of them, for Koito’s sake, and for the success of Tsurumi’s plans. This wouldn’t happen again. This couldn’t happen again.
“Thank you, Tsukishima.”
Koito mumbled some last words of gratitude before dozing away, his body still working on his recovery.
“It’s nothing, sir.”
Tsukishima settled into the shabby chair for another vigil of watching over Koito. He still wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to dote over him in such a way, knowing full-well that it was dangerous for both of them to develop this kind of care for each other in these circumstances. But as he dozed off himself, precariously resting his head on the back of the chair, his last thoughts were of Koito, and in a split moment that he’d never remember once awake, his feelings were clearer than ever.
I’m just glad you’re alive.