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In Smith’s absence, Isami expected to find only loneliness.
But he didn’t. The man he loved echoed in those around them, never really leaving Isami alone.
Lulu was the most obvious case. She was Smith’s kid, after all, as much as anyone could’ve been after knowing him for less than a month. It was clear their time together hadn’t gone to waste: she wore his shirts, used his catchphrases, and loved his favorite shows. She dove into Superbia in his place, and actually bent the Deathdrive to her will. In all respects, she was Smith’s mini-me, and she’d stepped into that role proudly. It was part of why Isami had found himself warming up to her alongside Smith.
But Isami had to remind himself, sometimes, that she wasn’t Smith. Smith was gone. He wasn’t coming back, no matter how strongly Isami wished for a miracle to make it happen. It was easier to remember when he looked at her; her pink eyes and translucent hair were inhuman in a way Smith had never been.
And then there was Bravern.
He and Smith were so similar, at times, that it drove Isami crazy. Their bright-eyed talk of heroism, of saving the world. The way they approached each battle like it was an episode of a 1970s tokusatsu show, and not a harrowing fight to the death. The way they both wanted, so badly, to save everyone—but only with Isami’s help.
It was too much for Isami, at first. He wasn’t a henshin hero, or even a hero at all. He wasn’t made for shit like this, as he’d quickly discovered during his first-ever actual battle. He wasn’t brave or strong. He was just scared.
He’d been so scared at the beginning. If he messed up, his life would be in danger. Everyone else’s would be, too. That was a responsibility he’d never asked for, and that he certainly couldn’t bear alone.
But…he wasn’t alone. He never had been. Smith had been by his side, squishing Isami’s face tight enough to remind him of that fact. Bravern, too, had ushered Isami into every battle and guided him through everything that needed to be done.
Isami wasn’t alone. Even…even after Smith had died. He’d left Isami too soon—but Bravern was still there.
And their voices overlapped, sometimes: Bravern would say something, and Isami would hear Smith say it too. Mostly, it happened while they were complimenting Isami, and insisting he was a hero. That wasn’t true; that had never been true. Both Bravern and Smith fit the bill better than Isami could ever hope to.
But…Isami didn’t want to let Smith down. He couldn’t. There was one less hero in the world, so Isami would have to step up and play the part that he shouldn’t have even made understudy for.
He did his best. Bravern called him brave. Isami’s tattered heart hoped Smith would have agreed with him.
And then Bravern declared his love for Isami.
Time stopped. Isami heard Smith’s voice echoing in Bravern’s, again. Bravern had always been the louder of the two, but Smith’s insistence was nothing to scoff at. He had always been so determined while building Isami up. And this declaration; this confession…
It was just wishful thinking on Isami’s part. He and Smith were friends. It wouldn’t do Isami any good to think about what-ifs forever.
But some small, disloyal part of him considered it anyway. What if it had been Smith who’d thrown himself at Isami? Who’d used the word love?
It was hardly a question. Isami would’ve given anything to save that world.
After dinner, Isami and Bravern had made their way to the shoreline. Isami had never understood the allure of the beach before that night. Sitting in wet dirt while doing anything seemed less appealing than just doing that thing, preferably in air conditioning. But while jogging alongside the ocean, drinking in the salty air and feeling the cool sand squish beneath his feet…Isami had fun. The very first shred of it he’d managed since losing Smith.
Bravern had given him that.
At some point, Isami tripped over his own feet, like a giddy schoolboy with a crush. He landed in the soft sand and rolled onto his back. He let himself laugh at his own clumsiness, and then looked up at the stars.
They were beautiful. The night sky shone bright with them, like a reflection of the sea and its foam. Like the earth and the infinite heavens were one and the same, and flecks of light could bounce between them and echo forever. Isami counted a million different shades of blue, each as calm and warm as the last. He could dive deep into any one of those blues and feel safe. Like he did in Bravern’s cockpit, with fluid filling his lungs.
Bravern collapsed onto his back in the sand beside Isami, also laughing with pleasure. He hadn’t prodded Isami about his unreturned confession. He hadn’t even mentioned it.
Isami swallowed and kept his eyes on the stars. There were two right above him, shining brighter than the rest: Vega and Altair.
Orihime and Hikoboshi.
The lovers. Separated all year, and only allowed one short meeting during the summer months. Isami had never been one for Tanabata festivities, the same way he’d never been one for beaches, but…
He let his head fall to the side and studied the sharp lines of Bravern’s face. Would it be wrong to accept a confession when his heart was still trying to make it back to the hole in his chest left by Smith’s death? Would it be wrong to accept a confession from someone who was, at times, inseparable from Smith, in Isami’s eyes?
What would Smith think, if he knew the crisis Isami was dealing with?
Isami couldn’t help a quiet chuckle at that last thought. Smith had thrown himself eagerly at both Bravern and Superbia. He’d also supported Isami since they met, no matter how badly he’d wanted what Isami had. There was no reason for Isami to think Smith wouldn’t be the first one in line to give him a thumbs-up and a wink, and encourage him down this path. No matter how weird it would be.
Bravern turned his head. Their eyes met. “What is it, Isami? What’s so funny?”
Isami shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. Then he rolled onto his knees and crossed the few meters between them before awkwardly climbing up Bravern’s torso. He hooked his toes into the slot that outlined Bravern’s core—his heart—for balance, and leaned forward. He set his palms against Bravern’s cheeks to brace himself in place. “Just…thinking.”
Bravern smiled. It would’ve been sweet, but it pulled Isami’s hands out from under him and he pitched forward, falling inelegantly against Bravern’s face.
“Mmmf!” Bravern exclaimed. Then, out of the side of his mouth that Isami wasn’t laying across, he gave a muffled, “Sorry, Isami.”
Isami considered his current state. “Don’t apologize,” he decided. He shimmied back, just a little, and studied Bravern’s mouth for the first time.
He had lips. It wouldn’t be impossible.
Isami leaned down and kissed him.
Bravern spasmed under him, but one of his hands quickly cupped Isami’s back and made sure he wouldn’t fall off. Because Bravern was always keeping Isami safe, whether it be from enemies on a battlefield or from his comrade’s invasive questions.
Isami didn’t know how to kiss another human, let alone a giant robot, so it didn’t last long. When he pulled back, he found himself smiling.
“That was pretty cool,” Bravern said. He sounded a little dazed.
He sounded like Smith.
“It was,” Isami agreed. Then he dipped forward and kissed him again.