Work Text:
Earth, Harklight finds, is not quite the dream-world Slaine depicted it to be. The first day Harklight remembers is grey, not a single ray of light visible behind the layers of cloud. And that, though a little depressing to think about, is about the best first impression of the planet he could get.
This new world holds a lot of promise outside. As Harklight recovers, Count Barouhcruz shows him all the things Vers never had: trees, birds, flowers that bloom and grow. And one day, they even go see the ocean and bask in the beauty of their new world.
But every time Harklight experiences something new, disappointment weighs heavier on his heart. The trees burst with brilliant colors but lose it just as quickly. The birds sing, but they too fly away with the heat. Flowers still wilt, no matter how hard he tries to keep them alive.
And the ocean, that’s worst of all. It’s dark, bland blue, broken only by the white, frothy waves. It doesn’t sparkle like a gem or even spark curiosity in the world beyond. It just is, crashing against the shore like a metronome. Harklight stands a long time just listening to it, praying his rushing heart will ease but knowing it never will.
This is Earth. This is the world Slaine spoke so highly of.
Yet standing here, standing at what many consider the most perfect place to be, Harklight cannot agree. Earth is as flawed as Vers at its core. While one openly displays its horrors, the other masks it with beauty. That is the way it’s always been, and the way it will always be now.
The world turns around and around, but things never change.
Terrans still cry their hate towards Vers, and the number of threats towards the Empress and her fiancé increases by the day. Versians still cling to their captured lands, even if it costs them their reputations, their titles, or even their lives.
Nothing has changed, and nothing ever will.
The world they envisioned died with Slaine Troyard. Harklight barely managed to sit through the execution. They aired it on public television, and all the townspeople gathered and watched. A number shouted expletives at the screen, but not even the parents silenced them. There was too much anger, too much grief among them.
While Harklight’s fingernails bit through his hands, they cheered as the bullets riddled Slaine’s weak body. He wore an awful grin as he died; his eyes smiled with one last laugh at their cruel world. But as the townspeople celebrated and celebrated long into the night afterwards, Harklight couldn’t join in.
Slaine’s eyes held many things, but never cruelty.
They did not kill Slaine Troyard then. Harklight knows it with every fiber in his body Slaine Troyard did not die tied to a stake, bleeding from uncountable bullet wounds and grinning with a thousand lies. Slaine Troyard is dead; he must be. But that televised day, he did not die.
Harklight’s world has ended anyways. There is no turning back time, no matter how much he longs to twist time’s hand back two years to that day they met, one aged far beyond his years and the other just barely beginning to understand what life met. There is no return to those blissful days they left behind.
Barouhcruz has already learned that lesson. He finds a local teaching job to fill, educating young children about the world around them. When Harklight first learns of Barouhcruz’s new job, he almost laughs for the first time in ages. The bigoted Count spending his life helping the youngest of Terrans see the world non-objectively contradicts itself, but Barouhcruz always returns home for the day content with his lot in life.
When Harklight asks him about it, Barouhcruz just smiles. “Someone’s got to teach the next generation to be better than us.”
Harklight doesn’t know quite what to make of it, but the other man chuckles. “You ought to come in and help out, Harklight. The children would love you.”
For a long time, Harklight won’t take him up on it. What can he say to a bunch of children, vaguely aware of the strife around them, that wouldn’t pollute their innocent minds? He is not a teacher, nowhere close to it anymore.
After all that time convinced his vision was the only option, the only thing he achieved was learning just how little he knew of the world.
But one day, when Harklight can’t use healing injuries as an excuse anymore, he takes Barouhcruz up on his offer. He debates back and forth what to wear. Though the other had been kind enough to buy him a collection of Terran clothes, he has no idea what is appropriate for the classroom.
Hours later, Barouhcruz finds him in his room still pairing up clothes and makes an outfit for him. Harklight murmurs his thanks as they quietly put away the other clothes. Barouhcruz doesn’t reply, but his expression softens.
They leave for the job early in the morning, and Harklight’s heart beats faster and faster. He can’t do this. He should have never changed his mind. But soon enough, they’re in the classroom, and the kids flood in with grins on their faces. A few even run up to Barouhcruz and give him a big hug. Harklight tries not to gape at the sight.
It is surreal to him, but to these kids, seemingly-Terran Barouhcruz is all they have known.
They all settle into their chairs as Barouhcruz begins the class. “Today, we have a special guest with us. This is Mr. Escalus, so be on your best behavior for him, okay?”
The kids offer a chorus of hellos, their eyes shining with an innocence Harklight hasn’t seen in a long time. One little girl waves repeatedly at him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he returns the gesture. When she notices, she smiles so brightly Harklight can’t bear looking at her.
These children ought to be protected from the world he’s known. They do not deserve endless war and hatred like their fathers and mothers had. Many of them are probably missing parents thanks to that or older siblings or aunts and uncles or grandparents or maybe even all of them. And Harklight, Harklight deserves more blame for that than most.
But as Barouhcruz begins the lesson, an even worse thought occurs to him. These children do not care. They have never understood the cruel world around them. In their eyes, he is pure as the rest of them.
And before he knows it, Harklight starts to pay attention too. Every lesson is simple, perfect for young children to understand, but it is the tales that accompany them that are the most interesting. The children always straighten up in their seats as Barouhcruz speaks of Earth and Vers, and there are always questions about this and that until they end up so thoroughly off topic but much more satisfied. Then, the process repeats again until Barouhcruz turns to Harklight and asks, “Would you to read to them? We’ve been reading through Romeo and Juliet.”
Romeo and Juliet… Slaine mentioned it once.
Harklight nods and takes the book from Barouhcruz’s outstretched hands. Barouhcruz directs him to the “special reading chair,” as the students cheerfully call out. When he opens the book to the tabbed page, the children sit in silence, shifting a little in their excitement but not acting disruptive in their impatience.
And as he begins to read, Harklight’s lips turn up in a genuine smile for the first time since...
Harklight loses himself in the words, adding inflection where need be to bring the story to life. The details come back as he reads. It’s a Terran tragedy. A pair of lovers was so devoted to each other that when one died, the other couldn’t bear to continue living.
To be that devoted to someone...
When Harklight finally puts down the book for the day, he finds his vision blurred. He wipes his eyes in as nondescript a manner he can think of, but the kids notice anyways.
“Mr. Escalus, why are you crying?” one precocious girl asks, her sweet face twisted into a frown.
The other children watch him with equally concerned looks, and he wants to stay silent, he tries to stay silent, but their innocent worry cannot be ignored. “I used to have someone who I loved like that.”
The next part is harder to choke out, especially in a way they can understand. But for them, he quells his pounding heart and explains.
“He isn’t with me anymore.”
The students are quiet for a long while. Eventually, Barouhcruz places a hand on Harklight’s shoulder and asks, “Do you have any questions for Mr. Escalus?”
All of their hands fly into the air. Barouhcruz points to a petite boy first, who stammers out, “Can you tell us a story?”
Harklight manages the impossible; his lips twist up into a slight smile for the first time in a while. “Have you ever seen the stars?”
And when class finally comes to a close, after the kids have exhausted their stock of questions, Harklight turns to Barouhcruz and asks, “Would it be okay if I come again?”
Barouhcruz just smiles back. “I was hoping you would say that.”
The very next day, Harklight registers with the quaint school’s administration as a student teacher and begins his years as Mr. Romeo of Class 103. And for the first time in a long while, everything clicks back into place. He never needed the bold dreams or the role of revolutionary. This was what he was meant to do, change the world with one child at a time.
His thoughts return home for bit. Where is his family now? Surely they must grieve him. He was their only son, their prodigy who was supposed to overcome the system and make their third-class world livable. In the end, all the heights brought him were a colossal fall from grace, down to the world they envied.
If there are any regrets left within him, they are only towards the family he failed. It would be enough for him to write one last letter and let them know their son lived on in a different world. But no matter how much he wishes for that, there is no way to achieve it.
There is no more Sir Harklight Escalus to speak of. There is no more Count Barouhcruz or Vers standing or even a shred of nobility to their names. There is only Mr. Romeo and Mr. B of Class 103 and the people behind them.
And as time passes by, Harklight and Barouhcruz learn to move on.
---
When Kaizuka Inaho first enters the cell, Slaine turns over and tries to ignore him. It’s probably just a usual visit, and those always leave him irritated and tired. Inaho speaks so straightforwardly, yet he has a habit of grating on Slaine’s every nerve.
“Slaine, sit up.”
Slaine huddles even more under the blankets just to spite him.
“This is important.”
At the word important, Slaine’s interest piques. He obeys Inaho’s first command as he questions, “What could you possibly have to tell me that’s important?”
“The UFE and Vers have spoken and decided that keeping you imprisoned when you are dead for all extents and purposes sets a bad precedent. Because of this, they have decided to release you.”
“Release me?” Slaine digs his fingernails into his palms, but he doesn’t wake up from this impossible dream. It’s real. Somehow, despite how fate had toyed his life for all these years, he had finally found good fortune.
Of course, it is too good to be completely true.
“There are a few conditions. The first is that you will have to take a disguise. Vers recommended we use Aldnoah for that, but out of concern for a number of malfunctions that could occur, I have decided to ignore that recommendation and do a more thorough job.”
“What color are you dying my hair?” Anything but orange. Any color but orange.
Inaho blinks. “Nothing drastic. I thought a light brown might suit your complexion. Now may I continue?”
Slaine nods; He can live with light brown.
“As I was saying, there are a few conditions. Beyond changing your appearance, you are being sent to live in a remote community. It’s rather small and technologically regressed, so there will little chance of someone recognizing you.”
Slaine’s lived in so many places, a rural town in the middle of nowhere is hardly the worst. If nothing else, at least it will be quiet.
“And finally, they would not release you without someone to watch out for you, as they put it. They’re worried you will cause trouble if on your own, so I will be living with you.”
Slaine can’t think of anything positive anymore. “With you? I’d rather stay in prison then spend the rest of my life in your presence.”
“You will have significantly more freedom than you will here. Overall, the benefits far outweigh the costs.”
“And you actually want to do this?” Slaine raises an eyebrow, but Inaho’s blank expression doesn’t change.
“Being the hero of the UFE pays well. I can afford to spend the rest of my days pursuing personal study without being bugged for interviews and advice.”
Slaine wracks his brain for any other counterarguments, but none come to mind. If Inaho’s really just going to keep himself entertained, it might not be so bad. He would have almost as much liberty, and the food would probably be better… “Very well. When do I leave?”
Inaho looks down at the thick folder in front of him. “You just have to learn your new identity, and then we can head on out.”
Inaho pulls out a paper nearly black with the amount of ink on it, and Slaine groans. This is going to take a long time.
But after hours of grueling practice, a haircut, navy colored contacts, and an obscene amount of hair dye, Slaine Troyard’s transformation is finally complete.
“Do you have everything you want to take with you, Troy Sorenson?”
Slaine puts on the bright smile Troy Sorenson is supposed to be known for when he replies, “Yes.”
And when Slaine leaves the cell behind, he doesn’t look back.
---
“Mr. Romeo! Mr. Romeo!” Harklight glances down as Karla tugs on his winter coat. “My new neighbors are over there! Can we go say hi to them?”
He follows her gaze to a young couple perusing the streets. They’re a pair of boys who seem barely old enough to be out of high school, let alone own a house. The paler boy holds a number of bags- groceries, by the looks of it. “They seem busy right now. Besides, don’t you want to meet up with Mr. B? He’s got quite the surprise for the class today.”
Karla pouts, but as the rest of the class cheers, she can’t stay upset long. “What kind of surprise?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Aw…” The class complains, but they keep right on trekking without bugging him further. But just to distract them, Harklight tells them about the sky.
The sky refracts light in such great quantities it appears blue.
Slaine had told him and Lemrina that once. But when Harklight looked it up on Earth, Slaine had been proven wrong on that count too.
“The sky is blue because Rayleigh Scattering.”
“What’s that?” Ralph pipes curiously.
“Some complicated physics phenomenon.”
“Wow! You’re so smart, Mr. Romeo! Mommy says physics is super hard!”
Harklight shrugs in response. “When you get older, you’ll learn all about it. Any of you can understand it if you apply yourself to it.” Just then, they reach the crosswalk. “Okay. Everyone be careful crossing the street, okay? We’re almost there.”
The students cheer at his words. And as the last car passes, they cross as a clump. The kids sprint across, racing each other with shouts of joy, but Harklight keeps his eyes on the road, watching for any stray cars careening towards his children. Unfortunately, he is so focused that he runs head on into a stranger.
“Ow!” The other cries out, accompanied by the clatter of cans. Harklight stumbles back a few steps before regaining his balance. He nearly trips over a few of the spilled goods too.
“I’m so sorry!” Harklight bends down to help pick up the cans, placing them in the nearest bags. As he reaches down for one, his hand brushes another. His gaze darts up, meeting a pair of dark blue eyes. “Sorry…”
He trails off as he takes a closer look at the stranger. Light brown hair, a delicate form, Harklight can’t quite explain it, but something almost looks familiar about him…
“Mr. Romeo! Mr. Romeo!” Harklight shakes away those thoughts. His students need him now.
“Sorry, I have to rejoin my students.” Harklight hates to run off so quickly, but a group of seven year olds can get into trouble so easily. “If anything got damaged, you can send a bill to room 103 at the elementary school with an address so I can send the money back.”
The stranger just shakes his head in turn. “Oh, it’s no trouble. Don’t worry about it.”
And Harklight doesn’t think much of it as he returns to his kids. To his amazement, they’re all still outside, waiting for his return. “Mr. Romeo, can we go in now?”
“Of course. Let’s go see what the surprise is.” The students flood in before Harklight can think of saying another world. He can’t help but smile as he watches. They’re still so young and excitable, not yet jaded by the world outside their tiny little town. It’s rather nice, really.
And as Barouhcruz shows the kids a real kataphraktos and lets them play around inside, Harklight turns to him and says, “To think that these kids are so excited about a war machine.”
“Commandeering a giant robot is every kid’s dream now.” Barouhcruz gives a wry smile as he watches them. “Kaizuka Inaho was kind to donate his old model to the museum. Who’d have thought he’d have moved here of all towns, huh?”
“Do you think we should move?”
A heavy sigh meets his words. “Not yet. If we leave now, it would appear too suspicious. You’ve applied to a few universities, right?”
“I have.” At one of the administrator’s suggestions, he had filled out a few college applications. It had required a little lying, but records had become so scrambled in the midst of war, it was child’s play to change a few records here or there. “I haven’t heard back from any yet, though.”
“Well, when you do, we can have this conversation again.” Barouhcruz’s face contorts into a frown as he watches their students play around. “I rather like it here, Harklight.”
And seeing the kids smile, Harklight’s heart sinks a little more. “Yeah, me too.”
Too soon, they will have to leave this home behind. After everything these people did for them- taking them in when most would have turned them into the authorities, keeping their secrets with their lives, even entrusting their young children’s education to them- it seems wrong to say goodbye without fully paying them back.
“I always thought there could be nothing better than Vers out there. But we were wrong, weren’t we?” He pauses for a moment, long enough to call the students back over, but when he glances back at Harklight, his eyes shine with warmth. “There is no place I’d rather call home than here now.”
His gloved hand slides into Harklight’s, and for a while, everything in the world seems just right. He never imagined he could want this, this peaceful life on Earth with his closest companion a man who used to stand for everything he hated. He thought his world was revolution and princesses and Milord Slaine and never stopped to think he might have dreamed too big.
And when precocious Marte skids to a halt in front of them and asks, “Mr. B, do you love Mr. Romeo?” Harklight can’t stop his lips from turning up into a smile.
If this is what it means to fall in love, Harklight will take it.
---
Ever since the grocery trip, Slaine’s mind wanders to the stranger who bumped into him. Mr. Romeo, the school kids called him. He etched that face into his mind perfectly; even now, Slaine can remember even the littlest details about it. It’s eerie, really, because when Slaine pieces together all the tiniest fragments and recalls Mr. Romeo, he doesn’t see a stranger.
He sees Harklight.
It is impossible. Harklight died two years ago today in the final battle against the UFE.
Though this Mr. Romeo is a doppelganger, Slaine can’t help but think of him anyways. He was polite, a little rushed, but a good man. Slaine imagines him the caring sort, especially considering how respectful the children were of him. They love their Mr. Romeo dearly.
And today, while Inaho sleeps off a late night studying, Slaine decides to take Mr. Romeo up on his offer. He takes the time to scrawl a quick list of damaged goods and prices and a note for his “caretaker” (even though the minute Inaho realizes Slaine’s gone, he will hunt him down anyways), and then he’s off to the town’s lone elementary school.
It’s before school hours when he arrives, but the desk secretary is kind enough to let him anyways. “What brings you here to visit?”
Slaine puts on his most charming smile as he replies, “I have a note to deliver to room 103.”
His charm works too well. “You don’t have to trouble yourself with taking that all the way down there. You’re welcome to leave it up here with me, and I’ll make sure the appropriate party receives it.”
“That’s quite all right, but I would like to make sure Mr. Romeo gets it directly.” He has to see Mr. Romeo again, even if it’s only long enough to give him the paper.
But to his dismay, the girl’s cheery expression fades. “Oh, Mr. Romeo? He’s not here today. He should be back tomorrow, though.”
“I see. Thanks for your help anyways.”
Slaine turns to leave, but the secretary calls out, “Hey, you do know his name’s not Mr. Romeo, right? That’s just what the kids call him.”
He didn’t, but Slaine puts on that charismatic mask again anyways as he replies, “Of course. I just thought he would be more recognizable by that name.”
“Oh, I see. Have a great rest of your day!” And as the door slams shut behind him, Slaine lets out a sigh. So his name isn’t Mr. Romeo. Another thread in the web, another facet of Mr. Romeo to uncover.
A familiar face, an alias, a remote location, it all bespeaks lies.
But when he returns home, he doesn’t say a thing. There is no point.
There’s no point acknowledging hopes when they have to be false.
---
Two years. It’s hard to believe it’s been two years sometimes. Harklight can still remember even the tiniest of details, like the way Slaine’s eyes would always dart to the right when he wasn’t speaking the whole truth, or how Lemrina’s smiles never quite met her eyes unless she was around Slaine. He can still imagine their last meeting, all three of them together watching their precious world collapse around them.
Harklight clutches the bouquet in his hand closer to his chest. This year, he doesn’t bring blue roses with him. Instead, his flowers are an assortment of colors, violet and pink and white. He likes to think Slaine would appreciate it more; if roses were anything to base on, Slaine did enjoy the language of flowers.
“It’s been a while, Slaine.” There is no response. After all this time, he shouldn’t expect one. If isn’t as if a body lies there beneath the makeshift gravestone. But sometimes, he imagines that Slaine has found it anyways, enraptured by the beautiful view. Harklight insisted it Barouhcruz build it by the sea, right on the cliff where Barouhcruz first showed it to him.
The person the grave memorializes is unidentifiable. They purposefully made it that way. All that marks it are the lifespan and a single quote, suggested by Barouhcruz. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. Some Terran poet wrote it. It’s oddly fitting, Harklight often ponders. The very world they live in was built by the death of Slaine’s dreams.
But today, Harklight tries not to think of that. When he thinks of that, he regresses into the hatred Slaine tried to dismantle.
He cannot desecrate Slaine’s memory that way.
“I brought you flowers.” Harklight lays the bouquet down on Slaine’s grave, right next to a dying bunch of wild flowers. One of the townspeople must have brought in there; without any prompting, they had taken up the task of keeping the grave stocked with flowers. No one ever asked who the grave was for, but then again, they had never asked who Harklight and Barouhcruz were before they crashed against the shore.
Harklight will miss them dearly when he and Barouhcruz leave this town behind.
“Pink anemones mean forsaken.”
If Slaine could see him now, would Slaine offer a guilty grin? Would he apologize for leaving Harklight behind? Or maybe, the most likely outcome Harklight imagines, would he just stay silent, watching with sorrowful eyes because no words could explain his remorse?
“White statice means remembrance.”
Does Slaine even remember his life anymore? Did he get reincarnated in the world again for a better life, or does he still linger in the afterlife, waiting for his loves to join him?
“Purple hyacinth are deep sorrow.” Harklight’s lips twitch up into a smile at that, a familiar conversation replaying in his head. He repeats the words as Slaine once spoke them, soft and thoughtful. “However, they have one other meaning.”
Miracle or impossible. Slaine had obsessed over the meaning of blue roses, comparing those beautiful blossoms to his favorite princess.
In the end, she is both, a miracle to be alive but impossible to obtain. She still governs her people with kindness and peace, but her eyes watch the world wearier than anyone her age should. The people still remain her first love, but sometimes, when Harklight watches her on television, she shows a little bit of that affection towards Klancain.
She used to speak of Slaine the same way. But after everything, she cannot forgive him without wrecking the fragile peace she instituted.
Harklight cannot envy her for that. She holds the responsibility of two worlds’ safety on her thin shoulders, no matter how she feels. She cannot ask for forgiveness for what she did to Slaine now, one of the few things Harklight can still do.
“Purple hyacinth also mean asking for forgiveness.” Harklight sinks to one knee, moving automatically into the Versian gesture of respect. “Slaine, I have tried to be faithful. You were my master, my hero… my everything.”
Harklight would have died for Slaine once. He did try, leaving behind his chance for forgiveness to die alongside the one he couldn’t live without. But now, that seems like a pipe dream, leading to nowhere but tragedy and anguish.
“I loved you. I still do, but you know what they say. Someday, you have to let go.”
He can imagine the days when he used to think Slaine was his sun, his moon, his stars. Back then, he could not have dreamed of the world today, a small world not perfect by anything description but just enough for him. Back then, he wanted the world in one boy. But after all this time, Harklight looks up at the gravestone and sees it as it is.
It is not perfect. It is not ethereal or divine.
It is just rock, a final memento of a young man never meant for this unchanging world.
“I’m sorry for keeping you chained down here. You must want to see the world beyond with your family. It was selfish of me to keep holding on to your memory.”
He stands up, allowing a rueful smile to cross his lips.
“I hope wherever you are, you’ll be happy.”
Harklight likes to think Slaine looks down on him from above and smiles. Thank you, Harklight, he would say, tears of joy spilling out of his bright eyes. You always were too good for me.
“I’ll never forget you, Slaine. But for now, let’s go our separate ways until we can finally meet again.”
And as he turns away, tears well up in his eyes. “I’ll meet you in hell, Slaine.”
When he walks away, he falls into Barouhcruz’s arms and finally releases all the emotions bottled up inside him. Barouhcruz does not ask what’s wrong; he merely hugs back as Harklight sobs into his shoulder.
Harklight doesn’t know how long they stay like that. It’s long enough that when Harklight finally pulls away, his tears have dried into dry sobs as he gasps for precious air. But the whole time, Barouhcruz never complains, never tries to push him away.
He too understands what it’s like to lose a love.
“Does that feel better?” Barouhcruz asks when Harklight finally begins to breathe easy. His hands slide into Harklight’s shaking ones so naturally, Harklight can hardly believe he ever tried to hate the former count. Harklight nods in response. The honesty comes so easy to him anymore, at least around Barouhcruz. “I thought so. After Marylcian died, I didn’t realize how important finding an outlet for my sorrow was. I thought that if I kept pretending everything was normal, the pain would go away.”
Barouhcruz smiles for once, and his eyes, not quite as pretty as Slaine’s but beautiful in their own right, shine with an oddly kind light. “Taking care of you while you were injured made me realize how foolish a thought that was. You tried to keep your emotions welled up inside, like I did, and you suffered for it. Why do you think I told you all those stories about Marylcian when you were bedridden?”
Harklight had always liked those stories, even if most of them were so outlandish they were almost unbelievable. They had made his days confined to a bed so much more bearable to deal with. “You really are a kind man, Barouhcruz.”
And when the other man starts laughing, a smile comes to Harklight’s face too. He has a nice laugh, a little boisterous but lovely to listen to. “It’s taken me a long time to learn.”
---
Slaine does not give up on finding answers. He returns to the elementary school a few days later, muttering prayers under his breath that Mr. Romeo is there today. He doesn’t know why he bothers praying; he gave up religion the day his father stop paying attention to him.
But no matter how hard he prayed, he shouldn’t have worried. The minute he steps in the school, the secretary’s face lights up. “Ah, you’re back again! Good timing, too. He’s only just arrived for the day.”
He can’t stop the sigh of relief from escaping him. “Do I need to sign in or anything?” Inaho had acted very surprised the other day when Slaine had not had to sign in at the school office. Apparently, at all of Inaho’s old schools, visitors were not allowed in the building unless they signed in with the secretaries.
“Ordinarily, yes, but it’s before school hours and you seem to be a trustworthy guy, so I’ll let it slide today.” She giggles a little at his words. “Just don’t get lost, okay? If the teachers see some weird man wandering the school when classes start, they might get nervous.”
“I won’t,” he promises with just enough conviction she doesn’t question him. And as he heads into the main hallway, he tries not to look too clueless. He knows the room number: Room 103. It should be easy enough to find.
Fortunately, he finds a sign soon enough that points him to the 100 hallway. However, finding the right room turns out to be a long walk to the back of the hallway. It’s a simple classroom, individuated only by a pair of nametags that a pair of students must have written (the B in Mr. B points the wrong way, and Mr. Romeo’s name is written with such terrible spacing it’s hard to make out what it says) and a few childish art projects hanging up outside.
Slaine stares at the artwork for a moment, reading the explanations below. They take his breath away more and more as he reads them. For living in a world where hatred is still so ingrained in the masses, these innocent paintings seem out of place. One reads, “Vers and Earth children playing in space,” while others describe scenes of friendship and unity between Versians and Terrans.
“May I help you?” Slaine nearly jumps at the eerily familiar voice behind him. “You’re obviously not one of the teachers here.”
Slaine whirls around to see a very familiar man, dressed in a sweater vest combination that appears horribly out of place on the man. It’s not even scarlet, rather a soft blue-grey color that brings out his thoughtful eyes. “Count Barouhcruz?”
Count Barouhcruz stiffens (or Barouhcruz, Slaine supposes he should call the man now that he no longer resides on Vers), his expression guarded. “How do you know that name?”
How could Slaine not? The former count hardly looks different from two years ago. His face may be a little more lined with wrinkles, and a few scars peak out from under his shirt collar, but he is still nearly identical to his younger self. “You look the same as you did two years ago.”
“You must be military, then. What business do you have with me?” He speaks with a clipped tone, much as he had when Slaine had first met the man.
“I have no business with you. I just have a paper to give to Mr. Romeo.”
Slaine tries to slip pass the man, but Barouhcruz steps in his way. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
Slaine should probably lie. Knowing Barouhcruz, he would likely let Slaine’s secret slip. But when Slaine speaks, the truth comes out anyways. “You used to serve under me when I was a count.”
Barouchruz stares and stares for a long time before he gasps, “Count Troyard?” His disbelieving gaze scans Slaine carefully a few times, as if verifying he isn’t seeing things. “You look different.”
“They wouldn’t let me out of prison without a disguise. I’m supposed to be dead to the general population.”
For a moment, Barouhcruz appears relieved, but an odd expression quickly covers it. “Why aren’t you dead?”
Accusatory, Slaine realizes after a moment. Barouhcruz does not quite trust him yet. Slaine can hardly blame him; all the news reports announced him dead. “It was not my choice to live. I’m glad to see you’re alive and well too. I thought you died in the final attack.”
Barouhcruz shrugs at his words. “Obviously, I did not die.”
The atmosphere’s rather tense. It isn’t as if they were ever good friends. Enough animosity had existed between them that trying to hold a normal conversation seems almost foolish.
“Now, may I see Mr. Romeo?”
“Why do you need to see him?”
“He damaged some of my groceries the other day. I have a bill to give him.”
Slaine pulls out the paper, but Barouhcruz snatches it out of his hand. “I can give that to him for you.”
“Is there a problem with me giving it to him directly?”
Barouhcruz lets out an irritated sigh at that. “How do I know you aren’t some UFE soldier disguised with Aldnoah trying to imprison me? Kaizuka Inaho lives here now. If he sent some disguised soldier here to do his dirty work, I would hardly be surprised. After all, you have done little to prove otherwise.”
Of course. Slaine cannot blame him. Without another word, he reaches up towards his eyes and pulls the contacts out, one at a time. There are probably better methods to prove he is as he says, but it does the job. There would be no need to use contacts if he was using Aldnoah.
Count Barouhcruz takes a step back as Slaine finally meets his gaze. “They’re the right color. I could never forget those eyes.”
He’s still wary. Slaine scrambles to find proof, something not common knowledge, to cement his identity. It takes some time, but at last, something comes to mind. “I first met you on the Marineros Base. You thought it intolerable that Count Saazbaum allowed a Terran to be anything more than a pet project. However, after the duel, that opinion changed rather quickly.”
At that, the count relents wearily, “I suppose you aren’t lying. But all the same, I won’t let you take that in alone.”
“Why?”
Count Barouhcruz just shakes his head. “You’ll see.”
And without another word, the count leads him inside the classroom. Mr. Romeo sits at one of the desks, bent over some papers. “Ah, there you are, Barouhcruz. I was beginning to worry you’d gotten locked in the staff bathroom like Mary Anne did yesterday.”
To Slaine’s amazement, Count Barouchcruz chuckles. “There’s an out-of-order sign on the bathroom now. No, I found someone you might want to meet.”
Mr. Romeo looks up, confused look on his face until his eyes meet Slaine’s. And in the moment, Slaine knows for certain. He’s not been deluding himself.
Mr. Romeo is Harklight. Harklight is Mr. Romeo. He doesn’t have a single doubt in his mind about it. And Harklight must realize it too; his navy eyes widen with more emotions than Slaine can name, and a hand goes to his mouth.
“You were right, Harklight.” Count Barouhcruz gives Slaine a nudge, and he stumbles a few steps forward. “Slaine Troyard was not executed.”
Harklight stands up on unsteady feet, but Slaine reaches him first, arms wrapping around his faithful servant shakily. “It’s really you, Harklight. It’s really you.”
It takes a long time for Harklight to return the gesture. Slaine looks up to see tears stream from the usually stoic man’s eyes. And at the sight, something within Slaine breaks too and he sobs into Harklight’s shoulder.
This is real. Harklight is alive.
Harklight is still here.
“I should have known,” Harklight chokes out finally, “that you would return to me after I had let you go. I’m a fool just like you.”
Slaine does not quite understand, but he doesn’t need an explanation now. It is enough holding Harklight, knowing he is safe and sound and will be for a long time.
They will have plenty of time to share stories later.
“I’ve missed you, Harklight, more than I ever thought I would.”
But at Slaine’s words, Harklight’s gaze finds Count Barouhcruz’s. Something passes between them, some unspoken conversation Slaine is not privy to, but at last, the count smiles and says, “It’s okay, Harklight. I would do the same in your place.”
And with that, Count Barouhcruz steps back with a sigh. Slaine’s not a total fool. He can recognize the look in Count Barouhcruz’s eyes.
They always said the true testament to loving someone was letting them go.
Slaine mouths his thanks to Count Barouhcruz. The count says nothing, but when Harklight isn’t looking, he offers Slaine a small nod in turn.
Too soon for Slaine’s liking, the bell beginning the school day rings and the children flood into the classroom. Slaine steps away from Harklight, but it’s too late.
By the time Slaine can think of escaping, the kids already press up to him and ask, “Who’s he?”
Harklight smiles at them, genuinely smiles, and says, “Class, I want you to meet Mr. Juliet.”
It takes a minute for the kids to put it together. A number scratch their heads, and a few even voice their confusion, but Slaine just stares over their heads and smiles a little wider.
Romeo and Juliet. It’s not fitting anymore, Slaine decides. They have thought the other dead, but neither died. Against improbable odds, they averted their tragic ending.
But to these kids, he’s still Mr. Juliet. Mr. Romeo and Mr. Juliet, huh, the children’s epitome of true love.
It will take some getting used to. Some much time has been lost between them. But now that the answers have fallen into place, Slaine relents.
He can get used to this.
Slaine leaves with the promise to come back when classes are over for the day, but there’s no fear of losing even more time.
There are no limits to his future anymore. The war has ended. The fighting’s done.
And as he returns home to tell Inaho about Harklight, he watches a flock of birds soar overhead with a gentle smile.
Yes, he can get used to this.
He and Harklight have all the time in the world.