Chapter Text
It’s a miracle Keito still makes the effort to visit Eichi these days, what with how insufferable he’s become. He’s always been insufferable, but this new closeness he’s developed with Hibiki has pushed the extent of his insufferableness past the limit of what Keito’s willing to tolerate.
Nonetheless, he still finds himself sat in a too-bright room, on an uncomfortable blue chair, arranging the newest bouquet of flowers in the resident vase. Because Keito has yet to develop an ability to say ‘no’ when it comes to Eichi’s every whim and unreasonable request. He’s working on it.
“Wataru came during lunch,” Eichi says, eyes not lifting from the white feather he’s twirling between his fingers, straining an IV cord as he does. “I still can’t believe it’s real, but he keeps returning. And he’s so entertaining. Did you know he has five doves, but no one can tell them apart?”
“No, Eichi,” Keito says. Well, would you look at that- he said no.
It doesn’t deter Eichi.
“I’m spotting subtle differences between them. I just haven’t figured out which is which, yet. Wataru keeps performing tricks every time I try to focus. I think he’s doing it on purpose. Fufufu it’s fascinating. Why lament others’ lack of knowledge about you if you’re going to purposefully obfuscate their attempts to bridge the gap? I’m going to figure him out, Keito. Just wait and see. Now he’s chosen to stay by my side for a while, I’m going to do everything I can to ensure he remains there.”
“I don’t doubt you will,” Keito says, all too aware of Eichi’s stubbornness from the sheer amount he’s been on the unfortunate receiving end of such behaviour. “Would you mind telling him he should try spending as much time at school as he does by your bedside?”
“Now why would I ever do that?”
Keito doesn’t know why he tries.
“He’s agreed to join fine. I didn’t bother arranging a test like I did for our two new members. It would’ve been an insult, what with how easily he surpasses my own negligible abilities. He’s the most talented idol in Yumenosaki. I can’t believe he’s really agreed to be my weapon. He has so many reasons to despise me, but he’s chosen to join me, instead. I know his acting is far more incredible than I could ever see through, but he genuinely seems to enjoy spending time with me. He keeps coming back, after all. And he even sits beside me on the bed, despite my warnings that it’s not wise with all the machinery. He’s Wataru, though. Nothing’s impossible for him.”
Keito has heard pretty much all of this before. Hibiki has been Eichi’s idol for a long time, as well as one of the driving forces spurring Eichi on to carry out their revolution. The jealousy that curls in Keito’s stomach isn’t new, either, but it’s been feeling less intense the more he’s investing time in Kiryu and Kanzaki.
“I’m thinking of reading more Shakespeare so we can talk about plays together. Could you bring me some, next time?” Eichi asks.
“Ask Hibiki,” Keito says, filling Eichi’s water glass and finally sitting down from his faffing.
“No, I want it to be a surprise. And I don’t want him to know I read them for him. It has to look authentic. Ah, he’ll probably figure it out anyway, but I want to practice fooling him. Fufufu, what a thrill that would be.”
Hm. Keito is starting to have his doubts about the whole situation between Eichi and Hibiki. He’s never paid too much thought to Hibiki’s motives regarding this whole joining fine business. Whether he intends to betray Eichi or not, it doesn’t change that Keito will still be there by Eichi’s side to support him through whatever comes. It also doesn’t change the fact that Eichi adores Hibiki as an idol. But the way he’s been talking about him the last few days is… different.
“Oh, Wataru upset your favourite nurse, too,” Eichi adds, still oblivious to Keito’s disinterest in their conversation topic (his feigned disinterest. Keito likes to know everything that’s going on more than he lets on). “I had to scold him because she seemed genuinely upset about being startled into dropping the tray. Did you know, when he’s surprised, Wataru just sort of stands there with his mouth slightly open for a second before he snaps back into character? I think I might have seen beneath his performance for a moment, but I was too caught up in making sure Mizuku was okay to press further.”
“Seriously,” Eichi continues, taking the files that Keito has wordlessly removed from his bag, “as much as I enjoy Wataru’s dramatics and endless entertainment, I do wish he remembered that other people are not as entertained as I am by sudden floods of flowers in a previously empty bed. He’s going to scare away the best staff.”
“Are these all the new proposals?” Eichi says, Hibiki-spiel briefly paused for the work he’s actually supposed to do.
“Yes. They aren’t extravagant given the year has only just begun, but I thought you should at least pretend to look over them before you sign them. Of course, I’ve already checked their budgets and feasibility. These are the ones we don’t have to reject. The new council members are competent, thankfully. Or, at least, the young Himemiya’s butler is,” Keito says, already nearing wits end with at least three members of the new fine. Thank Buddha for Yuzuru Fushimi.
“Hm. I wonder if I can convince Wataru to give Tori some training. I know he’s only joined for my sake, but our plans would fall through rather suddenly if our youngest member isn’t stage ready. Could you lead Tori and Yuzuru in the right direction before Flower Fes? I’m intrigued to see how their personalities will fit with Wataru’s. I suspect they’ll find him a little hard to handle,” Eichi says, flicking through the forms and supposedly reaching Keito’s own proposal regarding fine and Akatsuki’s joint performance in two weeks.
“I wouldn’t blame them for deciding to quit and join a simpler unit. Hibiki is a loose canon. I hope you know what you’re doing with him,” Keito says. He’s warned this exact thing about five times before, but one can never attempt to dissuade Eichi from Hibiki’s supposed charms too many times.
“I think he’s the one doing things with me, in honesty. And I’m not sure I mind all that much. It’s a little nice to be used as a puppet after so long being the puppeteer. And to think my master is so considerate of my own wishes and plans! Ah, perhaps I’m not quite the puppet after all. I think we’re putting on a puppet show together. Keito, should I invite him to the theatre or is that too on the nose?”
“Where is this coming from?” Keito makes the mistake of speaking up at the sudden change of topic.
“Too sudden? I can’t come on too strong. Or too predictable. Oh, this is going to be exciting. I’m looking forward to figuring out exactly how to keep Wataru tethered to my side. I can’t get complacent just because he’s temporarily set up camp, you know?” Eichi says, eyes glistening with excitement.
Keito, unfortunately, does know, because the dots have connected in his head and the truth is inescapably obvious.
Eichi has always admired and idolised Hibiki, yes. But now? Now he has a crush on him. As a person, not an idol.
The curl of jealousy sneaks up Keito’s throat and threatens to strangle him, but he swallows it back down. He’s worked hard to move on from Eichi, and he will succeed. Keito thinks about his unit and the joy he gets from completing forms beside Kiryu, watching Kanzaki dance and dance until he gets the move perfect, when Kiryu swears because he pricked his finger on a needle before throwing Keito an apologetic look for his bad language and focussing carefully on his task again. Eichi has never brought him that same feeling of comfort and peace. Mainly, Eichi has brought him headaches and irritation.
“Yes. Whatever. Are you done filling me in on the inanity of your love affair with Hibiki, now? We have student council work to do, and I’m not going to leave until I’ve lectured you about the importance of eating foods lower in fibre, so we’d better get going,” Keito says, his daily limit for Hibiki related topics well and truly surpassed.
“Mizuku, you snitch,” Eichi says under his breath, pouting like a toddler.
“It’s like you want your stomach to give up on you. Is a faulty heart and lungs not enough?”
“I could play a sort of organ bingo. See how many can malfunction before I actually die,” Eichi suggests. Keito glares at him, but Eichi’s smile doesn’t fade. Sometimes Keito really hates his childhood friend.
“Flower fes arrangements,” he says firmly, smacking a new file on top of the papers already across Eichi’s bed. “Find your relevant contacts for the list of equipment I’ve detailed.”
Eichi finally sighs in defeat and picks up a pen to get to work. It doesn’t feel like the victory Keito wishes it did.
Keito doesn’t go out of his way to avoid Wataru Hibiki. It just so happens that their paths cross infrequently due to both their separate classes and the rarity of Hibiki attending said classes.
Therefore, more often than not, Keito goes a full school week without seeing Hibiki in person. It would be impossible not to hear about him, as vice president of the student council, but Keito can cope with sending written warnings and dealing with the aftermath of Hibiki’s presence. Tenuously.
It’s a very unexpected and unwelcome turn of events when Hibiki decides to make his presence directly known by bursting in through (assumably) the window of the student council room.
“Oh Keito~” Hibiki calls out, ignoring that three people are currently sat working on important matters (Himemiya is… playing with a teddy bear? But Fushimi is thankfully handling the documents. Thank Buddha for Yuzuru Fushimi). “I have urgent business with you as Eichi’s loyal right hand man!”
“It can wait until we’ve finished our work. Leave,” Keito says, not bothering to glance up again from the contract he’s reviewing.
“Don’t let him see me, Yuzuru,” Himemiya whispers way too loudly, ducking underneath a table. Hibiki has undoubtedly seen him, but thankfully for Himemiya, he’s not Hibiki’s target today.
Unthankfully for Keito, he is. He feels his chair spin before he even registers Hibiki’s presence near him, and he grips the arm rests with all his might until the world stops spinning.
“After I came all this way to deliver a love letter to you, you won’t even accept it? Oh how heartless,” Hibiki says, clutching his chest from where he’s now hovering over Keito, one leg propped up on the arm of his chair. Keito’s vision finally refocuses to note a book of some sort in Hibiki’s other hand.
“Please, Hasumi-senpai. Won’t you accept my confession?” Hibiki’s entire demeanour changes and he thrusts the book in front of Keito’s nose, head bowing so snappishly that a curtain of silvery hair follows the movement of his head, hiding his entire face from view. Keito considers it a blessing in disguise.
Intrigue outweighing his common sense, Keito snatches the book out of Hibiki’s hands and flips open the front page. It’s a diary, and the cursive on the top line reads,
‘My dearest Wataru,’
“This is Eichi’s handwriting,” Keito says, turning the page without reading any further (not whilst in company, at least).
“Oh my, perhaps it isn’t my confession after all. What a turn of events!”
Right on cue, Hibiki forcibly spins Keito’s chair once more. Keito desperately stares at the words in front of him as the rest of the world spins by. The second page has different handwriting and reads,
‘My dearest, Eichi,’
at the top.
Keito feels sick. What is this and why is Hibiki giving it to him?
He also feels sick because he knows what that nauseating theatre kid has done with just one stroke of his pen. Ugh.
“Why,” Keito says when his world stops spinning for the second time, “are you giving me this nonsense?”
“Are the innermost feelings of your beloved childhood friend and your most fierce and determined rival naught but nonsense to you, Right hand man?” Hibiki gasps in horror.
“Yes.”
“You see, the utter heartbreaking tale is that I have an important callback audition this evening, and I fear I have no choice but to forgo my usual visit to our beloved emperor’s sick bed. I’m entrusting his most loyal advisor with the prestigious task of carrying my words forward, like the fierce wind of the east, ensuring they reach their intended target with meaning perfectly intact,” Hibiki explains in about 500 more words than were necessary. Keito is starting to understand how he and Eichi get along so well, which is saying a lot given he’s hardly a man of few words himself.
“You want me to pass this… exchange diary or whatever… to Eichi,” Keito confirms to an unfortunate loud whooping of consent.
“Precisely! Can I entrust such a task to you?”
Keito risks a glance up at Hibiki once more and is surprised to find his expression more sincere than anticipated. This is a genuine request with some level of importance to him. And, as reluctant as he is to admit it, the diary’s importance to Eichi is likely matched if not increased.
“If you leave the council room in the next 20 seconds then yes, I’ll give it to him. Understood?” Keito succumbs. Hibiki claps his hands together and grins.
“Amazing!” he says loudly, before spinning Keito’s chair around for the third time since his arrival.
“Hibiki!” Keito says through gritted teeth, but when the room stops spinning, its unwanted visitor is nowhere to be seen, previous presence made known only through the swirl of blue petals cascading towards the floor and the diary pressed into Keito’s hands.
“Vice president-sama, I brewed some tea. I suspected you may need a calming blend once Hibiki-sama deigned to leave the room,” Fushimi says, placing a steaming tea cup on Keito’s desk. Keito blinks up at him, mouth slightly ajar in utter gratitude for the thoughtfulness of this boy. Thank Buddha for Yuzuru Fushimi.
“Thank you, Fushimi. It is… greatly appreciated. I apologise for the interruption, but we can return to sorting the practice room reservations, now,” Keito says.
“You should take a break for a few minutes, Hasumi,” Isara suggests. “You look a little dizzy.”
He feels more than just dizzy, but he appreciates Isara’s concern.
“I assure you I’m fine, although I may just take two minutes to drink the tea Fushimi kindly brewed for me. Please, feel free to begin allocations without me,” he decides. Fushimi and Isara nod in agreement and turn their attention back to their work.
Himemiya is quietly whining about the fact Fushimi didn’t brew him tea, as well, but Keito has shifted his attention to the diary in his hands. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy to look, but arguably it’s a larger breach of privacy to burst into a locked room and enforce your property into another’s possession. With his reasoning sound, Keito doesn’t feel guilt at flicking through and finding the most recent entry.
Beloved Eichi,
I admit, this week has been devastatingly plain. I fear I have nothing new to add to our recap, and so perhaps I will simply mention what I have observed at Yumenosaki this week. You can compare my account with your right hand man’s own tales when he comes to visit you in my stead.
Ah~ on the topic of that, I received a callback for the role in an upcoming local production of Dr Faustus. If I land the part, I’ll ensure I get tickets for you- it’s a plot I think you’d be particularly fascinated by, if you aren’t already familiar with Goethe's original tale. Unfortunately, the inconvenient timing of the callback leaves me unable to attend our regular rendezvous. I assure you, I won’t let you drift from my mind for even a moment during my absence. I promised, after all, to devote my efforts to you, but if I fail to assert my presence on wondrous stages, I will have no efforts of which to devote. Besides, if what you’ve told me is the truth, you’ll be much looking forward to a new performance from yours truly.
I’m loathe to leave you lonely, however, as all too familiar with the empty feeling you and I both are. That’s why I will be sending your right hand man to occupy the other side of your bed, no doubt with tales of my antics to regale you with, as a subpar substitute for my presence. At least you can know that I am with you through the grievances I’ve caused your oldest friend. You saved me of my own lonely fate, and I’ve grown to care for you in a way I hadn’t anticipated, leading me to wish nothing more than to return the favour!
Time runs short, and I have a vice-president to aggravate, so I must bring this exchange to a close, in spite of my intent to update you on the school’s affairs. I fear it is simply that uninteresting without your addition to the populous. I’m certain that next time I write, there will be a hoard of tales waiting to be heard. I can’t wait to share them with you, my emperor.
With warmest wishes to manifest as a comforting presence in lieu of my physical form,
Your very own Wataru Hibiki
Keito blinks at the page he’s just read for a few seconds. He can hardly read this in Hibiki’s voice, it’s so removed from his typical style. This was not what he’d anticipated the content of Hibiki’s exchanges with Eichi to be. This is… personal. On a level Keito didn’t know Hibiki even possessed.
It’s with deep regret that Keito admits to himself that he’s apparently been wrong about Wataru Hibiki. He suspects fine’s new bluebird may have gotten a little more than he bargained for when involving himself in the life of Eichi Tenshouin.
Keito is torn between pity, envy, and relief. Loving Eichi Tenshouin is far from an easy feat, and he can only imagine how complicated it must be to have that love returned. However, it feels like a weight has been lifted, knowing that this bluebird doesn’t seem likely to be released any time soon. Even if he is, Keito suspects he’ll find his way back, just as the tale is intended to go.
Hibiki might be the match Eichi needs. It irks Keito to realise it, but he can’t deny their seeming compatibility. Oh well- Keito has a school to organise, and playing cupid is far out of his job description. He gets to his feet and joins Fushimi and Isara at the disused president’s desk.
“I’m ready to continue. Any issues with the scheduling I can help resolve?” Keito asks, tapping Fushimi’s shoulder lightly to grab his attention.
“Ah,” Fushimi says, turning to Keito with a pleasant, if seemingly strained, smile. “Just the one, although it’s proving to be quite a challenge.”
Keito furrows his eyebrows and turns to see the desktop that Fushimi’s body no longer obscures. There, in Eichi’s seat, sits a single dove holding five pages of practice room schedules in its small beak. The bird blinks at Keito with what he’s almost foolish enough to deem a sparkle of mischief. With a slow and steady movement, the bird lifts one foot, grasps the edges of the papers in its claws, and tears the pages cleanly in half.
“HIBIKI!”