Work Text:
Guren’s eyes scanned the files slowly, the words etching into his vision with the precision of a needle. The pictures, too, looked sickly vibrant, as though his own life was flashing before his eyes.
But it was not his own life. These were the simple, technical descriptions of a dozen men who had died nobly in battle, yet had been reduced to blocky characters on white paper. Guren had met all of them at some point, he was sure. And while he might not recall them from those meetings, he would never forget them now.
A slight hum came from behind his left shoulder. Guren turned, unsurprised, to find Shinya leaning against the back of his chair. He turned his eyes back to the names and faces of the dead.
“It’s late,” Shinya said simply, though his tone relayed much more. That he knew what Guren was looking at, and what he was thinking. That he was never good with this part of battle, but that he couldn’t allow himself to be weighted down. And, most of all, that there was nothing here—in this world—not worth losing sleep over, but one must sleep regardless.
“Work has to get done at some point,” Guren argued in response, though he began to reorganize the files into their folder in agreement. It seemed so wrong, somehow. Filing away what those men had left behind into a folder—covering up their lives.
Guren sighed as he stood, noting the overcast weather outside the window. Then he turned to the unmoving figure, still leaning against the chair. “Are you leaving, too, or are you going to continue to lurk in my office even after I leave?”
Shinya just smiled gently in silent comfort, before walking over to the door and opening it. He held it open, motioning Guren through.
The halls were silent, having been abandoned hours ago, and someone had taken the liberty to turn off the lights under the assumption that no one was left. The world seemed worn out—near death. There were no signs of life, no signs of hope, and even the clouds had decided to hide the tragic view from the moon’s sight.
And it was chilly when the two lieutenant generals stepped out into the night. The kind of chill that lets death caress your ankles, nip at your ears. And Guren found himself staring blankly at the unlit file in his hands, thoughtless and tired.
“Hey, do you know how to find a star on a night like this?” Shinya asked suddenly, motioning to the sky with his chin.
Guren tore his eyes from his paperwork and forced himself to give the other man a sarcastic grin. “You just don’t.”
“Hmm? You’re wrong,” Shinya mumbled, and his eyes were serious when they met Guren’s. Serious in a way that was reserved for nights after battles. For nights of hidden fears and delicate façades. Nights where nothing said was to be taken lightly, yet everything came out a drunken slur. Cloudy nights.
And so, Guren’s gaze softened in the subtle way only Shinya would recognize. “Inform me then. How do you find a star on a cloudy night?”
“You close your eyes.”
Guren cocked his head to the side in question. At Shinya’s gesture, however, Guren stopped walking and closed his eyes as asked, relaxing his shoulders.
A light pressure came over his eyelids, as Shinya traced them with his thumbs. Over and over, calming and gentle. This went on for a while, their only companions silence and the chill of the wind. There were no battle cries or final breaths. There was simply the steady beating of the two living hearts.
“What do you see?” Shinya finally asked, his voice a whisper.
Guren allowed himself a shaky breath. “I see death, Shinya.”
“And beyond that?” he pressed lightly.
“There’s nothing. They’re gone. The faces and names I memorized. Shinya, they’re gone.” It was almost a panic now. As though something physical and true had just faded out of existence.
“Guren,” Shinya replied softly. “There’s something else. Listen for it. Feel for it.” Guren felt Shinya’s fingers wrap around his hand, bringing it up to press against the light-haired man’s chest. “It’s beating,” Shinya mumbled.
“There’s still death,” Guren responded, biting his lower lip in a mixture of frustration and sadness. “They’re just gone.”
Suddenly Guren could feel Shinya’s steady breath against his lips. “There’s still night,” he said slowly, patiently. “There’s still night after you’ve found the star.”
Guren’s eyes flickered open to find Shinya’s much closer than expected. Alive and burning brightly. Untouched by death, carrying the past yet not yielding to it. A shocking white light in the death surrounding them.
“Say, Guren, can you see the star?”