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--I don't want to hear, "You promised to wake me up, Issachar!" eh?
Issachar never changes, no matter how many times Flynn wakes up. At the lakeside where their long journey ends, Issachar is every bit as travel worn and expectant as Flynn remembers. He urges Flynn up, anticipating the Rite's beginning.
Flynn gets to his feet but holds up a hand. Hushing his friend, he says,
"Steady yourself, Issachar. We'll depart shortly, but I wish to use this privacy for one more thing."
"Eh, Flynn? We left the village before sunrise, we can't be late now!"
Flynn can't help but smile in the face of his friend's eagerness. Despite fate's cruelty, Flynn has been able to relive Issachar in his most determined, perhaps most hopeful hour.
"I'm sure you had heard a curious thing from the elders, the rules of those who become Samurai."
The sudden shift in conversation slows his friend down, has Issachar gaping. "You mean... that they must join Luxuror society. And cannot go back to their homes, save for missions?"
Flynn nods.
Issachar shifts his feet, chin ducking when he smiles slight. He can't seem to meet Flynn's eyes. "Does that thought ail you, now that we have come to the end?"
"I will miss you."
Issachar can't hide his surprise, a soft, familiar grin quickly pulling into place. "When you do truly speak, you're as forthright as usual. I will think of you too, my friend."
Issachar's dreams of becoming a Samurai hang over him surely, and have made Flynn realize no matter how dearly Issachar holds him, he will always grow to resent Flynn. It is in his nature, human and frail, to feel betrayed by the boy he coddled in his childhood.
"Was that the private matter you wanted to share with me?"
"No."
"Flynn--"
"I love you."
Flynn has never done this before, never deviated so violently from the script of quiet acquiescence he followed in the past. The sadness that overcomes Issachar's face makes Flynn's stomach seize up.
"Oh..." Issachar says, takes a deep breath. "I have always thought of you as family, Flynn. Truly, we will always be family. But... I can only see you as a brother, not a lover."
Flynn smiles, wider than he should.
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yes. But, I always wanted to tell you."
"Fynn. How long have you," before Issachar can finish, Flynn breaks into a sprint, clouds of dirt kicking up from his heels.
"Hoy, we must hurry! We'll be late."
A bewildered cry follows Flynn before boots crunch through the grass beside him. When Issachar catches his breath, they bicker, childish, absurd, and Flynn lets out a belly laugh that twists his insides up even further.
When they reach Aquila Plaza, the solemn atmosphere steals Flynn's tongue. They gaze up at the stone walls when Flynn takes Issachar's hand, his sweaty roughened palm larger than he remembers.
Flynn squeezes just once.
Goodbye, he doesn't say.
"It's time," he says instead, because he can't put off what comes next.
Issachar, strangely enough, doesn't move and stays standing, hand still wrapped around Flynn's. He begins to speak, fondly lost in memories,
"We are men now, I know. But, I'll worry about you, Flynn. You, who couldn't even bait a fish hook. You must find someone to care for you, in my stead."
Flynn is saved when the senior Samurai barks at them, to come along, they must keep this timely. Dashing over after detaching themselves, Flynn hangs his head low, lets his hair obscure his eyes, and finally cries, quick and soundless.
When the gauntlet is placed on his wrist, he does not see the screen.
He sees the future and pain blossoms underneath his skin.