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Leaving the door open serves as an invitation, apparently. Aoi makes his way across the rooftop, and Haruichi listens to his unmistakable voice: that flat, polite tone he reserves for explaining the details of the upcoming drill.
But there's something different this time. Assuming Aoi is on the phone, Haruichi can notice a hint of pleading in his voice, due to the favor he's asking of the person on the other end. His roommate stops a few steps away from Haruichi, and his silhouette stands tall in the distance. Imposing, mesmerizing; it's impossible to look away.
Haruichi waits in silence. Even though the interlocutor can't see Aoi, the former Self-Defense Force soldier bows in a gesture of profound deference before ending the call. Aoi hasn't noticed his presence yet, and while Haruichi hesitates about how to get his attention, Aoi finally looks at him sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, eluding the sunset hues.
"Sorry," Haruichi excuses himself, "I wasn't sure if I should say something."
Aoi keeps his impassive stance, showing no sign of discomfort. He also apologizes, but Haruichi doesn't know how to read such polite manners, as if they were two complete strangers, barely acquainted through the list their superiors call their names each morning.
"No, I’m the one who suddenly showed up here. Don't worry about it."
Watching Aoi leave is terrifying, and terror paralyzes Haruichi's legs. His will falters, caught in his throat, on the verge of giving up and accepting defeat in this exchange.
"Aoi!"
The last resort is calling him by his name.
Then, silence. There is no coherent word slipping from the tip of his tongue, but the thoughts vanish into a wasteland, with no kaiju, though the presence of the devastating feeling of being two strangers on top of the world. Whereas their rivalry and greatness when they fight side by side were bound to emerge only if adrenaline threatened their lives.
Even so, despite his doubts, Aoi obliges. Haruichi feels frightened and delighted at once, and he immediately makes room for Aoi by his side.
"I spoke with my former superior in the Self-Defense Force," Aoi explains, "to ask if he could introduce me to a high-ranking officer who could plead Kafka's case."
So Haruichi wasn’t mistaken.
"I never thought you'd be the kind of person who goes around asking for personal favors."
The reply comes after a quick sigh, and somewhat unexpected.
"I told you I don't want to lose anyone, did I?"
It's like Aoi’s asking Haruichi to reconfirm his own statement. And it also means that, despite the alcohol, Aoi hasn't forgotten the genuine emotion they felt when the room was packed with their peers, and they shared their anxieties like parents worried about the future of their children.
Or the future of a fellow squad member who, in a short time, has earned their respect and the others’, which is practically the same thing.
"Hibino Kafka is our teammate in the Third Division, isn't he?"
Haruichi thinks about Reno, about everything he's keeping inside. It must be killing him slowly every moment he chooses to remain silent, just to avoid giving up.
"Well, I…"
What more can he add? It’s up to the high commanders this time; they agree on that. This is no longer a matter of family business or wealthy inheritances like it was at home. This is a different kind of power, which they hope to confront with enough evidence gathered, so they won’t end up crushed by its ruthless system of justice. Haruichi can't even remember the last time everything around him was up to others' actions and decisions, people giving selfish and biased orders.
"You too."
"What?"
"You're my teammate, too. Therefore, I don't want to lose you either."
Haruichi raises his gaze, hoping not to misunderstand what he just heard. He can’t decipher Aoi's expression; he still looks as composed as ever, revealing nothing, no hidden intentions. He almost asks Aoi to look him in the eye, to repeat what he said, to explain himself. Such serenity contrasts sharply with the frantic pounding in Haruichi's heart that he feels he might collapse at any moment.
Hiding behind the wall, with the light playing on the shadows cast by his military boots, Haruichi feels the certainty that this deadly adventure he has chosen for his life has given him these precious moments alone with this enigmatic and silent, yet determined and strong, individual.
Strong. That is what he wishes he could be right now.
The silence stretches on, and Haruichi loses himself in the clouds racing across the sky, fleeing with the afternoon into the horizon. Aoi resumes the conversation, steering it towards safer topics: their concern for Hibino Kafka, the petition everyone signed to help secure his freedom.
"Captain will take them to the committee any moment now," Aoi whispers, sending a shiver down Haruichi's spine. "After that, we'll see what else we can do."
Haruichi twirls the phone in his fingers, consumed by anxiety. He's trying to find a way to make this moment with Aoi last forever, but at the same time, he hopes for the verdict regarding Kafka to be merciful. There's something intimate about sharing this last glimmer of hope as the day draws to a close, to hear their voices discuss magic, miracles, and the logic the authorities should follow to decide in their favor.
Aoi, somewhat confidently, comments on instances where, he says, justice was served correctly: some anecdotes from his time in the Self-Defense Force. Haruichi, on the other hand, knows other stories. He wants to share some of them with Aoi, even if it means risking being judged by him, a prospect that truly terrifies him.
Analyzing each other's strengths and weaknesses after a battle is one thing, for they compete while striving for a common goal, but to be judged based on the expectations tied to his family name...
He's not ready for this, even if Aoi doesn’t seem the kind to care about that. He looks more like the kind of person who values loyalty more than family name.
Haruichi remembers his silence that afternoon, during the celebration of their first mission. It's impossible that he didn't overhear his conversation with Dojima and pick up on certain details. However, Aoi chose not to mention any of it. Neither the price of the meat nor the mention of Izumo Tech created any distance between them.
He doesn't realize he's smiling when he drops:
"I don't want to lose anyone either. That includes you."
Haruichi's confession doesn't follow the flow of the conversation. And he doesn't anticipate the silence that comes next. Aoi looks up at the sky again, into the blue void, where his silence is even more awkward. Did Haruichi do wrong? Weren't they just being honest with each other? Being teammates and sharing a room is a serious matter. And due to the severity of this matter, the words spoken acquire a new meaning.
"I mean…!" he blurts hastily, but the sun can’t be covered with a finger. "I acknowledge you as my teammate because you're my rival! Of course, I don't want anything bad to happen to you! Not to Kafka, not to Shinomiya, not to Ichikawa… to anyone!"
Suddenly, Aoi's severe expression softens, and a hint of a smile emerges on his lips. Haruichi's phone slips from his grip, falling down the fabric from his pants to the floor, so unhurriedly that it takes him a couple of seconds to realize he no longer has it in his hand. Aoi stands up, walking towards the edge of the roof. His profile fades into the shadows, and the evening keeps on devouring moments and colors, staining the debris of what had been their new home with its own hues.
Breathing out, Haru is the one who resumes the conversation, determined not to lose anything. In a battle, one must hold onto what has been gained, and Haruichi plans to remind Aoi that he is capable of smiling, simply for the pleasure of sharing a secret with him. Strategy, some may call it.
"...because there are many things Kafka can teach us, given his experience with Monster Sweeper."
Aoi remains silent for a second longer than expected, startling Haruichi. By the time he speaks again, the conversation has regained its seriousness from ten minutes ago.
"I... I came to the Defense Force to save people, but Hibino Kafka ended up saving me."
"But he's a…" A Kaiju? Even Haruichi realizes he almost contradicted himself.
Aoi interrupts him just in time.
"I don't judge others based on their background or their words. I believe that only actions can truly reveal who someone is. That's what I believe."
Relieved, Haruichi could only reply with one thing:
"Yes, you're absolutely right."
He smiles, his gaze returning to the contact list on the phone back in his hands. Between Sergeant Takao and Mr. Nakashima, he sees his own weakness and cowardice, but also the opportunity to prove to himself and to his father how strong and determined he can be, whether his father is watching or not. Asking for the help of the Izumo lineage is no longer an option.
He can manage on his own.
"So, only your actions matter, right?" he concludes.
The peace is shattered by the same incoming notification tone on both their phones. Cautiously, Aoi and Haruichi exchange a quick glance before opening the message from Captain Ashiro. Just two lines are enough to lift Haruichi's spirit, but deep down, he knows that, like him, many of his teammates must be feeling the thrill of a second chance, finally within their grasp.
"So this means…" He asks, recalling the call Aoi made before this strange conversation began. "The Self-Defense Force intervened on his behalf?"
"No, not exactly."
Not exactly?
"Then, that means that…"
Haruichi collapses onto his back with an expression of relief, happiness, a feeling of such lightness that, were it not for the hardness of the ground beneath him, he would believe he was floating. He can't believe it, but he's going to believe it. This afternoon seems less fateful and more beautiful than ever.
"...it's a victory that Hibino Kafka achieved on his own."
Laughter fills his chest and escapes his lips. He finds it hard to stop laughing; he feels the release vibrating through his entire body, as the last rays of sunlight finally reach the soles of his boots.
And it's like that until the sky takes the shape of Aoi, who is straddling his body.
He looks at him as if trying to discover the origin of the universe in the depths of his blue eyes.
"There's something I actually need your opinion on," he whispers.
"And what is that.." Haruichi inhales the warm breath of Aoi.
The clouds dance above his head, above Aoi's back. His face is the sky, which Haruichi touches for a fleeting second, with fear trembling in his fingertips, until he can finally recognize the landscape in front of him. Aoi's lips demand closeness, and Haruichi's eyelids flutter anxiously before closing, allowing other senses to guide him. Gone is the wall that protected them, the shadows that isolated them from the world. He can no longer perceive anything beyond what his body senses. The phone, lying inert on the floor, rings again, but Haruichi has forgotten about kaiju and judgments and open doors. His lungs feel like two flowers blossoming in spring. Blessed be this breaking of rules, blessed be the philosophy of judging by actions. If that is how he'd be judged, then let them judge him for dancing on Aoi's lips, for melting when his hands caress Haruichi’s face.
"And…?"
For the love of—, this is the first time Aoi smiles for him, no matter how small, imperceptible, and awkward the smile is. And oh, Haruichi is going to explode, he's about to explode at any moment.
For that reason, and because words are superfluous, he pulls him close and shows Aoi his feelings with the most genuine of actions.
The afternoon bathes the rooftop of the Third Division base in golden light, or what remains of it, but while buildings crumble and ruins appear, feelings bloom and new bonds are bound.