Work Text:
“Akira?”
The voice was muffled, hazy, but familiar. But Akira didn’t open his eyes–couldn’t open his eyes. All he could feel was a throbbing soreness throughout his body that threatened to split him in two if he dared to move. So instead of replying, instead of opening his eyes to look at who was trying to get his attention, Akira simply began crying.
The voice grew more urgent, “Akira!” A firm hand graced his shoulder, causing him to flinch and then shudder from the pain.
Another familiar voice sighed. “Maybe we just let him sleep.”
“He’s been sleeping for a couple days now,” came a third, also familiar voice. “He needs to wake up and eat something eventually.”
At that, Akira sat up suddenly, sucking in through his teeth as a stabbing pain shot up his naval area. Through squinted eyes, he looked up to see Kanaeno, Toshiro, and Yomiko gathered around him in a circle, looking down at him.
Kanaeno smiled softly, her eyes bright, but the eyebags underneath showcasing the exhaustion that ate away at her deep down. Toshiro’s white hair was messy like normal, tousled as if he hadn’t touched it since waking up. His normally half-lidded eyes were a little wider than normal and he, too, had deep eyebags beneath them. He was slouching and leaning way too much on the crutches tucked beneath his arms, as if they were just an instrument for relaxation. Yomiko looked a bit more put together than the others did. However she, too, was unable to hide her own eyebags beneath a few layers of makeup.
Right. Everyone’s probably exhausted after dealing with spies. Akira’s eyes widened. He tried to croak out, “The spies! What happened to the spies?” And yet, after days of lying sedentary, the words got caught in his throat, unable to escape.
“I’ll go get him some water,” Yomiko said. She eyed Kanaeno, looking anxious, before grabbing Toshiro’s arm and dragging him away. “Let's leave these two to it.”
Toshiro didn’t protest, simply casting a glance over his shoulder as he followed Yomiko out of the room. Now that Akira was able to look around, he could see he was in some sort of hospital bed. The room was private and roomy, with a window to his left and a couch pushed up beneath it, and a cushioned chair sat at the foot of his bed. Most likely moved from its original position.
Akira looked up at Kanaeno nervously, her expression dark and unreadable. Before Akira could open his mouth to speak, Kanaeno cut in angrily.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. Akira looked away, pressing his mouth into a thin line. Kanaeno continued, “You had multiple chances to say something. Why couldn’t you come to me for protection? If you’d had me on the frontline, I could have saved Toshiro from the enemy raid. Not to mention that you… you never would have needed to suffer like that!”
Looking down at his hands, wrapped up and bandaged, Akira murmured, “I didn’t think you were well suited for espionage.”
This caused Kanaeno to gasp.
“But… even still…” Akira continued. “Even still, I wanted to go to you. But I thought there was value in keeping a piece unaware and off the board. With you in reserve, if anything went wrong…”
“If you were already dead,” Kanaeno interrupted, “it would be too late.”
Akira looked up at Kanaeno before looking away again, the intensity of her stare too much for him to face head on. He managed a weak, “I’m sorry…”
A thick silence filled the air when Kanaeno finally said, “I’m sorry you got transflorated.”
Heart skipping a beat, Akira froze in bed. If he could clench his fist, he would, but his fingers were wrapped up much too tightly for him to be able to move them even an inch.
“Tr-transflorated?” Akira stammered.
Kanaeno looked solemn for a moment. “Yes. The spies… they… ripped off your fingernails. And before you could get away… before help could come… they transflorated you.”
“No…” Akira’s heartbeat quickened, thundering in his ears as he slumped forward in bed, resting his forehead on his bandaged hands. “No… no, no, no, no, NO! NO! NO, this can’t be happening! I didn’t– I– I can’t– this can’t–”
“Akira, Akira…” Kanaeno appeared at his side, a warm and gentle hand on his chest as she guided him gently back towards the pillow, propping it up so he could lean back comfortably. “You need to breathe… Can you do that for me, little prince? Can you breathe?”
Swallowing thickly, Akira nodded, his mind focusing in on his shuddering, gasping breaths. Tears began to well in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks in fat drops, staining the thin hospital blanket with dark puddles.
“Lay down, Akira. You need the rest.”
Kanaeno grabbed the blanket, moving to pull it over Akira, when he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. She looked at him, confused, as he shook his head.
“No, I… I need to get up,” Akira said. “I want to walk around. I need to stretch my legs.”
Again, her face became fraught with worry. Akira’s stomach twisted, not realizing he didn’t like that expression on her face. He pushed the feeling down as he leaned forward, swinging his legs over the hospital bed, and scooting closer to the edge. Kanaeno remained patient at his side, ready to catch him if he fell—flinching when he stumbled to his feet—and tailing him as he slowly shuffled out of his room and into the hospital’s hallways.
Normally, Akira took great care with maintaining his appearance. Now, however, as he stumbled and winced and gritted his teeth, he couldn’t care less that his feet were bare or that his hair was a tangled mess or that his face was undoubtedly a sickly pale color. He ignored the eyes that landed on him and watched him struggling his way to the lobby of the hospital. He ignored the whispers that floated to his ears and caused a hot, burning heat in the front of his skull.
“You know I won’t let you leave the hospital,” Kanaeno piped up, a hint of cheekiness in her voice. Akira scoffed, smiling softly.
“Don’t worry, Kanaeno,” Akira assured her. “That’s not where I’m going.”
Pausing at the end of the hall, scanning back and forth, Akira spotted what he was looking for and began moving again. Yomiko—paper cup in hand—and Toshiro were sitting side-by-side on a bench in the lobby, looking up to see Akira stumbling forward towards them.
“Akira!” Yomiko exclaimed, shooting to her feet. Toshiro was a bit slower to rise from his seat, holding up a hand in a slight wave.
The pair found themselves disappointed when Akira stumbled past them.
Kanaeno shrugged, her hands folded behind her back as she simply followed. Yomiko looked at Toshiro, who shrugged too, before joining Kanaeno in tailing the young deputy director to his destination.
Finally, Akira stopped, ignoring the three behind him with a million questions on their minds but not their tongues.
Before him was a giant fish tank, hundreds of colorful patterned fish swimming lazily or darting in a frenzy around the tank. The three chuckled to themselves as they watched Akira’s eyes widen, a smile spreading across his face, and a tentative hand reaching up to rest on the glass.
Like a little kid, they all thought.
For the next three hours, Akira would point out different fish and list off different facts about each species. The four of them eventually began chatting and laughing, digging into a gift basket of fruit that Kanaeno had brought. Occasionally, Toshiro made fun of an odd looking fish which got Akira shouting at him and lecturing him about the species and its hidden beauty. The other two only laughed at this display.
Eventually, Yomiko and Kanaeno insisted that Toshiro and Akira needed to get more rest, forcing them to their feet and beginning to usher them back to their rooms.
Akira took a few steps forward, taking in a deep breath before whispering, “Kanaeno…”
Kanaeno stopped, looking at Akira with curiosity. Toshiro and Yomiko looked over at them before continuing on without them.
“Akira-” Kanaeno began, but Akira cut her off.
“What you said to me before...” Akira stood with his back towards Kanaeno, still unable to look her in the eyes. “...that my fight would be a long and hard one. I feel like now I understand what you meant.”
Kanaeno was taken aback as Akira finished.
“Please keep watching over me.”