Sneaking Out - Hacchou/Hirano
Nights at the Citadel are… weird.
Hacchou’s no stranger to abnormal nights. He remembers, vaguely, what it used to be like, before electricity and engines changed everything. He remembers humans living in accordance with the sun, those that could flaunting their ability to defy the night. But even then, the nights were very long. More recently, he’s lived among humans, sometimes pretending to be one for convenience’s sake. When he was in the city, he learned to live by their schedules, which stores and places to go were open all the time, and which seemed to remember living by the sun. The airport had been different yet again. A hub between the worlds, they received visitors from all over, at all hours, except one day a week, between midnight and 6 AM, when passages shut down for maintenance. As a result, Hacchou could be busy for days on end without a break - one of the reasons the airport authority routinely hires non-humans for shifts no human can do, beneath the airport buildings where things must get done without a break between them. He doesn’t need to sleep, not the same way humans do. It’s more of a pleasantry than anything, really. Sometimes he wonders if it was because, until becoming human, his whole life had been spent in something like sleep.
Any which way, though, the Citadel does things differently still, and Hacchou isn’t completely used to it yet. Everyone seems to sleep for four or so hours, midnight to 4 AM, though the times aren’t strict. On either side is another group of four hours - vespers from 20:00 onward, and matins from four to eight - in which everyone does… well, whatever they want, it seems. Some of it seems normal to Hacchou - reading, taking care of weapons or armour, studying history or combat techniques for whatever wars they might find themselves in, that sort of thing. Other activities, though…
It’s not like Hacchou’s unaware of such things, but if he’d realised his sword-brothers were that married, he might have thought twice about agreeing to room with them. Still, it’s easier to just slip out of the room when things start getting too heated than it is to tell them to stop, or even to ask the master for a new rooming arrangement. Even when it’s well into vespers, and most of the Citadel is bedded down. Or bedding down, whichever.
Hacchou’s cheeks flare at the thought, and he grips his shoes tighter as he pads down the veranda, trying not to think of what might be going on behind the closed doors he passes, eternally grateful for the sound-dampening charms he’s been told are built into them.
He’s also grateful he isn't seen by anyone as he passes through. It’s not like he’s been told he can’t leave the Citadel proper after hours, but he hasn’t been told he can, either. He’s not planning on going far - just a little pavilion up a trail from the main house, and still within view. He’s walked that way in the light more than once, because Uguisumaru likes drinking tea there, and he’s relatively sure that no one else will be there on a chilly night like this one. All he has to do is get up there, and he’ll be able to see the stars.
He’s almost at the stairs that lead down from the veranda, across a stretch of garden and dead grass and to the woods beyond - almost home free, when a door creaks behind him.
“Hacchou-sama?” a soft voice asks.
He’s not disobeying orders, but Hacchou freezes anyway, shoes in hand, mind scrambling for an excuse.
“Uhm.” He turns, swallowing, to the sword warrior who’s spoken to him. “H-hi, Hirano. I was just…” His mind fails him, so all he can come up with is the truth. “Going up into the woods for a little bit.”
Well, he’s never been much good of a liar, anyway.
He’s waiting for a reprimand - gods know he’d gotten enough of them in his first few months at the airport, when everything had been new and full of rules he hadn’t understood - but it never comes. Instead, Hirano tilts his head to one side, his eyes catching the light from a sconce in the wall.
“Into the woods?” he repeats.
“Uhm. Yeah. I wanted to go to the pavilion. To see the stars.”
This time, the light in Hirano’s eyes is their own inner fire.
“That sounds wonderful,” he says with a smile. “Oh, but, you have no light for the path…”
Hacchou looks down to his empty hands.
“Oh,” he says. “I guess not.”
He’s so used to a world lit by streetlights, by floodlights and a dozen different guidance systems, that he hadn’t even thought about bringing his own.
Hirano’s expression softens.
“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Hacchou doesn’t know what else to do, so he nods mutely as Hirano slips into the shadows of the hallway, heading back into the Citadel. Leaving Hacchou on his own.
He ties his shoes, mostly as something to do. He’s still expecting something bad to happen, to find out he’s broken some unstated rule or another. Deep down, he’s half expecting the saniwa to appear at his door, to tell him his hiring was a mistake, that a damaged, unstoried sword like him isn’t worth keeping around. What can he provide, after all, that someone else can’t? It would have been cheaper to hire Unshou alone, and probably better in the long run. Unshou is level-headed and smart, always picking up after Hacchou and smoothing ruffled feathers. Unshou’s the sort people listen to, and Hacchou’s always been bad at figuring out just whose directive he’s supposed to be following.
Like right now. He knows he’s to obey the saniwa - he’s signed on to be her sword, after all, so that makes her his employer. Then, the saniwa’s attendant, because he’s her consort, and a bunch of their orders come from him. And probably also the other swords the master is close to, right? And then Uguisumaru, because he’s the oldest of the Kobizen swords, but he never seems to have a strong opinion on anything, and his orders - delivered with a laugh like birdsong and copper-green eyes bright with amusement - are so vague Hacchou can’t even tell if that’s what they are. And what about Hirano? Should he be listening to Hirano’s orders? The tantou is younger than him, but he’s been employed here longer. Uguisumaru seems to take stock in his words, and Ookanehira never seems to argue with what Hirano has to say, so does that make him someone to listen to? Is Hacchou doing the right thing right now, staying here and waiting for Hirano to return? Should he keep staying here, or should he head into the woods like his original plan? What will happen if he does? What will happen if he doesn’t? What will-
“Hacchou-sama!”
Hirano’s voice cuts through the whirlwind of his thoughts as neatly as a blade. Hacchou looks up, and finds that the tantou has returned, wearing a padded silk jacket and carrying another in his arms.
Hacchou shivers, and realises that it’s been cold out here the entire time.
“I brought this for you,” Hirano says, offering him the jacket. “It’s cooler the further into the woods we go, so you should put it on now.”
He sits down on the step next to Hacchou, and slips on a pair of shoes before standing up and holding out his hand.
Hacchou blinks at him.
“Uhm,” he says, because it’s all he can think to say.
Hirano’s large, silver-copper eyes crinkle at the edges.
“Come on, Hacchou-sama,” he says encouragingly. “You wanted to see the stars, didn’t you? I’ll go with you. It’s better than going alone, wouldn’t you say? And I can take you there without a lamp, so you can see the sky better.”
Hacchou still isn’t completely sure what’s going on, or what’s expected of him. But Hirano’s hand is in front of him, and suddenly he really does want to see the stars.
So he puts his hand in Hirano’s, and lets the tantou guide him down the path.
The forest that surrounds the Citadel is almost deathly quiet. It’s autumn, after all, and winter is just around the corner. Except for the occasional rustle of a squirrel in the undergrowth or the woosh of something overhead, the only sound is the sword warriors’ shoes on the packed dirt path. Once they turn a corner and dip past the trees, the soft glow of the Citadel’s lights virtually disappears, and the woods grow dark around them.
Instinctively, Hacchou’s hand tightens around Hirano’s, and he wishes he’d told the tantou to bring a light instead. That would have been better, if the other sword would listen to him at all. Or maybe -
Before his thoughts can unspool like misbehaving wires, Hirano squeezes his hand, catching Hacchou off guard.
It’s just a little thing, but if it’s meant to be reassuring, it works. And Hacchou realises that he hasn’t so much as stumbled since letting Hirano take the lead.
His heart is still thudding unhelpfully in his chest, but Hirano leads him to the pavilion without incident, and without saying much in the way of anything at all. When they step into its shelter, Hacchou lets out a breath.
The starlight is just enough for him to see the wooden boards of the floor, and the pillars around them. If he looks up into the mountains, there’s a carpet of black below, and a sea of stars above. The other way, the sky is mirrored - first by the Citadel, and then, in the distance, after a long pause of black, by the dim amber glow of the human town beyond.
It’s beautiful, and deathly calm. Hacchou’s heart isn’t pounding so hard anymore.
Hirano doesn’t move, clearly waiting for Hacchou to do so first. Hacchou takes a seat at the edge of the pavilion, looking neither up the mountain or down to civilization, but across to the dark wall of the forest. Between the trees and the pavilion’s roof, there’s a ribbon of stars.
If Hirano thinks this is an odd choice, he doesn’t say anything. He sits down next to Hacchou, the cold making plumes of their breath. Hacchou’s cheeks sting with cold, and he’s grateful for the jacket Hirano brought him. He sinks into it, looking up at the stars above, and for several long moments, nothing happens. Just the wind, and the stars, and the dark. Hacchou shivers.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Hirano move, hears something click and tink. He doesn’t look over until he catches a gentle, out-of-place scent, one that immediately makes him think of Uguisumaru. He turns, and sees that Hirano is offering him the lid of a thermos, filled with tea.
“Here,” Hirano says, his voice soft in acknowledgement of the dark. “I thought you might want some tea as well, to warm you up.”
Hacchou blinks, and takes it uncertainly. Licks of steam rise from the surface, catching what light there is around them.
“Th-thanks,” he says, raising the cup to his mouth and blowing to cool it. He takes a sip.
He’s surprised to find that it isn’t the usual green tea Uguisumaru drinks. Close enough to smell similar, but not the same. But still familiar.
Hirano catches Hacchou looking at him, and the tantou smiles.
“I recall you saying to Uguisumaru-sama that you enjoyed this blend,” he says. “So I thought it would be nice to have tonight.”
“You remembered that?”
It had just been a comment in passing, that the gunpowder tea Uguisumaru had served that day had been quite good, not even really something Hacchou has thought about since then. But Hirano smiles and tilts his head, almost as though he’s willing his short bangs to become a screen.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “But, Hacchou-sama… if you’ll let me, I’d like to spend more time with you. You’re important to Uguisumaru-sama and Ookanehira-sama, after all. And you’re one of our master’s swords, too. So I would like to be friends, if we can.”
Hirano reaches out, and brushes his fingers against Hacchou’s hands.
Hacchou feels his cheeks beginning to burn.
“Uh-uhm!” he says, looking for a way out. He hands the thermos cup back to Hirano. “S-sorry, I realised I was drinking it all - did you want some, too? Or, wait, there’s only one cup, isn’t there? So it’s fine if you don’t want to share-“
He can just make out Hirano’s eyes glinting as the tantou takes the cup from his hands. Which is good, because Hacchou knows he was moments away from spilling it over their laps.
“Thank you, Hacchou-sama,” Hirano says, and takes a sip from the cup.
The burning feeling goes all the way to Hacchou’s ears.
They lapse into silence once more. They trade the cup between them, Hirano occasionally refilling it with more tea from the thermos. The scent of gunpowder tea mixes with the autumn of the forest, and even Hacchou’s racing heart begins to calm. It feels like there’s more questions than ever prickling at his brain - should he be feeling this way? Is Hirano annoyed with him? Why does he insist on addressing Hacchou with the same honorific as Uguisumaru? Is he waiting for Hacchou to insist otherwise? (And really, is that something Hacchou wants? Or is there something in the way the tantou addresses him that leads to that tickling feeling in his stomach, his chest?)
When he looks up to the sky, though, all those questions seem to leave him.
It’s so quiet, here. There’s none of the noise of the airport, and nothing to dim the light of the stars. In fact, when he looks up, it feels like there’s nothing in the world except the sky and black hills - and the warmth of the tea in his hands, and the warmth of Hirano beside him.
When he glances at the other sword warrior, he catches a glimpse of Hirano’s smile, his face reflecting the light of the stars, a moment before the tantou leans into him, pressing his arm against Hacchou’s. Then he tilts his head, once more looking at the stars.
And maybe, just a little bit, Hacchou feels as if everything belongs right where it is.