Winter's fallen on Last Defense Academy, and Takumi's freezing trying to get his work done. At the same time, he's weighing a proposal in his mind that might change the life of a certain, special friend forever.
When he's saddled with an unexpected job, he musters the courage to have a hard conversation. Shion's kindness warms his heart—just like always.
It'd be nice, if things could stay that way. But maybe it was just a selfish wish.
“Ugh…”
“Hhg…”
“Ngh!”
“With some tuning, you’d become a fine musical instrument.”
Takumi flinched, the bucket of garden supplies tottering over and pouring into the snow. Hiruko laughed, while Takumi grumbled and went to work cleaning up his mess.
“Can you just help me get this inside? It’s freezing.” Takumi threw all the cold, metal objects back in, fingers numbed. Nozomi told them all about snow, but nothing prepared him for when this weather finally descended upon Last Defense Academy, months after they all chose to settle here.
It’s not like they could leave, anymore, with the escape pod destroyed. The best they could do was live with what they had—with each other.
Hiruko chuckled, sweeping some supplies in her arms, heading towards the school entrance with a disgruntled Takumi in tow. He breathed a sigh of relief the second the warmth of the school enveloped him, bracing himself before tossing the bucket onto the floor.
“Done,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself. “And that’s the last of my chores. I’m gonna go take a break.”
Despite what Takumi said, Hiruko lingered. And he knew exactly why she didn’t say something right away. “…Okay, fine, what do you want?”
“Who says I want something?”
“Well—why else would you be here?”
Hiruko fixed her glasses into place, a glint splayed over her deep, terrifying gaze. “You said you were done.”
“…And I’m not?”
“Yes. I should’ve known you’d forget—even now, you’re inattentive, flighty, and incapable of recalling anything you’ve promised.”
Takumi groaned. “You’re starting to sound like Aotsuki…”
Ah. Mistake, big mistake. As soon as the dreaded name slipped from Takumi, the air around Hiruko froze, chilling him to the bone faster than the most brutal blizzards ever could. He stepped back, hands up, averting eye contact. “Uh—sorry, sorry. What do I gotta do? I really, really need a reminder…please. Right now.”
He dared not look. Lest it invite her wrath; luckily, after a long, tense moment, she sighed. “…Tsubasa needed assistance with checking on Shion’s life support.”
Wait—shit, he did promise he’d help with that.
“Damn it, how’d I forget?” Takumi gripped his hair and put a hand up. “Don’t answer that. Right, I’m going, don’t worry. Thanks for the reminder.”
Ignoring Hiruko’s shouting about something-or-other, probably nothing pressing, Takumi took off, hurrying towards the roof as fast as he could. They’d long since modified an empty room, decorating it as Shion liked. The pod containing his body rested on the bed while Shion himself did as he liked with his avatar giving him freedom. It was the best they could do, considering his condition.
Though once, Yugamu raised a possibility.
“You know,” he said, “I still have years of medical knowledge stuffed in my head.”
Takumi ripped himself from the sandwich half-shoved in his mouth. “Hwuh?”
“Oh, for the love of murder—what did I say about eating in my work space? Honestly, I can’t promise nothing weird’s mingled with your food, what with all the gaseous elements I handle…”
Takumi choked, forcing down the bite in his mouth before throwing the rest in the trash. He fixed Yugamu with a glare.
Yugamu laughed, putting a hand to his mouth. “Anyways, I’ve been expanding my education with Futuran medical texts we’ve scavenged. It made me wonder…if it’s possible to give Shion transfusions of our own blood to override his powers.”
“…Override?”
“Mhm. Cure him of his immense strength, make him a normal boy, all those wonderful things. Maybe he’d be able to grow, walk around on his own…are you listening?”
“I am—but I don’t…know about any of that.” Takumi squeezed his eyes shut. “’S it really that easy?”
“It could be. We won’t know unless we try. Eh, but it has its risks too. It’d be up to Shion if we went through with it.”
Shion’s fragile form; a time existed where he could stretch his limbs, breathe, live, but as his powers intensified it took extreme measures to keep him alive. He’d spend the rest of his life in a cramped pod, sifting for whatever he could find outside of it.
An isolated, all knowing, all suffering god.
If Yugamu could lessen his strength, he may be able to grow up normally again. But in the worst case scenario, Shion would be unable to manifest his avatar while also being stuck in his pod forever. Or maybe his body was too far gone and any attempts to take his powers away would burn his flesh to a crisp.
No one could say. Especially not Yugamu—he put a beaker down with a trembling hand, before crossing his arms and masking his fear.
“I wanna give him a good life,” Yugamu said. “I don’t know if I can. But it’d be nice to see him smilin’. Mind asking him about his thoughts sometime? I’m busy, busy every day, and I’m sure a nice, chill guy like you’d bring it up better than I ever could.”
Takumi nodded. It’d been weeks since their conversation—Takumi hadn’t found the time in ages to bring it up. Of course he’d talked to Shion plenty of times since, but it never felt like the right moment. Hey, thinking of upending your life? You might die, but you might also get the chance to be a normal person. Just ‘cause, you know.
It felt…selfish, in a way.
Forcing an ideal of normality onto Shion.
He was so nice, groomed for death, acceptance, sacrifice. If others wanted to do this for him he’d do it. Even if it killed him. But that’s—that was—
“Sumino?”
Takumi blinked to life before a glittering deep purple, consuming—taking everything into itself. Tsubasa, hunched over the bed, inspected Shion’s pod with a deft hand and various tools sprawled about.
Takumi reached, hand phasing through Shion’s body as he laughed. “You’re acting like we’ve met for the first time.”
“Ah—” Takumi’s mouth opened and shut. He scratched the back of his head, putting on a nervous smile. “Sorry, just—thinking. About stuff.”
Shion hovered to Takumi’s side, a moth to a flame; an ironic comparison given everything. “What are you thinking about? If there’s something troubling you, anything at all, you can tell me about it. I’m good at keeping secrets; they’ll never leave this space.”
Takumi said nothing, while Shion laughed at his own joke. From this close, inches away from Shion, the warmth of his Undying Flames licked at their surroundings while burning nothing. Only organic matter suffered under this fire, but in a controlled form like Shion’s avatar, it never so much as left a mark.
If anything—the way the flames congregated and color-shifted to form the essence of his being seemed beautiful. His core burned the brightest. But it never hurt, a kind, gentle warmth; a reflection of the creator.
…Was that weird to say about another guy? Takumi shook his head, glad no one could read his thoughts. Shion pouted, and Takumi realized he hadn’t actually responded to his question.
“Uh—no, not really. Just the usual.” Work, rest, work. Surviving, not thriving. They’d be rationing food until spring rolled around and they could get to work on starting a farm of some kind. Takumi was gonna miss processed foods, but maybe a better diet would make it easier to keep up with his chores.
Shion’s displeasure remained. “Oh…I’m sorry for prying.”
“Wait, what’re you apologizing for?”
“You look like you have something on your mind, something important,” Shion said, dejection digging deeper by the minute. “You’re always helping me and keeping me company, so I just thought…”
Tsubasa threw her head against the bed. Takumi jumped—she got to her feet, face red.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, picking up a bent screwdriver before throwing it in her pocket. “I need to get some new tools. My stuff’s so worn down it’s crumbling. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
She left, plunging the room into awkward silence. Takumi coughed and looked away—Shion seemed so eager. Takumi couldn’t avoid the subject forever…
“Uh,” he said, about the only thing he could muster. “Uhhhh.”
“Uh…?” Shion repeated.
“Uh.”
“Uh—I mean, I think…” he put a hand to his heart. “No, I don’t think I understand. I’m sorry. If you’re trying to tell me something, it’ll be easier for me to reply if you say it plainly.”
Takumi wanted to bolt out the room too—he wasn’t being fair to Shion, keeping this inside when Yugamu specifically wanted Takumi to offer him the choice. He just…didn’t know whether it was something that had to be offered. Maybe he didn’t want Shion to accept, in case it led to his death.
But that wouldn’t be fair to Shion, either. What a mess—a damn mess, with none other than the failure leader Takumi Sumino at the center. The longer he left Shion in silence, though, the sadder he looked, an expression which carved a bigger hole out of Takumi than any defensive battle ever did.
He looked at his hands—pale, though gaining in color since they’d come to live under the sun. “There’s something I gotta tell you. But, uh, don’t feel like you gotta rush to give me an answer or anything. It’s really not something urgent, or, ah…”
Takumi scratched his cheek, Shion utterly clueless to what meandering point Takumi seemed desperate to get to. Takumi sucked in a breath—Shion was too nice to ask outright.
So, he had to just spit it out. Full honestly.
Nothing less, not for one of the people Takumi jumped back in time to save.
“Yugamu thinks he can curb your powers. Since we’ve got similar DNA, we might be able to transfer our blood into your body, and enough of it circulating could—lessen the flames? Maybe you’d be able to grow normally or…something.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t really get it all myself, and neither of us know if it’ll work. But he’s willing to try if you don’t mind the risks.”
The many, many risks. His throat ached.
“Like…dying.” Takumi cursed himself—there he went, making it sound like a bad idea without giving Shion time to weigh the consequences on his own, “or you might be able to walk around outside your pod. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
Takumi grinned. Shion seemed as blank as ever, a small twitch of his lips about the only emotion revealed. He didn’t seem annoyed, but the boy composed himself well (somehow), so Takumi couldn’t expect outward signs to provide much indication.
“…I see. A normal person—capable of walking on my own, doing whatever I wanted…playing games, running, exploring the whole world with nothing holding me back. And—I won’t need to worry about an early death, either.
“That…would be nice. It’d be a dream.”
Shion looked Takumi up and down. A twitch turned to a smile, to a simmering quiet as Shion moved to the center of the room.
“Sumino,” he said, “I need you to come over here.”
“Wait, why? Do you wanna go through with it?” Takumi said, biting back the bile in his throat. A nervous buildup, but he couldn’t help but let it gather until he almost choked.
Shion tilted his head. “No, I actually wanted to ask you something first.”
“What’s up?”
“Could you hold your hand out?”
Takumi did as asked. Shion took hold of Takumi’s hand—sort of. Being unable to touch others meant his illusion phased through everything, and under Shion’s command the flames didn’t really hurt, but being close to Shion echoed the warmth of curling up next to a fireplace—as close as ‘next to’ could be.
He sighed, content. Shion’s face took on a magenta tint. “It’s warm, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…yeah, I really needed this,” Takumi said. His hands froze while taking care of his chores. He hated asking Shion to be his personal furnace, but since the other boy offered, he didn’t have much reason to refuse.
Shion inched closer, wrapping his arms around Takumi and pulling him close. The warmth grew, nestled from his toes up to his head, a blanket encasing Takumi in another world where things felt comfortable—okay.
Maybe the winter chill made him desperate, but Takumi needed this. He stayed in Shion’s grip until the other boy let him go.
“If…I lost my powers, I wouldn’t be able to give you this warmth anymore,” Shion said, downcast. “I appreciate what Omokage’s done for me, but I’d like to pass on his offer. My life might be short, but each day I spend with you all, the same as the last—I wouldn’t want to risk losing it sooner than I already will.
“And—I’d like to keep you warm, Sumino. For as long as you’ll let me.”
Takumi wasn’t the touchy-feely type with most people. Shion always seemed to be an exception to that rule, though. He knew about Takumi’s insecurities, his fears, and Takumi took Shion’s burdens into his own hands in turn. They’d become linked the moment Takumi absorbed his cryptoglobin, in another timeline.
Bound by a stubborn, cultivated fate. A special bond, warmth, forever nestled in Takumi’s heart—he wouldn’t want to give it up, either. “…I don’t mind. I want you to live, too. I’ll be by your side no matter what.”
Like he promised. Shion smiled, the wisps of his flames glowing brighter as Takumi beamed back.
“…Should I go in now? No, wait, it’ll be really awkward. They’re talking, and I just—I need to wait—achoo!”
Tsubasa rubbed her nose, clutching a tool box in one hand and her nose with the other. The cold intensified as the night drew closer, but as much as Tsubasa would’ve liked to turn around and leave, she still had a baby pod to do maintenance on.
Takumi and Shion looked like they were sharing a special moment, though. She couldn’t just barge in like she owned the place! She’d ruin everything! And it’d be really embarrassing!
So, she’d wait out here. Until they were done. And they’d be done soon…right?
…
Right?