Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shinya’s used to the feeling of being separate.

 It’s not quite the same feeling as being different, for that would suggest a special quality -- or lack of something common -- that singles one out. Neither is it the isolation that only geniuses and the best of the best find themselves in. Shinya had fought hard enough to live, but he was in no way the best, neither was he alone, technically.

Shinya’s separate. He’s a Hiiragi, but not a Hiiragi.

What’s in a name? Shinya knows more than anyone that a rose by any other name may not smell as sweet.

‘Hiiragi’ means that he’ll never truly belong with Guren and his team family, and it severs any connection with his birth parents. ‘Hiiragi’ is a brand that follows him wherever he goes, opening as many doors as it closes.

Even among the Hiiragis he didn’t quite fit. It was like calling the deepest night ‘afternoon’, or calling a comet a star. They is barely any semblance between them, and the similarities sure as hell won’t grow.

Farewell after farewell, loss after loss, death after death, rejection after rejection, and an endless line of turned backs and dismissive waves.

After he was thrust into that life of death matches, his endgoal has been Mahiru. She had been straightforward with him, and Shinya can accept that. He knows what it’s like to have your life dictated by the plans and wishes of those around you.

He even thinks he had found a friend in her. But she’s dead now and Shinya has no way to confirm it.

Shinya buries everything under the veil of thin placating smiles and a twisted sense of humour, his tone lighthearted enough for the higher-ups to dismiss his words. His words weren’t so fickle for him to be labelled as an air-head, though.

The thing about people is that most of the time, when they are unable to categorise a person or force them into a particular stereotype and the boundaries it entails, they end up shoving them in the “strange” or “weird” category.

Shinya supposes that must be where he lies in most minds. He isn’t close enough to anyone to be “attached” – Guren being the only possible exception – but he is still very much present.

Shinya keeps vacillating between varying smiles, varying tones, and varying gestures that contradict whatever past impression people may have had of him.

Even Hiiragis were human. Kureto-nii, as harsh and unrelenting as he was, was still human.

Shinya thinks that if life were a game of chess, humans would be the pawns. Some say that the most valuable piece on the board is the pawn, for it had the potential to become anything, but Shinya disagrees. Wasn’t it better to have been born with power and be able to wield it, than to spend a short life of ‘what if’s and misplaced hope?

Sometimes Shinya wonders what it truly meant to be human. Is it the mere physical inferiority? The vulnerability and susceptibility to illness? He really doesn’t know.

Emotions, perhaps? Shinya knows that vampires still feel, but their expressions had always seemed thin to Shinya, simple and basic and so easy to read. Shinya does know how strong human emotions are, though. How visceral it was to be human. He has tasted fear before, been taken over by a mind-numbing depression, had jealousy run through his veins.

Ah, speaking of jealousy, he had always been jealous of Guren. Guren, for whom Mahiru instantly dismissed Shinya. He doesn’t hold it against any of them, but it still brings a bitter taste to his mouth.

Yet he sticks around, stays by Guren’s side even after Mahiru’s passing.

Yet here he finds himself, in a sports car driving to where Guren was preparing for the suicide mission.

Shinya doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.

They were so screwed. Shinya had known from the start that he could die. Before he reached ten years, he had seen so many boys his age perish by his hand, directly or indirectly. After that, he had shot down his fair share of vampires as well, although his kills were less flashy than those of the melee fighters.

What he hadn’t realised, though, was that for some strange reason the possibility of Guren dying terrifies Shinya more than the possibility of his own death. 

He and Guren were compatible together as fighters, which was surprising considering that Shinya deals mostly with long range kills, and Guren prefers to get up close and ugly. Usually such a pair would never work together. As Crowley tears through their checkmate with inhuman (literally) speed alone, hurling Guren against Shinya, he feels a pang of longing shoot through his heart when the troops freeing the hostages shout Guren’s name.

No one calls for him. Shinya is sure no one ever will.

Shinya hits the cold hard concrete hard, and he does his best to cushion Guren’s impact, but there is only so much a human can do in the face of a vampire’s brute strength. Guren coughs blood, and Shinya feels a spike of worry. He knows how rash Guren could be sometimes, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the blood wasn’t only due to battle wounds, but to the excessive consumption of those pills.

Guren is sprawled over Shinya, and everything hurts. Shinya wants to laugh as he finds himself sitting beside Guren on the ornate chairs as if they were discussing battle plans back at the Hiiragi stronghold instead of planning an escape from vampire territory and of course they didn’t get far. Shinya’s chest was screaming in agony, his nerves seemingly ablaze with the pain. He wants to scream at Guren to leave him and run, but he knows Guren would never do that.

Shinya is proved wrong, and this time he doesn't to feel about it when it is Guren who shouts his name before pushing him aside, putting himself in between Shinya and the attacking vampire.

Then Guren was the one impaled on a sword, so why does the pain in Shinya’s chest only seem to grow? Shinya just knows that he doesn’t want to see the only friend he has left die in front of him right now at the hands of Crowley.

Love had always been a strange concept to Shinya. There hadn't really been that many opportunities for him to experience that. After all, he had been 'engaged' to Mahiru.

But perhaps Shinya had understimated that emotion.

Love, sacrifice, honor.

Perhaps being human is a struggle, a constant battle to fight and stay on top. Perhaps what makes them human is how they fight to keep those they care about safe, how they fight to not lose anything or anyone.

Sacrifice -- it can't happen unless you had something to lose. Vampires had different stakes.

And love - illogical love that drives people to the most confounding decisions - burns way brighter than the ice of the vampires.  

Goshi’s illusion blankets the place, but Shinya convinces Goshi to carry Guren out instead of him. Shinya staggers forward, trying to keep up as best as he can, but he knows he won’t make it.

At least Guren’s smart enough to know that yelling could only make things worse.

Shinya summons Byakkoamaru, and takes aim as the world explodes into brilliant fire around him.

Chapter Text

If this were a fairy tale, things would have gone much differently.

The prince would have saved the princess, the dragon would have been killed.

The Lieutenant Colonel would have saved the Major General after the General had saved him, and the other Hiiragis nor the vampires would have gotten in the way.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale. 

He should have known that Mahiru would take advantage of the tumult in his heart, exploit the chaos in his mind in the absence of Shinya and the desperation to get him back even as Goshi carries him away and Shinya is swallowed by the illusionary flames and smoke.

He should have known his limits, his weakness, and taken preventive measures to avoid Mahiru’s forced possession.

But he hadn’t. And now it was too late for Shinya.

They say love triumphs all, but evidently not.

Proof lies in the dead and bleeding bodies of Makoto’s entire squad.

Proof lies in the very being of Kimizuki’s younger sister.

Proof lies in the multitude of fresh gravestones.

Proof lies in Guren’s bloodstained hands.

And proof lies in the fact that Shinya is dead, by Guren’s own hand.
(What’s one more piece of evidence to add to the growing list?)

He had just wanted to save him. But of course things would go wrong.

Guren should be used to it by now.

Guren spends his time in Shinya’s room, now. He had never been inside it, since Shinya was the one who would usually seek out Guren. It was small for a Hiiragi, missing the extravagance and tasteful furnishings that were trademark of a luxurious Hiiragi suite.

The walls were plain white, floors uncarpeted, baring spotless tiles, and thin sheets matched the rest of the room. Two spare uniforms hang in the wooden standard issue cupboard in a corner. It was distinctively un-Shinya, mainstream and uniform in a way Shinya never could be.

Guren clutches the only sign that Shinya ever resided in the room: A photograph framed between two pieces of glass, the edges drawn on with marker in what is clearly Shinya’s sophisticated script. It reads: ‘till the end of the line.

Guren doesn’t get the reference, and Shinya had only smiled at him when he asked.

He cries anyways.

He hates Shinoa. Hates her because she had gotten Yuu back relatively unscathed. He hates her because Shinya hadn’t gotten him back as easily.

He hates Yuu. Hates him because his first family may have hated him, his second may have been killed in front of him, but he has a third that lives and loves him. He hates him because he had gotten Mika back, and Guren will never see Mahiru laugh or Shinya smile again.

Who is he kidding? Guren hates himself. Hates that he has to live with what feels like a gaping hole in his very soul from having lost love twice. He hates himself because it was his fault; he was the one who killed both of them after all.

What had Shinya been thinking?

Shinya had never been fond of hand to hand combat, preferring the detachment of looking through the scope of Byakkomaru to feeling the resistance of flesh as a blade hits home, or the gush of blood that follows. Perhaps it is because he’s been responsible for too many deaths: his childhood friends dying simply for being inferior to him, rivals killed just so he would survive. Guren would never know, only able to extrapolate from what he could find of Shinya’s past for eternity.

Guren thought Shinya would never be stupid enough to drop his weapon, and move as quickly as a tiger to wrap his arms around a possessed Guren to ground him. Perhaps he knew that he had never been a match for Guren, combat-wise.

They may have been friends. Comrades. Brothers in arms. Family.

But all along they had never been invincible.

Guren can’t remember the action: the dramatic slash of his katana that cut through flesh as if it was butter. He does remember seeing Shinya’s eyes widen as an arc of red splatters by Guren’s feet, before the shock in his eyes is washed over by relief as he realises Guren is himself again.

But even that emotion is gone before Guren could blink, Shinya’s eyes glazing over before his lids fluttered shut and his body curls forward.

If this were a fairy tale, Shinya would have lived. But this wasn’t a fairy tale.

This was a war.

Shinya dies with a small smile on his face, but this one isn’t like his others. This one resonates with regret and sadness and relief and happiness in a conflicting mess that is Guren’s heart.

It tears him apart because Guren doesn’t know how to grieve alone. There hadn’t been much time after his father had been killed, and Shinya had been with him after Mahiru’s death as well as after that of every single man that had fallen under Guren’s command.

What does he do now that Shinya is gone?

It’s strange that even though most thought Shinya relatively weak out of all those in command, Shinya had been Guren’s pillar of strength. That and so much more.

Guren sets down the photograph of the Shinya and himself. Shinya had had one of his real smiles on his face, something rarer than most would have thought. Even Guren was smiling.

He heads back to his room, brushing off his squad’s fretting.

A sealed envelope lays in his bedside drawer. It is addressed to Shinya, and only meant to reach him in case of Guren’s death. Guren can remember the words by heart.

I never asked to be saved, but nonetheless thank you for putting up with me even though you were a little shit most of the time. Baka.

In a later paragraph it would say: I think you’re my best friend.

And it ends with: I love you.

Three words that he should have spoken.

Three words that could never be said enough.

Three words that would never reach Shinya’s ears.

Guren lets go, lets the envelope fall into the fire and burn.

He cries enough tears to put out his fireplace.