Chapter Text
"Hey, Guren?"
"Mmh?" The Lieutenant General lazily shifted his head to face the pale man, who was reclining in an armchair between stacks of haphazardly piled reports, his feet casually propped up on the desk.
"What are you fighting for?"
Guren looked up sharply, pushing the nearest stacks of paperwork to the side as his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure what he had expected Shinya to say— even after eight years of their friendship, he was still a puzzle that Guren couldn’t quite solve— but it certainly hadn’t been whatever
that
was.
He propped his chin on his hands, trying to gage Shinya’s mood, but the adopted Hiiragi had angled his face away, leaving Guren on uncertain footing as he opened his mouth to answer.
"If you’re questioning my loyalties—"
"No," Shinya interrupted, a hint of forced laughter in his voice. "Not what side you're on in this war. What's your motivation for fighting?"
“I…” He shook his head as he trailed off, bewildered that Shinya had drawn him into a conversation far out of his depth so quickly.
Shinya trying to catch Guren off guard wasn’t unusual— in fact, it’d become a sort of game the two of them played, their verbal sparring a thread of familiarity stretching from sitting through hours of Kureto’s scheming to reporting the slews of casualties that came with every vampire attack. But there was always a lighter tone to those conversations, and a sense of subtlety served as a buffer. Now, Shinya had torn down that barrier without a second thought.
Too close, a voice in the back of his head whispered. Too close. But on some level Guren knew he had crossed that sort of line with Shinya long ago. (And it had always been Shinya, hadn’t it?) So he’d play this game a little longer.
“What's with the sudden question, anyways?" Guren kept his tone level, not quite willing to give in so easily.
Shinya shrugged in reply. Typically, Guren could have expected a witty retort, but the young man upheld his unnaturally silent aura, pausing for a few moments before responding. "Just curious, I guess. So, what's your answer?"
Guren was a bit unnerved. With all that they'd gone through together, he had obviously seen Shinya solemn before. He had watched his companion silently lost in thought, but there was still that spark in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips. Now, Guren couldn't discern any of the little quirks that made Shinya, well, Shinya.
Despite being rattled by that muted, unfamiliar mood, Guren was still intrigued by Shinya's question. His motivation? He didn't exactly feel motivated to go out on the battlefield and see his men dying in front of him. He wasn't motivated to be the last face some of these brave soldiers would see, then having to spew empty phrases about duty and loyalty as some twisted attempt to lessen their suffering. He certainly wasn’t motivated to reduce his dead comrades to numbers and statistics lost within piles of reports, and having to relive that vicious cycle whenever those blood-suckers attacked. So, why the hell was he still doing this?
"I'm stuck..." He murmured to himself, though he knew Shinya's keen ears would pick up his words. "I want to protect my comrades, but we’re at
war.
I can’t save everyone. And yet, I've got nowhere to go unless we win this war. So I'm stuck in this damn cycle, and if we don’t win, I'll never get out."
Guren had been facing the wall of his office, eyes half-closed in thought. Now he turned to face Shinya again, curious to see if his answer was deemed sufficient. But when he looked into those enticingly blue eyes, he was met with something like sadness shadowed by resignation. Clearly, this was something deeper than one of their usual games, and Guren had no idea what to make of it.
"You okay, Shinya?" He finally asked.
You've never been so subdued like this and I don’t know what’s causing it and yes, I am a bit concerned because what the fuck, Shinya,
is what he truly wanted to convey. But that would be crossing far too many lines, so instead he muttered a quick, "You've been quieter than usual,” while keeping his eyes fixed on the reports spread around his desk.
Shinya let out a half-hearted laugh. “Guren, are you actually worried about me?” His light words only served as a contrast to his current mood. "I'm fine, though," he added. "Just tired." He attempted a grin, but it quickly faded. “Tired,” he repeated, as if he was worried he hadn't convinced Guren.
"If you say so." Guren narrowed his eyes. He was positive it was more than a lack of sleep, but if Shinya didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to push it. If Shinya was still in this state in a few days, Guren would mention something. "You should go now," he blurted out, immediately regretting the words. "And, uh, get some rest."
Shinya nodded in agreement, and Guren could have sworn he saw his friend's shoulders relax just a bit. He quickly gathered up his work, said a brief goodbye, and hurried out the door.
As soon as he was sure Shinya was out of earshot, he groaned, resting his head on his desk with a small
thunk
. With a few careless words, he’d somehow managed to push away the very person he was trying to figure out. And yet, a small voice in the back of his head whispered, it may have been for the best. He was not someone who could help or heal those around him, despite his best efforts. His hands— the hands of a soldier, Mahiru had once told him— only knew how to inflict hurt.
Mahiru. The rawest, bloodiest example of Guren’s inability. His weakness. A darker thought bubbled up inside him, one that was not entirely his own— your real weakness is your attachment to others, and your refusal to stop caring for them. Love is your weakness. Still, you fight because you love your comrades. Because you care. And that is why you will fail. You will always be weak because of them. Because of Shinya—
Guren blinked, frowning as he realized his hand had drifted to the hilt of his sword, knuckles white from the strength of his grip. He jerked his arm back as if he’d been burned, clicking his tongue in frustration. He needed rest, that was all. He was fine.
He kept an abnormally quick pace as he walked back to the barracks, almost as if his body sensed something— or someone— following him. But the halls remained empty. And for all his racing thoughts revolving around two Hiiragis, one lavender and one silver, sleep came far too easily to Guren.
The next day dragged by, and Shinya was a nagging thought in the back of Guren's mind for its entirety. He had hoped to catch the fellow soldier after a meeting or in the hallways to discreetly judge his condition, but Shinya wasn't in any meetings. Not only was Guren unable to check on him, but the Lieutenant Colonel had no one to back up his scathing responses to the higher ranked commanders or assist in his early escapes from uneventful lectures. In addition, he had nobody to immediately vent to about the particular bullshit Kureto had been spouting that afternoon.
Maybe Guren hadn't realized how much he subtly relied on Shinya to make it through working with JIDA each day. Not only that, but he hadn't noticed how often Shinya had always been present with him, from reminding him about reports due the next day to calmly listening to how much Guren wanted to kick the living daylights out of various Hiiragi retainers. And Guren reluctantly admitted to himself that he kind of missed Shinya's teasing, though he’d take that thought to the grave. At the very least, the lack of his laughter in the halls brought about a sort of eerie quiet, despite the constant flow of chattering soldiers walking every which way.
At one point, Mito had caught up with him while walking through one of the winding corridors, eyes narrowing as she took in his appearance. He braced himself for the imminent lecture that was bound to follow.
“Hey— Guren. Where are you headed? You know as well as I do that there's nothing down this way but storage rooms.” Mito let out an exasperated sigh. “First Shinya, now you. Is there some kind of classified information the rest of us are unaware of?”
“Shinya?” Guren turned his head towards Mito at the mention of the Hiiragi. “You've noticed something's off with him too?”
“Noticed? Guren, the whole squad knows something's wrong by now. But nobody's been able to get anything out of him. Nothing but excuses and apologies, and that same plastic smile. And now I find you wandering down empty hallways… Did you two fight?”
Guren frowned, and kept his gaze trained on the floor as he explained, “I guess I'm just worried about him… As far as I know, there was nothing I said that could have caused it.” He hadn't wanted to be so forward with his worries about Shinya, but something about Mito always left him exposing more of his feelings than he planned.
Mito looked up at him, her brows creasing for a moment before something like realization sparked in her gaze. “Maybe it's not what you said, Guren. Maybe it's what you didn't say.” And with that, she walked off, the sound of her boots echoing on the tile floor punctuating the finality of her words.