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Thump. Thump. Thump.
Hasuichi’s heart was pounding. Despite the aching of his body and the tacky feeling of drying blood clinging to his skin, his face morphed into a soft drained smile. The first victory had gone to him.
Amidst the overwhelming cheers of his countrymen, he hears the urgent footsteps of the medical team rushing towards the fallen combatant next to him. The British proxy hero laid inches away, unconscious. His chest rose along with shallow breaths.
Hasuichi tunes out the buzzing in his ears, instead he turns his focus to the paramedics grabbing equipment and barking out orders to each other, fretting over Albie. Among the busy little group, he notices a man standing further apart from the rest of them.
The man was dressed in the same white attire as the rest of the medical team, but his expression was twisted into one of disgust. The hand in his coat shifted slightly, forming a bulge in the fabric. Hasuichi's eyes widened in realisation, no.
Hasuichi's reflexes acted before he could even blink, unsheathing his blade smoothly in a split second.
The man’s severed hand falls with a dull thud, his grip slackens and the gun clatters uselessly next to it. The arena was dead silent.
Then, sound erupted all around Hasuichi. The man, now with a manic look in his eyes, was raving and screaming abuse at Albie. Listening to the man’s words, led Hasuichi to a sickening realisation.
What the man said wasn't any different than what the adults hiding behind the monitors had yelled at them in the heat of battle. These were the people who had pitched two teenagers against each other in a fight and blamed them for the aftermath.
This was the cruel face of humanity.
Hasuichi's head swims at these thoughts and the weight of his eyelids grows heavier. The world spun and descended into darkness.
Panic gripped at his senses as he opened his eyes. A bloodied, battered body hug on top of him, causing his breath to stutter. Hollow eyes stared back into his own, lifeless and cold. He brings his hand up carefully, as if to not shatter the false illusion. Just as his fingers delicately graze the cold skin, he is torn away, whisked back to reality.
The room was silent apart from Hasuichi's panicked gasps. He was now lying in bed, clean of blood and grime and wrapped up in layers of bandages. Looking around, he breathes a sigh of relief, the real Albie occupied the bed next to his. His chest was rising and falling steadily, unlike the person Hasuichi had seen in his nightmares.
He was alive.
Hasuichi tried to sit up, he wanted nothing more than to check on the other boy’s injuries and treat them as best as he could. Something about fighting against each other had made Hasuichi fonder of the boy. Somehow.
Just then, the door clicked open softly, and a pair of men entered the room. Hasuichi recognised Oki, his father's secretary but was clueless about the white haired man who had followed behind him.
It turned out that the stranger was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, who had come along with Oki to check on his proxy hero and talk to Hasuichi.
Mr Evans told Hasuichi about the talk he had with Albie two years prior, and ended up thanking Hasuichi.
“Thank you, for saving him.” The older man said with a deep bow.
Hasuichi is quick to usher the man up, although he was entirely caught off guard.
“Why did you tell me all this though?” Hasuichi questions, not exactly sure why he has decided to share this piece of information with him.
Mr Evans sighs, “If it were to up to him,” he casts his gaze towards the slumbering figure “he wouldn't tell you any of this.”
“Forgive me for being selfish, but I have a favour to ask of you. Please take care of Albie. I have a feeling that you two will soon become very close and that is why I decided to tell you all this.”
Hasuichi freezes, taking his time to process the words.
“Of course.”
The smile the man sends him is kindly and utterly different from his father's. He wonders briefly how a man like this can handle Albie’s temperament.
Oki sits beside him as the UK prime minister leaves to check on his adoptive son.
“Are you feeling alright?” Oki asks, straight to the point. There was a reason why his father had chosen him as his assistant. Ever so reliable and efficient.
Hasuichi thinks back to the scene after his match and the harsh words that still lingers on his mind.
He attempts an even tone, “I will be.”
Even though the physical wounds had already started to heal, the deep scars that had cut deep would take much longer than that.
The screen flashes as the camera angles change to capture the movement of the fighters as they clash and shed blood. Hasuichi watches with rapt attention, analysing their abilities while searching for their weak points. His bento rested on a tray, cold and forgotten.
Just as the Chinese proxy hero lands a hit with his heavy weapon, Hasuichi hears the rustling of a blanket. Albie was sitting up in his bed, with his head cradled in one hand.
Although Hasuichi had agreed to help him, he wasn't entirely sure what to do. He really didn't want to risk triggering a temper tantrum or a panic attack, seeing as the boy looked very dazed and disoriented right now. So he returned his attention to the match.
After five minutes, in which his eyes flicked between the screen and the still motionless boy, he decided to check on him.
“Hi.” He says a bit dumbly, the silence in the room was getting on his nerves. He watches the other teen tense up at that, and buries his head further into his chest.
Hasuichi pauses at the reaction, startled. He isn't sure whether to continue approaching the boy or not.
Finally, he places himself next to Albie, his movements slow and careful as if nearing a startled animal. Albie says nothing.
“Hi.” Hasuichi’s mouth moves uselessly again. With every second ticking by, his confidence wavers.
Then Albie speaks, the words muffled through the cloth of his sleeves. “What do you want?” There's audibly less bite in his voice, it sounds almost defeated.
Hasuichi tries to push the limits, he grabs one of the pale hands to pry them apart. “I'm trying to take care of you.” Came his reply as he succeeds and moves to the next hand.
Albie lets him do as he pleases, manipulating his limbs until they're free from his tangled hair. He moves on to brush away the mop of blonde hair obscuring his eyes, but this is where Albie stops him.
His wrist is held in a surprisingly strong grip as Albie asks “Did my dad send you?”. His voice quivers slightly.
Hasuichi smiles. “Yes. I promised him I would.”
The grip relaxes, and Albie’s hunched shoulders loosen.
Hasuichi pushes away the hair with gentle care but he stops short as he looks into the other's eyes.
The fierce purple in his eyes had dulled and glossed over. The passionate look that had burned brightly in the throes of battle had been cruelly extinguished.
By his own hand.
He let out a broken gasp while Albie continued to stare at him blankly. His expression was strangely neutral.
Hasuichii wrapped his arms around the other boy. Whether it was to offer comfort to Albie or himself, he couldn't tell. All he knew right now was that it was the right thing to do.
Oddly, Albie kept his mouth shut and hesitantly returned the hug. Hasuichi almost wished for him to scream at him and push him away. Seeing him this motionless and quiet scared him, as if the Albie he knew had died on that battlefield.
The grip around his back tightened even more. Hasuichi had a fleeting thought, perhaps they didn't need any empty reassurances to fill the silence, maybe this was enough.