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Hajikei - Nighttime Walk

It wasn't often that Hajime woke up in the middle of the night, but whenever it did happen, it was usually because of a nightmare. That was the case tonight, and Hajime opened his eyes after a memory of his past was warped into a horrific delusion.

The boxer sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up more. He didn't want to remember his past at all, much less recall that terrible nightmare. But it wasn't just a warped version of his past, but a mixture of his memories of the killing game as well.

It had been many years since he had participated in that awful plan and somehow managed to survive because of the new bearers of Divine Luck. Hajime and the other Children of Utsuro, now without Mikado, had served their sentence together. They were just happy to be alive after everything, and had practically grovelled to Yuki for forgiveness and remained kneeling after learning about their blessing.

Many years had passed, and Hajime had gotten married to Nikei, who was now more paranoid despite his blessing. Hajime couldn't blame him, and had continued to apologize to the journalist when he was reinstated as their leader. Despite his paranoia that his leadership would be taken again, Nikei had slowly learned to trust Hajime, even if he still wouldn't let the boxer in on his thoughts.

Speaking of the journalist, Hajime looked beside him and noticed that Nikei was missing from the bed. In the middle of the night, Nikei going missing meant that he was either in the bathroom or on the part of the roof that was easily accessible from one of their house's spare rooms.

The bathroom light wasn't on, so Hajime went straight to the spare room and up to the window. As he expected, the window was open, so he looked outside for the journalist. Nikei was laying on the rooftiles and staring up at the sky, but he turned his head to look at Hajime.

"Come back to bed, you're going to get cold," Hajime gently chided, though he had a feeling why Nikei was outside based on the impassive look on the journalist's face.

Nikei shook his head and continued staring up at the stars in the night sky. "I have reasons. You wouldn't get it."

"Ah, so you did have a nightmare," the boxer sighed, knowing that his husband would still cover up reasons why he was upset. It got predictable over time, and Nikei knew it despite continuing to do it. "Those stars look pretty tonight, don't they?"

Hajime didn't get a response from the journalist, not that he was expecting one anyway. Nikei did look a little depressed at his words though, as if he was doubting himself again.

"Let's go for a walk in the park then, we can go to the lake too," Hajime suggested with a smile, reaching his arm out to help guide the journalist back inside. Nikei looked at his arm for a couple seconds before grabbing onto it, letting Hajime use his strength to pull him back inside.

After a quick pit stop in the kitchen to get themselves some warm water to drink, they put on their coats and went out into the bitter night air. They had been to the park multiple times, even in the dead of night, so they knew the way there without any trouble.

The best way for them to calm themselves was to go to the lake at the end of the park and sit near the shore, looking at the sky and seeing the night stars reflect on the water. And that's what they ended up doing, with the smaller man leaning and resting his head on his husband's shoulder.

Hajime looked at Nikei leaning on his with a sad smile. "Yeah, I feel that, man. I had a nightmare too, you know." He sighed and looked out at the star-speckled water. "I'm happy we're alive, you know? I could properly apologize to everyone, and even now, I'm still trying to make things right."

Nikei only moved his head a little as a response, which was good enough for the boxer. To try and make Nikei react a little more, Hajime gently picked up his precious right hand and kissed the back of it.

Nikei flinched at first, he now protected his only treasure fiercely after the events of the killing game, but he had allowed Hajime to touch it freely over time. After lowering Nikei's hand from his lips, he began to massage the hand and watched as the journalist seemed to relax and melt into the touch.

He continued rubbing his husband's hand as he looked back at the ripples across the lake's waves, admiring how even the movement of the water looked so peaceful. There was a reason why they had always returned to this spot, and this was it.