He was practicing again.
Hikaru had come to the flying grounds for the third morning in a row, expecting to get some time alone to clear his head in the crisp air. And for the third morning in a row, he wasn't alone. Finnian Day was already there, spiraling through the skies, a lone flash of golden hair and bright metal glinting against the gray of the clouds above.
He was good, Hikaru thought. Not just fast, although that, too, was a given; but genuinely good. His form was picture-perfect, his balance flawless even in reckless curves, his center of gravity always exactly where it should be. He was good at finding his way through the air too; always searching for the shortest path from obstacle to obstacle, the way to cut even more precious milliseconds from his time. Hikaru had seen a lot of people on brooms and in obstacle courses. But he could count the ones on Finnian's level on one hand.
He'd be faster than me if he were smaller, he mused. Finnian Day flew like a professional; the only reason he kept losing to Hikaru was that he was taller and larger, if only by a few centimeters. It worsened his air resistance and gave him more weight to propel around, and even though the difference was barely noticeable on the ground, in the air it still decided between winners and losers.
Finnian hadn't noticed him on the ground in all the times he'd ended up here, and Hikaru wasn't about to change that. Disappointed as he was to have to go another morning without flying, he slipped around the corner and disappeared back out of sight. Only to grit his teeth in frustration. His entire body was itching to fly; but he couldn't, because Finnian goddamn Day kept hogging the grounds every morning.
Why does he keep doing this? It's not like he needs it, Hikaru thought irritably, and then immediately chided himself for it. Finnian was working hard, and that was something that deserved respect. What was really bothering him was that Finnian couldn't stand him for some stupid reason, so they couldn't both have their early-morning flying sessions together without starting a fight.
Hikaru was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Bianca until he almost collided with her.
"Oh, hi," she said, smiling up at him. "Were you out flying already?"
Hikaru shook his head. "I wanted to," he said. "The field is…"
He trailed off, unable to remember the English word he was looking for, and rephrased his explanation. "Someone is there already."
"Oh." Bianca furrowed her brow. "Well, you can still go, it's not like—" She paused midsentence as understanding dawned on her face. "Oh. It's Finnian, isn't it?"
Hikaru nodded, glad he'd been saved from having to mention the guy by name.
Sighing, Bianca let her gaze drift in the direction of the flying grounds. "I don't get it," she said. "He's never been like that—at least, not with teammates. Of course, it's also been ages since he lost to anybody on the team," she conceded. "Or anybody at all, really. I don't think he's used to it anymore."
Hikaru wondered, for a moment, if he should comment on that, and finally decided he was better off silent.
There was a moment's pause, then Bianca sighed again and stabbed a hand through her bangs. "I'll try to talk to him again," she said. "It's just—this is stupid. You two are our aces, you could get along great if you just gave each other a chance!"
Hikaru politely but strongly disagreed, and once again held his tongue about it.
Get along?
Even if Finnian hadn't started antagonizing him out of nowhere, he wouldn't have liked him anyway.
~ ~ ~
Finnian was aware he had been quieter than usual, and his friends were probably worried.
It wasn't his fault. He had a lot on his mind; the mood at home had soured ever since he had found out his father supported Ellison's campaign, he still hadn't found out a thing about the mystery documents or the photo of the young man, and Hikaru Hiyama was a thorn in his side he'd rather not even think about. And normally he'd be telling his friends about everything—annoying them with it, even—but lately he couldn't quite bring himself to do it anymore. Somehow…the stuff concerning his dad felt too personal to share, without knowing why, and the Ellison thing…
He knew that Elaine, at least, supported the ideas that Ellison stood for. And after finding out about his father, he found himself worried that she, too, would turn out to support the man they all had loathed for years and years.
So it wasn't just for practice that he found himself up here every morning, flying until it was time to run to class, mindlessly going through the obstacle course over and over until he lost all sense of space and time. If anyone asked, he simply wanted to get good enough to defeat Hikaru. No one had to know that he was running from his friends.
Down below, a lone figure caught his eye in passing, standing at the edge of the grounds and watching him. Again, he thought. That person had come here every morning for the past three days, reliably standing there for a few minutes before leaving again. They were too far away to make out their identity, and they never joined him in the air—for better or for worse, he had yet to decide that one.
Maybe he should go and look, he thought. See who that person was. Maybe talk to them, as long as it wasn't Cassander or Elaine standing down there. But—no, it wasn't either of them. His friends wouldn't just stand there and then leave without a word; they'd wait around for him or call out to him at need.
And hey, anyone else was welcome to join him, as long as it wasn't Hikaru. And it couldn't possibly be Hikaru. After all, why should the shining Mr. Perfect come out here every morning to watch the guy who kept losing to him over and over?
Before he could make up his mind, the figure turned and left, and Finnian focused his attention on the course again, ignoring the stab of disappointment. What was he disappointed for? It didn't matter. None of this mattered.
Next time, he told himself, he would definitely fly down and talk to the person. See who it was. Maybe find a companion for his next flight or two.
But the next time he came out to the pitch early in the morning, the grounds stayed empty; and when he kept out an eye for the next few days, the person didn't show up either.
~ ~ ~
I can't beat him.
The thought had clawed itself into his mind like a cat climbing up a curtain, clinging to it no matter what he did, what he tried. When he tried to yank it, it only hung on faster; and when he shook it, all he accomplished was that the claws sank even deeper into the fabric of his brain.
He couldn't defeat Hikaru. He couldn't even reach his speed, no matter how hard he tried. And his teammates didn't seem to mind, at least not to his face. They were nice. They were acting the same as ever. And yet, the moment his back was turned, he couldn't help feeling like they were whispering, throwing judging looks his way, gossiping quietly about his ongoing failure.
It was just…he was probably paranoid. No one cared about this, no one except himself. Hikaru certainly didn't care. To him, he was just one of the many, one out of the group of idiots he was supposed to carry to victory now despite being miles and miles better than all of them.
I can't beat you. Why can't I beat you?
The question was stuck in his head like a broken record. What was he doing wrong? What was Hikaru doing that he wasn't? Was there anything he could do in the first place? He didn't know. He didn't even know if it mattered to anyone but him, but somehow he had become fixated on the question like all his problems would be solved if only he figured it out.
But Hikaru didn't care. He never had; he never would.
It wasn't fair. Finnian was burning, burning with the heat of a thousand suns—but Hikaru was an ice planet circling slowly in a distant orbit, and to him the sun looked like one star in a sky of many. No, not a planet, he corrected himself. Hikaru wasn’t in Finnian’s orbit; Hikaru was a vacuum, the cold, unfeeling emptiness of space, and Finnian’s heat passed through him unstopped and unnoticed. Finnian could burn hotter and hotter and burn himself out, and Hikaru wouldn’t care; he had seen it happen to a million suns before him, and he would see it happen to a million more. And when all the suns in the world had gone cold and lifeless, still Hikaru would be unchanged, vast and uncaring and utterly alone.
But Finnian still tried to burn him, knowing full well there was no burning the void.
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