Nine months of travel, with a sleeping quarter almost as large as his bathroom at the Garrison, and Daichi still presses his nose up in awe against the glass of the ship's large viewing window when he's well and truly sure that neither of his teammates are looking.
Maybe it's the fact that even out here, where the earth fell out out range of the visible spectrum long ago, everything is still miraculous. The stars are not close enough to touch - the planets they pass distant to avoid their gravity. He knows the science - as much as someone like him will ever know the science - but even plunging into the inky black of the great beyond, the mysteries remain.
"Wow, I can actually see the sentimentality, Sawamura."
Ah yes. Nothing like a little dose of reality to cure the sublime.
Daichi turns, neatly hiding any flutter of embarrassment with a wry grin and a neatly arched brow.
"Can you? Shocking, I didn't think you'd could see anything past your collection of rock samples, Tsukishima."
Tsukishima is not so adept, apparently, because his face cycles through a whole range of emotions - startled, indignant, amused, mock hurt - before he slings a carefree arm around Daichi's shoulders and, rather than pull him away, joins him at the window.
"Honestly, the great tragedy of this world is that no one believes me when I tell them what a little punk you are."
"It's not my fault I turned in my work on time and followed the rules. And I'm not littleanything. I'm literally six months younger than you."
"Followed the rules? Have you met you? Six months and like, six feet shorter."
"You're not allowed to exaggerate. How can we ever trust you as our resident scientific genius?"
"Uh, because of the whole resident scientific genius part."
"Who lacks a doctorate."
"Who lacks a - hey!"
That earns Daichi a playful slug to the shoulder that lands maybe a hair too hard. But Akiteru's definitely feeling it too; knuckle bones against military trained muscle don't stand much of a chance, and it gives Daichi a little thrill of satisfaction. Satisfaction that shows in the way his grin grows wolfish around the edges.
"Who's finishing a doctorate," Akiteru corrects, giving up the clearly futile mission of rough housing and instead focusing on messing up Daichi's hair as much as he can. "You know better than that by now, c'mon."
"Do I?" Daichi feigns ignorance, batting away the hand in his hair. But he's betrayed by his own laughter, glittering and hard. "Fine, fine, you're just an easy target, man."
"Well, one of has to be. - Hey, Boss, wanna help me gang up on Sawamura?"
Daichi freezes under the weight of Akiteru's arm, caught between panic and the desire to snap to attention and settling on neither. It doesn't help that the presence of something around his neck makes it that much easier to stay down and mull over his options.
And then there's something suspiciously hand shaped resting on the back of his head and he's fairly certain this is how he dies. What a headline - pilot of the historic Coeus mission to Kerberos, dead of embarrassment before they touch down.
As if oblivious to his plight, the newcomer behind him laughs.
"Now why would I do such a thing to our heroic, upstanding pilot?" It's no surprise that Commander Tashiro's voice is gentle and warm, and Daichi's soul continues to evaporate from wherever it had been moored.
"Oh my god, seriously." Akiteru heaves a champion grade sigh, reluctantly withdrawing his arm from around Daichi's neck and crossing it against his chest with his other. Which means that Daichi has no recourse left - he has to stand straight and face his commander, blood red face and all.
"Commander, I -" The words strangle in his throat and at his left he hears Tashiro make a sound that's traitorously close to a laugh. Though he's focused on meeting his Commander's eyes, he's not really seeing much of anything through his haze of respect and fear and embarrassment.
Commander Tashiro takes it in stride. He ruffles Daichi's hair (he'll bemoan it when he gets a chance, now that it's wrecked) before dropping his hand to his shoulder.
"Everything's fine," he says warmly, radiating the kind of confidence that probably comes with years of study and leadership. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Daichi."
"Or an alien!" Akiteru offers unhelpfully. Daichi almost whines before he catches himself.
"Still holding out hope?"
"Think about the possibilities." Akiteru's eyes are glittering, and Daichi sees the Commander's lips twitch into a broader, more playful smile. "Not only have we traveled the farthest of any manned space mission - with the youngest and most decorated crew in history - but add first extraterrestrial contact on top of that? Don't crush my dreams, Boss. 'Sides, gotta take a pic of one for Kei."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Tsukishima." Tashiro's voice is softer now and, without realizing it, Daichi finds that the tension and shame has bled from his frame. Tashiro catches his eye and flashes him a grin.
"C'mon, Captain Sawamura. I want to show you something before you have to check our progress."
"Ah - right! Sure thing."
"Have fun, guys." Akiteru waves, turning on his heel to the hall of the ship that he'd dedicated to his research quarters over the past almost - year. The gesture is passing and casual, but when he turns to reciprocate, Daichi thinks he can see the restless excitement knitted into his flesh, simmering just under the skin. And he can't really blame him - for the antics, the energy, the laughter.
They're only a few days from descent, now. No one faces making history, alighting on their destiny, with composure.
He drifts.
Everything is so far away out here - every star, every planet, every sound. They echo strangely, bouncing around like so many radio waves scattering into the ether. Part of him - asks? Begs, maybe, needs to hook onto those sounds. The voice is insistent, an alarm.
Listen. Listen. Say something - wake up - wake up, Daichi -
Five more minutes, please.
He drifts.
Space is all points - arching points, lines drawn between omnipointed stars, plotted courses, the dotted pattern of satellite bodies. It is distances - so far, each celestial body years separated from the last. It is silence.
Someone calls to him.
No, someone yells.
His eyes are shut, leaden. But without realizing it, he finds himself aware - twitching muscles he can't identify, searching for his cardinal directions, seeking out the floor or the ceiling or anything solid with which to orient himself. Anything, ground yourself - find an anchor and you can accomplish anything. All you need is something to hold, white knuckles straining under your skin as a sign that you will always endure.
Daichi opens his eyes.
The world is violet, and he is not alone.
Things resolve asymmetrically. He notices first that whatever is in front him - these things aren't human. None of the humans he knows have claws and fangs and grow seven, eight feet in height. None of the humans he knows have yellow eyes that pierce through him until he can feel the pain lance through his temple.
- Not just his temple. Like shattered glass, the entirety of his head aches in a way that matches his pulse, thready and quick. His stomach rolls, rebels, but he can't, he's wearing his -
- No helmet? How can he - is he breathing? Air catches in his chest, strangles in his lungs because he can't - breathe, breathe, just do it, captain just breathe god damn it -
- He coughs, he hears voices. He can't understand them - is his hearing...? Muffled or, but no, it's fine he just - can't understand -
- But he can. One of them - he knows that voice. He knows how gentle and warm and solid and all knowing it is. Should be - how it should be, because this is not the measured and sheltering honey - gold voice of Commander Tashiro Hidemi.
"We don't know - he doesn't know! Please, release them - !"
Daichi's throat burns, a fact he only notices when he opens his mouth - to respond to the Commander, to say something, to address the thing that's leaning in, now only inches from his face, speaking in a language so jagged and steel laced that it slices through him, nausea roiling in the pit that was his stomach.
"- We mean you no harm," he chokes out. Tashiro falls silent. Daichi cannot turn to look at him. Words build behind his teeth now, straining with the pressure of his useless tongue and blistering throat. "Please - we're not... We're not here to fight we are - please. They've done nothing - let them go, let us go - !"
"Daichi!"
Instantly, instantly he knows that voice. From the corner of his eye, Daichi can see Tashiro's frantic expression. But at the insistence and fear he hears, he turns to Akiteru just as something connects neatly with the back of his skull.
He sinks.
notes ; comments / questions / theories are all more than loved.