The lighting in the small room inside the run-down house that they dare call "headquarters" is barely sufficient, but they're used to it by now. In fact, they themselves chose and still choose to live this life, after all.
Nasch sits at his table, reading report after report, only to always read the same words.
Everyone is happy.
He shakes his head and takes the next report, failing to notice the orange-haired boy who has approached his chair from behind.
Casually, Vector leans over Nasch's shoulder and speaks in what could be described as an almost ironic tone.
"See it positively, we'll never become like them."
"What makes you so sure of that?" Nasch doesn't look at him, still reading the report.
"Isn't that obvious? The mere mention of my name makes you want to vomit." Vector chuckles, and Nasch hates it, but hatred and discomfort is good.
Better than what they call smiles and happiness, anyway.
"You're not wrong about that."
Vector tilts his head a little so he can read the reports as well.
"Who wrote that? That's much more detailed than usual."
Everyone's too tired and unmotivated to write proper reports by now - over the years, most of the resistors have given up on taking note of the small details, as nothing seems to change anyway -, so seeing a report like that is almost like a blessing, yet very unexpected. But Nasch knows why that one is so detailed, and he sighs.
"Yuuma left it here before going back there. And can you get off my shoulder already?"
Vector makes an amused sound before sitting down on the chair next to Nasch's. "So, Yuuma is still doing that?"
"That" is the only way to describe Yuuma's current life style. He seems to be perfectly capable of living within the Empire without losing his free will and emotions, but he also never resented anyone there. On top of that, he even supports the resistors.
In short, he makes no sense to anyone who doesn't know him personally.
Nasch shrugs, but the visible tension in his shoulders betrays the rest of his of his body language. "Yeah, but he's Yuuma, so what did we expect? He said he'll meet Yuuya soon. He wants to negotiate on our behalf."
"It's not like accepting freedom granted by them is any different from becoming their dogs."
They fall into a silence of agreement during which they read Yuuma's report.
[Yuuya and Yuuto don't show themselves in public as often as before, they lock themselves up in the palace and barely let anyone come close to them.
They feel sad.
It might be related to Kaito's attempt to assassinate Yuuya.]
"Isn't that almost too kind for our Prince Yuuya?" The disgust in Vector's voice is distinct. "He's the one who has thrown everyone into this hell he calls happiness, but he's allowed to feel guilty about it? What a joke."
Happiness.
That's what Yuuya's empire has spread everywhere, successfully. Everyone has been united under one rule, everyone has whatever they want in whatever quantity they need it, no one has to starve.
Sounds amazing, right?
But Nasch knows that accepting that sickly sweet happiness would come at the price of losing himself.
"Oi, Vector."
"What?"
"There's a scar is on my left shoulder, right?"
"It was there the last time I saw you naked at least."
Sometimes they just have to confirm it.
That their memories aren't lies, that there was a world before this one; a world where something beyond smiles and happiness existed, where emotions such as sadness and hatred existed.
A world where they weren't told to laugh whenever they felt like crying.
"Can you check?" Nasch asks, a bit too quickly.
Scars help. They remind Nasch of who he is, of what life he has lived before the Empire existed.
It wasn't an easy life, and he makes sure that this one won't become easy, either.
"Is that an excuse to do something else?" Vector teases, and Nasch hisses a "No" before standing up.
Vector pulls Nasch's shirt up, traces the scar to make sure Nasch knows where it is.
"There."
Nasch nods, bites his lip because he knows Vector is making a conscious effort to tickle him to piss him off.
Vector scowls and pulls Nasch's shirt back down. "You're boring sometimes."
"Still less boring than our happy neighbours some streets over, you know."
"Point taken."