Disclaimer: I do not own Megami Kouhousei.
Notes: This is my first time posting a fic. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames are not.
Candidate 39
The halls of GOA were metallic. Candidate 39 tried to peer beyond them. He had heard that the Goddesses had come to GOA for their annual system check. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear the shouts of repairers as they sweated, argued, and worked, all at a furious pace on the mechas. But, in the end, 39 had to acknowledge that all he could see was his own image, reflected by the wall's shiny sheen. It was oddly cold. But it was also a relief.
39 kept his head down. His long bangs fell around him like a blonde shield. Although he had not made any bodily contact with anyone, 39 could feel the restless emotions in his fellow candidates during roll call. Their excitement and worry was a small chaos, vibrating vitality and heat.
Their feelings burned him.
"...38!"
"Here!"
"39!"
"here."
"39!!"
He took a breath, "Here."
"Speak up next time!"
"Sir, it's not his fault, he did sa-"
The instructor swatted his clipboard at the back of 37's head. The boy rubbed his green hair, and then stuck out his tongue at the instructor when the man turned his back. Then the boy turned, and smiled - at him. 39 was utterly mortified.
"Hey come on now, I told you my name! You have to tell me yours!"
39 ignored Gareas as the boy swiftly overtook him, his green hair wild and unruly from his impromptu run. The boy grabbed his arm. 39 cringed.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Don't touch me."
"Why not?" But the boy let go of his arm gingerly, as if afraid to hurt him any further.
"My EX."
"Your ability?"
"Don't you know...what it is?" 39 asked in a small voice.
"Ohh! So YOU'RE the freak!"
39 winced.
"Ah, sorry 'bout that. I mean, so you're the one with telepathy?"
39 nodded.
"H-hmmm. Oh well. Come on," Gareas said as he shrugged. He grabbed onto a clothed shoulder and pushed.
"Nani?"
" I'm your partner for tomorrow's spar. We gotta practice against the other team. Heheh, with your ability, we'll be in perfect synch," Gareas grinned deviously.
"My telepathy isn't that strong. It-It only works if I touch someone."
"Aww! And here I thought - jeez!" Gareas put a friendly arm around his new friend. Suddenly he remembered something, "Hey, it's alright if I do this, right?"
"Y-yes. But aren't you afraid of me?"
"Of you?! Nah...I mean we're gonna become Goddess pilots together someday, right? All we have to worry about is the Victim!"
39 glanced at the wall as Gareas dragged him towards the training grounds.
"Hey, what's so interesting there?" Gareas stopped, noticing his friend was no longer paying attention to him.
39 looked at the sight of the two of them together, reflected in the hall. Although he was a highly skilled emphatic, but just a lower telepathic, even a master at both arts could tell you that there was nothing to be read from a sheet of metal. Perhaps just a sense of emptiness, that came into the mind like the sensory feeling of coldness. But when 39 looked, he felt an unfamiliar warmth over take him in soothing waves.
He realized it came from the feeling of Gareas' hand on his shoulder.
"It's nothing." 39 dragged them away. Gareas blinked at his companion; 39 was smiling - it was the first smile Gareas had ever seen from him since they met. And it was strange, gentle type of smile that seemed to fit his friend perfectly.
"By the way, it's sort of strange to hear you call me 39 in your thoughts - my name is Ernest Curoe."
The End
(and a Beginning)
Notes: This is my first time posting a fic. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames are not.
Candidate 39
The halls of GOA were metallic. Candidate 39 tried to peer beyond them. He had heard that the Goddesses had come to GOA for their annual system check. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear the shouts of repairers as they sweated, argued, and worked, all at a furious pace on the mechas. But, in the end, 39 had to acknowledge that all he could see was his own image, reflected by the wall's shiny sheen. It was oddly cold. But it was also a relief.
39 kept his head down. His long bangs fell around him like a blonde shield. Although he had not made any bodily contact with anyone, 39 could feel the restless emotions in his fellow candidates during roll call. Their excitement and worry was a small chaos, vibrating vitality and heat.
Their feelings burned him.
"...38!"
"Here!"
"39!"
"here."
"39!!"
He took a breath, "Here."
"Speak up next time!"
"Sir, it's not his fault, he did sa-"
The instructor swatted his clipboard at the back of 37's head. The boy rubbed his green hair, and then stuck out his tongue at the instructor when the man turned his back. Then the boy turned, and smiled - at him. 39 was utterly mortified.
"Hey come on now, I told you my name! You have to tell me yours!"
39 ignored Gareas as the boy swiftly overtook him, his green hair wild and unruly from his impromptu run. The boy grabbed his arm. 39 cringed.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Don't touch me."
"Why not?" But the boy let go of his arm gingerly, as if afraid to hurt him any further.
"My EX."
"Your ability?"
"Don't you know...what it is?" 39 asked in a small voice.
"Ohh! So YOU'RE the freak!"
39 winced.
"Ah, sorry 'bout that. I mean, so you're the one with telepathy?"
39 nodded.
"H-hmmm. Oh well. Come on," Gareas said as he shrugged. He grabbed onto a clothed shoulder and pushed.
"Nani?"
" I'm your partner for tomorrow's spar. We gotta practice against the other team. Heheh, with your ability, we'll be in perfect synch," Gareas grinned deviously.
"My telepathy isn't that strong. It-It only works if I touch someone."
"Aww! And here I thought - jeez!" Gareas put a friendly arm around his new friend. Suddenly he remembered something, "Hey, it's alright if I do this, right?"
"Y-yes. But aren't you afraid of me?"
"Of you?! Nah...I mean we're gonna become Goddess pilots together someday, right? All we have to worry about is the Victim!"
39 glanced at the wall as Gareas dragged him towards the training grounds.
"Hey, what's so interesting there?" Gareas stopped, noticing his friend was no longer paying attention to him.
39 looked at the sight of the two of them together, reflected in the hall. Although he was a highly skilled emphatic, but just a lower telepathic, even a master at both arts could tell you that there was nothing to be read from a sheet of metal. Perhaps just a sense of emptiness, that came into the mind like the sensory feeling of coldness. But when 39 looked, he felt an unfamiliar warmth over take him in soothing waves.
He realized it came from the feeling of Gareas' hand on his shoulder.
"It's nothing." 39 dragged them away. Gareas blinked at his companion; 39 was smiling - it was the first smile Gareas had ever seen from him since they met. And it was strange, gentle type of smile that seemed to fit his friend perfectly.
"By the way, it's sort of strange to hear you call me 39 in your thoughts - my name is Ernest Curoe."
The End
(and a Beginning)