Hello! Kurokapibara here.
So remember when I said I would finish this chapter in two months… well, I lied, unknowingly though! I estimated it would take me two months to finish… but as you can see, it took me more than that… four months to be precise. But regardless, it's here!
So anyway, don't go thinking this will be a chapter full of action… that will come in the next chapter. This chapter could be consider a little bit of slice-of-life, or an interlude between the last chapter and the next one. So, yeah, you can start hating me… or if you already are, even more so.
But anyway, here is chapter 5! Enjoy… or not.
Chapter 5: A moment of respite.
"Ah-choo!"
"Bless you, chibi-senpai."
Even in adversity, good cheer found a way to flourish and prevail, proof of the resilience of human kind. Its purpose, a hearten respite in an age of calamity.
…However brief it may be.
As for our heroes, they were more than glad to welcome the given recess, and make the best out of it. Now with the evacuation completed (an arduous and tiresome task, more than fighting the invaders had been), and all and each students and teachers were gathered and accounted for on the academy's rooftop, Tamakoma-2 – and Izuho – could do nothing more but wait.
(A certain humanoid Neighbor not doubt refuted the idea. The thought of being sidelined whereas Border made front to the mechanical lackeys, couldn't be any less appealing. That being said, the order had been issued by his leader, and for that reason alone, he would stay. Besides, quality time with his team, outside of rank wars and strategy talk, was scarce and almost none-existent. Having this moment to goof around with his closest friends and team, for Yuuma, absolutely nothing could top it, not even the prospect of a good fight.)
And thus, here there were. Osamu, Yuuma, Chika – and Izuho too, together as it should, sitting on the institute's rooftop; surrounded by classmates, schoolmates and teachers.
The albino wiped off the bit of nasal discharge (byproduct of the preceding random sneeze), utilizing whatever substitute of a napkin that was at his disposal, which turned out to be the sleeve of his Tamakoma uniform.
Afterwards, Yuuma's focus turned onto the bento box residing in his hands –presently empty, but once full with Chika's delicious white rice. Playful red eyes stared intently at the container, as if expecting it to magically appear a second serving of the tasty food.
Sadly, it had not been so.
No, this wasn't right. Initially, five balls of rice occupied the bento box – he had ate them all, evidently. And yet, the hunger had not gone away. His stomach roared unsatisfied and ordering to be filled. Dully noted. One hand moved to appease the demanding organ, the other went to stroke his chin whilst the hungry youth surveyed his surroundings in a quest for any leftovers.
Where to look.
Where to look.
Where to look.
… … …
Bingo!
"Oh! Are you going to eat that, Osamu?"
The addressed boy had, yet again, resorted to his habits and submerged himself in his inner world; drifting towards wherever the sea of thoughts would carry him. Jade eyes stayed unfocused, unblinking, and oblivious of the outside world, and consequently, unaware of the hand leisurely reaching for the last onigiri inside another bento box than the foreigner's own.
Both girls were also ignorant of the situation to give the boy a heads up; too occupied chit chatting amongst the two of them to take notice.
The hand was getting nearer and nearer with each passing second.
And if it had continued that way, then the thief would have certainly gotten away with his loot. Luckily (and mercifully for Osamu), the robber gave himself away just as he was about to take hold of the goods, deciding at the las moment to ask for his leader's confirmation. "Can I have it?"
Thankfully, the question sufficed for Osamu to surface from the depths of his mind, and to the land of the living. The sharp eye of the boy with glasses allowed him to salvage his food at the nick of time by moving it away and out of the albino's reach.
And Yuuma, the cocky teen could only mourn the loss.
A hand was left hanging, imploring for mercy to his plight. A single dangling tear announced the agony at the privation. The trademarked duckface kept on being unyielding, though.
"Kuga, you have already eaten your portion. Plus the lunch Usami-senpai was kind enough to compose for us." Osamu scolded his teammate; his unoccupied hand readjusting the glasses on his face.
"Yeah, but I'm still hungry." The delicious dish continued to be in his line of sight. Its tantalizing aroma was still perceived by his nose despite the distance in between. So so close, yet far away and out of reach for him to eat it. It was torturous for sure. Osamu could be an evil mastermind sometimes. "Besides, I know your stomach can't handle much food, anyway. So you can give what it's left to me."
Why was he not surprised? "I said no, Kuga. It is rude to leave food when it is offered to you."
By now, the silly banter had caught the attention of their female teammate and her friend. Gossip and rumors not being as interesting as the bickering boys.
In truth, the duo had been aware of the albino's shenanigans since he began his attempt to snatch the ball of rice. With the corner of their eyes and discreet side-glances, they kept track of the hand's journey. A wise decision would have been doing something to halt the advance, but who were Chika and Izuho to stand in the path of the starving boy and a mouthwatering meal?
On the contrary, in a silent agreement, both girls permitted the limb to proceed its course and wait for the outcome. Most likely, it would end up with the up-to-no-good teen been caught.
And, to the surprise of no one, that was what it had actually happened.
Leading up to the squabbling companions at her left side. No an uncommon event any longer, more like an everyday occurrence, that in the absences of it during their gatherings, then the reunion could not be called fulfilling.
To restore the goodwill between friends, it was required, once again, to deploy the secret weapon. "It is fine, Osamu-kun. You don't have to eat it if you are already full. I promise I won't be offended." She reassured the older teen, her angelical voice did wonders for calming her childhood friend.
Unfortunately (although 'naturally' was more accurate, as it was to be expected from the humanoid Neighbor when he assumed his impish attitude), Yuuma did nothing but to aggravate the situation, whether be intentional or not. "See, even Chika agrees with me."
Osamu choked on his gasp. All work done, undone. "No, Kuga!"
Sentiments unlike her own –irritation and impatience– stung her soul. The fraternal love Chika had for the albino was unmeasurable and hard to be swayed. Still, moments not unlike this endangered to sully the pure emotion. But as always, she pushed past them and onwards.
Even so, her dear teammate did not make it any easy. She looked at the instigator: both arms crossed over his head and his legs arranged in an Indian style, as a happy, cocky smile adorned his features. Chika gave a sigh to dispel the undesired feelings (opposed to a more daring headshake, although the urge still lingered). She struggled to preserve her sweet, innocent smile to no vail; instead, an awkward gesture was all she could offer.
The gifted girl gently took hold of her own bento box –one rice ball still remained intact inside– and held it out towards her mischievous friend. "In that case, if you are still hungry, Yuuma-kun, you can have mine. I don't mind."
The selfless deed claimed the attention of every member of her little group. Osamu, Yuuma and Izuho put a pause to their silly argument and her silent amusement, to stare at the small girl.
And for that short moment, time stood still.
A gust of wind blew between our heroes, gently caressing their fake bodies.
All the while, Chika continued to hold out the container. Already, her slender arms began to give small tremors due to the exertion caused by leaving them hovering in the air, whilst her smile fell more and more.
Ever so slowly, time began to resume.
Softly, Izuho decided to manifest her concern over her friend. "But Chikako, how are going to grow tall if you give your food away?" Even though her worries were a bit offbeat.
Then, all hell broke loose.
"Now, do you see what you have done, Kuga?!" Osamu turned to berate Yuuma for his wrongdoings, ignoring the fact that the offer and choice had been Chika's, and by Chika alone.
In those green eyes, the complete blame befell the team's ace.
Truly, his longtime friend was generous and considerate soul, thinking of others' wellbeing before her own needs. Nevertheless, somehow, in some way, the young Humanoid Neighbor had influenced this act, he was certain of it.
(In matters that regarded his cherished childhood friend, Chika, overprotectiveness flooded his being, drowning all other sentiment as well as any sense of logic.)
Meanwhile, none of this seemed to upset Yuuma; rather, it further amused him. Therefore, he saw no problem in following with the charade.
"No, no. Itzuho is telling the truth, Chika. You are in a stage of growth. You need all the onigiris you can get." His carefree stance persevered in its being, in a way that suggested that perhaps the concept of shame eluded the grasp of the albino. He opened one eyelid rotating his orb to make contact with annoyed green eyes as he proudly declared. "…You can have Osamu's."
… …
… …
… …
"WHAT?!"
… …
… …
… …
In the end, the urge had won. The peacemaker shook her head in resignation as she let her arms fall over her lap, at last giving them a moment of respite. Her attempts –and her future ones– would be all futile; she could see that now. Those two where a lost case.
… …
"Would you accept mine?"
What the heroic group – in their stage of banter and teasing – had come to omit, was that alone they were not. But surrounded by individuals who were much capable of auditory and visual perception, subjugating them as the reluctant spectators of the gang's shenanigans.
(Or perhaps they were, the four just simply did not find the mind to care, did not find the need to feign the depths of their bond, nor to conceal their buoyant spirits despite the ongoing moment of adversity.)
And the audience would never fault them for it, now or ever. Young in age, merely a decade and a half in their life, simple and mundane affairs of life should have been the prime concerns in their teenage years. Whilst more mature talks, such as war, invasion, and battles ought to be left to the adults. But alas, they were soldiers, and child soldiers nonetheless.
That was why, as long as time was kind and permitting, they would gladly abide by the children's heartfelt desire. As well as take part in their playful interaction, as they wished to heighten every and each given second of the hopeful notion.
That been said…
Suddenly, accompanying the words, an unknown wooden bento box appeared at Yuuma's eye-level.
At simple sight, the neighbor in disguise could observe the contents in the case. He could distinguish a bed of steamy white rice at the bottom, followed by a layer of yellow scrambled eggs, and strips of crunchy breaded chicken laying on top of them both. A shiny, greasy, brown substance covered the previous ingredients, with some small green rings adorning the top as a final touch. It was easy to see that the dish had been put together neatly and with care.
His eyes sparkled, and his mouth watered. Yuuma had not tried this succulent dish before, at least he didn't think so. It lacked resemblance to other kinds of food he had previously seen or tasted, despite Tamakoma's efforts to indoctrinate the Human Neighbor into the Japanese Cuisine.
Greedily, Yuuma went to grasp the offered lunch… only to stop centimeters away from it. Where his hands were supposed to take hold of the container (one at each side), another pair stood on their place.
Driven by the enigma, the young teen traced the hands back to the arms, then to the shoulders and up to the head. "Oh," And found a girl smiling friendlily at him. The girl was of fair complexion, with straight brown hair that gently brushed at her shoulders. Her violet eyes shone with a sparkle that reflected the essence of her smile; an energetic, vivid smile. "Futatsugi."
"Hello, Kuga-kun!" The newly identified classmate eagerly greeted back, taking her name as a welcoming gesture. "A little bird told us you have trouble taming a vicious beast," She gave a little laugh at the bold statement. None of it held antagonistic intent, of course, it was all for fun and games. "So we have come with a peace offering."
As if it were that simple.
The leader's strict morale strongly disapprove of the girl's selfless idea. No classmate, teacher, friends, or anyone else should make a sacrifice for their sakes. Him, himself being the only exception. "It is not really necessary, Futatsugi-san. We wouldn't want to inconvenience you."
"It's not. Futatsugi-san always brings an extra lunch box at school for whoever needs it." Ichinose, another of their classmates, calmly explained to the apprehensive teen. Her posture and attitude radiated calmness and tranquility, contrasting the more enthusiastic, eager demeanor from Futatsugi. "But most of the time it is us the ones who end up eating it so it won't go to waste."
"Uh-hu!" The first girl gave rapid enthusiastic nods at her friend's statement. "If someone who really needs it would end up eat it, I would be so happy."
Whatever argument Osamu had, never left the boys mouth when, without notice, an arm roughly surrounded his neck putting him in a playful chokehold.
"Yeah! Don't sweat it, Mikumo." Said the one guilty of Osamu's current plight, Miyoshi –their local, overly enthusiastic Border fanboy. "C'mon. Don't be so uptight! Futatsugi spent her time and dedication making the food. Are you really going to tell her no?"
The addressed boy, in the meantime, found himself in his own struggle of regaining the proper function of his lungs, and not choke to dead. Despite of it –and stubbornly so– he still made the effort to prove his point across, because he would not be Osamu if he didn't. "N-n… *cough* N-no-o…*cough* of c-cour-se… *cough* n…n-ot… *cough* *cough*"
Not soon after that, Osamu felt the constricting arm eased its grip and leave his neck. Finally permitting the black haired teen breathe the gulp of air he desperately needed. Which he promptly did.
Yuuma rolled his eyes, not worrying for his friend one bit. Unlike what someone might believe upon meeting the seemly reserved, formal boy, Osamu tended to have a penchant for the dramatics. He was a member of Tamakoma Branch after all, and Jin's kouhai at that. So, yes. His leader would be just fine.
With the ordeal seemly over, and Osamu back to shape, possibly now he could explain his reasoning more clearly.
The boy in blue readjusted his glasses that had come to be misaligned, and closed his eyes. "Of course not." He started "We are thankful of Futatsugis-san's thoughtfulness. Nevertheless, she should not –especially not in the regards of an inconsiderate classmate with no true necessity…"At this, green eyes peeked under pale eyelids in order to send an accusatory look at the boy beside him; who in turn, retaliated with a boastful cat smile. Osamu frowned. "…give away her food so effortlessly-ACK!"
And, all of the sudden Osamu was being lurched forward.
Once again, the righteous teen wasn't given the time to finish, when a firm slap on the back of the disheveled –though proud– blue military uniform's jacket, obliged Osamu's rant to be cut short.
A concoction of spit, words, and air –individuals once upon a time– had come tangled together by the ill-treatment, and veered to the wrong passageway. Subjecting the black haired teen to a renewed coughing fit.
And Miyoshi, the instigator, could be none the wiser. "Ma! Ma! I was just joking with you, Mikumo!" He gave two more playful pats for good measure.
Maybe it was required of Yuuma to reconsider his personal biases. His leader would not be quite all right as he initially though he would.
Be as it may, Miyoshi was no Midorikawa. The former seek to not ridicule nor harm the Tamakoma agent (as the later once had), but to have a joyful time with the party present. That was why the albino hadn't seen the need to berate his classmate at the time –as he had with his rival. However, it was more than evident Osamu was having anything but such. And as it was, for the sake of his leader, it would be for the better if Yuuma did.
But there would be no need, at least not from him.
"Ma! Miyoshi!" A voice called out to the boy with a tone that promised an earful soon to come.
All the while, Miyoshi had encapsulated himself in a bubble that kept him blissfully oblivious of the other's emotions except for his own. But not even an imaginary, isolating bubble of his own making could forever cheat the real world when it came knocking.
"What?!"
"You are being rough with Mikumo-kun!" Futatsugi pointed out, exposing the deceived teen to the harsh truth it really was.
"HAH?!" Miyoshi turned, only to be met face to face with a reproachful frown.
Futatsugi had moved. Away from Yuuma's right side, and onto Miyoshi's personal space. She was leaning down to face him, feet apart and firmly planted. Both of her arms had gone to each side of her hips, rigid and unwavering.
A few paces behind the girl, stood Ichinose; arms crossed at her front, and her head slowly shaking in disapproval. Clearly, she shared Futatsugi's sentiment, although quietly. And somehow, that was so much worse.
"Ma! Do you have to be so impulsive and rash all the time?" The accusatory question brought his focus back to the shorthaired girl, just in time to see a hand strictly point downwards as she commanded. "Just look at Mikumo-kun!"
"Oh, man." Oh man, indeed. The sight was what everyone was making it out to be, and more. To have the agent gasping for air – his eyes closed and hands clasped tight at his strained efforts– was clearly not how Miyoshi remembered it going, nor how he intended it to go. "Mikumo! I'm so sorry!" He half-exclaimed, half-apologized, regret making up his words.
He wished to amend what has clearly his fault, to right his wrongs. But Miyoshi didn't get as far as to even graze the celestial-blue cloth.
A hand intercepted his own, yanking it aside, and him along with it in an impressive show of strength. "Oh, no. You have done enough already, mister." Futatsugi scolded.
The girl hauled Miyoshi to his feet and lead the two away, dragging the apologetic classmate (who could barely keep his footing) apart from the scene and to a waiting Ichinose.
"Seriously, we came here just to offer some food." A new voice stated, tired and unenthusiastic. A voice that, until now, had opted to go silent. Only to break his vow of silence when he stood witness of his exuberant friend being taken away. Which did not surprise him, since knowing how easy was for Miyoshi to get excited; it was only a matter of time before a similar outcome came to happen. So, when it did, Yotsuya –the last member of the group of friends – without sparing a glance to the agents, went to follow behind his two companions like a lost puppy.
Frankly, everything that had just transpired between the party of four, Yuma had only heard but had not exactly listened, as it mattered not to the boy. Miyoshi and how said classmate was dealt with, ceased to be the ace's problem when he was relieved from intervention duty. Good, Yuma had thought at the time. No doubt the task would have been a nuisance, although necessary. Now, with it no longer relevant, most of his attention could move to a better –and rather important– matter: mainly his teammate and leader, Osamu.
Chika knew this as well, because as soon the boy and the girl were out of the picture, she too came to their captain's aid.
The duo set to work on their leader's back, matching each other's pace in perfect synchrony.
"You with us, Osamu?" Yuuma asked. For once his smug, mischievous smile was absent from his features. The albino's usual façade faded away in order to express the concern he had toward his ailing friend.
"Ye…Y-yeah." Was all their afflicted teammate could muster, and with great effort too. Osamu knew he had to keep it short, lest he wanted to succumb to the torturous spell once more.
Thankfully, the team was in no rush. The lack of enemies to engage and alumni to protect at the moment, left the squad with no immediate responsibilities to fulfill, meaning, Osamu could use the whole day to recover if he so required. And his teammates and friend would be by his side in every step of the way; this, Chika was kind enough to remind him.
"Take your time, Osamu-kun. Don't strain yourself, no one is pressuring you. Yuuma-kun and I are by your side, always."
"C'mon, megane-senpai. You can do it." From her spot at the other side of her girl-friend, Izuho sent her own positive vibes to cheer his fellow agent.
But unfortunately, none of these came as helpful to the boy.
Not when his once brilliant-and-creative brain had been reduced to a swirling vortex of thoughts, instincts, and desperation; whilst red lights and blaring alarms screamed 'SURVIVE' in big capital letters inside his head. In the current state of disarray Osamu's mind was in, neither of his genius ideas (the concept his fellow agents and friends have come to recognize him for, and he proud himself of) succeeded to be conjured at his command.
It was a good thing, then, that the gasping boy had his faithful teammates he could rely on. Furthermore, one whom by growing up in the mist of war and battle, gave him the unavoidable experience with cases such as this. Thus, providing the foreign boy the knowledge to take care for his distressed human friend, as he always has, and always will, so long as he was by Osamu's side.
Which, Yuuma hoped, it would be for many years more.
"Deep breaths, Osamu. C'mon, you have to take deep breaths…" The veteran instructed.
Yes, of course, he should do just that. By now, the mass of spit had long been dislodged from his airway, and swallowed. Ceasing the choking, and leaving Osamu no longer coughing but a wheezing mess. Now, it was only matter for the black-haired boy to deliver the much-needed oxygen to his strained lungs.
"… Deep breaths. One at a time. Okay? One…"
Inhale.
…
…
Exhale.
Such a simple action, yet very effective.
"That's good, Osamu. Easy does it." Yuuma's collected words gave him focus, something to anchor himself to, as well as guided him. "Another. Two…"
Inhale.
…
…
Exhale.
"You are doing a great job, Osamu-kun." Chika's encouraging words and gentle voice brought peace and order to his unruly mind.
"Last one. Last deep breath, Osamu… And three."
Inhale.
…
…
Exhale.
And then, Osamu opened his eyes.
And just like that, the crisis came to pass.
"How do you feel?"
How did he feel? Well, for one he wasn't choking nor gasping; that alone was a win. Also… nothing. Osamu felt nothing. Not a single thing. Not even the ardent sensation in his throat, nor the winded up state he was sure to be left with after such strenuous activity. He felt fine… great, actually. As if none of it had ever happened. Props of having a Trion body he guessed.
"Better. Thank you"
Only then, after the reassurance from the once-afflicted guy that he was in fact okay, did Yuuma and Chika concluded their appeasing hand movements upon their leader's back; moving back and away from Osamu's personal space, and to their respective places.
"You had us worried for a moment." Chika admitted.
Although the preoccupation had ceased to be manifested, the emotion still lingered, never truly fading. And it would continue to be so, forever fearing the same fate that befell her best friend all those many years ago, would be shared with those whom she cared for. Despite of it all, Chika still smiled.
And what else could Osamu do but to apologize. "Sorry"
However, Chika wouldn't have it. "Īe" The gifted girl denied the apology with a shake of her head; her short black hair swung gracefully in compass of the gesture. "You don't have to apologize, Osamu-kun. Worry comes with being friends, it shows that we care." As she spoke, Osamu's attention was posed onto her, allowing those lilac eyes to peer into jaded ones –those lilac eyes that could pick him bare every time they settled on him. "What matters is that you are all right."
Well, with a reasoning coming from the depth of the heart as that one, who was he to argue?... The fact that it involved Chika, was irrelevant.
"As if that was enough to take him down. Right, leader?" An unmistakable voice at his left asserted, as if the statement had been as obvious as Miwa's hate of Neighbors.
Osamu's stare drifted from the smiling short girl to the smirking short albino. And the boy with glasses was not surprised to find that the ace had fallen back to his nonchalant and playful attitude.
Any other day, this would have brought annoyance to Osamu. But today, Osamu gave himself the opportunity to see, to properly see and discern the boy that sat in front of him.
To anyone else, Yuuma's words might have come as a simple jesting jab, as it fit in his well-known goofy character, and seconded by the seemly careless posture. However, Osamu knew well that anything the forged-warrior did was not without a purpose… well, most of the time.
The words spoke of the trust, of the conviction Yuuma had towards the novice captain. The confidence in him and everything that he – Osamu– entailed.
And honestly, sometimes it was just too much to be conferred with. 'Kuga, the faith you have in me weights heavy on my being, and it scares me. It frightens me that one day I am not going to be enough.' And yet, Yuuma had sounded so certain, so sure, that even Osamu wanted to believe it without a second thought.
If only evidence didn't prove otherwise.
Osamu gave a little chuckle, his self-deprecation slightly peeking from within. One gloved finger scratched his cheek as he awkwardly admitted. "I'm not going to lie. For a moment there, I really thought that was it for me."
But Yuuma's faith wouldn't be easily swayed. "You would have found a way, you always do."
Perhaps Osamu shouldn't complain as much, and instead be thankful that on that faithful day he –a wannabe hero– had proven himself in the eyes of the alien warrior, forever earning Yuuma's unwavering loyalty. Otherwise, Tamakoma-2 could have been the parallel of Katori-unit.
The resemblance between Katori and Kuga, as well as Wakamura-san and him, were undeniable. Both aces of both teams were prodigies on what they did, resourceful and deadly too. But whereas Katori's ego and pride deemed herself too good to act on her own, Kuga's experience demonstrated that there was strength in numbers. And while Wakamura-san's well-thought strategies (and well-deserved warnings) went unheard, his own creative ideas dictated the squad's actions.
It could have been the other way around, and in another dimension, perhaps it was. But in this universe, Yuuma was Yuuma, and Osamu was Osamu, and for that the team leader was thankful.
Defeated, he accepted the fact "If you say so."…more or less. "One thing I know for certain is that I don't to go through that ever again."
… …
"Excuse me, Mikumo-kun?"
No…
Not again…
An unreasonable fear coursed through his being in the form of chills going down his spine. Simply hearing the voice speak subjugated his body to the involuntary reflex, when usually only watching scary movies in the middle of the night or hearing noises when one is alone, would evoke this kind of reaction out of him. You know, spooky situations that would have any human teenager cowering under their blankets if it were to happen to them. And really, it spoke of how rattled the black haired boy was left feeling after the interaction.
"Ah, no! No!" It spoke hurriedly, acquiring a high-pitch tone to it, with intentions of bringing ease to the tormented teen… and allies. "Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen this time, I promise!"
All party members involved turned to acknowledge the call, despite purely addressing the head of the team. And found the guilty company of four –Futastugi, Miyoshi, Ichinose and Yotsuya– now standing at their front.
If their remorseful looks were anything to go by, then it was more than evident the group regretted their faulty actions. Frantic side-to-side hand movements from Futatsugi had no doubt been a companion to the call when it was worded, which –knowing this– declared the short-haired girl the author behind the call.
"It's just," Ichinose continued where her friend left off. "Miyoshi here wanted to apologize for his rough actions. Isn't that right, Miyoshi?" Before the chance to defend himself was even given to the admonished boy; the girl yanked Miyoshi's left arm (rather harshly might they add) to be looped with her right one. No soon after, she added. "And, don't worry. He is not going anywhere near you this time –nor for a long time. He is staying right next to me, like we agreed."
The tone with which both girls had spoken, for the agents had been a mean to calm. But for the spiky-haired boy, underneath those words of truce was a warning –not to do screw anything up, or else. What the 'else' meant, our heroes did not want to find out.
Hesitant at first, the regretful boy fidgeted with his hands, his palms sweaty, struggling for the words to come past his tighten-lips. However, a well-placed side-shoved from Ichinose's part set him right, and in an explosion of words, the apology was verbalized. "I'm really, really, really sorry, Mikumo! I swear it was never my intention to put you in such spot." If not for his companion's hand anchored to his own, acting as support, the rough concrete of the floor would have abraded the smooth and tender skin of the teenager's forehead with how low Miyoshi had tried to bow.
All the while, Osamu's thoughts revolved around the idea of that this was too much. The awkward sweatdrop permanently residing on his cheek, was accompanied by two others exposing how uncomfortably he felt at being put in the spot. Wishing for those intense pleading-for-forgiveness eyes to look anywhere else but him.
"I-It's fine…" He began; voice stammering and unsure, but then stopped.
No effort would be to simple accept the apology, seeing as it pleaded for him to do so. And yet, his deep sense of rightfulness commanded at him to do otherwise. Same sense that had steered Osamu into declining the generous offer, an offer that it wasn't even he who it was directed to; thus leading to the series of unfortunate events that soon followed.
In truth, Osamu was as much to blame as was Miyoshi.
Therefore, he too should take the fall as well. To extend an apology of his own was the least the righteous boy could do.
Osamu stood up; not shying away from the stares as he had before, for his mind was made up and only determination moved him now. Those pleading-for-forgiveness eyes were still very much fixed on him, but not once did Osamu waver. Not even when resolved green eyes connected with those remorseful black ones as he said. "I accept your sincere apology, Miyoshi…"
"Thank you, Mikumo! Thank you!" The other boy made an attempt to hug the black haired boy, joyful and relieved that he had been forgiven, no doubt. 'Attempt' because before Miyoshi could even take more than three steps forward, he was yanked three steps back by his warden, Ichinose.
However, Osamu was not done. He intended to set things right, so he would, regardless of how many times the black-haired boy would be rudely interrupted (which was becoming somewhat of a nuisance if he was being honest). "…But only if you would accept my apology as well. It was wrong of me to step in a matter I had no involvement in the first place. Because of that, I'm also to blame for the events that followed." He prompted the upper half of his body to lean down before he continued. "Please, forgive me for the trouble I have caused."
The action of the proper boy took his four classmates by surprise no doubt, causing them to look back at him with startled faces; occasionally sharing glances of bewilderment with one another. Because for them, in their widen eyes, Osamu was the victim and thus, he had nothing to atone for. An apology was the least the quartet had been expecting.
But not his teammates. To them it had been something to expect, so then none of them both shared the same stunned sentiment those four did; instead Chika and Yuuma smiled, knowing and proud that the hardships of war had yet to pervert their leader, and still continued to live and do by his altruistic ideals.
When the four students realized this fact as well, their shocked faces faded, replaced by appreciative, soft smiles. Glad that Border agent Mikumo was still the ol' same goody-two-shoes Mikumo all classmates and teachers had come to know and love.
"Oh, Mikumo-kun, there is nothing to forgive." Futatsugi reassured.
"But the sentiment is appreciated." Ichinose concluded.
"Does that mean I get to eat Futatsugi's delicious-looking dish?"
With the exchange of apologies, the avoidable misunderstanding between the two groups was resolved. Its end left all members involved free to wander to whence they came from and what it had been. Which meant, for a certain short albino, it made him realize he was still very much hungry and had yet to have his fill. An imperative (to young neighbor, at least) matter Yuuma wasted no time to address once over, because this time, he was sure to come fruitful.
Osamu straighten himself, his testimony having (finally) been delivered and his objective achieved. Now, another issue claimed his attention. Not a moment to breath was even given to him. But, so was the life of a captain –he supposed– never truly ending, always busy. Furthermore, in the business that regarded his teammates, or teammate –one in particular.
All fighting had left the proper boy; not much had been left to begin with anyway. So, Osamu just sighed, letting the tiredness flee his body with the expiration. Then, he looked at the ace, his voice resigned as he conceded at last. "Yes, Kuga. You can eat Futatsugi's delicious food."
"Yosh!"
Victorious, the winner threw both arms to the air spontaneously and instantaneously, that if not for his rapid reflexes –honed by the will to survive sneak attacks from fellow squads during the battle of minds that were the rank wars– the leader's head would have gotten well acquainted with the ace's gloved backhand. However, as he was, currently residing in a fake body, a disarranged hair and misaligned glasses was the worse Osamu could have ended up with.
And even so, with the joyous ambience that was now, a mere accident with hardly any consequences would have done nothing to quell the merry laughs of the buoyant atmosphere. The ecstatic mood that the short albino –in the view of his success– displayed was overly contagious to let it be so. Instead, it made them chuckle, the whole group, and not even Osamu could resist the allure.
Yuuma picked up the forgotten dish from where it had been discarded by its maker. So what if the thin circular, green toping had smeared the brown sauce around the container? or if few grains of rice had gotten free and were now laying on the ground. Still, Futatsugi's food was some-what intact and very much appetizing-looking.
So, by all means, with one gloved hand holding the bento box and chopsticks positioned at the ready (in his own awkward way) in the other, the albino proceeded to delight his palate with the explosion of flavor that would be the first bite. The open laughs diminished to more humble chuckles, now curious of what the expression of the first-timer would be after savoring the initial mouthful. And naturally, no one was more than eager than the chef herself.
That was how the mingled gang found themselves observing with such attentiveness the trajectory of a piece of the food –suspended in between chopsticks– get shorter and shorter as it neared Yuuma's mouth. This, the hungry boy was oblivious to it, for he had his ruby eyes closed and his mouth wide open; or perhaps he wasn't, and simply decided to ignore it, as it was more fun that way.
But the merry illusion was soon shattered.
Suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had struck her, Chika in a snap, sprang to her feet.
The abrupt and unexpected move claimed the stares from every member of the group, putting a pause to their ongoing antics, as it had caught them all by surprise, and even to some, earned a small frighten jump on their spots.
"Chika?"
"Chikako?"
"Amatori-chan?"
Chika paid then no mind. Her unfocused lilac eyes stared past her classmates and into a faraway place no one but she could see. And indeed, no one but she could, for it was her Side-effect that had acted up, in an attempt to forewarn her, and only her.
It did not, however, forbid the black-haired girl to express in words the found awareness for the others to know.
"They are coming."
… … …
Ominous, foreboding and prophetic. No soft spoken words had ever sounded so menacing as these did. And yet, the warning had been received with mixed reactions. None of which it should have been: fear.
Instead, it was met with confusion and a tinge of curiosity disguised as concern by some. Because, those who knew not of Trion and Neighbors –the knowledge strictly reserved to Border and the like– could not even begin making either head or tail out of the girl's uncharacteristic demeanor, much less to truly comprehend the nature behind such event to act accordingly. So, logically, they wondered.
"Huh? Coming? Who?" Futatsugi asked, head quirking in plain puzzlement.
"What do you mean, Amatori-chan?" While Ichinose interrogated with more well-articulated questions. "Who is coming? Who are 'they'?"
For our heroes, it was not like that. More than once the Tamakoma agent and the humanoid Neighbor had witnessed the extrasensory ability going off, and more than once, they had come to discover what exactly came after. Which, by itself, was worrisome. But as an isolated event on a ordinary day, it was nothing the trio –and Izuho– couldn't have been able to handle. Now then, in the midst of a full-blown invasion, Osamu wasn't quite certain for that to be the case.
And yet, the mere thought of giving up had never crossed his mind, not even once.
Instinctively, green eyes went to search for red ones, and found them halfway, wary and vigilant (mirroring his own). The albino nodded, indicating he too acknowledged the severity of the events to follow, and he too was also aware of the role they would have to take (Yuuma was fine with that). But a deeper meaning spoke to Osamu –urged him, rather: not to act with haste, instead, to evaluate the situation before rushing in.
And Osamu understood completely. With wins and loses behind him, the leader was no novice –at least not anymore. There was no need to be told twice, or once even, as he knew now how to operate –past mistakes and its atrocious consequences had seen to that– nevertheless, no witty comeback left his mouth, because it had been Yuuma who had offered the advice, and whenever Yuuma related something, Osamu would shut up and listen.
With no more left to say between the two, the captain accented his agreement. Yet, his stare lingered for few more seconds than those needed. Selfishly holding onto those ruby orbs as if his life depended on them, willing to prolong the friable sense of newfound jubilance they had come to relish, as long as it was possible. Because, not sooner after the stare had been broken, what they had would cease to be, and chaos would break loose.
It wasn't meant to last, though, as time was always meant to move forward. Finally, the exchange broke, as per Osamu's doing when he looked to the side. The black haired boy was still not ready –he doubted he ever would– but regrettably, the matter could not be postponed any longer; lest he wanted the enemy to encounter them unprepared. So, with no other choice, Osamu rose to his feet, steeling his resolve to be the squad leader he was chosen up to be.
(All the while, one set of eyes had not moved away when the other had. Instead, red calculative eyes stayed, observant of the older boy's every move, every act, every inconspicuous twist on the feature of the youth. In the look out for the moment his overthinking friend would once more spiral down to the depths of the abysm of oneself. And if it were to be so, then Yuuma would be there, a hand outstretched ready to bring the other back, as many times it would take. Thankfully, there was no need. And when Osamu moved to stand, the albino followed as well).
Osamu addressed his classmates first, as they were closer and easier to reach, so that was where he began. "I apologize for the inconvenience this may cause," The boy with glasses apologized first, because of course he did, always polite to a fault, as it was his nature. "but we don't have the time to explain right now. We ask, though, that you remain here with the rest of the rest of the students and teachers where you will be safe."
The voice echoed with familiarity, yet the tone which it had been spoken resonated foreign to their ears. But there Osamu stood, proud and tall and unrecognizable. Gone was the once floundering teen, and in its place stood a man who proclaimed self-conviction. A leader through and through.
The change had been remarkable, and not exclusive to the black-haired teen.
Chika, small and fragile Chika, held herself with the courage of a lioness ready to protect, ready to act, to attack with fierceness if her loved ones were ever threaten.
And Yuuma… was perhaps the most drastic of them three, if not the scariest. The short boy was a far cry of his playful, enigmatic, mischievous self. The group had not known anything else since the albino was first introduced, and frankly, if not for the evidence, they would not have believed the goofy teen owned any other face. Now, at the presence of the stone cold and razor sharp stare, Futatsugi, Miyoshi, Ichinose and Yotsuya thought that this, perhaps, was how it was always truly meant to be.
The trio that stood before them were no mere teenagers, students no more, but fully formed soldiers.
Fighters.
Warriors.
"Of course, Mikumo-kun. We will stay here." Ichinose spoke, conceding with speech, albeit it being barely a whisper. While the other three could only accent, at the lack of better –if any– words.
Osamu offered a polite nod in return, but commented no further. Instead, his focus moved ahead. Green eyes hopped from head to head, individual to individual, assessing all those who the captain would have to assure their safety once again.
None seemed to note the sudden change of winds, seeing as the alumni continued to carry on with their trivial talks and easy conversations. Ignorance was a bliss, as they said. But sadly, not for much longer...
"Everyone! May I have your attention, please?"
The captain began, voice an octave louder than what he's used to, yet firm and compelling that it was carried above and beyond all the chit-chatting. As it flowed, silence followed. Snuffing the merry voices in its wake, like a gust of wind would do to the fire of a candle; and the leftover burnt was the now solemn atmosphere. Bodies and heads rotated left and right in search of the source that had blatantly disrupted their antics. And came to an abrupt halt when each one of the stares landed on the prepotent image of what were supposed to be schoolmates.
It had worked; the Tamakoma-2 leader was now the center of attention of all students and teacher alike. If he were Kage-senpai, no point in his body would have been mercifully exempted from the stinging faith that came with recognition. But thankfully Osamu was not, and neither physical nor emotional afflictions would sway his determination.
With that said, Osamu continued. "In a matter of minutes, the enemy will appear inside our school facilities once again." As he broke the scary news, the teen observed as eyes grew round and big when what was the harsh truth finally dawned upon the crowd's innocent minds. However, before anguish could orchestrate any mayhem, the captain rushed to add, having been not quite done yet. "We ask you to put your trust in us one more time, and let us handle the incoming attack ourselves. As to maintain the order and for your safety. We, the Tamakoma-2 squad and fellow schoolmates, swear to fight for you and do our best to assure your well-being. Please, rely on us."
The speech was short and concise, the few minutes they have left it no other way. Nevertheless, it had served its purpose; and now awareness enlighten the reality of the crowd.
"We are in your hands Mikumo-kun." But the time for despair had come to pass, there was no need for it anymore, only hope; for his comforting little speech had also done that as well. His peers believed in him, in them – the squad. And his teacher, Miss Mizunuma, only accredited the belief.
"Thank you." Osamu gave a bow, short and quick, before he was straight on his feet once again. "We will not let you down –all of you."
"We know you won't."
… … …
The encouraging, kind words marked the resolution of the task, and the captain gave it no more thoughts before moving forward. True, addressing the crowd of common civilians had been a must, as they took priority in the line of fire. But it had also taken time, time Osamu could have used towards a much better and thorough assessment. Precious seconds that could have gone to the development of a far better and flesh-out strategy, rather than a last second-improvised one. But, as things were, said last second-improvised plan would have to do.
Osamu moved his gaze to his left and downwards, following along the long black antenna until it landed on the soft onyx mane that belonged to his dear childhood friend.
"Chika" Her leader called, and she turned sending those straight short locks of hair to dance in the air before settling down. Her lilac eyes looked up, delicate thin lips pressed shut in a 'V' as she readied herself to listen. "Chika, you will remain up here. As a sniper, you are used to change locations after you fire. However, you won't be doing that this time around. You will be the immediate line of defense for our school. If you leave our schoolmates, they will be exposed." The girl nodded seeing the logic behind the statement. But utter not a word despite the conflict it brought against her role's principals. "Kuga and I will be down there doing a more direct approach. We will fend the enemy off, and do our best to keep them away from the students and teachers." What so far had been a mater-of-fact debrief, gave a more personal twist when Osamu said. "If they manage to break through our defense, shoot them down," And a soon as those words left the teen's mouth, Chika froze; because they both knew what the implication meant, and both of them knew perfectly well what she could and couldn't do. "or slow them down with lead bullets." But thankfully, her leader was no push over, and was quick to amend in order for her to feel better, which Chika did. "We don't know what kind of Neighbor is coming through the gate, but still, we don't want what happened last invasion to happen again. Therefore Chika, only use Egret or Lightning Riffles, that way you won't stand out and let the enemy know your high amount of Trion. Understood?"
"Hai, Osamu-kun"
"Good. Natsume-san," The girl that until now had been overlooked, scrambled to get to her feet when her name was called, coming to stand at the right side of her short girl-friend; the hat-that-was-actually-a- leaving-breathing-cat still in place. "it might be a big task for one person, but please keep the order up here. Don't let anyone who is not from Border leave the roof or try to confront the enemy. They'll only hurt themselves if they do. Is that alright?"
Osamu had to ask rather than demand, considering what a tall order this assign could become. However, Natsume, enthusiasm to prove her wordiness –her eagerness to move up ranks, offered a thumbs up in return, ready to take on the challenge. "You got it, Megane-senpai."
That left one last person to debrief, and yet, the captain commanded nothing. The terse and rushed plan relayed to Chika had mention the albino at least once, and that had been more than enough for the albino. Yuuma knew what to do now, and one way or another –by his own method, the ace would deliver, as he always did, Osamu had no doubt about that.
So, rather than recite his discourse in vain –for extra words would come as futile to the veteran, Osamu turned, back to the crowd and facing the what was soon to become the battlefield. Not much was left to admire, though; crumbling, dusty and barely recognizable, the schoolyard sure had seen better days. And, as if a first wasn't enough, they were to go down there a second time and engage in a gruesome battle.
A siren went off.
Its blaring, menacing sound drowning the stagnant silent and shattering to bits what little comfort they had, for it announced as loud as it could the arrival of a new enemy.
The deafening warning lasted seconds to end (although some would say minutes were more like it), and when it did, our heroes took it as a que to take action.
Chika called forward her weapon. It materialized in front of her eyes (and the eyes of her peers, invoking gasps and mutters of amazement out of the mouths of the excited alumni), a familiar weight settling on her hands, though much lighter than what she was used to. She had called for the Lightning riffle, heavy, black lead bullets equipped, loaded and ready to fire. And, even though the sniper had debuted this particular weapon a round ago, she believed in regards of her limitations, it would aid her in achieving her mission just the same.
Yuuma, on the other hand, had no qualms when it came on harming others (so was the way of war, and war was engraved in his bones, body and soul, as it happened when growing up in more than one), conjured on each hand a malleable, razor sharp and naked blade that shone with power and with a yellow hue. Perfect for slicing up and open adversaries that dared to confront him.
And Osamu, his hand twitched, eager to call upon the raw, unadultared, pure energy from deep into his core to hover over his palm, rotating and exposed. But instead, a blunt hilt emerged upon command, black and weirdly shaped. And from it, with a blinding flash, blinked into existence its blade, also blunt and weirdly shaped, matching the handle.
Even if Instincts alone urged the black-haired boy to immediately go for the luminescent bullets, as any shooter would, the big brain of his rationalized the opposite. The fight with the invaders had been going all morning, hardly any hours in since school started when it happened. Currently, it was well past school time, yet here they still all were, and so far Osamu, through all these many hours, had remained combat ready in the sturdy Trion body of his. Perhaps no the most suitable thing for the Trion-challenged teen to do, as he risked to deplete what little power the boy had. Trion-made ammunition had been used as well; therefore, Osamu could not afford to reduced his already low-levels any further, lest he wanted to be a Bail-out away from fleeing the battle, hence the use of the hand-held sword that was the Raygust, rather than the shooter main, Asteroid.
They were ready… well, as ready as they could be regarding the circumstances. And just in time too.
Wind started to pick up, swirling viciously around them, tousling combed hair and disarranging neatly uniforms as it blew. At a distance, a point devoid of any color appeared, so small and diminutive that it would have been lost to the background if not because its presence alone instigated the chaos surrounding them. It did not stay that way, however; in a blink of the eye, it expanded itself a million time its size, threatening to engulf the institution whole.
Throughout the tempest, the Tamakoma-2 squad prevailed.
"You ready?"
A voice asked from the captain's right; its owner moving forward to stand from a few passes behind to beside him. Green eyes nor red ones connected with one another, deeply enthralled by the events unfolding up front. Still Osamu accented his head, and the hold on his hand tighten over his weapon. 'No going back.'
"Let's go."
-To be continued-
This chapter…. Gosh this chapter. I have a love/hate relationship with this chapter. There were parts were I would be stuck writing and it would take weeks, weeks! to even finish a sentence. And other times I would be inspired that paragraphs would be written in one day. I'm still trying to find a style I can feel comfortable with, and I think this chapter is proof of that. Do you guys get tired of reading it? Does it get exhausting? Can you picture the scenes that I'm trying to narrate? I'm asking to know what to change and what to fix. Constructive criticism, you know?
So, anyhow, this chapter was supposed to be part of chapter 4. That's why nothing much happens, is just to set up for the upcoming battle. How I pictured it, it was just Yuuma trying to get some food, enjoying the moment, and then Chika alerting everyone. But I don't know when it turned into this nineteen pages monster! So, of course I had to split it in half –again. But now that this chapter is done and out of the way, I can finally star writing the interesting stuff, my brain will melt trying to come up with the scenes, but I have to keep going. Beware, I haven't wrote anything for the next chapter, so don't expect it any time soon, at least 5 months, at least. If it's sooner, yay! If not, well I want you guys to know that I'm trying, and not giving up.
I want to thanks all those who read, liked and commented on the last chapter. It means a lot that you are enjoying my story… or at least find it bearable. Especially a shout out to Julien Caeg, who left me a super nice review but also made some interesting points that I will have to address.
º First of all: Thank you so much for the kind words. It glad knowing this story is not as bad as I thought it was.
º Second of all: It eases my mind to know that you all (I'm hoping is all) are not getting confused when these events are happening. With all this going back and ford in time because some chapters involve one character, and the other chapters involve different characters. But you are able to piece up together when narrative is taking place regardless of which character has the POV at the moment. If that's not true, please let me know.
º And last but definitely not least: I need to set when in the World Trigger time line this story happens and the canon divergence. So when I first started to write the story, I think the anime was at the moment when the Afto invasion arc ended, so of course I made reference to that… But after reading the manga and with season 2 and 3 of the anime (which are awesome by the way, and I would fight whoever says otherwise, because suddenly everyone is a critic), I decided that this story takes place after Round 5 of the Rank wars (T-2 vs katori-squad vs kakizaki squad), from then on, the story will deviate from canon and I don't think it will follow it anymore. When I re-write the first three chapters, I'll correct this.
I know what you guys are saying: gosh this author likes to ramble. I know, but I'll shut up now.
Thanks for reading. Kurokapibara out.
PD: Psst if you haven't read the story 'Mimics' do it now! It's incredible, it always has me at the age of the seat when I read the updates.
