A/N: So, uh, remember how I said I wanted to split the prior chapter to prevent it and this one from getting too long?
MISSION FAILED
Anyways, while I'll try to keep things concise and to the point, a chapter or two of 10k plus words might still slip by every now and then.
Also sorry for the slow uploads, writing asynchronously is gonna delay some chapters at times. Mixing the older chapters with newer stuff sometimes sends me down unexpected places, I've most of the CCSE done but no work on Niigata save bullet points and a correction or two. And that's not even touching the handling of the few necessary flashbacks.
Thanks for reading, and keep staying safe.
Zuoriel
Chapter 8:
Sore Point
「Muddy Waters, Moody Hearts」
[Recommended Music: Beneath the Mask -Instrumental-, Persona 5.]
So fast, so very fast that the periphery blurred. Trees melting into one giant copse of entangled branches, on the other side clouds zoom by like a ball on the billiards. In between nature, sparks and smoke imprint the manic march on the road, paint traded with the edges of the gray lane, oh, highway.
Far more combusting are the two dainty, small hands on the wheel, those eyes on the road screeching more than the tires.
"You do know that you gotta decelerate a bit before taking a curve, right?" Takeru asks, peeking from a side.
"But you never do," young Yashiro complains, fingers mashing left to not fall off the cliff.
Which happens anyways, her car bending over and diving headfirst to the waves. Slow balloons take off in her cheeks then.
"Haha, come on, don't be so salty. I told you F-Mega was hard," he reassures, patting her shoulder.
"This sucks. The car is too fast."
"That's why I told you to pick easy mode."
"It serves no purpose to not take the course as intended, since I am assisting you in the testing," she nods, then both shoulders sag. "My apologies, Takeru-san."
"It's fine, I said. I wasn't expecting you to ace any stages on your first try."
"Then, what should I do with games like this one?"
"Shouting 'Agaaah' might help out," he suggests, smiling and nodding.
"...In what manner?" she asks, eyes and lips narrowing.
"Yelling gets the salt outta you, Kasumi. Accepting the challenge is part of the experience, like with the Regent's Meadow games."
"A-Are we to test those as well?"
"Haha, cheer up, there's no need for pouting. And I didn't bring those."
"Oh…" a small sigh from the nose, the bunny ears flap a bit as she rests the joystick on her lap, "what were those games about?" she asks, staring at the swirl from yellow to orange.
Takeru nods, laying back onto the small sofa. "First-person dungeon crawlers, you're the hero that has to save the kingdom from the next evil dragon's ploys by slicing everything in half. Like, think of it as a medieval Hive infiltration sim."
"I see… Why didn't you bring any, then? It sounds rather useful, if it indeed resembles a Hive mission."
Grabbing a snack from the table, he shrugs a bit. "Because they're single-player games. On my first loops, the girls kinda isolated themselves with those kinds of experiences. Which is why I decided to bring games that had multiplayer features, if I could. Anyways, let me see how this works," he nods, bringing his joystick to life, going through the menus. "Hmm… Feels a bit too stiff," rubbing a circle over the d-pad, Takeru tests each button before going to the selection screen, the garage of the game to honks and sharp clicking whimpers.
"I think the buttons are slightly harder than they should be. However, were those other games truly so much harder?" she asks, grabbing a muffin, slowly biting while staring at him.
Takeru nods, flicking the analog through the rows of cars and circuits to vrooms and flags. "Yeah, some of the hardest ones I've played."
"I see… Um, why would you choose a car with so little handling?" she asks, tilting her head, bunny ears wilting upon his smirk and chuckling.
"Personal preference, is all. I like the sharper curves the Red Lightning LPT can do. And speaking of curves, ain't she a beauty! Who wouldn't wanna ride her into the sunset?"
"Do you like sports cars?"
"Eh, kinda. It just looks so slick, you know? Everybody has their favorite ride, and this burgundy thunder is mine. Anyways, here we go!" he smiles to a hard press, a racing flag waving about, and more vrooms and honks.
With the cheers of the virtual crowds, the sparky-shaped red hood soon bolts out of the last place, taking the inner side of the lane, leaving the opposition eating dust. Skirting the walls, teasing their personal space, yet never meeting. His fingertips leave the buttons for a moment, slightly decelerating before power sliding In-In-In, doubling the gap to the second place. All the while, Takeru hums along a song, headbanging a bit as the scenery blends together to the galloping red.
"…Takeru-san, you're not losing speed at all."
"But I'm not blasting the accel all the time, either. Know your cornering and you shall win a thousand races, Kasumi."
"Did you also win a tournament of this game?"
"No, Mikoto did though. Damn bastard with his pixel perfect curves…" he complains, frowning a bit, then causing his thunder to bump onto the railing upon the soft caress of memories born out of the wordplay.
The trading of paint continues for a moment, fishing rounds and excursions swirling, stitching into a reflected mess, long roads ending on laugh, chuckles, whispers, so close whispers, tickling his ears. And causing an inner screeching far more radical than that of the virtual car zooming curves sharp and hard, although not as hard as Takeru himself on the other side of the windows opening from his heart again.
"…Why are you embarrassed?" young Yashiro asks, rubbing her forehead at the winding path of small cyclones pervading the fluffy fog surrounding the soldier.
"…I'm not."
"But your aura is tinting pink. Did you love Yoroi-san back in your world, too?"
An eye twitches, a finger too, the lightning spins away and crashes, burning away like the inner side of Shirogane's throat.
"Ah, you crashed. So you suck, too…"
"K-Kasumi, you did that on purpose!"
"Huh? No, I did not."
"Yes, you did, one-hundred percent!"
"Why do you shout? Your aura is still pink, and it's all fluffy too. It is nothing to be ashamed of," she nods, bunny ears following the motion, yet she shrinks her posture in front of the spike in the aura, the strengthening pink fading to violet as he sharply looks away. "…Was it a forbidden love, perhaps?"
The respawned car zooms out, flying to the horizon as the vrooms remain looping out in the speakers and in Shirogane's wide and blank eyes, as hard as the heartbeats knocking on his ribs.
"Um, Takeru-san? D-Did I upset you?"
"…Please stop, Kasumi. My heart is not ready for this talk…" he wails, fading to ash and crying comical rivers.
"…I do not comprehend. Why are you feeling bad?" she asks, softly petting his head upon the scattering of pink and violet to blue.
Takeru simply sighs, oh, heavily, leaving the car still on the highway. "It's… complicated, okay? I mean, yeah, I liked Mikoto. As a friend. But, you know, my memories being a mess, it's hard to separate them a bit." And I certainly don't need to remember our sweet times when I'm around you, of all people.
"I still don't understand," she complains, pouting as once more a smiling bright Yoroi holding a giant tuna appears on her scans of the fluff. "What is wrong about loving someone?"
"Siiigh… Don't worry about it, okay?"
"But why-"
"Anyways, let me restart the race."
"…Okay."
Suppressing slow, slow fingers overlapping in his sides, Shirogane once more takes on the initial course and blitzes past it with minimal difficulty. Young Yashiro stares at his hands, the careful tending of the analog sticks, and the lingering veil of pink resting by his chest, that constant shuffle on his lips. Clearing the stock best times by an ample margin, Takeru chuckles as he rests the controller and grabs his water cup, emptying it in one go.
"And that's that… A bit harder to control than back home, but the new controllers are still very nice for prototypes."
"Will we be continuing to test this software?"
"Nah, this was more than enough. What's next?" he asks, standing to remove the disk.
"Hmm… Valgern-On…" she answers back, voice withering more than her bunny ears.
"Come on, don't pout. I'll handle Valgern-On myself. You don't have to play these if you don't wanna," he nods back, opening up VOOT's case and setting the disk in.
"But my orders are to aid you," she insists, lifting her joystick and bringing up the menu.
"And you're doing great," he reassures, sitting back, petting and playing with her hair. "No one save me will tackle the games knowing how they work, so your fresh input is helping a lot."
Yashiro leans into the palm, staring up, edging closer. "…I really am? How would you rate my contributions thus far, then?"
"Like, you earn a muffing for every 'Agaaah'".
"That is not a valid measurement."
"Oh, so, are we saying no to muffins, hmm?" he asks, smiling evilly and snatching the tray of said sweets.
"If you favor them then, feel free to eat them yourself," she simply nods, looking down.
"Wait, you don't like muffins here?" Another difference to the list, huh.
"I do not dislike them, no, but neither do I favor them much. I don't see what's so special about them."
"Oh, come on, muffins are great! They're small, fluffy, you can put any toppings on them. They're like a palmtop cake, and who doesn't like cake?" Takeru nods, licking his lips, recalling pages and recipes, tables and receipts, an apron and rewards, bygone days of fun quarrels. "Ah, those were the days… Shame Sumika never let me help her out much in the kitchen when we were together, would have been so much fun to challenge her even if I was gonna lose…"
"Ah, mmh, Takeru-san, stop it…" a small whisper pleads.
When Takeru leaves dreamland, he finds a small sliver raining down young Yashiro's lips, quickly wiped with shaky hands as she looks away, roses blooming in her cheeks. The immediate laughter earns him a chop to the shoulder.
"Don't laugh at me."
"W-What's with that face? You're like a kitty smelling fish, hahahaha! You're even drooling for real!"
"I couldn't help it," she pouts, tapping her fingers, looking away. "Your aura got orange again, and I saw a glimpse of Sumika-san in your thoughts, so I got curious and stared… and then the memories of the food wouldn't end…"
"See? Homemade food is the best, isn't it? Certainly, a good reward for learning the games?" he asks, doodle versions of strawberries and chocolate chips dangling about in his mind, rivers of cream with muffins and cake slices coursing through the clouds.
"D-Don't think about food anymore, please. Stop using my scanning against me, Takeru-san."
"But aren't they so delish? Don't you wanna try 'em, eh? Don't you, don't you?"
CHOP!
"Stop flooding my mind with their taste. Now I'm hungry..."
"Same. Let's get this over with and go ask for some more food!" he declares with a fist up, before grabbing his joystick and starting the checks on the game, bopping his head to the beats.
"…So, um, you truly would give me such sweets only for following orders?" she asks, edging closer again, swallowing the excess lake inside her lips, which refills right back upon his hasty nod and smile.
"Of course. Plus you're helping me out, not following orders."
"Because it is my duty, I am tasked with-"
Tapping her nose and leaning down, closer, he smiles at point black of her eyes. "If you insist on 'following orders' then you have no choice but to accept my gratitude, right?" the soft query is met with a delayed but slow nod, and more roses in her cheeks, and even more chops when Takeru laughs at the solidified rabbit. "So, anything you'd like to try?"
"Um, well, could we have some cake? I think Sumika-san would like it if I show that to her."
"I see… I think I know which one to ask for," he nods and sighs, smiling as the taste of sauce blends into his lips when reaching for the joystick. "Should I take a swing at Valgern-On first or-"
"No. Please, allow me."
"Sigh… Fine. Someone really must want some cake, huh…"
"…Yes," she admits, hanging her head as slowly as her button presses, face burning upon his chuckles. "Do you think it is odd?"
"No, it's just cute, how you look. No need to be shy about wanting some cake, little bun," he reassures, petting her head before the game begins.
Yet the Kaizer on screen fumbles about, hopping erratically amidst the mosquito cloud of artillery. Yashiro's real attention was still locked onto that fluffy cloud, the head swaying to the tune.
"…Takeru-san, may I ask what did Sumika-san and you do in your world for fun?"
"Playing videogames, most of the time."
"You said this one was your favorite?"
"Yeah. Spent lots of hours learning the combos and pace of the game…" he tells, smiling at the crowded arcade rows, the always smiling shape of Yoroi, the wailing complains of his lovers when sparring against him, the scolding of his parents when finding him awake deep into the night.
"Anything else?" bunny ears flap, inner cheeks dry up in front of a scattershot of shimmering rows of expressions, many windows popping over the fog.
"Cooking was Sumika's thing, I got into it only a few months ago. Besides that there's manga, and watching some anime. Oh, careful with the boss, don't waste your- Yeah, boost like that."
"In short bursts?"
"Yep, keep them off balance with the dodging. But yeah, games were my thing the most, on my commutes too. The Game Guy has been my main go-to console for a while, but I also got a Dreamcost and a Nientendo 69 back home."
"…These programs don't seem much fun to me," she pouts, fingers hurting a bit at the pendulum sway she must do to keep her machine away from danger on-screen. Even more blazing than the Kaizer's defeat pose is her stare, left with only reddening fingers for her efforts. "This sucks… How could this be entertaining? It is very much like a piloting course, isn't it?"
Petting her head, Takeru nods a bit. "Haha… I know you think they're hard, but not all games are like that. Valgern-On is a bit too fast for you, I guess."
"I see… What were you playing for fun on your world?"
"Oh, someone gifted me a used copy of Magorea's Mask for my last birthday, so once I cleared my backlog and got through some tests I was playing that one. Had finished it before recovering my memories, too." Was actually looking forward to discussing it with Mikoto back then, an extended sigh leaves as Takeru sorts through menus and loadouts. Gripping the joystick, seeing icecream cups. And small shocks as well.
"…What is the game about?" she asks, low and slow upon more blue appearing. "Is it something bad?"
"Oh, no, no," clearing his throat again, while the Kaizer dodges heat and spreads prayers of cinders about, Takeru slows down his words and combos, recalling the intro, feeling a faint tingle on the back of his head. "You see, the protagonist is looking for an old friend that was always with him during his last quest, but as he traveled he got lost in a forest. Then he runs into a kid wearing Magorea's Mask, a mask that is imbued with the power of an old and evil deity," he says, frowning and flashing his teeth as the explosions bathe half of his face while the winning fanfare plays, while he replays the cutscene on his mind. "…Which in all fairness, was scary as hell," he shivers a bit, dulling the villainous glare off his eyes.
"And then, what happens?"
"Oh, our hero tries to fight him, but the masked kid is too strong and turns him into a coconut scrub."
"…T-That's horrible," she clutches both hands to her chest, shrinking down upon the images scanned.
"Well, yeah… The boy then has to find a way to go back to normal, recover Magorea's Mask, and save the town of the game before the moon falls down. And he has a very limited amount of time to actually pull it off, only three days is all he can afford."
"Oh…" her expression crumbles further, dried up like a flower left without water. "How does he fight back?"
"You see Kasumi, our hero also has the powers of masks on his side," nodding and juggling his joystick before going to the next stage, he pets her head while the countdown starts.
"But aren't the masks evil?"
"No, not all of them are. He also has his own magical instrument, that lets him go back in time to the beginning of the three days and do other cool stuff with different songs. So long as he doesn't give up, he can always keep trying," he tells, sky high air jousting combos causing Takeru to cheer for himself, to the hurricane on screen.
"Don't you get dizzy from the sharp turns of the camera?" she asks, eyes closed and rubbing her forehead.
"Nah, I'm used to it already. Plus, I get to shout 'Let It R.I.P.! when going for the kill!"
"…Why would you?"
"For the references, Kasumi."
"Huh… I… see. So, how is the game of the masks played?" she asks, more interested on the colorful vistas within the fog than the expansive fire twisters on the TV.
"By doing side quests and exploring around, there is a vast world with lots of different locations waiting. On the first day-"
And with clicking noises lingering to the cyber tune, Takeru tells young Yashiro the story of one equally young hero, Lonk from the Legend of Shelldart. Castles of palmtrees pierce the sky along the groovy lullaby of Valgern-On, races on the sea merge with the bolts of the Kaizer through hordes of enemies. Yet young Yashiro nods to every word, asking all about the frozen mountain ruins, the dancing ghosts, and wanting nothing to do with the kidnapping aliens on the ranch, chopping Takeru's shoulder as he insists on the tale.
"Sorry, sorry. I guess that was very mooch for your special cownition. This kind of stuff might not be what you're used to seeing on a dairy basis."
"Takeru-san…"
"Hehe. Sorry, those puns were really cheesy, yeah," he nods while chuckling, blocking the chopping hand, retreating onto the edge of the sofa. "Hahaha, come on, you must chill, Kasumi."
"…Then stop with your puns."
"Okay, okay… But that's the thing with the game, the more you play and explore means you can get more useful masks that will help you in your missions, and also help the people of the area during those three days fight their problems," he nods, resting the joystick and going for another muffin.
Coughing and flattening her dress back to stillness, Yashiro accepts the offered sweet. "Thanks. So the one with the better mask wins? That sounds like a masquerade."
"Hahaha, yeah, it kinda does. But guess what? The best way to win is to not have a mask at all."
"What? But how? You can't be in a masquerade without a mask."
"Thing is, if the hero chooses to lose all his masks after gathering them, he obtains the strongest one in the game, the Fiery Daemon's mask," he declares, smirking and uppercutting the air, hard. "It is soOP, it can almost one shot all the bosses of the game!" And thanks to Onimura, I knew that tidbit before going into the game, though I didn't knew what exactly would happen once I returned all the masks.
"…Is it really that impressing?" she asks, softly biting onto the muffin, the sweetness taking a wrong turn in her throat due to the sharp explosion of orange in the fog.
"Of course it is! The sick tattoos, the super large sword, the damage! Seeing the transformation for the first time was oh so awesome! Going back and mowing down the bosses in one or two hits felt so satisfying, too." Especially to that bull. Had it coming to him, damn bastard.
"I see… Cough. So, the hero wins in the end?"
"Yeah, Magorea's mask is sealed and the town is saved."
"Does the hero find his lost friend?"
"…No, he has to keep searching on his own, leaving the friends he made in the town behind."
"That's sad for Lonk. I don't like it."
"Well, yeah… But it isn't all bad, you know. He did help out that town, without him they would have been screwed."
She closes her eyes, nodding after a while. "Are there other games like that one?"
"Oh, yeah! There's a whole franchise of 'em."
"Did you bring some here?"
"Uh… No?"
"…You suck."
"C-Come on, maybe we could convince Sensei to send me back home to bring a few down the line?"
"I doubt she'd waste resources on such a triviality."
"Then we bribe her with coffee or some shit. Hell, I'll bring her a Stratos if she wants."
"A what?"
"The car she had back home."
"Huh… Was it a yellow sports car?"
"Oh, you know of it?"
"Yes, she had one such car… before we had to abandon the old base…"
"…I see. Well, anyways, if Sensei ever needs to teleport me back home, I'll bring you some games you may like, Kasumi," he reassures, petting her head, smiling to the downcast nod she gives. "I think we're done here for now, right?" he asks, standing to turn off the Stallion and tidy up.
"Oh, yes. You've classes to go to, please allow me to-"
"Come on, the lectures ain't a big deal for me now. You got reports and lots of stuff to do, so you get going. I'll fix the place up real quick."
"But I should at least be of assistance to-"
"Kasumi," he says, loud, dropping the cases on the table, before leaning close to poke her nose, "I order you to leave the tedious stuff to me, and to go do whatever else is in your plate."
"Howe- Mmgh," more muffled complains fly out, yet his finger still seals her lips as he chuckles to her pout.
"No ifs nor buts. I'm sure Sensei has plenty of tasks for you, anyways," Takeru shrugs, restoring her personal space.
"…Yes. However, if this proves too time consuming, please do let me take care of it from now on for you," she requests with a slow bow.
"Siiigh… Yeah, yeah, you got it. See you later, little bun," he says, waving at her before picking the cases back up.
"Bye bye," she returns the gesture, bowing once more before taking her leave.
His hand remains up a few seconds after the door closes, as a snail Takeru resumes restoring order to the small office room. Humming to himself, lost in puzzles and bets of older days, of that shine which warms yet compulses dry tears off him. Even kindness may be more cruel than violence, if applied on top of loneliness.
Shrouded in the shimmer of those days, sighing more and more yet smiling small, the cleaning is finished, the mail to the XO is sent, and still humming and tasting old foods over the gray hallways, Takeru paces about back to the upper floors in the tide of suits and patrols. Back to that distant arcade, to that food face-off, to the babel towers of cake in his, their birthday, to those noisy, crazy, cozy days.
To a stage of colored rangers getting slashed in half, a lacrosse goal too.
To many art galleries flashing through his mind along musical discussions.
To waves of kitties climbing his arms in search of warm milk, and a mass of pink hair submerged on a tsunami of fluff and meows.
To manic laughter as he sent a beanbag straight at the face of one squadmate, only for them to compare him to one certain stuffed toy present.
To a snowball fight near the base, the frost slashed in half, pink boomerangs flying about, glasses knocked off and causing two to merge into a grapple, into a giant sphere of snow rushing downhill.
"One day, I'm sure you all will get to share some of that happiness too. If only we can have Ouka not be rushed, if we handle things tactfully, maybe we'll get enough time together for me to show you all that," he tells, looking to a side to firmly nod upwards to the sky, to the incoming daylight from the windows before approaching the door of the classroom, gripping the handle.
And letting it go immediately as if it were burning, despite what's scorched are his ears instead.
"-wouldn't place my hopes on the likes of Shirogane, to be completely honest with you," Sakaki says from inside, slithering a verbal cobra to the rim of her lips and eyes.
"Oh… Is the guy that much of a jerk?" Mikoto asks while resting onto her desk, shoulders sagging like a popped balloon.
"Well, Shirogane-san is truly amazing," Tamase nods down, rubbing her neck and glancing back to the windows. "And he never brags or anything, he certainly is very knowledgeable on tactics and history as well."
"To say nothing on his exquisite combat skills," Mitsurugi affirms, folding her arms hard enough to wring all air off lungs. "You'd agree that it is most odd, for a male cadet of such prowess to join us at this juncture."
"But why are you so mad at him?" Yoroi asks, scratching her head, looking around, into the embers and cinders.
"He's basically the perfect soldier. Special-kun is too good to be here, he's definitely a commissioned soldier already."
"While I wouldn't cast such affirmations, it is obvious something is off with Shirogane," tapping her glasses as she paces in front of the rest, Sakaki glares off to each and every one at a time. "To match, no, exceed all our top marks on every area, this is no mere recruit. Don't let the friendly facade deceive you, Yoroi. There's more to Shirogane than he lets on," she asserts, dripping poison.
"Oh… I see," Mikoto nods, wringing her hands together. "So he's an ace, huh. M-Maybe he's just a leftover cadet from another course?"
"Yoroi, please," Mitsurugi shakes her head, a hand hastily tending to the misaligned fringe above the frown not even the kind daylight could douse. "Curious enough it is that he was scouted despite being so adept, even more odd considering Shirogane was in another country. And to add insult to injury, his forms… do not exactly compliment ours, no," she spits out, nodding along Ayamine, as if about to part the classroom in twain.
"What do you mean? Is he too aggressive?" Yoroi asks, the others share looks and the silence.
"S-Shirogane-san is amazing no matter how you look at him," Miki slowly starts, rubbing her forearm, twisting her lips a bit. "However, he has advice for every little thing with do, sometimes even going against our usual doctrine too."
"Special-kun is riding the pony, is all. He should get bent."
"Ayamine-san, don't say that! He's one of us at the end of the day," she protests immediately, yet the boom in her voice dies down upon the scald for eyes.
"Tamase, we both know where he comes from after his answers to our mission debates."
"Ayamine is right, sadly," sighing and shrugging, Sakaki walks off to the windows. "It's the only reason why he'd be questioned in the trackfield, or why he would root himself to his position so steadfastly."
"Wait, questioned?"
"It is nothing of import, Yoroi," Mitsurugi deflects, glaring at Sakaki before sighing and sitting back down. "Our point is, there's ample reason to believe Shirogane to not be what he claims. And even if he were, being wary is not unwarranted considering his stated opinions."
"I see… Man, and I thought we got a good fellow," Mikoto whimpers, seeing the solid gray in the other's faces.
"I know how you feel, but there must be a reason why he's here," Sakaki says, walking back to her seat. "And if he wasn't wanted where he previously was, it only means one of two things."
"What do you mean?" Mikoto asks, the rest also looking at their leader.
"Well, isn't it obvious? He's either a violent element… or a coward. If his previous superiors did not trust in his skills, why should we?"
"Sakaki-san, that's a bit much," Tamase says, low, as she also sits and opens her books. "Shirogane-san already proved his aptitude to us, didn't he?"
Ayamine scoffs, resting her feet atop her desk. "Then, why is he here? Simple, they didn't want him where he was before. That's only if he isn't already a soldier, of course. Remember what he told us before?" she asks, the others remain silent, Yoroi merely shifts her stares around.
"While such words are indeed a bit much, there may be some truth to them," Mitsurugi slowly nods to Tamase and Yoroi, eyes then lost on the windows. "Such a talented soldier would not have been relinquished if not for a grave drawback to his services. And if his choice of wording is any indicator, Shirogane may indeed be too soft for the job."
"But you said before he was better than us…" Yoroi asks, head spinning around the subject like Earth around the sun.
Sakaki coughs, making a no with a finger. "Shirogane constantly drops ranks, calls us by name, and refer to us as 'friends'. I wager he's the son of some high rank officer, the stench of pampered civilian is palpable, more considering what he revealed to us before."
"…Must be nice in that glass house of yours."
"What was that, Ayamine? And get your feet off the desk, you oaf. The Instructor might come soon."
"C-Come on, don't fight!" Tamase pleads, standing and waving her hands about.
"It is worse to be found arguing again, that is true," Mitsurugi nods to them, sighing and shrugging along Yoroi at the puffs of fire both dragons give out.
"I'm just saying, the guy told us why he got kicked of his prior base," Ayamine rolls her eyes, sinking her chin onto her arms, lowering both feet to the ground with a stomp. "If he ain't commissioned, then he's running away."
"Um… You keep mentioning 'his old base', did this Shirogane tell you why he got transferred?" Yoroi asks, Tamase withers and busies herself with her hair, same as Sakaki.
Raising a hand to halt Ayamine's verbal viper, Mitsurugi slowly tells. "Not in detail but he disclosed a reason for it, yet I believe it is his choice to divulge it with you. In any case, Shirogane is a most odd fellow. Don't judge him by his looks, there's certainly more than meets the eye."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind… So, uh, anyways! Did you hear the news? A dog had gotten lost during an evac op, and it made it back to his owner a few days ago!" she tells, to the loosening smiles of Ayamine and Tamase, a shared shake of heads between the other two. Yoroi, joining hands and nodding up, minds not a bit and continues faster. "It seems the doggy could smell its way to the shelter the old man had been-"
"Cadet Shirogane, what are you doing there?" the Instructor calls, her shadow cast over the door yet cleansing all light from the girls' backs.
"Just… taking some air, giving the girls space to catch up on stuff with Yoroi," a whisper barely raises along the nod.
"That's rather tactful of you. Now, go on in. Class should already have started."
The Instructor opens the door, walking into the room, stopping for a second in front of the nicked, cracked gargoyles her pupils resembled just then. Only their eyes moved, to the firm steps that march into his desk.
"Hey guys," Shirogane smiles and waves, nodding and staring at the quick blinks of Yoroi with an open posture. Yet waves of cold fall upon him, salting the wounds in ears, and lips.
"Ah… Salute!" Sakaki orders, still glaring at him.
"At ease. Shirogane, sit down already," Jinguuji scolds, softly hitting his shoulder with a folder. "Now then, are you all here? Yes, you are," she goes to the desk, clearing her throat before continuing, louder yet slower. "As you know, today and tomorrow you have First Aid practice during the afternoon. Your previous scores were good and there isn't any new material to present, so I'll trust in you today and leave you on your own. Catch Shirogane up if he needs any refreshers, and enjoy this small breather. Do not make me regret this decision."
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"
"I will be back by the end of the class, if you need me you know where my office is," she says, saluting, eyeing the girls one at a time, then taking her leave.
"Hey…" Yoroi asks, walking close to Takeru as soon as the door closes, "you're the new guy? Shirogane, was it?"
"Huh? Oh, yes… I'm Shirogane Takeru, it's a pleasure," he nods, returning a smile and a frontal gaze. Gulping slow as Yoroi stares top to bottom, blinking fast upon the shine on those eyes, very much vibrant. Alive. "She looks like always, so full of energy but…" grayness pierces his chest, as grayed out as the stare overlapping over her features for him, static tickling his fingers.
"I'm Mikoto Yoroi. Nice to meet you!" she says in cheer rivaling the nice weather, waving.
"…Likewise."
"So, hey, I'm just gonna throw this out there, but are you as much of a jerk as they say you are?"
"E-Excuse me?"
"Yeah, you see, everybody was like super mad about you! He's so perfect, he's been conscripted, he's an alien!"
Eyes blanking out, lips open and close yet fail to make much of any noise for a moment. Takeru coughs, standing from his seat. "Wait, what are you-"
Yoroi, however, nods to herself as she stares at him from different angles, finger on her lips. "But you don't look so bad! You even kinda look a bit goofy, with the long messy hair and all."
"Goofy? What do you-"
"Anyways, I was in the medical bay for awhile, so I need to catch up super fast. Let's do our best together!" she says, nodding and rolling her hands up and down.
"I'll never be able to reach her when she gets like this, am I? And the others… look like penguins in the desert. Heh, some things never change, do they? Mikoto is still Mikoto… Sigh."
"Yoroi, you… You shouldn't speak of matters we discuss in pri-" Mitsurugi then suffers the cuts she forwards in her own flesh, or voice.
"Oh, I remembered! I met a really nice soldier when I was in the bay, he gave me all kinds of advice for the CCSE and for when we get to ride TSFs! See, it's all here," she says, messing in her bag then taking out and waving a small notepad about.
"Yoroi-san, please hear us out. Everybody is really tense now, so ple-" Tamase's small wails were further buried in a sharp turn, the notepad backhanding her back into Ayamine's cushions.
"I also read a lot of new books. There's this mystery novel I just know you're gonna love, Chizuru-san."
"Yoroi, listen, we're trying to-" yet she no tapping no glasses nor furrowing no brows into a ballistic V work, her hands are still made to open and receive the book in question.
"Here, read it when you can, and tell me what you think!"
"O-Oh, thank you. Wait a second, no! Yoroi, I'm telling you-"
"Anyways, Takeru, it's good to have you on the team," she says, giving a thumbs up to the decaying sighs and winces of the other girls.
"Haha… Sure thing," Takeru can barely stop the chuckling down, returning the gesture. "Uh… How should I call you?"
"Mikoto's fine. Can I call you Takeru?"
"Sure, feel free," he nods, smiling, to the freezing frowns of the rest of the girls which banishes the shine off him.
"Deal then!" Yoroi doesn't seem to care, however. "You see Takeru, I'm really good at medical topics."
"So I've been told."
"What about you? Do you know how to treat people in an emergency?"
"I… guess. I just know the basics, I ain't that good to be honest," he tells, shoulders sagging, chest sinking inwards, avoiding Yoroi's gaze.
"Is that so… All right, then! How about I do a simple summary as a refresher for all of us?" she offers while going to the blackboard. "Miki-san, what is the first thing you have to do when you encounter someone collapsed?"
"Huh?! I… Erm, you gotta… Awawa…" hiding behind her hands, small little wails are the only answer the watermelons for eyes that silently scream can offer upon the blankness on her mind.
Much as the soldier expected, Yoroi proceeded to bombard them with queries on each and every topic possible, pencils and notes rechecked amidst the small contest of knowledge. Finding some comfort in a similarity, Shirogane walks through the trips and wires in the questions, delivering the correct answer every time he's expressly asked, suggesting hints when the others were stuck in the flow of details.
Without hesitating much, without checking any notes, without writing any such notes when the others had to answer. Correctness comes pouring off him without delay, clearing most preliminary doubts to a shimmering chorus from Yoroi, playing ping pong just the two of them at times. And more and more did the spiraling frowns stagnate further upon the doubtless clarity in his voice, while theirs grew still and sank to the other end of the spectrum. Shirogane's offers of tips dwindled upon the clear spears raising his way, eroding the raising hand, that small droplet of aid. Even Yoroi's smile starts to wane, topics running out to launch at the new student without inciting pitchforks to surface.
"…So, when you use a tourniquet, after which time is it safe to remove it?" she asks, writing on the blackboard then looking back at the silent and pondering looks. After a few sustained seconds of shuffling pages and shifting gears in the girls, Yoroi then slowly points the chalk at the calm shape of Takeru.
Who nods immediately, raising a finger and his chin, messing with his hair. "You don't have to. It would be the same as if you hadn't even applied it. You gotta take the patient to a medic as soon as possible, before the necrosis starts."
"Right again, Takeru," she cheers, slow, scratching at the back of her head when scouting the slicing shadows pervading the underside of the others' gazes, pencils choked. "Alright, now let's move on to how to stop bleeding injuries. Takeru, raise your arm," she asks, walking up to the supply cabinet.
"Like this?" he walks up to her, wincing a bit, drying his cheeks as Yoroi brings bandages and other stuff his way. Knowing, remembering, gulping down hard.
Yoroi simply smiles wide, chuckling. "Come on, no need to be so tense," she nods, circling to his side. "We already reviewed the other methods in the books, but just in case you have to use a tourniquet here's what you need to do. First, get a cord or something around the limb, and then tie it really tight so that it doesn't come undone," she says, doing as she speaks with a loose thread, then raising a ruler to keep his avoidant step back in check. "Then you put a stick or another firm object right here if it's still rather loose… Remember to halt the source of the stream of blood, so in the case of the arms you have to raise it, and tie the knot higher," she affirms, groaning as she lifts his arm over the binds, bones creaking a bit, his expression further shifting under the sand. "And don't do this on the joints, either. Some centimeters above the injury should be fine…"
Shirogane coughs dry, teeth munching invisible ice cubes as his arms bends in a new, inappropriate angle. "This hurts a fucking lot, dammit… and yet it must be nothing, compared to what she must've felt then." Eyes veiling themselves as hard as his crash landings, he then recoils away from Yoroi's small hands, undoing the work with strong swings of his hand as if smacking mosquitoes away from him. "Okay, t-that's enough for the example, right?"
"…I guess," she says, low, a brow arching a bit as her hands join behind her back, as she looks away.
"So even Shirogane-san can't deal with this kind of stuff?" Tamase laughs at his half sigh, half wail.
The rest don't make as much as a sound, still glaring.
"Now, ahem, there's one last thing you have to take care of," Yoroi says, aiming a finger around, then finishing by pointing it at Shirogane, for a few sustained seconds in pout. "What is it?"
"…The patient's mental state, since they can go into shock, right?" he answers, looking away. Flexing his arm, the slight pain flaring a bit. Along a lost gaze slumped into the concrete.
She claps her hands and nods back. "Exactly! You need to reassure them, lay them down gently if their head isn't injured, and slowly loosen their clothes off. Also, don't forget to keep them warm. Takeru, do you know why?"
"Because… the blood loss will decrease their body temperature, even if… at the beginning the injuries might burn…" he answers, hands fleeing to his pockets as Yoroi cheers and chalk speeds all over the blackboard more than words off the lips.
Yet those lectures were no longer within his ears. Only cold fingers probed below them, into them.
"It hurts… C-Can't move, it burns…"
Small wails, small whispers vanishing, drying up.
"Like this, I can't shoot a bow… Sorry, Papa…"
As tight as the tourniquet employed then is his breathing, the fall of his eyes to darkness. Back to those shocks by twilight, to the roses sacrificed for more ash.
"Sorry, Mama… Your sauntpaulias are a-all dried up. I co-couldn't keep… your garden healthy… and now it- it hurts so… So cold."
"Takeru? Hey, are you listening?"
"Huh?! O-Oh… Sorry, what were you saying?"
Yoroi narrows her eyes, pointing the chalk at his feet. "I was asking you to lie down for a demonstration. Do you mind?" she asks, slowly, glancing back at the other far more sharp eyes lingering on him.
Which Takeru avoids, sighing and shaking his head. "Yeah, no problem."
"Um, is something wrong?"
"No, I just tend to space out every now and then. Don't let it bother you, Mikoto," he heaves another sigh, resting onto the floor with his eyes closed, arms solid against his sides upon the quietness below.
"Well… Ahem, so, about how to treat a wound of this kind," Yoroi nods back to the others, that are slowly scribbling stuff. "Remember to cheer the patient up, since they will surely grow anxious. Now, Takeru, if you'd excuse me," slowly kneeling besides him, Yoroi grabs the edge of his tank top and quickly pulls it up to his head, blinding him in the process.
"…Mikoto, I can't see anything."
"That's part of the plan! You need to feel anxious, after all."
"Why?"
"By the way, do you exercise much? Because we could grind meat on your chest," she giggles, softly patting his six-pack to glitches in the rest's eyes and lips.
Nothing goes my way when it comes to you, huh. "Can we continue with the practice?"
"Sure, sure! Now, don't you worry," she lowers her voice to a breeze, as if she were reading a book to a child before bed. "Everything's gonna be fine. You just need some bandages and that's that. Simply lay down and let me take care of you."
"If only it were so simple… or maybe, if she had been there instead… Siiigh…"
"Say Takeru… what are these scars from?" Yoroi asks, frozen, voice far colder as she blinks, running a finger through the curve of his sides.
"…Scars?"
"Awawa, Shirogane-san! Why do you have such injuries?!" Tamase asks, paling as her pencil drops when she hurries closer.
"It's such a wide bruise as well," Mitsurugi notes, drying her mouth at the large stump of strong, dark pink coursing through the left side of Takeru.
Oh right, the scars from the terrorist attack. I forgot about them.
"It seems to be an old scar," Yoroi says as her fingers trace it slowly. "Did you get hurt when fighting with Kei-san, perhaps?"
"…I can't even hit him proper," Ayamine repines, distorting her notepad's edges as if to imitate the wounds in question.
All the while, Takeru sank and continues to into cold sweat. "Oh, shit… Those are the scars from the incident on the school. How do I justify them? No, no way I can bullshit my way outta this one. And they already were getting suspicious of me, I gotta-"
"Let me see, move a bit to the- Uwaaah…" Yoroi's hands limply lie against his skin, slack-jawed at the myriad of scars littering his backside whole, playground for the darts the strikes had been back then.
"What… is this even?" Sakaki barely whispers, hands loosening and dropping her pencil.
Tamase merely gasps through a constricted throat, wincing and rubbing her own sides, imagining what caused the minefield of dark pink on his back. Ayamine and Mitsurugi, however, shared one slow, singular glance, sharing the lighted torches.
"Even your back is full of these! Did Meiya-san beat you up during sword practice? All that talk about you being super strong was just a joke, right?" Yoroi loudly says, chuckling while patting his back softly and looking back. All air takes a reverse turn on her lungs in front of the cutting glare Mitsurugi scorches forward.
"…We have crossed strikes, yes. Not in such savage a manner, however. You should know I do not employ crude, violent patterns, Yoroi."
"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to- Anyways, you shouldn't have been so mean to the newbie. He's-"
"We told you, Shirogane is above us in skill," Sakaki scolds, pacing closer and tapping her glasses. "Even if we returned attacks seriously, to inflict this kind of wounds…"
"…Why so silent, Special-kun? No more excuses to share?"
"…Not exactly." Shit… I screwed it all up, didn't I? "I told you guys before, what happened before I was sent here. This is just… part of it."
"I s-see…" Yoroi whispers, looking at nowhere amidst the silence of the others. "So, um, anyways, the proper places to tie up the bandages are-"
What was left of the lesson went unheard, all the others were very much uninterested on the topic. Before any further queries took off and bombarded Shirogane down to smithereens, the Instructor arrives and waves the white flag on the class. Not even her booming scolding over their tight frames could douse the seeking.
"…If your reviewing went well, then you may have self-study tomorrow on the topic as well. In any case, you're dismissed for the day."
"Salute!"
"At ease. Shirogane, you've been called to a special task. Report as usual."
"…Yes, ma'am."
"Now then, until tomorrow," nodding short, she slowly takes her leave. Remaining for a moment outside the door, glancing back.
"Shirogane, would you spare a moment?" Mitsurugi asks, quickly moving to intercept.
"Uh, I've to go report."
"Worry not, it shan't take long. I insist," she says, taking a step closer yet sideways, blocking the doorway.
"Um… What is this about special tasks?" Yoroi softly asks while placing her books back in the bag.
"Oh right, Yoroi-san doesn't know," Tamase nods, closing her own bag. "You see, it seems Shirogane-san is serving some direct tasks from the XO, since she herself scouted him for said reason. Yashiro-san tends to come for him whenever that happens."
"Wait, that silent maid?"
"She's not a maid, she's an assistant," he corrects.
"Really? But she doesn't have a unit patch, and doesn't ever wear uniform though."
"I know but… Kasumi's situation is hard to explain," he says, messing with his hair, brows furrowing upon Yoroi's wide eyes. "What?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just, you really do call people by their names… It's surprising, I haven't seen that girl ever speak to anyone."
"Enough chitchat," Ayamine scoffs, slugging her bag over her shoulder, walking up to Shirogane. "What's the deal with those scars, Special-kun?"
"…Classified."
"The hell that's supposed to mean?"
"That it falls under the non-interference policy."
"Shirogane," Sakaki places a hand on Ayamine's shoulder, quickly shrugged off, then taps her glasses, leveling a stare into the almost veiled, downcast gaze, "I do not wish to impose, however those scars are very curious. If anything, would you tell us the reason why you suffered them?"
"…Again, it's classified."
"Would you truly be unable to provide even a meager answer?"
"I told you already why. You want details?" he asks, an eye twitching, sight beginning to double. "You wanna hear how they died, how I couldn't do jack shit," hands wring, smack at his desk, send the bag away, "how in the end these scars are literally the only thing I got for my efforts?"
"Sorry, I did not intend to pressure you," she takes a hasty step back, yet holds his glare. "However, to leave those-"
"I can't talk about it. It's classified. I gotta go report or I'm going to get in trouble," he says, looking down and walking forward.
Yet the slicing gaze of Mitsurugi remains steadfast, unblinkingly staring. "Wouldn't you even spare a simple explanation?"
"…Sigh. I already did, what else do you want me to say? They're the proof of my prior failures, that's all you need to know."
"You… had said someone perished because of you, correct?" she asks, Yoroi paling further, Tamase burying herself, the others simply stare.
At the silence, avoidant eyes, a shake of the head.
"Move away, Meiya. I've orders to see to."
"…I see, so it is hopeless. Forgi-"
"I'm not hopeless."
"Eh? I did not meant to-"
"I am not hopeless, because I'm still breathing."
"My apologies, it wasn't my-"
"Just- Let me leave, Meiya. Please."
Slow steps she takes to allow passage, the opposite is his departure. Sharing the silence for some moments in the stagnant air, much like the already fading afterglow were the cadets in lack of warmth or shine to their gazes or pace as they leave for the PX.
Cloudy and grayed out, just as all the dark crayon claws tearing at him.
And not even the rambunctious chaos of the PX could water any changes to their complexions, nor the jokes of Kyozuka-san either. Simply picking at the beans, at the paste, barely tasting.
"He seemed really normal, you know?" Yoroi says, resting her spoon. "Did you guys already knowof someone died because of him?"
Sakaki nods first, leaving her chopsticks within her lips for a sec. "He mentioned it before, yes. However, this only makes this puzzle all the more contrived."
"I-I mean," Tamase looks up, halting for a moment, before coughing and messing the beans and the rice on her plate, "we don't really have any right to demand answers. Shirogane-san is our comrade, at the end of the day."
"…And yet consider all we know of him," she taps her glasses, resting the chopsticks. "He was sent here, his slang indicates he wasn't in the Empire, and his tactics of choice denote a certain… leaning."
"Sakaki, please, let us not," Mitsurugi sighs, drinking some miso and making noise, for a few seconds too much.
"I am only stating facts. Shirogane does not come from the frontlines, he wasn't somewhere where such scars could have been inflicted on him."
"…He even said he used to run marathons and shit," Ayamine says in between filling herself with beans and rice. "Plus, Special-kun is super duper good at everything. No way he's a cadet."
"But even if he already took a course, we should work with him now, right?" Yoroi says, softening the hold on her spoon upon Tamase's nod.
"Working with an American? I'll pass," Ayamine shrugs, grumbling something or the other behind the beans and rice.
"…I will have to agree," Sakaki says, resuming her dinner. "Who could trust an outsider? All they want is to use us to do their bidding."
"That's just cruel. There are a lot of foreigners in the base, they're our comrades too." Yoroi insists, falling silent upon the glare her squad leader gives.
"You saw how he reacted as soon as the topic of treating wounds was brought up, clearly ignoring Yoroi's queries. Shirogane was clearly trying to avoid showing his scars to us," Ayamine concludes, hard.
"B-But didn't you all… welcome him just fine when he arrived?" Tamase's gaze sinks in her plate. "In the end, we already knew what happened to him."
"No, we actually don't know anything about him," Sakaki says, grimacing at her reflection in the miso. "Only vague excuses is all he spews. I had though he got fed up with the outsider's way of doing things and decided to come back to his roots." After all, if he got taken to another country as a kid he had no say in it. Children have neither voice nor power. "Such wounds, however, do not belong with a cadet. Not even we got such bruises, and we stepped on sonic mines in our prior test."
"…But we can't just leave him alone, the Instructor will rip our heads off." Yoroi says, slow and sober as she looks down, back to eating.
"I still think you're being too paranoid," Tamase whispers, compacting her shoulders. "I really think we should apologize. Shirogane-san didn't deserve us demanding answers so aggressively."
"Anyone would have asked," Ayamine says, licking her bowls clean. "And yet, under pressure, he showed us his true colors. He showed his fangs."
"…I think we should all work together to pass the CCSE. Antagonizing him like this will only make things worse," Yoroi offers, shrugging.
"Taking off his mask is better for us."
"Ayamine-san, please. Mitsurugi-san, what do you think we should do?"
"I… do not have an answer yet," she quietly says, still moderately eating away.
"Why not?" Ayamine presses.
"Because there's something I'd like to confirm."
"…About today's morning practice?" Sakaki asks.
The chopsticks halt, Mitsurugi relents a nod, hiding behind her fringe.
"I see… In any case, let us all mind our words around Shirogane. I wouldn't want to assume the worse, however, perhaps we should begin to return to our exercises as we were before he arrived."
"Sakaki-san, that's too much," Tamase says, wiping at her mouth. "Shirogane-san has tried to help us in any way he could thus far, today was simply a delicate matter for him."
"Then, consider the following. He defends tactical retreats, his expertise with guns is far more superior than even your own, and quite conveniently most of his wounds reside on his backside," she returns the gaze, holding her hands close to her chest and waiting.
Yet those small eyes dwindle downwards, shrinking more and more. "Um… I don't think he'll betray us. W-We would be assuming-"
"Tamase, you're too naive," Sakaki sharply shakes her head, again tapping her glasses, shrugging her nose and forehead until lines surface. "If he's from America, he won't hesitate to leave us behind if we ever become a burden to him. I cannot trust someone like that, period," quickly declaring so, almost agitated, she palms the table, shaking some glasses.
"Sakaki, stop. There's no reason to make Tamase the recipient of this harshness."
"Mitsurugi, stand down. I am the Squad Leader, it's my responsibility to keep order in our team. If she is doubting we have to address this, now," she asserts, taking a sharp gulp of miso, never lifting her stare off the shaky, shaky little comrade.
Mitsurugi simply inhales sharply, going back to eating. "I cannot argue with that fact, for I know she is correct. However your way of doing things is unbefitting of a leader. To not have grown at all…"
"I don't see a bad person in Shirogane-san, I think he's trying his best to fit in," Tamase says, trying not to stutter, doing her best to hold Sakaki's accusing glare. "I am kind of jealous of his skill, and I would like to know where he learned all he knows but, to go as far as shunning him out? That's too much."
"Then, you're on his side?" she adjust her glasses, leaning forward to meet Tamase's gaze, speaking down to such a small whisper, as if skirting the ears.
"S-Since when are there sides in this? Aren't we all part of the same squad?" Tamase's hands begin to shake, chopsticks fall and drown in the rice.
"Sakaki, that's enough. We shouldn't be-"
Without even registering Mitsurugi, she continues to talk, to trample. "Tamase, think about this carefully, please. To address everyone so casually, to speak as he does mixing English and odd words every so often, it is clear where he comes from, where he learned. Would you join hands with Americans?"
"…Y-You're right. Sorry," Tamase hangs her head, bowing repeatedly, again and again.
"Don't apologize. I do understand your and Mitsurugi's concerns. But I can't let you down again. It was my fault that we failed the last CCSE, so this time…" she returns to her usual position, hollowing herself through a sigh, not even leaving energy to resume and finish her meal.
"Chizuru-san, don't say that. There's no need to go reopening those wounds." Yoroi gives her a pat in the shoulder.
"She's right, though."
"Ayamine, must you?"
"No, Mitsurugi. Let's hear her out," and from stillwaters, from the deepest abyss, shadows lunge forth from the frown. "Anything else you'd like to share, Ayamine?"
Simply nodding while folding both arms behind her head, she clicks her tongue. "…You didn't listen to me then, and you're not listening now either. You speak over us, using your position as the leader to give your opinion more weight, to crush us into following you or being on the other side. You're no soldier, you're a politician," she slowly but firmly told, masking not a single one of the sparks flying off her fuse.
Mitsurugi sends a look at Yoroi, who slowly edges to the corner of the table. Tamase simply pulls softly at Ayamine's arm, bowing silently at Sakaki.
Whose eyes twitch, raising the dare of the embers. "Oho, and why don't you try to actually take part in our conversation, instead of throwing accusations after the fact, hmm? And I am your leader, my orders are absolute. If you don't obey your commands, you'll bring chaos to your team."
"That's not true. Orders in the field are not absolute, there's never one surefire way to say which decision is the best. That's why command is split into many small teams, and why it's recommended to soldiers to give immediate reports if they see any change in the situation. Taking two seconds to consider a suggestion can make the difference between victory and defeat."
"Taking time to consider what? Those at the top have more intel than whatever a soldier could infer. If you want such freedom, you have to scale the ranks. When you're given an order, you follow it."
"Superiors who don't take advice from their comrades are trash. Your rank doesn't make you better than your subordinates, every member of the military must do all it can for the people. Also, you could be assigned to an inept or corrupt commander. What would you do if you're given orders that go against the Empire while you fly UN colors? You'll accept them because they're orders? Such loyalty to our nation," she rolls her eyes, scoffing.
"You two, this is not the time nor the place to-"
"Mitsurugi, stand down," Sakaki says through gritting, grinding teeth. "My undying loyalty is with the Empire, Ayamine. However, I can't say the same about the daughter of a pair of traitorous pigs. Must run in the blood."
Ayamine's face twists, nibbling an edge of her lips. "Right back at you, princess."
"Think what you will of me and my father, but for all of his sins he does not have innocent blood on his hands."
Mitsurugi coughs a few times, elbowing Sakaki, who returns the pleasantry with double the impulse, causing real coughs and the fall of chopsticks. Yoroi practically sprints out of the PX like a starting line coming out of a horse.
"…Wanna go talk outside, princess?"
"Fine by me, traitor."
Without losing eye contact nor shortening the distance separating them, the dragons depart the PX. Chatter and noise dies down, stares and whispers again lingering on that table from all around them.
"Again? That four-eyes doesn't learn, eh…"
"Cut her some slack, imagine dealing with the daughter of a terrorist."
"Imagine being the daughter of one and daring to point fingers."
"H-Hey, shut up. I don't need any more lectures on keeping neutral."
"Only speaking the truth, neither of 'em are saints. Must be why they sent that American to their squad."
"…As if they're any better. Even their daughters get to do her hair however they want. Now us normal folk-"
"Shut it, I don't wanna have those hounds 'requesting a talk' with us on the hallways just cause you can't help but to glare."
Sharing not another word save but whispered apologies, Tamase and Mitsurugi finish their dinner yet do not leave the table. And despite waiting a fair sum of minutes, Shirogane did not make an appearance on the PX.
Parting ways when arriving at the barracks, a warm shower undoes the knots piling on Mitsurugi's shoulder. But no answer presents itself when recalling their bout, the scars, the reaction. No sitting in front of her dearest treasure, no retelling of no code. Not even her nightly laps serve to clear her mind, steps waning on their own at times and ending on more of a small walk rather than jogging.
Simply staring at the stars, simply basking on the quietness.
Before she gasps, smacking her own forehead at the obvious. "But of course, I merely need to check his records. There must at least be a name from where he came from. Even if it is indeed American soil, Shirogane is a fellow Japanese. And learning of where might clue me in what kind of accident he was made to endure."
Nodding to the sky, she turns back and properly jogs back inside. She remains speeding despite the scolding, due to the late hours, the closing edge of curfew lingering over the clock.
The clerk sitting initially complains and waves away, before almost falling off her seat when seeing the complexion of who was asking entrance. Shifting to the other side of emotions, to the point Mitsurugi hollowed a sigh, the clerk allows her entrance and reminds Mitsurugi of the small time available before lights out. A dim yellow cloak partially illuminates the library's rows of bookshelves, the farthest part of it being blocked by shadows. Mitsurugi hurries to the open space to the left, where some PCs were slotted in, separated by small walls into cubicles.
The PC is unlocked, and mostly empty its menu is due to the lowest rank of the ID. Mitsurugi taps her forearm in complain as the system fully loads, typing in commands faster than her own slashes do when fully focusing.
"Cadet Squad 207th… Members… Shirogane… What?!" she can only gape at the result.
A blink, the image didn't change. She rubs her eyes slowly. But the message didn't change. She closes the window, rubbing her forehead while retaking all the steps one at a time. But the message didn't change.
The red S4 lock on Shirogane's personal data simply chilled there on screen, much like the person it safeguarded would.
"…What is the meaning of this? Why does he have such a high security lock? Not even Sakaki or I possess such security on our profiles… Wait, the public databases! At least some info should turn up in the Shogunate's data banks," she reasons, hitting a fist onto a palm, standing to look for the book of useful links for the browser of the machine. "Now, let's see… Here it is."
Noting the kanji of his name, and approximating his age, Mitsurugi's search and requests finds her with a vast page of rows. Scrolling down and down, she eventually reaches one slot, just one that would align with the parameters of her squadmate. Yet her hands do not move, simply hover over the clickable name.
There is only the name. All other columns are absent, blank. Blank is her mind as well, blinking at the screen, holding her breath. Until a voice rings through the speakers, announcing the imminence of curfew. Letting the air go slowly and scuttling closer to the screen, she clicks onto the selected link to the profile.
But, again, an error message popped up on the screen. This time, this time her heart was stabbed in true chaos, leaving threads limp and entangled.
"What- How- Why would… Access denied?!"she repines, going back, trying again, receiving the same result. Such cold sweat begins to trickle down, to tickle at her nape. Smiling, she was not. "Why would his public profile be blocked as well? Did he… hack the database? This is illegal. No, scratch that, it's impossible. No civilian should have this kind of privilege. If he had been abroad, then the profile would perhaps be incomplete… but to block access to it as well? Low rank I might have, yet this is still a UN connection. Whatever does this…"
Gulping hard, slowly she stands. Bowing and thanking the clerk, for a moment Mitsurugi slowly takes her leave. For only a moment, since she then speeds up away, leaving a trail of sweatdrops in the tiles.
"I shouldn't do this, it is not advisable, it might be futile… However, if there is someone who could know the meaning of this it's Tsukuyomi. She had, in fact, approached him beforehand. Even if, for whatever reason, the UN would be forbidden to access certain profiles, that is not an impediment to her…"
Almost slipping on the stairs, leaning on the rails, slowing down, to a halt, she sighs, heavy.
"…I only hope this does not grant credence to Sakaki's and Ayamine's words. Because if so," why would you mirror my movements? And if they're watching over me, certainly, they noticed it too, right?