promotion (locked) school life (locked) choco and me (locked) arm care (locked) a girl friend (locked) pai and soccer (locked) the photoshoot (locked) friendsgiving (locked) the third fight (locked)
Despite what everyone says you do have self-control, and you wait the better part of visiting hours before you go bother him, even though you know he'll be alone (and he is). He's also way more bandaged than you are and hooked to a million beeping machines. But he's awake this time and not in traction and he smiles at you, and you let out a breath you'd deny you were holding in court.
"Tired of this place yet?" you say, returning his crooked grin. Given what happened during the mission, you're supposed to be under observation for another day or two. Given what happened during the mission, you snuck out here immediately. "Your crows're probably lonely."
"Eh. They’re just wondering where the bread is." But he still sits up--reels but doesn't pass out--starts detaching the various needles and tubes and sensors and you turn away. Unplugging the machines before they start squawking is just as important, then you plunk him into the wheelchair you thoughtfully brought because you not only have (some) self-control, you are a helper. Also, you're not sure you could've supported his weight right now, but it's better to think about using the chair to ride through the medic bay in style.
A few paces to pick up momentum then you jump on the back of the chair like a luge--like a shopping cart--barrelling down the long hallways and darting around the odd staff or patient at increasingly inadvisable speeds. Then, duck for four beats to get clear of the nurses' station--almost capsize at the hard right to the freight elevator--laugh breathlessly as you make it to the roof no worse for wear.
It's chilly up there, but more importantly it isn't stark white walls and antiseptic scent and empty visitors' chairs, and behind the cloud cover the sun is bright. You oust him to the rooftop so you can attempt to do wheelchair tricks, poorly. Your arm is killing you but the buzzing in your teeth is blessedly silent.
He looks to you, curious. "Did you bring the bread?"
Your expression likely goes comically blank; the wheelchair overbalances and smacks to the rooftop and you let out a distressed little noise with the impact. With everything else, bird food has slipped your mind completely. The quick patdown you try fails to add pockets to your hospital gown and it's not crumbs that make your arm so itchy under the bandages.
"Those things could sweep off a small child, they can last one day without bread crusts," you say instead, bravado falling a little flat. Then you sit up, next to him, and it's silent for a while, just the wind and the crows and the muffled sounds of the city in the distance.
"Sorry." You don't exactly mean about the bread.
He is quiet, too. Then: "...You wouldn't break a pinky swear. So I knew you had it covered."
Something catches in your throat. It dislodges as the startled bark of a laugh. Had it covered, huh.
...Well.
"Yeah," you begin, soft. "I always do."
Later you'll find he's a lot better at wheelchair tricks than you are. Later still, security will drag you back downstairs, lecturing (again) that the rooftop's off limits, please stop going up there. For now you just sit, quiet, and work on having it covered.
There's a sudden jolt and screech of metal and you jump to attention, nerves jangling and heart in your throat. It takes a moment for you to realize it's not vultures or harbingers or those guys Julie'd hang with, it's just that Hashimoto kicked your chair after you'd dozed off. You wrench around to face her, pissed and jittery, willing to take the insubordination charge because it's important you seem like you're not the type to take anyone's shit.
"What the fuck!?"
"Got a little somethin' there, fresh meat." The stocky teen points at her chin, and again, down to her chest. You follow her finger, then her eyes, gingerly touching your own chin before--ew--wiping a line of drool from your mouth and chin, grossness.
Hashimoto snickers, leaning in a bit. "Be happy the others didn't see that one. Yer lucky you got such a kind sempai, huh?"
You want to back up--get to where you can see both her and all the exits, but you stay your ground and try to rein in your panic. You do realize the room seems to be empty, which makes you wary of what Hashimoto wants with you. She's ignored you for the most part since you'd joined the team.
"...You looking for a fight?"
The look she gives you is withering. "Like you'd even be worth my time, numbnuts. You been like the walking dead all day. You saw what Cross went through to keep Murata off your ass."
You obviously didn't see anything but the inside of your eyelids, but you don't see the need to mention that part. "Was a late practice," you say instead.
"Yeah, and that's why everybody else's so tired. Oh wait, that's not true at all! Were you this dumb yesterday?"
Before you can squawk any reply, she smacks a palm to your forehead. It's soft and blessedly cool and you must make some sort of ridiculous noise since Hashimoto fucking clucks her tongue of all things, like a goddamn grandmother from some Western drama. All you can do is lean into the touch, sigh a bit. Hell, you must be--
"You're sick as shit, bud!" Hashimoto pulls away to cuff you upside the head, and at least that's something you know how to deal with.
"Fuck off," you say, both opening your eyes and making them focus. You just need a coffee, you figure. Of course, when you go to stand, the room spins weakly, so you let gravity pull you back to your seat. Double hell.
"Ohhh my god. You shitting me here?"
Now that you're semi-upright and awake again, you feel bad. Like, you didn't feel too hot this morning, but now you just feel awful. It's only that Hashimoto is here that keeps you from just lying back on your desk. You lean uprightish in the uncomfortable chair instead, mentally preparing for having to stand. "Keep your pants on. I'll be up in a second."
Hashimoto gives an unnecessarily melodramatic eyeroll. But the surprising part is when after you don't get up in a second, she grabs you under the shoulders and hefts you up. It's not the easiest, since you're almost a head taller than she is, but she's sturdy and solid even as your knees and head goes all swimmy. Together you stumble towards the med bay, and before you know it--you do kinda grey out a couple times there--you're laid in a cot, compress on your forehead.
"Hey," you begin, head bleary and tongue thick. But you can't grasp words to continue, and your eyelids are heavy, so you let yourself sink into warm, heavy darkness.
It's halfway through the meet and you don't see him in the stands. And that's fine, you didn't expect your father to come, you'd only mentioned it on the off chance he'd wonder where you were, and--Shimizu smacks you on the shoulder on the way to the track. Time for the 800, and for you to get your head in the game.
Time for your usual ritual: tie up your hair to a messy ponytail. Tap your toes against the track, to get the feel of it; right once, then left twice. Don't stare up to the actual decent sized crowd this time, since it's not like there's ever--
"Queridinha!"
Your father's voice carries clearly, even over the crowd, and you whip your head around, face warm at the casual endearment. He stands out, ruddy-faced and wild-haired and waving a sign with your name on it, and his rowdy construction buddies whoop when you turn towards the stands. God, did he bring the entire job site? Have they been drinking? ...You're pretty sure the answer to both questions is yes, but their cheer is genuine and something in your chest twinges. "Queridinha, you must win, otherwise our party will have been for nothing!"
The hot feeling in your chest is embarrassment, you decide, but you wave back anyway, the deep tan of your arm only broken by the strip of cloth winding around it, a motley of your school's blue and red, the whole team having signed it for luck at regionals. It's dumb. But you worked hard for this, and you wanna show 'em all. You wanna win.
You do.
Sakuragaoka is hardly the underdog--you'd come first in prefecturals and all--but it's still a rush when your team keeps winning, and more importantly, you keep winning. You run in three events--the 800, the 1500, and tetrathlon--you friggin' destroy the shotput--and place in them all. In fact, your 1500 meter is a personal best, and over all the voices shrieking it's your father's hoarse cheers you hear as you cross the finish line with first place.
And with that, it's pretty much over. The normally gruff Captain Ebisawa looks like she could kiss you, and Shimizu (who is never not at your throat and beat your 800 time by the better part of a second) actually does, and the relay team starts up a high-five tunnel, and by the end of it all your neck is slung with medals and you are going to Nationals and it's pretty much the most spectacular thing you can conceive of.
Your father and his gang roar as you take the podium, cheering even louder than the rest of the modest crowd. Thankfully they don't storm the field, but they do invite anyone who'll listen back to your place for a party that you know from experience will continue late into the night; possibly until old Yonekawa calls the cops. But there're no sirens yet, just your team and your father and your neighbors and for once, that's enough.
It is only the second time Park’s been allowed as leader and you were kind of hoping he'd have done some script edits since then. The script is lame, like the mission itself. One of the transfer stations out past the 'dome's lost efficiency. You guys're supposed to find out why that is.
"Probably something got blown over in the storm a couple weeks ago," suggests the dark-skinned girl. 'Johnson' is printed on her gray jumpsuit.
"What if it's a t-rex?" Hurricane counters.
"What if it's a bear!" stutters the redhead, eyes wide.
"What if it's a human?" 'Hernandez' says from right next to you, voice soft.
You're still a good half hour out, but no one talks much after that. Lame.
The "facility" is more like a shack out in the middle of a field. The rice is all gone to seed, mixed with fruit and wildflowers and grasses brushing against the suits' thighs and tickling where the dented armor doesn't meet properly down the legs.
The whole squad falls into position without arguing; sniper and medic at a safe vantage, the others covering the shed from the other directions. Hurricane is at your 7 as you head in, muting Park's channel as he goes on about whatever crap. Testing the door's your job, and you step soft and easy towards the door...best you can anyway, with the connection to the suit buzzing at the back of your neck, steel wool on aluminum. You stay low, turning the knob and pushing. And then pushing some more. And then--
The door sticks, like it's been propped open. Blowing the door's out of the question (unfortunately), so you shoulder into it until whatever had been keeping it shut finally gives way. You stumble in a few steps, something squashy and sticky crunching under your feet.
"Oh," you say, not believing what you see.
"■■■■?" comes over the comms, and you think to transmit your video feed.
Suddenly you get where the problem with the power grid's coming from. The machinery is covered--the entire room is covered, floor to ceiling lined with neat rows of honeycomb, oozing onto the levers and plugs, over desk and work table and shelving, and swarming over with just so many drones.
"'S a lotta bees," Hurricane breathes, close behind your back, and you startle, knocking the door open harder, crushing into the nearest comb and knocking a whole rack out of place.
The bees don't very much like that.
The swarm turns to you, the one in front, the attacker, and begins to surround you. And continues to surround you, more and more and more bees seem to be pouring through the door to greet you. They ram against the suit, steady as a hailstorm, and the buzz echoes in your teeth. You remember the loose panel at the knee, how you'd just ripped it off since the rattle as you walked'd been so annoying.
"Run," Hurricane cries, tugging at your arm hard enough to loosen the arm seal and it's just downhill from there.
Day 193 - Whale - preteen Nemesis watches Hurricane waste money on a crane game Guarded - Nemesis agrees to psych eval since they won't let her return to Team Phoenix (after the events of Whispers, incidentally) Thunder - Nemesis and Hurricane fight off an ambush at Tokyo Disney (companion to Hurricane's memories of the rest of the day)
Day ??? - Memory Share game (She got 1 of Kohime's (something something why don't people love me, which resonated for reasons she would learn later,) and 2 of her own which will be linked here...when I rewrite them at some point...but it's her sister ditching her at the beach, and kiting invaders for (probably) Team Blitz)
Day 314 Hex - Nem's older sister wrecks her bike; child Nemesis is blamed for it Ooze - preteen Nemesis sneaks into the remains of a grocery store Crime Scene - two of Nemesis and Hurricane's teammates have a talk
Day 317 - Night Flight - gawky middle school one-armed Nemesis sneaks out to a rooftop where she's startled by a younger Hurricane Black Cat - child Nemesis and Julia find their father returned from extended off-shore work only to turn around and leave once again Whispers - Team Phoenix fight an enormous Invader after Team Chroma fail, turning on each other instead. Nemesis attacks the alien(?) demon(?) monster, bodily. This is not a good idea
Day 412 - Basement - Xia passes the remains of a ruined Invaders shelter school trip - team blitz goes to kyoto
Day 435 Sentient - Team Blitz contemplates the nature of Invaders, among other things Suit - Young Nemesis learns of Team Alpha Ritual - Kozlov's funeral
[Day 451] fuzzy - Nemesis and Hashimoto attempt a Team Blitz girls night roasted - Hashimoto and Eze help Nemesis get ready for something that is definitely not a date leak - Nemesis and Kurashiki have differing opinions on how to keep Team Phoenix safe
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probably three days later [[unlocked day 9]]
"Tired of this place yet?" you say, returning his crooked grin. Given what happened during the mission, you're supposed to be under observation for another day or two. Given what happened during the mission, you snuck out here immediately. "Your crows're probably lonely."
"Eh. They’re just wondering where the bread is." But he still sits up--reels but doesn't pass out--starts detaching the various needles and tubes and sensors and you turn away. Unplugging the machines before they start squawking is just as important, then you plunk him into the wheelchair you thoughtfully brought because you not only have (some) self-control, you are a helper. Also, you're not sure you could've supported his weight right now, but it's better to think about using the chair to ride through the medic bay in style.
A few paces to pick up momentum then you jump on the back of the chair like a luge--like a shopping cart--barrelling down the long hallways and darting around the odd staff or patient at increasingly inadvisable speeds. Then, duck for four beats to get clear of the nurses' station--almost capsize at the hard right to the freight elevator--laugh breathlessly as you make it to the roof no worse for wear.
It's chilly up there, but more importantly it isn't stark white walls and antiseptic scent and empty visitors' chairs, and behind the cloud cover the sun is bright. You oust him to the rooftop so you can attempt to do wheelchair tricks, poorly. Your arm is killing you but the buzzing in your teeth is blessedly silent.
He looks to you, curious. "Did you bring the bread?"
Your expression likely goes comically blank; the wheelchair overbalances and smacks to the rooftop and you let out a distressed little noise with the impact. With everything else, bird food has slipped your mind completely. The quick patdown you try fails to add pockets to your hospital gown and it's not crumbs that make your arm so itchy under the bandages.
"Those things could sweep off a small child, they can last one day without bread crusts," you say instead, bravado falling a little flat. Then you sit up, next to him, and it's silent for a while, just the wind and the crows and the muffled sounds of the city in the distance.
"Sorry." You don't exactly mean about the bread.
He is quiet, too. Then: "...You wouldn't break a pinky swear. So I knew you had it covered."
Something catches in your throat. It dislodges as the startled bark of a laugh. Had it covered, huh.
...Well.
"Yeah," you begin, soft. "I always do."
Later you'll find he's a lot better at wheelchair tricks than you are. Later still, security will drag you back downstairs, lecturing (again) that the rooftop's off limits, please stop going up there. For now you just sit, quiet, and work on having it covered.
drooling [[unlocked day 102]]
"What the fuck!?"
"Got a little somethin' there, fresh meat." The stocky teen points at her chin, and again, down to her chest. You follow her finger, then her eyes, gingerly touching your own chin before--ew--wiping a line of drool from your mouth and chin, grossness.
Hashimoto snickers, leaning in a bit. "Be happy the others didn't see that one. Yer lucky you got such a kind sempai, huh?"
You want to back up--get to where you can see both her and all the exits, but you stay your ground and try to rein in your panic. You do realize the room seems to be empty, which makes you wary of what Hashimoto wants with you. She's ignored you for the most part since you'd joined the team.
"...You looking for a fight?"
The look she gives you is withering. "Like you'd even be worth my time, numbnuts. You been like the walking dead all day. You saw what Cross went through to keep Murata off your ass."
You obviously didn't see anything but the inside of your eyelids, but you don't see the need to mention that part. "Was a late practice," you say instead.
"Yeah, and that's why everybody else's so tired. Oh wait, that's not true at all! Were you this dumb yesterday?"
Before you can squawk any reply, she smacks a palm to your forehead. It's soft and blessedly cool and you must make some sort of ridiculous noise since Hashimoto fucking clucks her tongue of all things, like a goddamn grandmother from some Western drama. All you can do is lean into the touch, sigh a bit. Hell, you must be--
"You're sick as shit, bud!" Hashimoto pulls away to cuff you upside the head, and at least that's something you know how to deal with.
"Fuck off," you say, both opening your eyes and making them focus. You just need a coffee, you figure. Of course, when you go to stand, the room spins weakly, so you let gravity pull you back to your seat. Double hell.
"Ohhh my god. You shitting me here?"
Now that you're semi-upright and awake again, you feel bad. Like, you didn't feel too hot this morning, but now you just feel awful. It's only that Hashimoto is here that keeps you from just lying back on your desk. You lean uprightish in the uncomfortable chair instead, mentally preparing for having to stand. "Keep your pants on. I'll be up in a second."
Hashimoto gives an unnecessarily melodramatic eyeroll. But the surprising part is when after you don't get up in a second, she grabs you under the shoulders and hefts you up. It's not the easiest, since you're almost a head taller than she is, but she's sturdy and solid even as your knees and head goes all swimmy. Together you stumble towards the med bay, and before you know it--you do kinda grey out a couple times there--you're laid in a cot, compress on your forehead.
"Hey," you begin, head bleary and tongue thick. But you can't grasp words to continue, and your eyelids are heavy, so you let yourself sink into warm, heavy darkness.
cheer [[unlocked day 102]]
Time for your usual ritual: tie up your hair to a messy ponytail. Tap your toes against the track, to get the feel of it; right once, then left twice. Don't stare up to the actual decent sized crowd this time, since it's not like there's ever--
"Queridinha!"
Your father's voice carries clearly, even over the crowd, and you whip your head around, face warm at the casual endearment. He stands out, ruddy-faced and wild-haired and waving a sign with your name on it, and his rowdy construction buddies whoop when you turn towards the stands. God, did he bring the entire job site? Have they been drinking? ...You're pretty sure the answer to both questions is yes, but their cheer is genuine and something in your chest twinges. "Queridinha, you must win, otherwise our party will have been for nothing!"
The hot feeling in your chest is embarrassment, you decide, but you wave back anyway, the deep tan of your arm only broken by the strip of cloth winding around it, a motley of your school's blue and red, the whole team having signed it for luck at regionals. It's dumb. But you worked hard for this, and you wanna show 'em all. You wanna win.
You do.
Sakuragaoka is hardly the underdog--you'd come first in prefecturals and all--but it's still a rush when your team keeps winning, and more importantly, you keep winning. You run in three events--the 800, the 1500, and tetrathlon--you friggin' destroy the shotput--and place in them all. In fact, your 1500 meter is a personal best, and over all the voices shrieking it's your father's hoarse cheers you hear as you cross the finish line with first place.
And with that, it's pretty much over. The normally gruff Captain Ebisawa looks like she could kiss you, and Shimizu (who is never not at your throat and beat your 800 time by the better part of a second) actually does, and the relay team starts up a high-five tunnel, and by the end of it all your neck is slung with medals and you are going to Nationals and it's pretty much the most spectacular thing you can conceive of.
Your father and his gang roar as you take the podium, cheering even louder than the rest of the modest crowd. Thankfully they don't storm the field, but they do invite anyone who'll listen back to your place for a party that you know from experience will continue late into the night; possibly until old Yonekawa calls the cops. But there're no sirens yet, just your team and your father and your neighbors and for once, that's enough.
infested [[unlocked day 116]]
It is only the second time Park’s been allowed as leader and you were kind of hoping he'd have done some script edits since then. The script is lame, like the mission itself. One of the transfer stations out past the 'dome's lost efficiency. You guys're supposed to find out why that is.
"Probably something got blown over in the storm a couple weeks ago," suggests the dark-skinned girl. 'Johnson' is printed on her gray jumpsuit.
"What if it's a t-rex?" Hurricane counters.
"What if it's a bear!" stutters the redhead, eyes wide.
"What if it's a human?" 'Hernandez' says from right next to you, voice soft.
You're still a good half hour out, but no one talks much after that. Lame.
The "facility" is more like a shack out in the middle of a field. The rice is all gone to seed, mixed with fruit and wildflowers and grasses brushing against the suits' thighs and tickling where the dented armor doesn't meet properly down the legs.
The whole squad falls into position without arguing; sniper and medic at a safe vantage, the others covering the shed from the other directions. Hurricane is at your 7 as you head in, muting Park's channel as he goes on about whatever crap. Testing the door's your job, and you step soft and easy towards the door...best you can anyway, with the connection to the suit buzzing at the back of your neck, steel wool on aluminum. You stay low, turning the knob and pushing. And then pushing some more. And then--
The door sticks, like it's been propped open. Blowing the door's out of the question (unfortunately), so you shoulder into it until whatever had been keeping it shut finally gives way. You stumble in a few steps, something squashy and sticky crunching under your feet.
"Oh," you say, not believing what you see.
"■■■■?" comes over the comms, and you think to transmit your video feed.
Suddenly you get where the problem with the power grid's coming from. The machinery is covered--the entire room is covered, floor to ceiling lined with neat rows of honeycomb, oozing onto the levers and plugs, over desk and work table and shelving, and swarming over with just so many drones.
"'S a lotta bees," Hurricane breathes, close behind your back, and you startle, knocking the door open harder, crushing into the nearest comb and knocking a whole rack out of place.
The bees don't very much like that.
The swarm turns to you, the one in front, the attacker, and begins to surround you. And continues to surround you, more and more and more bees seem to be pouring through the door to greet you. They ram against the suit, steady as a hailstorm, and the buzz echoes in your teeth. You remember the loose panel at the knee, how you'd just ripped it off since the rattle as you walked'd been so annoying.
"Run," Hurricane cries, tugging at your arm hard enough to loosen the arm seal and it's just downhill from there.
no subject
Whale - preteen Nemesis watches Hurricane waste money on a crane game
Guarded - Nemesis agrees to psych eval since they won't let her return to Team Phoenix (after the events of Whispers, incidentally)
Thunder - Nemesis and Hurricane fight off an ambush at Tokyo Disney (companion to Hurricane's memories of the rest of the day)
Day ??? - Memory Share game
(She got 1 of Kohime's (something something why don't people love me, which resonated for reasons she would learn later,) and 2 of her own which will be linked here...when I rewrite them at some point...but it's her sister ditching her at the beach, and kiting invaders for (probably) Team Blitz)
Day 208 (Heart Games) - Kohime Memories
Shadow Weaver is bad
hordak is bad
hordak is real bad
Day 294 -
Star - Child Nemesis spends an evening with her father
Day 300 (Pretty Pretty Princess 2) - Thunder (again)
Day 311 - Three Anniversaries
and their associated "celebrations"
Day 314
Hex - Nem's older sister wrecks her bike; child Nemesis is blamed for it
Ooze - preteen Nemesis sneaks into the remains of a grocery store
Crime Scene - two of Nemesis and Hurricane's teammates have a talk
Day 317 -
Night Flight - gawky middle school one-armed Nemesis sneaks out to a rooftop where she's startled by a younger Hurricane
Black Cat - child Nemesis and Julia find their father returned from extended off-shore work only to turn around and leave once again
Whispers - Team Phoenix fight an enormous Invader after Team Chroma fail, turning on each other instead. Nemesis attacks the alien(?) demon(?) monster, bodily. This is not a good idea
Day 412 -
Basement - Xia passes the remains of a ruined Invaders shelter
school trip - team blitz goes to kyoto
Day 435
Sentient - Team Blitz contemplates the nature of Invaders, among other things
Suit - Young Nemesis learns of Team Alpha
Ritual - Kozlov's funeral
[Day 451]
fuzzy - Nemesis and Hashimoto attempt a Team Blitz girls night
roasted - Hashimoto and Eze help Nemesis get ready for something that is definitely not a date
leak - Nemesis and Kurashiki have differing opinions on how to keep Team Phoenix safe