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ninoexchange2015-06-21 08:37 pm
nino-mod.livejournal.com) wrote in ninoexchange2015-06-21 08:37 pm
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natsunonamae (2/5)
For: natsunonamae
From:64907
Part 1
Nino doesn’t show up for any subsequent trainings after that, and when someone bangs loudly on the door demanding for him, he thinks it’s one of the random people Ohno sent. He resolves to ignore it, but whoever’s behind it is persistent enough that Nino sighs before sliding his door open.
He finds himself greeted by a grinning face.
“Took you long enough to open! I thought I’d break my hand in there,” the man says, massaging his knuckles.
Nino frowns, opening his mouth to ask what this person wants from him, but the man speaks again. “Leader wants you in the simulation hall. I’m Aiba by the way,” he says, extending a hand, something Nino takes cautiously. Aiba shakes his hand enthusiastically, his grip tight and intention clear. “I design the simulations, try to make them as real as possible. Whatever. Leader wants you to come in.”
Nino’s been in the Shatterdome long enough to know that Leader is another nickname people have for Ohno, probably because he’s one of the smoothest fighters the Shatterdome has. Majority of what Nino learned in the combat room is thanks to Ohno guiding his moves and telling him how and when to move, and while Nino has never seen Ohno fully in action, he thinks the man won’t get the fightmaster position just so.
“I’m not ready,” Nino informs Aiba, but Aiba simply shrugs.
“Not up to me to question Leader. He wants you in, and if you’re not coming, well, that’s going to be a problem for me too, so can you please just step outside of this room and come with me? Please? I got you to open the door, after all. And just so you know, I still have eight simulations to finish after this and they’re all category III ones. Please, please, Nino?” Aiba has both hands clasped together and is looking at him with hopeful eyes, and while Nino’s a bit surprised by the casual use of his nickname, he sighs and relents.
Aiba leads him to the simulation hall and they hold a lighthearted conversation on their way there. He walks with a spring in his step so different from Ohno’s quiet or Sakurai’s careful, almost measured stride. There and then he seems as unstoppable as a Jaeger in full armor after a kaiju victory and Nino feels small standing next to him.
“What was her record?” Nino asks when they turn around a corner and are looking at the doors of the simulation hall a few feet away. “My sister’s.”
“Forty-eight drops, forty-eight kills,” Aiba says immediately. “I don’t forget the ones who make a record, you know? Your sister was something else. She still holds the highest simulation score in this Shatterdome even now.”
“Even higher than Matsumoto’s?” Nino asks, an eyebrow quirked. Aiba merely nods, and so Nino pushes. “What’s his score?”
Aiba pauses in front of the door, not keying the number code on the console to open them yet. “Before?” Aiba asks, eyes turning serious. “Or after?”
Before Nino gets to open his mouth, Aiba quickly types in a set of numbers, causing the sliding doors to open to reveal Ohno. Aiba pushes him lightly with a hand on his back. “Brought him in, Leader! Sorry for the lateness, but he wouldn’t open the damn door until I thought my hand was going to fall off.”
Ohno lets out a little chuckle at Aiba’s statement before nodding in thanks, and Aiba leaves him, never answering the question regarding Matsumoto. Behind Ohno are glass screens spanning nearly twenty feet in height and fifty feet in width, and Nino sees an entire company of cadets undergoing a simulation labeled as ‘Hawthorn ver. 3’.
“You said I’m not ready,” Nino says when he feels Ohno’s eyes on him, and he hears Ohno hum.
“I did,” Ohno agrees, “but I didn’t specify what for.”
Nino turns to him, and Ohno tilts his head towards the simulation. “You haven’t been in a simulation before. You have easily pinned down and pummeled most of the cadets until a few days ago, but we’ve never put you in a simulation because Sho-chan didn’t recommend it.”
Nino frowns. So Sakurai was the reason he was never picked to be a part of the recruits undergoing this kind of training despite his promise and skill in the combat hall? “And? What made your ‘Sho-chan’ relent to my case?”
Ohno shakes his head. “Not what. Who.” He extends a hand to lead Nino to the control room where he can see Aiba pressing keys in succession as he runs from one monitor to the next. “Sho-kun thinks you’re not up for this, given your psych eval. I tried to talk him out of it but he said you were too focused on your anger and too confused.”
Ohno doesn’t say it, but Nino knows Sho must have called him “too damaged”.
Nino snorts. “So Sho-chan talks to me sometimes but what he reports to you is how he already psychoanalyzed me? Awesome. I don’t remember signing a letter of consent.” He fixes Ohno a look. “You didn’t answer my question, sir,” he adds sarcastically, not missing the way Ohno’s lips curl to a small smile at his audacity.
“The reason you’re here, Nino,” Ohno explains as the ongoing simulation ends and a couple of Aiba’s interns begin strapping different parts of a drivesuit in Nino’s form, “is that Jun needs your simulation score.”
That makes Nino pause, allowing one intern to strap a small plate to his wrist, one that connects him to the simulation control room. Another intern hands over a helmet for him to put on, and Nino takes it unconsciously. “For what?” Nino asks, taking deep breaths to control himself. “What does he need my score for? You said I’m not ready.”
“You’re not,” Ohno agrees for the second time with a nod, but then he smiles. “So we’ll take it one step at a time. Sentinel’s not going anywhere without a co-pilot, after all. But first, you have to show me what you’ve got. You’re up for five drops for today. Let’s see how many you can take down.”
--
The days turn to a couple of weeks and while Nino doesn’t beat his sister’s record of forty-eight, he still makes it to a decent forty-five, making Ohno declare that it’s enough.
“Still not ready?” Nino asks the fightmaster as he removes the helmet of his drivesuit.
Ohno grins. “For what’s coming? No. But no time like the present, so come with me.”
Nino’s still trying to catch his breath after splitting Aiba’s newly-designed category IV simulation in half, but he follows Ohno anyway. “Where are you taking me now?”
“To the one thing you’ve been preparing yourself for,” Ohno says, vague as ever, but when Nino stops him with a hand on his elbow, he clarifies. “You’re up for drifting.”
That makes Nino stop in his movements, his grip on Ohno loosening. He has seen forty-five of Aiba’s realistic kaiju simulations, even one that looked exactly like the one that ravaged Tokyo during the first wave. He knows how it feels like to almost die despite those forty-five being only simulations, because Aiba made them believable enough that it felt like he was fighting one up close. He knows fear, knows how it feels as it runs through his blood and leaving it cold, the skin above it feeling brittle and breakable despite the impossibility of it.
It still doesn’t prepare him for the fear of someone seeing his mind for the first time, now that Ohno has given the approval. It doesn’t prepare him for being frightened of what he’s going to see in his partner’s mind and what’s on his mind. He only knows of drifting theoretically thanks to the first weeks he spent in officer training. He is yet to know the sensation of it, yet to experience it, but he fears that Ohno may be right once more.
“I’m not ready for this,” he admits ahead of time, and Ohno stops in his steps to face him. Nino shakes his head. “I’m not. You can ask Sho-chan. I may have given you forty-five drops and forty-five kills in a span of days, but if you’re telling me you found someone compatible with me and that person is waiting behind that door, I’m saying I’m not ready for it. I won’t allow a stranger into my mind, not when I’ve never been compatible with anyone in all those hours I spent in the combat room.”
Ohno regards him with eyes full of understanding. “You’re not letting a stranger into your mind,” he says quietly, reaching out to squeeze Nino’s shoulder in a reassuring manner.
“Matsumoto,” Nino murmurs, and even though it’s not a question, Ohno nods. “You think I can handle that?”
Ohno’s as honest as ever. “No,” he replies quickly, “but we don’t have the time to wait for you to be ready. You wanted answers since day one. Now the only thing standing between you and those answers is this door behind me. The higher-ups want Niigata taken back. And we need all five Jaegers we have running and ready for that to happen.”
“If there’s one thing I learned in officer training about drifting, it’s that drifting is about trust,” Nino says and Ohno listens to him quietly. “You’re asking me to trust Matsumoto to be inside my head as much as he’d trust me to be inside his. You’re asking me to trust the guy who let my sister die not to let the same thing happen to me. Sounds a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”
“Forty-five,” Ohno says suddenly, and Nino frowns in confusion. “Aiba-chan told me you asked for Jun’s simulation score. Forty-five. That was before, when he was still a cadet along with your sister. He did the simulation again before I called for you some days ago, and he dropped to thirty-six. Between you and him, I’d say you’re more likely to be ready than he is. And yet he’s behind this door waiting for you because I said so.” Ohno stares at him in all seriousness. “I’m not asking you to do anything, Nino. I can always find someone else who’s willing. It’s up to you if you want to trust him. It’s up to you if you want to stay angry. I’ve got baggage of my own so don’t ask me to carry yours, cadet. I’m only here to offer you a chance, but whether it is a fighting chance or not is up to you.”
Ohno turns around then, keying in his sequence to reveal the hangar where Storm Sentinel lies in wait. Ohno doesn’t look at him anymore, but Nino resolves to follow, until Ohno stops in front of the entrance to the Jaeger’s cockpit.
“I’ll be in the control room,” Ohno says, already excusing himself. “So go get yourself strapped up if you think you’re ready. Don’t bother stepping inside that robot’s Conn-Pod if you’re not up for it. But if you’re thinking there’s always a next time, there isn’t. We have no time to wait around here. Not when the kaiju activities are spiking again and reclaiming prefectures we already got back.”
Ohno leaves him, and before Nino can rethink his decision, he steps inside the Sentinel’s Conn-Pod, meeting Matsumoto Jun’s eyes when the man turns around at the sound of his footsteps.
Nino hasn’t seen him ever since he won in the combat room. Whenever he remembers Matsumoto Jun he thinks of retribution and all the supposedly satisfying feelings that come with it. He feels nothing of the sort at the moment, but today, he feels closer to the sweet promise of it than he’s ever been, and it’s enough to make him throw caution to the wind despite his reservations towards his preparedness.
“I’m not doing this because Ohno asked,” Nino declares flatly, knowing Ohno can hear him in the intercom. “And I don’t trust you to have my back, not when you had hers at that time and yet she still died. But there are questions about her that have always haunted me, and you’re the one person who can either silence those things that keep me up at night or give them extra firepower. I’m risking it anyway. For her.” Nino doesn’t know what else to say to him, so he simply walks to the left hemisphere and puts his helmet on.
“We’re both not ready for this,” he hears Matsumoto say, and he doesn’t know if the man’s talking to him or to Ohno, but it’s Ohno who replies via the connected communication systems as the Sentinel’s spinal clamp attaches itself to Nino’s and his partner’s back.
“We’ll find that out soon enough. If one of you ever ends up chasing the rabbit,” Ohno begins, and Nino snorts, “can I ask the other to prevent any damage to the Shatterdome to the best of his ability? We need to fire these plasma cannons on kaijus, not on our hulls.”
“You’re trusting us to prevent each other from going crazy?” Nino asks, and he hears Ohno sigh. “That’s a lot of risk.”
“Well, Jun-tan’s got the right hemisphere,” he hears Aiba’s voice, “so no, still not as much risk as putting you on the right, Nino. You’re pretty volatile and who knows? You might missile-launcher us once you get the chance!”
“If I get back still sane and functioning I will missile-launcher you the next time I step inside your lab,” Nino claims as the relay gel washes over the surface of his helmet. He knows it’s any moment now, and when he makes the mistake of blinking, he and Matsumoto somehow achieve neural handshake.
It’s like riding a rollercoaster, although Nino has never been fond of the things. In seconds he sees flashes: Matsumoto as a child, the sound of his laughter, his cries, his seeming popularity in kindergarten, that moment in his life where a truck hit him but he still apologized to the driver profusely for his mistake. Nino also sees Matsumoto in high school, how he keeps on eating sandwiches during homeroom periods despite the teacher forbidding him to.
A bit of a rebel, Nino thinks just as the scenery changes.
The next time Nino opens his eyes, he’s still inside the Storm Sentinel’s cockpit, but instead of being attached to the spinal clamp, he’s standing on the side, and he’s looking at Riisa wearing a drivesuit as she takes her place on the right hemisphere.
No one ever told him, but apparently his sister was the dominant pilot of Sentinel back in the days. Nino can only look at her, smiling with her eyes full of conviction, and he feels himself whisked away to even more memories. He sees Matsumoto and his sister’s first successful kill, feels the same elation and relief they felt as if it were his own. The sensations wash over Nino like a dam opened, and he feels his sister’s genuine joy, something he never felt before in his life.
The scenery shifts and Nino sees a raging storm as the Sentinel moves forward. He’s standing on the side of the cockpit, Riisa on the right and Matsumoto on the left, and in front of them is the one kaiju Nino would recognize in any shape or form; the one which killed her.
Nino realizes this is exactly what officer training was warning them about when they were told about the risks of drifting. He’s now in Matsumoto’s memory, seeing the secrets Matsumoto has to hide as much as Matsumoto sees his, but this is the one memory that he has always wanted to see, and it results in him latching on to it the first chance he gets.
“We’ve got this, Jun-kun,” he hears his sister say, and Nino can see and feel how much Matsumoto believed in her. Nino can’t blame him then; if Riisa said the same thing to him he would have believed her too. “We’ve got this one.”
When Nino blinks, it all happens so fast. He sees glimpses, some even as short as flashes of how the fight went on, but how it went downhill seems to happen in slow-motion for him to see fully: the kaiju overpowers the Sentinel and the cockpit begins collapsing, sparks flying overhead and the Sentinel’s A.I. declaring nearly every part of the Jaeger under critical condition. Alarms are blaring inside the Conn-Pod, and everything is red because of the emergency lighting. His sister is trapped in a collapsed ledge and Matsumoto is trying to get her out by lifting the ledge, but what they’re saying is something Nino can’t hear because the kaiju suddenly roars and delivers a blow using its spiked tail, sending the Sentinel flying.
In the next moment, Nino sees his sister’s lower form effectively trapped under her drivesuit that’s still connected to the spinal clamp. Pain is obvious in her features, and Nino feels it because this is Matsumoto’s memory and Matsumoto clearly remembers how her suffering felt like. Nino goes down on his knees, the pain unbearable to feel and to see, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away.
He needs to see this.
He sees Riisa press a closed fist to Matsumoto’s chest as Matsumoto crouches before her in an attempt to haul her away. Their eyes meet and Nino can feel the combined panic and fear in their connection. “I made him a promise,” he hears his twin say, and he sees Matsumoto take her closed fist in his as she hands him something. “I didn’t get to make him a new one, but I did tell Oh-chan to find him when something happens to me.”
Matsumoto shakes his head in fierce denial. “You said we’ve got this so we’re going to make it. We are. I can still activate the escape pod and we’ll make it out together, come on.”
Riisa winces, and Nino can feel the pain shooting from her leg up to the rest of her body. Nino knows she’s not going anywhere, not when her lower half’s already paralyzed. Even if Jun gets her in an escape pod, she won’t go far. “Give that to him,” she says, wincing, her eyes tearing up because of the pain. “He’ll want it back.”
Nino sees it then: the orange, almost black string bracelet he gave her when she left. He’s panting out of sensory overload, but he doesn’t look away as his sister pushes for Matsumoto to go.
The last thing Nino sees is his sister doing the salute he himself is fond of doing before another deafening howl from the kaiju splits the air and suddenly he’s back, standing in the left hemisphere with Matsumoto Jun on his right, Sakurai and Aiba’s panicked voices blaring through the intercoms.
“They’re not ready! We have to shut it down!” he hears Sakurai scream, followed by Aiba’s “Oh no, no, no, Jun-tan!” and he hears Ohno’s voice calling him.
“Find him, Nino,” Ohno orders through the intercom, his voice hard. “Find him before it’s too late.”
It’s then Nino realizes that Matsumoto’s too far gone, and he shuts his eyes in an attempt to haul back his co-pilot to reality. Matsumoto’s somewhere in his memories, but unlike him who managed to haul himself away in time, Matsumoto’s trapped and is thrown out of alignment.
It’s up to Nino to find him. It’s his head after all. He thinks he can navigate it in record time no matter how screwed up it is. He just hopes he has more than enough time before Matsumoto unconsciously charges a missile launcher to full power as a reaction to whatever he sees.
Nino finds Matsumoto looking at him and Riisa, back when he had a guitar case over his back and he talked about his aspirations to pursue his passions, back when he held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead goodbye, telling her that this was something he had to do. Matsumoto is watching him leaving his sister for the first time, and Nino feels like he swallowed fire because of how his guilt manifests.
He had it all wrong after all. Vengeance is not an open wound because nothing is coming to get him. He’s the one setting himself up for all the ugly things. He’s the one transforming himself into live bait for all his demons to feast upon. Nothing out there is coming to get him, and if there’s anything he has to be terrified of, it’s himself.
Before he can stop Matsumoto, the scenery shifts, and this time they’re in the same room he and Riisa shared in Shimane. Nino sees himself looking at his own reflection and he watches himself punching the mirror in anger and frustration, leaving tiny shards which cut his knuckles deeply. Nino remembers this. This is the time after he learned of her death, and ever since then he avoided looking at the mirror out of fear and guilt. The cuts on his knuckles have faded over time, but as Matsumoto revisits this memory, Nino feels the steady trickling of his blood, painting the ground red in little drops of thick, almost velvety iron.
He doesn’t register the pain and the memory shifts again, this time to show the last time he saw his sister alive. He watches as Matsumoto takes in the memory, how Nino hands over the string bracelet for good luck along with his hopes and the things he never had the chance to say. Nino hates this memory because his regret here is so palpable and to feel it once more is something he didn’t know to be possible.
It’s always worse the second time around, and he proves it when he himself unconsciously reaches out to stop Riisa from leaving. Nino catches himself in time, shaking his head and reminding himself that this is just a memory.
“Matsumoto,” Nino calls out as he tries to ignore the pangs of remorse coursing through his veins. Matsumoto doesn’t budge, and Nino tries again to no avail. He catches Matsumoto’s hands trembling as he sees himself hand over the necklace, and Matsumoto’s hands clench to fists when Riisa makes a salute as a form of goodbye.
“Jun,” Nino says firmly, and he sees Matsumoto’s shoulders tense in response. “It’s not real. It’s just a memory. Snap out of it.”
The next time Nino blinks, he’s back with Aiba’s rather shrill voice ringing through the intercom, only to be silenced by Ohno’s calm declaration that everything is under control.
Nino exhales, feeling the dryness of his throat as he tries to speak. “Did I get to missile-launcher Aiba?” he asks, panting, and he hears Ohno’s quiet huffs of laughter along with Sakurai’s whiny exclamation of “Don’t joke around, Ninomiya! We almost lost you two in there!”
“But you didn’t,” comes Matsumoto’s hoarse croak, and Nino can feel another presence in his head, but it doesn’t feel intrusive in any way. He senses Matsumoto’s gratitude through the meld and doesn’t find it misplaced nor a form of mockery. Nino simply accepts it with a nod.
He’s flooded by immense relief, though it’s hard to determine if it’s his own relief or Matsumoto’s, or both of them feeling it. Whatever the case, Nino doesn’t let it bother him anymore. He has done it. He has drifted and come back in one piece despite his lack of trust in Matsumoto.
Nino turns to his right, addressing Matsumoto for the first time after they have achieved drift compatibility. “You were a cute kid,” he says quietly, and he can feel Matsumoto’s immediate shock followed by embarrassment through the link, making him laugh a little. “Nice, incredibly thick eyebrows included. But all the girls in kindergarten gave you chocolates on Valentine’s? Really?”
Matsumoto doesn’t say anything and Nino lets out little huffs of amusement as he feels his co-pilot’s embarrassment. He can’t see it clearly because of the relay gel coloring their helmets yellow, but he thinks Matsumoto’s face is flushing.
“Save the flirting for later, please,” Sakurai says, ever the party pooper, and Nino rolls his eyes. “We’re now going to test exactly how capable you two are of making her move, but try not to release any firearms at us. We just want to see if you two can use the Sentinel’s weapons and activate them at the right time.”
Ohno directs via the communications and he and Matsumoto move accordingly, activating different kinds of weaponry from plasma cannons to plasmacasters and Aiba’s favorites, the missile launchers. It takes two to tango, and when Nino starts to get the hang of activating different features in the Sentinel without putting too much thought on it, he can feel Matsumoto’s relief washing over him.
Sooner or later Nino knows he and Matsumoto will have to talk over the memories of his sister's final moments he has seen in Matsumoto's head, but it will have to wait, for Ohno was right about them having no time at all.
The alarms sound just as they’re beginning to wrap up, and suddenly Nino hears Ohno’s order for them not to strip down their drivesuits and come back up to the control room. A category III from the seas strikes Ishikawa, and they’re asking three of the five Jaegers in the Osaka Shatterdome to standby for a drop-off.
“Who goes?” Jun asks, and by this time Nino has grown comfortable enough to the man’s presence inside his head that he’s now Jun instead of Matsumoto.
It’s Aiba who responds. “They’re not sending you in, but Leader wants you on standby in case another place gets attacked. They’re making Diablo go, with Cruiser and Inferno for back-up. You guys and Thunderbolt are on standby.”
“Roger that,” Nino says, taking off his helmet and detaching himself from the clamp, following Jun’s heavy footsteps as they proceed inside the control room where Ohno, Sakurai, and Aiba are along with the rest of the Shatterdome’s staff. There are engineers and programmers panicking to the side, a couple of mission controllers on full alert as the rest of them watch the proceedings of the mission on the screen.
Jun stands on his right the whole time, and somehow, even if they’re no longer connected to each other, Nino feels like he’s not alone after so many years of believing so.
--
Whatever struck Ishikawa was taken down by the Whiskey Diablo sustaining only minimal damage, and so Nino, along with Jun as his co-pilot, continue their training as plans to reclaim Niigata push through. He learns how to match his movements and thought patterns with Jun’s, and they spend most of their time sparring in the combat halls when they’re not doing drifts.
Nino also finds out that Jun is serious about training more than anyone else. He pushes Nino to his limits, asking Nino to do quick maneuvers, and when Nino does them perfectly, Jun asks him to do it again. Jun’s strict, sometimes unrelenting, but he’s not heartless. All the time Nino spends on finding out more about Jun, Jun uses to find out about him in equal measure.
Nino notices differences regarding his and Jun’s movements despite their compatibility. While he favors spontaneity and calls it originality, Jun’s movements are precise and fluid in their execution, even well-planned out at times. It makes him the perfect sparring partner for Nino. He views Jun’s combat stance as a wall that needs a bit of tinkering for him to find the little cracks in. It makes Nino wonder how he came to be drift compatible with someone as uptight and as contrasting as Jun because Jun is frequently too critical regarding Nino’s movements, but Nino supposes Riisa’s the person to blame for that. He just happened to be her twin.
Ever since Nino found out the truth about his sister, how it was her choice and how she used the last bit of her strength to assure Jun to go, he’s managed to slowly let go of his initial reservations towards Jun. He doesn’t blame Jun anymore, not after what he saw. He trusts Jun to a certain extent and finds his presence comforting unlike before, but they are yet to talk about Riisa.
They end up talking about the memories when Jun invites Nino to his room. Nino gets a new room after being assigned as one of the rangers for Storm Sentinel, and he’s still adjusting in his new, mostly empty quarters. Jun’s, however, is unlike his. While his is mostly space, Jun’s room hardly has any.
There are different newspaper clippings taped to the wall on their far right, and when Nino squints his eyes to scan them, they’re all news about the kaiju from the first wave of eight years ago to the present, or whatever present news Jun can get his hands on. There are pieces of a worn-out drivesuit piled atop a nearby desk, and the chair in front of the desk has a small pile of different victory posters from different countries featuring different Jaegers, some still active, some decommissioned, and some destroyed.
In his past drifts with Jun, he found out about Jun’s desire to assist the program in any way he could ever since it had been approved. Jun had been carefully following mankind’s progress to form a resistance against the alien attacks, so it wasn’t a surprise that he decided to become a part of it the moment they opened it for volunteers. Jun was too much like Riisa in that aspect, and sometimes, Nino feels as if Jun is the brother, not him.
Today, he feels it again as he stands in Jun’s room, taking in Jun’s world for the first time.
Jun sits on the bed, his hands on his lap as he looks at Nino expectantly. Nino has been inside his head for too many times to not know that Jun’s nervous, and Nino kind of likes looking at him like this because it’s so different from when they’re in the Sentinel’s Conn-Pod or in the combat halls. In those places, Jun becomes Matsumoto Jun, co-pilot of the Storm Sentinel with a record of forty-five drops and forty-five kills along with two years of piloting experience under his name.
In this room, he becomes Jun, not too different from the kid who got hit by a truck on accident but apologized and claimed the mistake as his own. In times like this, when there’s so much uncertainty and fear evident in Jun, Nino chooses to say something first.
“You dropped to thirty-six when you came back here,” is what Nino says, and Jun looks at him, waiting. Nino can see in Jun’s eyes that Jun knows where this conversation is going, but Jun has always been stubborn and Nino knows he won’t address the thing himself. “From forty-five to thirty-six. That’s quite a lot. Am I to blame for that?”
He knows that Jun did the simulation after the first time they sparred in the combat halls, and whatever Nino said at that time must have affected him greatly that it extended to his performance. And yet, he never felt any form of hate or contempt from Jun in any of their drifts. An emotion as strong as that can be felt through whatever link they share given that they’re compatible, but not once did Nino feel any negativities from Jun.
Jun shakes his head. “That’s my own miss.”
“Bullshit,” Nino scoffs. He’s been in Jun’s brain long enough to know when Jun’s lying or hiding something. “A ranger doesn’t simply lose touch despite three years of inactivity. I’ve seen it in your head, in the way you move in combat hall. But for you to have a gap of nine in your records means a lot.” He pauses to remove the poster pile from the desk chair and arranges it to face Jun before sitting and crossing his legs. “You never blamed me.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jun insists, his eyes fixed on the raised plating on his floor. It creaks whenever someone puts pressure on it, and Nino watches how Jun steps on the uneven aluminum for a moment only to remove his weight off it again. “I wasn’t in the place to blame you either, not when you were telling the truth.”
“I was being an asshole to you,” Nino counters immediately. “I said a lot of insensitive things because I was pissed at you, because I spent three years blaming you for something you didn’t even do. You’re too nice for your own good, you know? You can tell me I’m a jerk and you’re well within your rights to do so.”
Jun looks at him then. “But I did let her die,” he murmurs, regret washing over his expressive face. “You were right. I could have saved her. She told me to go and I did, but I could have still tried to haul her away from there. Tried harder. But I didn’t.”
“You couldn’t,” Nino snaps. “There’s a difference. I spent every moment of my life hating my own reflection every time I saw it since she died, spent every second of every thought I spared for her co-pilot in hate. I hated you and I’m not going to deny it. I blamed you, but that’s only because I couldn’t blame myself. I wanted to get even with you at one point. I thought about it.” He lets out a small laugh, completely devoid of mirth. “I thought about what I would do once I met you. It would have been easy if you weren’t the way you are, but when I got inside your head, I found out that you’re the person she saved when she couldn’t be saved anymore. She chose to help till the very end, and I’ve been enough of an idiotic brother to push the blame to that someone she lent a hand to until her death.”
“You’ve seen it in my head,” Jun says quietly, his fingers playing with the material of his loose jeans. “You know I could have done better. I could have tried harder.”
“You also would have died if you did,” Nino responds, giving Jun a look. “If you had died, her death would have been in vain. I would probably be in Fukuoka right now, lifting steel bars and hammering iron plates into place as they got those space shuttles ready even if they don’t know where those will go. I would have probably died once the kaijus had gotten to Fukuoka and I’d have died hating something I know nothing about. Which isn’t fair in any way, because it’s easy to hate something you don’t understand.” Nino reaches over, nervously taking Jun’s hand in his own and finding it warm to the touch, almost welcoming. “But I know better now. My sister saved you, and I know she’d tell me she didn’t regret that if she were here now.”
He squeezes Jun’s hand once before letting go and looking away. “Besides, I kind of need you. I only have simulator experience. I haven’t killed any of those damn things before but sooner or later I will have to, and I can only do that if I’ve got you on my right.”
He hears Jun take a deep breath, and catches a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye which makes him turn. Jun has a hand outstretched, and at the center of his palm lies the string bracelet. “There’s something you didn’t see,” Jun says, reaching for his hand to put the bracelet on his palm. “In my head, I mean. You saw that she gave it to me. You heard what she said. But you didn’t get to see what happened after because my memories of it are disjointed. So let me tell you.” Jun doesn’t let go, his hand over Nino’s now closed fist and Nino waits.
Jun looks up, meeting his eyes. “She wanted me to tell you she was sorry she didn’t get to make a new one or return this herself,” Jun tells him carefully, and Nino has to close to his eyes to collect himself. “She also wanted you to know that she didn’t hate you for leaving, that she understood. It was her last thought. I was connected to her throughout that, before she forcefully disconnected me and fired a plasma cannon to buy me some time.”
Nino clenches his fist, feeling the thin straps of bound thread against his skin. He bites his lip to prevent himself from getting emotional; it’s been a long time since he let himself go and gave in to the emotions concerning his sister. He’s thankful he’s not connected to Jun at the moment because he’s feeling too overwhelmed. He’s proud of Riisa, even prouder if that’s still possible, and yet he’s also appalled by her selflessness that extended not only to Jun but also to him, despite him being so far away.
He long wondered if she hated him for leaving and for not showing his face as the years went on. He always regretted not asking her himself, but now that he has his answers, he regrets not being able to express just how sorry he was, how sorry he still is.
“I never got to tell her,” he whispers, but he knows Jun can hear him. He keeps his eyes shut, but he feels Jun holding onto his hand. It’s reassuring at least, to know that he’s not alone and he has someone he can tell this to, someone who undoubtedly understands, having been inside Riisa’s head and his. “I never got to properly say how sorry I was. I shouldn’t have left. I should have done a lot of things and that included not leaving her alone. But I did and even though I know now she never hated me for it, I’m still sorry I didn’t get to tell her these things myself when I had the chance.”
He feels Jun shifting his grip to clutch at his wrist, Jun’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin. “In the end,” Nino says, and somehow a bitter laugh manages to escape him, “I’m the idiot who blamed you for things that were actually my fault.” He opens his eyes, looking into Jun’s very brown ones. “I’m sorry, Jun-kun. I’m older than her but she was far braver than I’ll ever be. But I need you to know. I need to tell you how sorry I am. For what I said, for everything, for all the time I spent pushing the blame on you.”
Jun shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. He looks accepting, in line with the welcoming warmth his touch generates on Nino’s skin. “I depended on her,” Jun admits, and Nino listens. “She was really strong. Brave. Could carry herself and other people at the same time. I depended on her greatly. Even until the end. You say you’re not as brave as her, but neither am I. I get scared, Nino. Even now. Every time I stepped inside the cockpit, I got scared, and I depended on her for too many times. I thought if she could do it, I could do it too. We could do it together.” Jun sighs, looking down. “In the end, I lost a co-pilot and you lost a sister. We’re both never the same after.”
Nino pulls away from Jun’s grip on his wrist to take Jun’s hand in his, Jun’s fingers against his palm along with Riisa’s string bracelet. “You’ve seen me at my worst,” Nino says, smiling a little. “My head, along with the ugly things that came with it. I depended on her too. I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t ask Ohno to find me. She was looking out for me the whole time, in the same way she was looking out for you.” Nino pauses for a moment, searching Jun’s eyes. “And I think she’d ask me to do the same if she was here. I’m your left, Jun-kun. And if we make it out, if there’ll ever be a chance that all this will be over, remind me to return to Katsushika to build something in her memory.”
Riisa never had a gravestone because there was never a body, but Nino thinks it’s the thought that counts. “Okay. I can do that,” Jun promises, and when Jun smiles at him, Nino thanks his sister in his heart for believing in him.
--
He and Jun are sent as back-up for Whiskey Diablo when the plans to reclaim Niigata are put in motion, and he finds himself patrolling the surrounding area with Jun as they keep an eye out. The kaiju occupying Niigata is a category IV, similar to the one that killed Riisa and damaged the Sentinel, and the higher-ups are sending the Diablo in because it’s the only Mark V Jaeger in Japan.
Over time, Nino discovers that Jun is easy to embarrass, that it won’t take much effort on his part to make Jun laugh sheepishly, so to keep themselves entertained as they scan the area, he maintains a conversation with Jun and tries to make his imagination more creative, knowing Jun can see what goes on in his head.
“Did you really get all those chocolates?” he asks as they trek slowly, a blanket of fog preventing full visibility. Nino makes sure he’s hyperaware of any form of movement despite the city being dead silent. There’s a kaiju lurking somewhere, but where it is exactly is something they’re all about to find out. The scanners back in the Shatterdome couldn’t pinpoint its exact location given the frequent seismic activities throwing all sensors off.
Jun lets out a tiny laugh. “I was a popular kid,” he explains as the Sentinel walks over a now ruined bridge, with large blocks of concrete remaining embedded in the bottom of the river. “I call that my glory days.”
“Was,” Nino repeats as he tries to peer through the fog. “I bet I was more popular than you ever were. I didn’t get all the chocolates from all the girls in my class, but I’m good-looking enough to warrant a few admirers, all right.”
He can feel Jun roll his eyes at the statement and he chuckles a bit. “They probably just like your music-playing,” Jun says, clearly remembering Nino’s memories from his guitar-strumming days. “They like it so much that they tolerate your face.”
Nino snorts as the Sentinel continues onward, the Diablo and the Thunderbolt walking in front of them. “So you do admit it, I’m pretty talented. Hah! Got a lot of ladies screaming for me in my glory days, Matsumoto, I’ll have you know.”
He hears Jun sigh, and Nino can imagine his co-pilot’s face. “Whatever,” Jun says dismissively as they reach rubbles left by destroyed apartment buildings. There’s even a shattered billboard for Nissin on Nino’s left, a small portion of its LED display still functioning and blinking at odd intervals. “Still not enough to get you all the chocolates.”
Nino turns his gaze away from the once-advertisement for cup noodles, straining his ears for any sign of movement. Niigata’s too quiet and they’re all on high alert, but they’ve been walking for a while now and surely, whatever’s waiting for them already knows they’re here. “What,” he says, knowing that Jun is listening as much as Jun is observing as carefully as he is, “you ever returned any on White Day?”
Before Jun can reply however, Kamenashi, one of the co-pilots of the Whiskey Diablo, uses the comms to warn them all with a loud exclaim of “Incoming!”
Through the fog, Nino manages to see it still. It’s the first kaiju he has ever seen inside a Jaeger, and it’s in the same category as the one that killed his sister. It has three horns and a spiked, scaly trail, looking like a komodo dragon and godzilla hybrid. It possesses shiny, almost metallic skin made up of large scales, and when it roars, Nino watches as the scales quiver before rising up like the spines of a hedgehog on guard.
He senses the influx of Jun’s thoughts— Jun focuses immediately on the movement of the kaiju’s tail and how it contributes to the strength of the attacks it inflicts upon the Diablo, how its movements are impactful enough to make up for its lack of agility. Nino uses the comms to ask the Diablo’s pilots if they need them to step in, but they refuse, assuring them they can handle it.
“I don’t like this,” Nino says as they watch the Diablo load up its missile launcher and aim at the kaiju’s head. “I don’t like standing here and watching as they get pummelled.”
“We don’t engage,” Jun says, darting a quick glance to the other Jaeger, Sierra Thunderbolt, standing to their left. “Not unless they’re in serious trouble. It could be a trap. This one might just be the bait, and once we engage, there might be more out there waiting for us.”
A burst of static pierces through the air and Nino hears the telltale voice of Aiba, who’s obviously listening in and watching them through the Shatterdome’s screens. “Jun-tan’s right, Nino. You’re there in case more of them appear out of nowhere. For all we know Niigata may have become a nest.”
“I’ll hit you,” Jun says to Aiba. “When we come back, remind me to hit him,” Jun tells him, and Nino grins. “He keeps calling me Jun-tan.”
“That’s not so bad,” Nino says, his senses on high-alert despite the light mood he and Jun are trying so hard to maintain to keep their cool. “I would have called you Jun-pon.”
The kaiju’s tail suddenly lashes out like a whip, doing one sweep that sends the Diablo to its feet, and he and Jun are charging their plasma cannon on instinct, aiming it at the creature’s side. So much for not engaging, Nino thinks, and he feels Jun agree.
“Think it’s vulnerable?” he asks Jun, pertaining to the shiny scales. He has played enough games to know that scales like that are as hard as a dragon’s, although there are no dragons in this life so Nino doesn’t know how hard they are exactly.
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Jun says as they lock and fire, stopping the incoming blow to the Diablo and buying them time to get to their feet. “Nope, not vulnerable,” Jun murmurs as the kaiju turns to them instead, “but certainly enough to get his attention.”
Nino uses the comms to address the other two Jaegers with them. “Find a weak spot. When you guys think you have a shot, take it. Jun-pon and I will play with this thing for a while, keep it distracted. But if you think we’re getting our asses handed to us, fire those missiles.”
“‘Jun-pon’?” Jun asks as the kaiju roars, and the two of them assume battle stance reflexively, both hands clenched into fists, one foot behind the other for support, their weights balanced on their heels.
Nino smirks as the creature lunges for them, and he and Jun move at the same time to do a sidestep before aiming an elbow jab to the kaiju’s side, the same spot they hit with the Sentinel’s plasma cannon from earlier. Nino can feel the toughness of its skin, almost impenetrable, but there’s a bit of almost gooey softness beyond the thick skin that tells him this thing might not be as invincible as it looks like.
He and Jun flex their left arms at the same time to block an incoming swish of the tail, but they both underestimated the strength of its impact as the blow hit, making the Sentinel skid and the both of them wince. “Okay,” Nino acknowledges, cracking his neck joints a little, “nothing like Aiba’s simulations, all right. Aiba, you need to level up.”
Whatever Aiba says in reply is lost through the comms as the kaiju pounces on them, sending him and Jun tumbling over a mountain of crushed concrete and metal scaffoldings. They swing their right arms hard when the kaiju tries to bite the Sentinel’s head off, making its jaw clench tightly shut. It has long pointed teeth, each the size of a large metal water tank, and Nino’s a bit thankful that set of teeth didn’t get to bite them.
They deliver sets of punches and jabs to the kaiju’s neck, hearing the Diablo and the Thunderbolt load their missiles as they get into position. He and Jun try to keep the beast in place, holding its thrashing head in the Sentinel’s hands and keeping its mouth shut. It might try to spit acid on them or it might have a ridiculously long tongue that can wrap around the Sentinel’s neck and separate its head from the shoulders.
He hears Jun’s laughter on his right. “Ridiculously long tongue,” Jun repeats, clearly amused by the thoughts going on in Nino’s head.
“I’ve never fought any of these bastards before so I don’t know what to expect,” Nino says defensively as the two Jaegers on their side launch their missiles, effectively sending the kaiju to the ground. Its sides are now blown up and blackening, but there’s luminescent kaiju blood and goo oozing out of its wounds.
“Goo,” Jun repeats, still laughing, and Nino rolls his eyes. “They teach kaiju science in officer training, don’t they?”
“Is this going to be a pattern? You repeating my thoughts and laughing at them? And seriously, do I look like someone who’d memorize the anatomy of these monsters when our job is to simply kick their asses?” he asks, shooting Jun a look. He has no doubt Jun knows exactly what to call whatever’s oozing out of what they just killed, but he honestly doesn’t care, not when they somehow managed to subdue a category IV when he can hardly see anything through this fog.
A tail suddenly lashes out, sending the Thunderbolt flying, followed by the Diablo, and they turn just in time to see the monster rising to its feet to let out a deafening roar. It’s limping because of the damage to its sides, but those are apparently not enough to kill it.
Nino extends his left hand out of instinct, immediately activating the sword attached to the Sentinel’s left arm. They have no time to charge the plasma cannon or load any of the missiles, and he and Jun swing at the same time to cut off the beast’s head just as it lunges for them. It’s a clean, cauterized slice that leaves him and Jun to watch the head bounce twice before rolling a little to their right.
“Any more?” Kato from the Thunderbolt asks, and Nino hears Jun's sigh of relief, but also fatigue.
“I hope not. Aiba, can you do a sweep?” Jun asks through the comms, and they wait for a few moments after hearing Aiba’s enthusiastic “Roger!”
“One category III incoming from your one o’clock, guys,” Aiba says, and the Diablo engages, its missile already locked and loaded. He and Jun assume standby position as the Thunderbolt stands on guard in front of them.
Nino has just killed his first kaiju, and he thinks he would name it Yoshi Gone Wild if anyone ever asks for his input. He can feel Jun’s amusement through the drift and he looks to his side just in time to see Jun’s shoulders shaking from laughter.
“What?” Nino asks as the Diablo confirms the death of the new arrival by firing its plasma cannon on its head thrice, “You think it’s a bad name?”
Jun shakes his head just as Ohno’s voice cuts through the comms and congratulates them for a job well done. “No,” Jun says, and Nino can feel his honesty through the meld they share, “I think it’s a great one, actually.”
Part 3
natsunonamaeFrom:
64907Part 1
Nino doesn’t show up for any subsequent trainings after that, and when someone bangs loudly on the door demanding for him, he thinks it’s one of the random people Ohno sent. He resolves to ignore it, but whoever’s behind it is persistent enough that Nino sighs before sliding his door open.
He finds himself greeted by a grinning face.
“Took you long enough to open! I thought I’d break my hand in there,” the man says, massaging his knuckles.
Nino frowns, opening his mouth to ask what this person wants from him, but the man speaks again. “Leader wants you in the simulation hall. I’m Aiba by the way,” he says, extending a hand, something Nino takes cautiously. Aiba shakes his hand enthusiastically, his grip tight and intention clear. “I design the simulations, try to make them as real as possible. Whatever. Leader wants you to come in.”
Nino’s been in the Shatterdome long enough to know that Leader is another nickname people have for Ohno, probably because he’s one of the smoothest fighters the Shatterdome has. Majority of what Nino learned in the combat room is thanks to Ohno guiding his moves and telling him how and when to move, and while Nino has never seen Ohno fully in action, he thinks the man won’t get the fightmaster position just so.
“I’m not ready,” Nino informs Aiba, but Aiba simply shrugs.
“Not up to me to question Leader. He wants you in, and if you’re not coming, well, that’s going to be a problem for me too, so can you please just step outside of this room and come with me? Please? I got you to open the door, after all. And just so you know, I still have eight simulations to finish after this and they’re all category III ones. Please, please, Nino?” Aiba has both hands clasped together and is looking at him with hopeful eyes, and while Nino’s a bit surprised by the casual use of his nickname, he sighs and relents.
Aiba leads him to the simulation hall and they hold a lighthearted conversation on their way there. He walks with a spring in his step so different from Ohno’s quiet or Sakurai’s careful, almost measured stride. There and then he seems as unstoppable as a Jaeger in full armor after a kaiju victory and Nino feels small standing next to him.
“What was her record?” Nino asks when they turn around a corner and are looking at the doors of the simulation hall a few feet away. “My sister’s.”
“Forty-eight drops, forty-eight kills,” Aiba says immediately. “I don’t forget the ones who make a record, you know? Your sister was something else. She still holds the highest simulation score in this Shatterdome even now.”
“Even higher than Matsumoto’s?” Nino asks, an eyebrow quirked. Aiba merely nods, and so Nino pushes. “What’s his score?”
Aiba pauses in front of the door, not keying the number code on the console to open them yet. “Before?” Aiba asks, eyes turning serious. “Or after?”
Before Nino gets to open his mouth, Aiba quickly types in a set of numbers, causing the sliding doors to open to reveal Ohno. Aiba pushes him lightly with a hand on his back. “Brought him in, Leader! Sorry for the lateness, but he wouldn’t open the damn door until I thought my hand was going to fall off.”
Ohno lets out a little chuckle at Aiba’s statement before nodding in thanks, and Aiba leaves him, never answering the question regarding Matsumoto. Behind Ohno are glass screens spanning nearly twenty feet in height and fifty feet in width, and Nino sees an entire company of cadets undergoing a simulation labeled as ‘Hawthorn ver. 3’.
“You said I’m not ready,” Nino says when he feels Ohno’s eyes on him, and he hears Ohno hum.
“I did,” Ohno agrees, “but I didn’t specify what for.”
Nino turns to him, and Ohno tilts his head towards the simulation. “You haven’t been in a simulation before. You have easily pinned down and pummeled most of the cadets until a few days ago, but we’ve never put you in a simulation because Sho-chan didn’t recommend it.”
Nino frowns. So Sakurai was the reason he was never picked to be a part of the recruits undergoing this kind of training despite his promise and skill in the combat hall? “And? What made your ‘Sho-chan’ relent to my case?”
Ohno shakes his head. “Not what. Who.” He extends a hand to lead Nino to the control room where he can see Aiba pressing keys in succession as he runs from one monitor to the next. “Sho-kun thinks you’re not up for this, given your psych eval. I tried to talk him out of it but he said you were too focused on your anger and too confused.”
Ohno doesn’t say it, but Nino knows Sho must have called him “too damaged”.
Nino snorts. “So Sho-chan talks to me sometimes but what he reports to you is how he already psychoanalyzed me? Awesome. I don’t remember signing a letter of consent.” He fixes Ohno a look. “You didn’t answer my question, sir,” he adds sarcastically, not missing the way Ohno’s lips curl to a small smile at his audacity.
“The reason you’re here, Nino,” Ohno explains as the ongoing simulation ends and a couple of Aiba’s interns begin strapping different parts of a drivesuit in Nino’s form, “is that Jun needs your simulation score.”
That makes Nino pause, allowing one intern to strap a small plate to his wrist, one that connects him to the simulation control room. Another intern hands over a helmet for him to put on, and Nino takes it unconsciously. “For what?” Nino asks, taking deep breaths to control himself. “What does he need my score for? You said I’m not ready.”
“You’re not,” Ohno agrees for the second time with a nod, but then he smiles. “So we’ll take it one step at a time. Sentinel’s not going anywhere without a co-pilot, after all. But first, you have to show me what you’ve got. You’re up for five drops for today. Let’s see how many you can take down.”
--
The days turn to a couple of weeks and while Nino doesn’t beat his sister’s record of forty-eight, he still makes it to a decent forty-five, making Ohno declare that it’s enough.
“Still not ready?” Nino asks the fightmaster as he removes the helmet of his drivesuit.
Ohno grins. “For what’s coming? No. But no time like the present, so come with me.”
Nino’s still trying to catch his breath after splitting Aiba’s newly-designed category IV simulation in half, but he follows Ohno anyway. “Where are you taking me now?”
“To the one thing you’ve been preparing yourself for,” Ohno says, vague as ever, but when Nino stops him with a hand on his elbow, he clarifies. “You’re up for drifting.”
That makes Nino stop in his movements, his grip on Ohno loosening. He has seen forty-five of Aiba’s realistic kaiju simulations, even one that looked exactly like the one that ravaged Tokyo during the first wave. He knows how it feels like to almost die despite those forty-five being only simulations, because Aiba made them believable enough that it felt like he was fighting one up close. He knows fear, knows how it feels as it runs through his blood and leaving it cold, the skin above it feeling brittle and breakable despite the impossibility of it.
It still doesn’t prepare him for the fear of someone seeing his mind for the first time, now that Ohno has given the approval. It doesn’t prepare him for being frightened of what he’s going to see in his partner’s mind and what’s on his mind. He only knows of drifting theoretically thanks to the first weeks he spent in officer training. He is yet to know the sensation of it, yet to experience it, but he fears that Ohno may be right once more.
“I’m not ready for this,” he admits ahead of time, and Ohno stops in his steps to face him. Nino shakes his head. “I’m not. You can ask Sho-chan. I may have given you forty-five drops and forty-five kills in a span of days, but if you’re telling me you found someone compatible with me and that person is waiting behind that door, I’m saying I’m not ready for it. I won’t allow a stranger into my mind, not when I’ve never been compatible with anyone in all those hours I spent in the combat room.”
Ohno regards him with eyes full of understanding. “You’re not letting a stranger into your mind,” he says quietly, reaching out to squeeze Nino’s shoulder in a reassuring manner.
“Matsumoto,” Nino murmurs, and even though it’s not a question, Ohno nods. “You think I can handle that?”
Ohno’s as honest as ever. “No,” he replies quickly, “but we don’t have the time to wait for you to be ready. You wanted answers since day one. Now the only thing standing between you and those answers is this door behind me. The higher-ups want Niigata taken back. And we need all five Jaegers we have running and ready for that to happen.”
“If there’s one thing I learned in officer training about drifting, it’s that drifting is about trust,” Nino says and Ohno listens to him quietly. “You’re asking me to trust Matsumoto to be inside my head as much as he’d trust me to be inside his. You’re asking me to trust the guy who let my sister die not to let the same thing happen to me. Sounds a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”
“Forty-five,” Ohno says suddenly, and Nino frowns in confusion. “Aiba-chan told me you asked for Jun’s simulation score. Forty-five. That was before, when he was still a cadet along with your sister. He did the simulation again before I called for you some days ago, and he dropped to thirty-six. Between you and him, I’d say you’re more likely to be ready than he is. And yet he’s behind this door waiting for you because I said so.” Ohno stares at him in all seriousness. “I’m not asking you to do anything, Nino. I can always find someone else who’s willing. It’s up to you if you want to trust him. It’s up to you if you want to stay angry. I’ve got baggage of my own so don’t ask me to carry yours, cadet. I’m only here to offer you a chance, but whether it is a fighting chance or not is up to you.”
Ohno turns around then, keying in his sequence to reveal the hangar where Storm Sentinel lies in wait. Ohno doesn’t look at him anymore, but Nino resolves to follow, until Ohno stops in front of the entrance to the Jaeger’s cockpit.
“I’ll be in the control room,” Ohno says, already excusing himself. “So go get yourself strapped up if you think you’re ready. Don’t bother stepping inside that robot’s Conn-Pod if you’re not up for it. But if you’re thinking there’s always a next time, there isn’t. We have no time to wait around here. Not when the kaiju activities are spiking again and reclaiming prefectures we already got back.”
Ohno leaves him, and before Nino can rethink his decision, he steps inside the Sentinel’s Conn-Pod, meeting Matsumoto Jun’s eyes when the man turns around at the sound of his footsteps.
Nino hasn’t seen him ever since he won in the combat room. Whenever he remembers Matsumoto Jun he thinks of retribution and all the supposedly satisfying feelings that come with it. He feels nothing of the sort at the moment, but today, he feels closer to the sweet promise of it than he’s ever been, and it’s enough to make him throw caution to the wind despite his reservations towards his preparedness.
“I’m not doing this because Ohno asked,” Nino declares flatly, knowing Ohno can hear him in the intercom. “And I don’t trust you to have my back, not when you had hers at that time and yet she still died. But there are questions about her that have always haunted me, and you’re the one person who can either silence those things that keep me up at night or give them extra firepower. I’m risking it anyway. For her.” Nino doesn’t know what else to say to him, so he simply walks to the left hemisphere and puts his helmet on.
“We’re both not ready for this,” he hears Matsumoto say, and he doesn’t know if the man’s talking to him or to Ohno, but it’s Ohno who replies via the connected communication systems as the Sentinel’s spinal clamp attaches itself to Nino’s and his partner’s back.
“We’ll find that out soon enough. If one of you ever ends up chasing the rabbit,” Ohno begins, and Nino snorts, “can I ask the other to prevent any damage to the Shatterdome to the best of his ability? We need to fire these plasma cannons on kaijus, not on our hulls.”
“You’re trusting us to prevent each other from going crazy?” Nino asks, and he hears Ohno sigh. “That’s a lot of risk.”
“Well, Jun-tan’s got the right hemisphere,” he hears Aiba’s voice, “so no, still not as much risk as putting you on the right, Nino. You’re pretty volatile and who knows? You might missile-launcher us once you get the chance!”
“If I get back still sane and functioning I will missile-launcher you the next time I step inside your lab,” Nino claims as the relay gel washes over the surface of his helmet. He knows it’s any moment now, and when he makes the mistake of blinking, he and Matsumoto somehow achieve neural handshake.
It’s like riding a rollercoaster, although Nino has never been fond of the things. In seconds he sees flashes: Matsumoto as a child, the sound of his laughter, his cries, his seeming popularity in kindergarten, that moment in his life where a truck hit him but he still apologized to the driver profusely for his mistake. Nino also sees Matsumoto in high school, how he keeps on eating sandwiches during homeroom periods despite the teacher forbidding him to.
A bit of a rebel, Nino thinks just as the scenery changes.
The next time Nino opens his eyes, he’s still inside the Storm Sentinel’s cockpit, but instead of being attached to the spinal clamp, he’s standing on the side, and he’s looking at Riisa wearing a drivesuit as she takes her place on the right hemisphere.
No one ever told him, but apparently his sister was the dominant pilot of Sentinel back in the days. Nino can only look at her, smiling with her eyes full of conviction, and he feels himself whisked away to even more memories. He sees Matsumoto and his sister’s first successful kill, feels the same elation and relief they felt as if it were his own. The sensations wash over Nino like a dam opened, and he feels his sister’s genuine joy, something he never felt before in his life.
The scenery shifts and Nino sees a raging storm as the Sentinel moves forward. He’s standing on the side of the cockpit, Riisa on the right and Matsumoto on the left, and in front of them is the one kaiju Nino would recognize in any shape or form; the one which killed her.
Nino realizes this is exactly what officer training was warning them about when they were told about the risks of drifting. He’s now in Matsumoto’s memory, seeing the secrets Matsumoto has to hide as much as Matsumoto sees his, but this is the one memory that he has always wanted to see, and it results in him latching on to it the first chance he gets.
“We’ve got this, Jun-kun,” he hears his sister say, and Nino can see and feel how much Matsumoto believed in her. Nino can’t blame him then; if Riisa said the same thing to him he would have believed her too. “We’ve got this one.”
When Nino blinks, it all happens so fast. He sees glimpses, some even as short as flashes of how the fight went on, but how it went downhill seems to happen in slow-motion for him to see fully: the kaiju overpowers the Sentinel and the cockpit begins collapsing, sparks flying overhead and the Sentinel’s A.I. declaring nearly every part of the Jaeger under critical condition. Alarms are blaring inside the Conn-Pod, and everything is red because of the emergency lighting. His sister is trapped in a collapsed ledge and Matsumoto is trying to get her out by lifting the ledge, but what they’re saying is something Nino can’t hear because the kaiju suddenly roars and delivers a blow using its spiked tail, sending the Sentinel flying.
In the next moment, Nino sees his sister’s lower form effectively trapped under her drivesuit that’s still connected to the spinal clamp. Pain is obvious in her features, and Nino feels it because this is Matsumoto’s memory and Matsumoto clearly remembers how her suffering felt like. Nino goes down on his knees, the pain unbearable to feel and to see, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away.
He needs to see this.
He sees Riisa press a closed fist to Matsumoto’s chest as Matsumoto crouches before her in an attempt to haul her away. Their eyes meet and Nino can feel the combined panic and fear in their connection. “I made him a promise,” he hears his twin say, and he sees Matsumoto take her closed fist in his as she hands him something. “I didn’t get to make him a new one, but I did tell Oh-chan to find him when something happens to me.”
Matsumoto shakes his head in fierce denial. “You said we’ve got this so we’re going to make it. We are. I can still activate the escape pod and we’ll make it out together, come on.”
Riisa winces, and Nino can feel the pain shooting from her leg up to the rest of her body. Nino knows she’s not going anywhere, not when her lower half’s already paralyzed. Even if Jun gets her in an escape pod, she won’t go far. “Give that to him,” she says, wincing, her eyes tearing up because of the pain. “He’ll want it back.”
Nino sees it then: the orange, almost black string bracelet he gave her when she left. He’s panting out of sensory overload, but he doesn’t look away as his sister pushes for Matsumoto to go.
The last thing Nino sees is his sister doing the salute he himself is fond of doing before another deafening howl from the kaiju splits the air and suddenly he’s back, standing in the left hemisphere with Matsumoto Jun on his right, Sakurai and Aiba’s panicked voices blaring through the intercoms.
“They’re not ready! We have to shut it down!” he hears Sakurai scream, followed by Aiba’s “Oh no, no, no, Jun-tan!” and he hears Ohno’s voice calling him.
“Find him, Nino,” Ohno orders through the intercom, his voice hard. “Find him before it’s too late.”
It’s then Nino realizes that Matsumoto’s too far gone, and he shuts his eyes in an attempt to haul back his co-pilot to reality. Matsumoto’s somewhere in his memories, but unlike him who managed to haul himself away in time, Matsumoto’s trapped and is thrown out of alignment.
It’s up to Nino to find him. It’s his head after all. He thinks he can navigate it in record time no matter how screwed up it is. He just hopes he has more than enough time before Matsumoto unconsciously charges a missile launcher to full power as a reaction to whatever he sees.
Nino finds Matsumoto looking at him and Riisa, back when he had a guitar case over his back and he talked about his aspirations to pursue his passions, back when he held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead goodbye, telling her that this was something he had to do. Matsumoto is watching him leaving his sister for the first time, and Nino feels like he swallowed fire because of how his guilt manifests.
He had it all wrong after all. Vengeance is not an open wound because nothing is coming to get him. He’s the one setting himself up for all the ugly things. He’s the one transforming himself into live bait for all his demons to feast upon. Nothing out there is coming to get him, and if there’s anything he has to be terrified of, it’s himself.
Before he can stop Matsumoto, the scenery shifts, and this time they’re in the same room he and Riisa shared in Shimane. Nino sees himself looking at his own reflection and he watches himself punching the mirror in anger and frustration, leaving tiny shards which cut his knuckles deeply. Nino remembers this. This is the time after he learned of her death, and ever since then he avoided looking at the mirror out of fear and guilt. The cuts on his knuckles have faded over time, but as Matsumoto revisits this memory, Nino feels the steady trickling of his blood, painting the ground red in little drops of thick, almost velvety iron.
He doesn’t register the pain and the memory shifts again, this time to show the last time he saw his sister alive. He watches as Matsumoto takes in the memory, how Nino hands over the string bracelet for good luck along with his hopes and the things he never had the chance to say. Nino hates this memory because his regret here is so palpable and to feel it once more is something he didn’t know to be possible.
It’s always worse the second time around, and he proves it when he himself unconsciously reaches out to stop Riisa from leaving. Nino catches himself in time, shaking his head and reminding himself that this is just a memory.
“Matsumoto,” Nino calls out as he tries to ignore the pangs of remorse coursing through his veins. Matsumoto doesn’t budge, and Nino tries again to no avail. He catches Matsumoto’s hands trembling as he sees himself hand over the necklace, and Matsumoto’s hands clench to fists when Riisa makes a salute as a form of goodbye.
“Jun,” Nino says firmly, and he sees Matsumoto’s shoulders tense in response. “It’s not real. It’s just a memory. Snap out of it.”
The next time Nino blinks, he’s back with Aiba’s rather shrill voice ringing through the intercom, only to be silenced by Ohno’s calm declaration that everything is under control.
Nino exhales, feeling the dryness of his throat as he tries to speak. “Did I get to missile-launcher Aiba?” he asks, panting, and he hears Ohno’s quiet huffs of laughter along with Sakurai’s whiny exclamation of “Don’t joke around, Ninomiya! We almost lost you two in there!”
“But you didn’t,” comes Matsumoto’s hoarse croak, and Nino can feel another presence in his head, but it doesn’t feel intrusive in any way. He senses Matsumoto’s gratitude through the meld and doesn’t find it misplaced nor a form of mockery. Nino simply accepts it with a nod.
He’s flooded by immense relief, though it’s hard to determine if it’s his own relief or Matsumoto’s, or both of them feeling it. Whatever the case, Nino doesn’t let it bother him anymore. He has done it. He has drifted and come back in one piece despite his lack of trust in Matsumoto.
Nino turns to his right, addressing Matsumoto for the first time after they have achieved drift compatibility. “You were a cute kid,” he says quietly, and he can feel Matsumoto’s immediate shock followed by embarrassment through the link, making him laugh a little. “Nice, incredibly thick eyebrows included. But all the girls in kindergarten gave you chocolates on Valentine’s? Really?”
Matsumoto doesn’t say anything and Nino lets out little huffs of amusement as he feels his co-pilot’s embarrassment. He can’t see it clearly because of the relay gel coloring their helmets yellow, but he thinks Matsumoto’s face is flushing.
“Save the flirting for later, please,” Sakurai says, ever the party pooper, and Nino rolls his eyes. “We’re now going to test exactly how capable you two are of making her move, but try not to release any firearms at us. We just want to see if you two can use the Sentinel’s weapons and activate them at the right time.”
Ohno directs via the communications and he and Matsumoto move accordingly, activating different kinds of weaponry from plasma cannons to plasmacasters and Aiba’s favorites, the missile launchers. It takes two to tango, and when Nino starts to get the hang of activating different features in the Sentinel without putting too much thought on it, he can feel Matsumoto’s relief washing over him.
Sooner or later Nino knows he and Matsumoto will have to talk over the memories of his sister's final moments he has seen in Matsumoto's head, but it will have to wait, for Ohno was right about them having no time at all.
The alarms sound just as they’re beginning to wrap up, and suddenly Nino hears Ohno’s order for them not to strip down their drivesuits and come back up to the control room. A category III from the seas strikes Ishikawa, and they’re asking three of the five Jaegers in the Osaka Shatterdome to standby for a drop-off.
“Who goes?” Jun asks, and by this time Nino has grown comfortable enough to the man’s presence inside his head that he’s now Jun instead of Matsumoto.
It’s Aiba who responds. “They’re not sending you in, but Leader wants you on standby in case another place gets attacked. They’re making Diablo go, with Cruiser and Inferno for back-up. You guys and Thunderbolt are on standby.”
“Roger that,” Nino says, taking off his helmet and detaching himself from the clamp, following Jun’s heavy footsteps as they proceed inside the control room where Ohno, Sakurai, and Aiba are along with the rest of the Shatterdome’s staff. There are engineers and programmers panicking to the side, a couple of mission controllers on full alert as the rest of them watch the proceedings of the mission on the screen.
Jun stands on his right the whole time, and somehow, even if they’re no longer connected to each other, Nino feels like he’s not alone after so many years of believing so.
--
Whatever struck Ishikawa was taken down by the Whiskey Diablo sustaining only minimal damage, and so Nino, along with Jun as his co-pilot, continue their training as plans to reclaim Niigata push through. He learns how to match his movements and thought patterns with Jun’s, and they spend most of their time sparring in the combat halls when they’re not doing drifts.
Nino also finds out that Jun is serious about training more than anyone else. He pushes Nino to his limits, asking Nino to do quick maneuvers, and when Nino does them perfectly, Jun asks him to do it again. Jun’s strict, sometimes unrelenting, but he’s not heartless. All the time Nino spends on finding out more about Jun, Jun uses to find out about him in equal measure.
Nino notices differences regarding his and Jun’s movements despite their compatibility. While he favors spontaneity and calls it originality, Jun’s movements are precise and fluid in their execution, even well-planned out at times. It makes him the perfect sparring partner for Nino. He views Jun’s combat stance as a wall that needs a bit of tinkering for him to find the little cracks in. It makes Nino wonder how he came to be drift compatible with someone as uptight and as contrasting as Jun because Jun is frequently too critical regarding Nino’s movements, but Nino supposes Riisa’s the person to blame for that. He just happened to be her twin.
Ever since Nino found out the truth about his sister, how it was her choice and how she used the last bit of her strength to assure Jun to go, he’s managed to slowly let go of his initial reservations towards Jun. He doesn’t blame Jun anymore, not after what he saw. He trusts Jun to a certain extent and finds his presence comforting unlike before, but they are yet to talk about Riisa.
They end up talking about the memories when Jun invites Nino to his room. Nino gets a new room after being assigned as one of the rangers for Storm Sentinel, and he’s still adjusting in his new, mostly empty quarters. Jun’s, however, is unlike his. While his is mostly space, Jun’s room hardly has any.
There are different newspaper clippings taped to the wall on their far right, and when Nino squints his eyes to scan them, they’re all news about the kaiju from the first wave of eight years ago to the present, or whatever present news Jun can get his hands on. There are pieces of a worn-out drivesuit piled atop a nearby desk, and the chair in front of the desk has a small pile of different victory posters from different countries featuring different Jaegers, some still active, some decommissioned, and some destroyed.
In his past drifts with Jun, he found out about Jun’s desire to assist the program in any way he could ever since it had been approved. Jun had been carefully following mankind’s progress to form a resistance against the alien attacks, so it wasn’t a surprise that he decided to become a part of it the moment they opened it for volunteers. Jun was too much like Riisa in that aspect, and sometimes, Nino feels as if Jun is the brother, not him.
Today, he feels it again as he stands in Jun’s room, taking in Jun’s world for the first time.
Jun sits on the bed, his hands on his lap as he looks at Nino expectantly. Nino has been inside his head for too many times to not know that Jun’s nervous, and Nino kind of likes looking at him like this because it’s so different from when they’re in the Sentinel’s Conn-Pod or in the combat halls. In those places, Jun becomes Matsumoto Jun, co-pilot of the Storm Sentinel with a record of forty-five drops and forty-five kills along with two years of piloting experience under his name.
In this room, he becomes Jun, not too different from the kid who got hit by a truck on accident but apologized and claimed the mistake as his own. In times like this, when there’s so much uncertainty and fear evident in Jun, Nino chooses to say something first.
“You dropped to thirty-six when you came back here,” is what Nino says, and Jun looks at him, waiting. Nino can see in Jun’s eyes that Jun knows where this conversation is going, but Jun has always been stubborn and Nino knows he won’t address the thing himself. “From forty-five to thirty-six. That’s quite a lot. Am I to blame for that?”
He knows that Jun did the simulation after the first time they sparred in the combat halls, and whatever Nino said at that time must have affected him greatly that it extended to his performance. And yet, he never felt any form of hate or contempt from Jun in any of their drifts. An emotion as strong as that can be felt through whatever link they share given that they’re compatible, but not once did Nino feel any negativities from Jun.
Jun shakes his head. “That’s my own miss.”
“Bullshit,” Nino scoffs. He’s been in Jun’s brain long enough to know when Jun’s lying or hiding something. “A ranger doesn’t simply lose touch despite three years of inactivity. I’ve seen it in your head, in the way you move in combat hall. But for you to have a gap of nine in your records means a lot.” He pauses to remove the poster pile from the desk chair and arranges it to face Jun before sitting and crossing his legs. “You never blamed me.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jun insists, his eyes fixed on the raised plating on his floor. It creaks whenever someone puts pressure on it, and Nino watches how Jun steps on the uneven aluminum for a moment only to remove his weight off it again. “I wasn’t in the place to blame you either, not when you were telling the truth.”
“I was being an asshole to you,” Nino counters immediately. “I said a lot of insensitive things because I was pissed at you, because I spent three years blaming you for something you didn’t even do. You’re too nice for your own good, you know? You can tell me I’m a jerk and you’re well within your rights to do so.”
Jun looks at him then. “But I did let her die,” he murmurs, regret washing over his expressive face. “You were right. I could have saved her. She told me to go and I did, but I could have still tried to haul her away from there. Tried harder. But I didn’t.”
“You couldn’t,” Nino snaps. “There’s a difference. I spent every moment of my life hating my own reflection every time I saw it since she died, spent every second of every thought I spared for her co-pilot in hate. I hated you and I’m not going to deny it. I blamed you, but that’s only because I couldn’t blame myself. I wanted to get even with you at one point. I thought about it.” He lets out a small laugh, completely devoid of mirth. “I thought about what I would do once I met you. It would have been easy if you weren’t the way you are, but when I got inside your head, I found out that you’re the person she saved when she couldn’t be saved anymore. She chose to help till the very end, and I’ve been enough of an idiotic brother to push the blame to that someone she lent a hand to until her death.”
“You’ve seen it in my head,” Jun says quietly, his fingers playing with the material of his loose jeans. “You know I could have done better. I could have tried harder.”
“You also would have died if you did,” Nino responds, giving Jun a look. “If you had died, her death would have been in vain. I would probably be in Fukuoka right now, lifting steel bars and hammering iron plates into place as they got those space shuttles ready even if they don’t know where those will go. I would have probably died once the kaijus had gotten to Fukuoka and I’d have died hating something I know nothing about. Which isn’t fair in any way, because it’s easy to hate something you don’t understand.” Nino reaches over, nervously taking Jun’s hand in his own and finding it warm to the touch, almost welcoming. “But I know better now. My sister saved you, and I know she’d tell me she didn’t regret that if she were here now.”
He squeezes Jun’s hand once before letting go and looking away. “Besides, I kind of need you. I only have simulator experience. I haven’t killed any of those damn things before but sooner or later I will have to, and I can only do that if I’ve got you on my right.”
He hears Jun take a deep breath, and catches a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye which makes him turn. Jun has a hand outstretched, and at the center of his palm lies the string bracelet. “There’s something you didn’t see,” Jun says, reaching for his hand to put the bracelet on his palm. “In my head, I mean. You saw that she gave it to me. You heard what she said. But you didn’t get to see what happened after because my memories of it are disjointed. So let me tell you.” Jun doesn’t let go, his hand over Nino’s now closed fist and Nino waits.
Jun looks up, meeting his eyes. “She wanted me to tell you she was sorry she didn’t get to make a new one or return this herself,” Jun tells him carefully, and Nino has to close to his eyes to collect himself. “She also wanted you to know that she didn’t hate you for leaving, that she understood. It was her last thought. I was connected to her throughout that, before she forcefully disconnected me and fired a plasma cannon to buy me some time.”
Nino clenches his fist, feeling the thin straps of bound thread against his skin. He bites his lip to prevent himself from getting emotional; it’s been a long time since he let himself go and gave in to the emotions concerning his sister. He’s thankful he’s not connected to Jun at the moment because he’s feeling too overwhelmed. He’s proud of Riisa, even prouder if that’s still possible, and yet he’s also appalled by her selflessness that extended not only to Jun but also to him, despite him being so far away.
He long wondered if she hated him for leaving and for not showing his face as the years went on. He always regretted not asking her himself, but now that he has his answers, he regrets not being able to express just how sorry he was, how sorry he still is.
“I never got to tell her,” he whispers, but he knows Jun can hear him. He keeps his eyes shut, but he feels Jun holding onto his hand. It’s reassuring at least, to know that he’s not alone and he has someone he can tell this to, someone who undoubtedly understands, having been inside Riisa’s head and his. “I never got to properly say how sorry I was. I shouldn’t have left. I should have done a lot of things and that included not leaving her alone. But I did and even though I know now she never hated me for it, I’m still sorry I didn’t get to tell her these things myself when I had the chance.”
He feels Jun shifting his grip to clutch at his wrist, Jun’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin. “In the end,” Nino says, and somehow a bitter laugh manages to escape him, “I’m the idiot who blamed you for things that were actually my fault.” He opens his eyes, looking into Jun’s very brown ones. “I’m sorry, Jun-kun. I’m older than her but she was far braver than I’ll ever be. But I need you to know. I need to tell you how sorry I am. For what I said, for everything, for all the time I spent pushing the blame on you.”
Jun shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. He looks accepting, in line with the welcoming warmth his touch generates on Nino’s skin. “I depended on her,” Jun admits, and Nino listens. “She was really strong. Brave. Could carry herself and other people at the same time. I depended on her greatly. Even until the end. You say you’re not as brave as her, but neither am I. I get scared, Nino. Even now. Every time I stepped inside the cockpit, I got scared, and I depended on her for too many times. I thought if she could do it, I could do it too. We could do it together.” Jun sighs, looking down. “In the end, I lost a co-pilot and you lost a sister. We’re both never the same after.”
Nino pulls away from Jun’s grip on his wrist to take Jun’s hand in his, Jun’s fingers against his palm along with Riisa’s string bracelet. “You’ve seen me at my worst,” Nino says, smiling a little. “My head, along with the ugly things that came with it. I depended on her too. I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t ask Ohno to find me. She was looking out for me the whole time, in the same way she was looking out for you.” Nino pauses for a moment, searching Jun’s eyes. “And I think she’d ask me to do the same if she was here. I’m your left, Jun-kun. And if we make it out, if there’ll ever be a chance that all this will be over, remind me to return to Katsushika to build something in her memory.”
Riisa never had a gravestone because there was never a body, but Nino thinks it’s the thought that counts. “Okay. I can do that,” Jun promises, and when Jun smiles at him, Nino thanks his sister in his heart for believing in him.
--
He and Jun are sent as back-up for Whiskey Diablo when the plans to reclaim Niigata are put in motion, and he finds himself patrolling the surrounding area with Jun as they keep an eye out. The kaiju occupying Niigata is a category IV, similar to the one that killed Riisa and damaged the Sentinel, and the higher-ups are sending the Diablo in because it’s the only Mark V Jaeger in Japan.
Over time, Nino discovers that Jun is easy to embarrass, that it won’t take much effort on his part to make Jun laugh sheepishly, so to keep themselves entertained as they scan the area, he maintains a conversation with Jun and tries to make his imagination more creative, knowing Jun can see what goes on in his head.
“Did you really get all those chocolates?” he asks as they trek slowly, a blanket of fog preventing full visibility. Nino makes sure he’s hyperaware of any form of movement despite the city being dead silent. There’s a kaiju lurking somewhere, but where it is exactly is something they’re all about to find out. The scanners back in the Shatterdome couldn’t pinpoint its exact location given the frequent seismic activities throwing all sensors off.
Jun lets out a tiny laugh. “I was a popular kid,” he explains as the Sentinel walks over a now ruined bridge, with large blocks of concrete remaining embedded in the bottom of the river. “I call that my glory days.”
“Was,” Nino repeats as he tries to peer through the fog. “I bet I was more popular than you ever were. I didn’t get all the chocolates from all the girls in my class, but I’m good-looking enough to warrant a few admirers, all right.”
He can feel Jun roll his eyes at the statement and he chuckles a bit. “They probably just like your music-playing,” Jun says, clearly remembering Nino’s memories from his guitar-strumming days. “They like it so much that they tolerate your face.”
Nino snorts as the Sentinel continues onward, the Diablo and the Thunderbolt walking in front of them. “So you do admit it, I’m pretty talented. Hah! Got a lot of ladies screaming for me in my glory days, Matsumoto, I’ll have you know.”
He hears Jun sigh, and Nino can imagine his co-pilot’s face. “Whatever,” Jun says dismissively as they reach rubbles left by destroyed apartment buildings. There’s even a shattered billboard for Nissin on Nino’s left, a small portion of its LED display still functioning and blinking at odd intervals. “Still not enough to get you all the chocolates.”
Nino turns his gaze away from the once-advertisement for cup noodles, straining his ears for any sign of movement. Niigata’s too quiet and they’re all on high alert, but they’ve been walking for a while now and surely, whatever’s waiting for them already knows they’re here. “What,” he says, knowing that Jun is listening as much as Jun is observing as carefully as he is, “you ever returned any on White Day?”
Before Jun can reply however, Kamenashi, one of the co-pilots of the Whiskey Diablo, uses the comms to warn them all with a loud exclaim of “Incoming!”
Through the fog, Nino manages to see it still. It’s the first kaiju he has ever seen inside a Jaeger, and it’s in the same category as the one that killed his sister. It has three horns and a spiked, scaly trail, looking like a komodo dragon and godzilla hybrid. It possesses shiny, almost metallic skin made up of large scales, and when it roars, Nino watches as the scales quiver before rising up like the spines of a hedgehog on guard.
He senses the influx of Jun’s thoughts— Jun focuses immediately on the movement of the kaiju’s tail and how it contributes to the strength of the attacks it inflicts upon the Diablo, how its movements are impactful enough to make up for its lack of agility. Nino uses the comms to ask the Diablo’s pilots if they need them to step in, but they refuse, assuring them they can handle it.
“I don’t like this,” Nino says as they watch the Diablo load up its missile launcher and aim at the kaiju’s head. “I don’t like standing here and watching as they get pummelled.”
“We don’t engage,” Jun says, darting a quick glance to the other Jaeger, Sierra Thunderbolt, standing to their left. “Not unless they’re in serious trouble. It could be a trap. This one might just be the bait, and once we engage, there might be more out there waiting for us.”
A burst of static pierces through the air and Nino hears the telltale voice of Aiba, who’s obviously listening in and watching them through the Shatterdome’s screens. “Jun-tan’s right, Nino. You’re there in case more of them appear out of nowhere. For all we know Niigata may have become a nest.”
“I’ll hit you,” Jun says to Aiba. “When we come back, remind me to hit him,” Jun tells him, and Nino grins. “He keeps calling me Jun-tan.”
“That’s not so bad,” Nino says, his senses on high-alert despite the light mood he and Jun are trying so hard to maintain to keep their cool. “I would have called you Jun-pon.”
The kaiju’s tail suddenly lashes out like a whip, doing one sweep that sends the Diablo to its feet, and he and Jun are charging their plasma cannon on instinct, aiming it at the creature’s side. So much for not engaging, Nino thinks, and he feels Jun agree.
“Think it’s vulnerable?” he asks Jun, pertaining to the shiny scales. He has played enough games to know that scales like that are as hard as a dragon’s, although there are no dragons in this life so Nino doesn’t know how hard they are exactly.
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Jun says as they lock and fire, stopping the incoming blow to the Diablo and buying them time to get to their feet. “Nope, not vulnerable,” Jun murmurs as the kaiju turns to them instead, “but certainly enough to get his attention.”
Nino uses the comms to address the other two Jaegers with them. “Find a weak spot. When you guys think you have a shot, take it. Jun-pon and I will play with this thing for a while, keep it distracted. But if you think we’re getting our asses handed to us, fire those missiles.”
“‘Jun-pon’?” Jun asks as the kaiju roars, and the two of them assume battle stance reflexively, both hands clenched into fists, one foot behind the other for support, their weights balanced on their heels.
Nino smirks as the creature lunges for them, and he and Jun move at the same time to do a sidestep before aiming an elbow jab to the kaiju’s side, the same spot they hit with the Sentinel’s plasma cannon from earlier. Nino can feel the toughness of its skin, almost impenetrable, but there’s a bit of almost gooey softness beyond the thick skin that tells him this thing might not be as invincible as it looks like.
He and Jun flex their left arms at the same time to block an incoming swish of the tail, but they both underestimated the strength of its impact as the blow hit, making the Sentinel skid and the both of them wince. “Okay,” Nino acknowledges, cracking his neck joints a little, “nothing like Aiba’s simulations, all right. Aiba, you need to level up.”
Whatever Aiba says in reply is lost through the comms as the kaiju pounces on them, sending him and Jun tumbling over a mountain of crushed concrete and metal scaffoldings. They swing their right arms hard when the kaiju tries to bite the Sentinel’s head off, making its jaw clench tightly shut. It has long pointed teeth, each the size of a large metal water tank, and Nino’s a bit thankful that set of teeth didn’t get to bite them.
They deliver sets of punches and jabs to the kaiju’s neck, hearing the Diablo and the Thunderbolt load their missiles as they get into position. He and Jun try to keep the beast in place, holding its thrashing head in the Sentinel’s hands and keeping its mouth shut. It might try to spit acid on them or it might have a ridiculously long tongue that can wrap around the Sentinel’s neck and separate its head from the shoulders.
He hears Jun’s laughter on his right. “Ridiculously long tongue,” Jun repeats, clearly amused by the thoughts going on in Nino’s head.
“I’ve never fought any of these bastards before so I don’t know what to expect,” Nino says defensively as the two Jaegers on their side launch their missiles, effectively sending the kaiju to the ground. Its sides are now blown up and blackening, but there’s luminescent kaiju blood and goo oozing out of its wounds.
“Goo,” Jun repeats, still laughing, and Nino rolls his eyes. “They teach kaiju science in officer training, don’t they?”
“Is this going to be a pattern? You repeating my thoughts and laughing at them? And seriously, do I look like someone who’d memorize the anatomy of these monsters when our job is to simply kick their asses?” he asks, shooting Jun a look. He has no doubt Jun knows exactly what to call whatever’s oozing out of what they just killed, but he honestly doesn’t care, not when they somehow managed to subdue a category IV when he can hardly see anything through this fog.
A tail suddenly lashes out, sending the Thunderbolt flying, followed by the Diablo, and they turn just in time to see the monster rising to its feet to let out a deafening roar. It’s limping because of the damage to its sides, but those are apparently not enough to kill it.
Nino extends his left hand out of instinct, immediately activating the sword attached to the Sentinel’s left arm. They have no time to charge the plasma cannon or load any of the missiles, and he and Jun swing at the same time to cut off the beast’s head just as it lunges for them. It’s a clean, cauterized slice that leaves him and Jun to watch the head bounce twice before rolling a little to their right.
“Any more?” Kato from the Thunderbolt asks, and Nino hears Jun's sigh of relief, but also fatigue.
“I hope not. Aiba, can you do a sweep?” Jun asks through the comms, and they wait for a few moments after hearing Aiba’s enthusiastic “Roger!”
“One category III incoming from your one o’clock, guys,” Aiba says, and the Diablo engages, its missile already locked and loaded. He and Jun assume standby position as the Thunderbolt stands on guard in front of them.
Nino has just killed his first kaiju, and he thinks he would name it Yoshi Gone Wild if anyone ever asks for his input. He can feel Jun’s amusement through the drift and he looks to his side just in time to see Jun’s shoulders shaking from laughter.
“What?” Nino asks as the Diablo confirms the death of the new arrival by firing its plasma cannon on its head thrice, “You think it’s a bad name?”
Jun shakes his head just as Ohno’s voice cuts through the comms and congratulates them for a job well done. “No,” Jun says, and Nino can feel his honesty through the meld they share, “I think it’s a great one, actually.”
Part 3