fic for azurevanillasky!

[nino_mod]

For: azurevanillasky
From: :3.

Title: Captain
Pairing/Focus: Nino x Ohno, Nino x Sho
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 20583
Warnings: Major Character Death
Summary: The end of the world does not happen in an instant; an asteroid is coming, and the Alliance comes up with a plan to leave Earth and head for solar systems unknown. For Nino, the planned hope for humanity signifies the end of his whole world. For Sho, the same plan symbolizes a freedom he’s never had before. Will Nino ever overcome his sacrifice to find his hope?
Notes: Space Neen. Nino as Gundam Pilot. [Sakumiya HateFest]. All of these were WIP names for this fic. Enjoy!
PS I made a playlist from the embedded lyrics. Please enjoy!


CHAPTER ONE

“Slowly it’s consuming me
Deliberate and deep
I can’t take this deeper panic
Teach me, teach me not to dream, dream deeply”
“A Deep Slow Panic” - AFI

Nino woke up out of a sound sleep, gasping and throwing out an arm, seeking for the body that should be lying right next to his. The cot beside him was cold, the blankets re-folded over him as he slept. No, he thought, scrambling out of the bed, flinging the covers aside as his bare feet slap on to the steel floor.

He’s tugging his shoes on, having thrown on the first bits of clothing he could find, as the door to the capsule creeps open. His panicked eyes rise up, meeting another pair of warm brown eyes hiding under shaggy cut, spiked hair and raised eyebrows.

“Yo,” Ohno says simply, handing him a styrofoam cup of coffee and tugging off his own shoes, padding past to take a seat on the tiny loveseat, facing the one tiny window. The capsule dwellings of this modern era were built cheaply, barely sturdy enough to remain standing. They were temporary, after all - everything was. Even their set of capsules, only assigned to future piloting teams, were often missing bits. In fact, if you walked into their tiny toilet room, you’d find a fist-sized hole to the outside that let in a good bit of wind, rain, and the occasional small creature.

Nino gulped down a few mouthfuls of the too-hot coffee, staying on the floor for a moment to get his heartbeat under control. Once the breath returns to his lungs, he slowly pulls himself up and shuffles back in, collapsing into the couch and leaning against the other man. Ohno’s arm snakes out and around his shoulders, tugging him in close and rubbing his upper arm, stimulating blood flow and warming up the side that had awoken so chilled.

“What time is it?” Nino asks, after half of the coffee has been absorbed into his veins through his stomach lining and he’s starting to feel more like a human.

“Quarter past six; we’ve got to head to training here soon.” Ohno’s response, so methodical and commonplace, made Nino’s heart start racing again. Every day, every moment, led closer to the time when…

Ohno slowly withdrew his arm from Nino, stretching as he rose from the couch and headed toward the entryway. Nino groaned as he got off the couch and headed into the bedroom that the two shared, digging through the closet until he found his flight trainer’s uniform. He climbed in, zipping it up to his chin as he slid back through the living room to his boots, pulling them on.

As they stepped out the door together, the two joined a river of identically clad trainees, heading down the stairs and to the waiting train car. They entered and plopped into their usual seats, waving and nodding to Toma and Yamada in the seats across the aisle from them. Nino dug into his bag, pulling out his old iPod; shaking it a little to get the ancient electronics aligned right enough for it to work. He carefully untangled the old white earbuds, handing one of the pieces of cracked plastic to Ohno while tucking the other into his left ear. They lean together, heads touching, as the sound of the train clicking over the tracks lulled Nino back into a short sleep before they arrived at the facility.

In 2032, life on Earth was as peaceful as it had ever been. There was some unrest in the Middle East, and the new US President was stirring up trouble while he kicked his heels on some tropical island at the taxpayer’s expense.

Everything was the same… until the astronomers got on the news. “Neutron star” this, “75 years until we’re all dead” that. At the beginning, once the reality had been confirmed, there was a general sense of “we have time.” Governments got together, shouted at each other, threatened nuclear war.

For most people, the next 40 years devolved into hedonistic excesses. Knowing that the world was ending soon anyway, nobody bothered anymore with things like recycling, waste control, or pollution. Most immediate needs were taken care of, but all across the Earth, medicine, education, and anything other than the pursuit of pleasure was considered useless.

Despite this, enlightened citizens in countries all over the world realized that relying on the government was hopeless. They pooled their resources into the Alliance of Radically Alienated Scientists Helping Independents; the Alliance worked desperately and came up with a solution.

Starting in 2072, as there was no hope of raising another generation that would live and thrive on Earth, all healthy children born were “donated” to the Alliance. The Alliance chose the healthiest, most genetically diverse specimens from amongst these children. The others were returned to the hedonistic excesses of Earth proper. Those that were chosen, however, were raised in dormitories, trained in everything from farming to piloting the newly designed interstellar spacecraft. They learned the difference between hostile and benevolent atmospheres; how to read chronoscopes and spectrometers; all of the combined knowledge of the human race was invested into these children.

As the children aged, they were grouped according to the talents and personalities they were beginning to show. Deep intelligences were paired with strong physical attributes; the analytical with the emotive. These partnerships were strongly encouraged, even to the point of becoming mandatory. Upon puberty, they moved into the capsule dwellings in their pairs and groups, with each building dedicated to a specific post-Earth task; farming, meteorology, piloting.

But, as with most hopeful plans, sacrifices were necessary. As the departure grew nearer, more and more couples underwent Sacrifice. The extent of Sacrifice varied from mission to mission, but it was never anything easy. And, along with the date of departure, it was growing ever nearer… with less than six months remaining before the first ship took to the skies, Sacrifices were happening at a rapid rate - accelerating from one a year, to one a month, and now - one a day. Volunteers were taken first, of course, but with the harder Sacrifices the volunteers were coming less, and less. Nino could feel the weight grow heavier on his chest; he knew, if not today, it had to be tomorrow. He was running out of time.

Nino and Ohno climb back on the train as the sun is going down, heading east into the Township. Nino massages Ohno’s stiff shoulders, Ohno’s soft touches feather across Nino’s lower back as they take their seats. It was a grueling day; even though they’ve been training to become Mechanacea pilots for the last 15 years, since they were five years old, every day pushed them harder and harder.

Mechanacea; the all-in-one aggressive and defensive response. Humanoid in shape, the 60 foot tall robots were the natural extension of human research into exo-skeleton suits for soldiers in the late 20th century. Each created with a unique weapons system for the pair that would wield it, they were individual and personalized to an extent that some in the Alliance called unnecessary. Nino and Ohno had chosen the colors for their Mech today; torso the blue of the ocean, limbs outlined in the orange of the sun, head the deep resonant blue of the midnight sky on a moonless night. The decisions were daunting; crystallizing the fact that soon everything would change.

As they reached their stop, the boys climb down from the train. Nino looks askance at Ohno, and Ohno gestures with his chin down the side street that would take them to their favorite streetside sushi spot. They settled onto the stools and ordered a couple of rolls each, eating without talking much; touching often. There was a quiet, wordless communication echoing loudly between them, and as they walked back up the stairs after dinner, towards their capsule, their fingers reached out and intertwined.

They entered the apartment and molded their bodies closer, shedding clothes as one being; showering as one being; loving as one being. As they lay together on their cot, breathing each other’s air, legs and bodies and brains intertwined, Nino’s voice echoed loudly into the silence - even at its jagged whisper.

“It’ll be tomorrow. It’ll be me. You know, you know, I can’t make it without you, Satoshi. I can be many things for you, I can protect you, I can guide you, but I cannot live…” he broke off, a harsh sob racking his frame as his fingers dug into Ohno’s sides, arms wrapped tight, clinging close. Ohno’s chest muffled the heartwrenching sounds leaving Nino’s body, his own arms circling, caressing, soothing. As Nino’s sobs turned to softer, heavier, sighs, Ohno deliberately, gently, wiped away the tears cascading down Nino’s face. He pressed a single kiss into Nino’s forehead and holds him close, cherishing every second until Nino’s breathing evens out and he is finally asleep.

Ohno slipped from the bed, just as he does most nights. He silently dressed and sat down at the table, penning a letter by lamplight before tucking it into an envelope and leaving it, facedown, pen lying alongside it. He clicks off the lamp, his graceful movements taking him out the door, down the stairs, onto the train in the silence of the moonless night.

He is gone before the sheets are cool.

“Oh you’ll see me again
You know this will never end
What do you do
When your heart reminds you?
Oh, you’ll put me to death
But I will return again”
“The Face Beneath The Waves” - AFI

Nino woke up out of a sound sleep, gasping and throwing out an arm, seeking for the body that should be lying right next to his. The cot beside him was cold, the blankets re-folded over him as he slept. No, he thought, scrambling out of the bed, flinging the covers aside as his bare feet slap on to the steel floor.

This time, the door does not open as he tugs on his boots. He runs, alone, down the hallway outside the capsule, down the stairs, to the train. The next train is not due for another 30 minutes, and he cannot stand and wait that long. He runs, gasping, feeling the sharp morning air heaving in and out of his lungs. The years of pilot training do him some good, and he makes it to the train stop a mile away, the one that picks up 20 minutes earlier than the one by his capsule, before the train arrives.

He knows that he must scare the others currently on this train. He doesn’t know many of them by name, but he sees the concerned faces of Okada, Yamashita, and a few others he’s met in passing at the training grounds. As the hydraulic brakes engage, he’s the first off the train and onto the platform, even though he had to pry the doors open with his hands to override the automatic motors.

He is the first pilot trainee in the door to Mechanacea Silo 04. None of the staff members even look up as he bursts in, panic in his eyes as he skids down the corridors to Nagase’s office overlooking the Mechs in the hangar. He knows the second Nagase’s eyes meet his, and he falls to the floor, limp, like his strings had just been cut. They had been cut; he will never stand again.
Nagase squats on the floor in the front of him, brown eyes showing his steely sorrow. He had met Ohno at the doors this morning, before they were even unlocked for general entry; Ohno had spoken with him yesterday, in his quiet but determined way. Nagase hands Nino the clipboard he already has prepared, pulling Nino’s limp left hand into his own and pressing a pen into the center.
“You need to sign, Nino. Otherwise, someone’s going to get to pilot him. And you need to name him; his old name just wouldn’t be the same.”

Nino hesitates, eyes still staring into the distance, tears filling his eyes. He blinks, twice, clearing them away as much and as best as he can. He scribbles his name, Ninomiya Kazunari. In the space reserved for the name of his Mech, he writes simply “Captain.”

His smile lights up his eyes, and his normally bored expression is filled with a sudden, sly mischief. He slowly winds the reel, calculating, careful, his tongue peeking out and being caught by his teeth as he quickly jerks the rod up, now winding rapidly, laughing as the shiny scales break the surface of the river water and he tosses the fish onto the bank.

Nino becomes breathless at the sound of his laughter. The moment freezes in time, all brilliant blue sky and summer green trees. Even the wind pauses, trapped forever in the dark hair, water droplets forever suspended as the river breaks on nearby submerged rocks.

Suddenly, the air rushes back into Nino’s lungs and the moment melts, time returning to normal, the wind blowing by and being followed by another. Ohno expertly flips the fish off the hook, pulling out a knife and cleaning it. Afterwards, he hands it to Nino, who threads it on a branch he has turned into a skewer and props it over the small campfire next to another small fish.

Nino settles on a large log they have pulled up next to the fire and warms up his hands. It’s nice to get a day off of training now and again, and days as beautiful as this one are hard to come by these days. Ohno comes and joins him, sitting a little closer than he had earlier today, but still not as close as Nino would like. He sees Ohno’s hand on the log and feels his own hand twitch, wanting to reach out and touch.

Nino is just about to lean forward to adjust the skewers’ positions in the fire when he feels Ohno’s hand turn his own over and his index finger tracing the outline of his hand. The sensation kind of tickles, but Nino doesn’t dare to pull away - if this slight touch is all he gets, he knows it will fuel his dreams for the next several days.

Eventually, Ohno places the palm of his hand in Nino’s, measuring the relative size of his fingers and laughing a little, since his fingers extend a full digit past Nino’s smaller hands.

“How can your hands be so quick, when mine are so much larger?”

“Ahh, that’s all in the brain, not in the hands,” Nino retorts, turning to face Ohno. Just as he does, Ohno leans down and places a kiss directly on his lips, lingering, tongue reaching out and tasting, tracing.

Nino woke up out of a sound sleep, gasping and throwing out an arm, seeking for the body that should be lying right next to his. The cot beside him was cold, the blankets re-folded over him as he slept. No, he thought, scrambling out of the bed, flinging the covers aside as his bare feet slap on to the steel floor.

Nino realizes, at that moment, that the room around him is not his capsule, and with that realization the full impact of the past two days hits him directly in the sternum. He did not return to the capsule last night, too afraid of the memories and ghosts that would meet him there. After his full day of post-Sacrifice training, getting to understand the dashboard of his Mech and what differences he could expect compared to the training modules, he knew he was not emotionally prepared to return to the last place he had seen his partner.

Besides, he had to face his partner today, anyway. The orange and blue Mech stood outside the window of Nagase’s office where he had fallen asleep, dark and silent. Nino headed to the showers of the training room, quickly rinsing off and ignoring the locker next to his (that had always been next to his), reaching into his own and pulling on a training flight suit.

He worked his way up towards the hangar, but doing everything in his power to keep himself from actually walking out into that open space. He chatted with secretaries, with the young kids that had just started training. He briefly popped into Nagase’s office, just to say hi, and at this point was bodily escorted into the hangar and deposited in front of Mechanacea #3104, Captain.

With the top of his head barely reaching the top of Captain’s foot, Nino felt the true weight of how tiny he was, and how alone. He laid his hand on the the metal in front of him, feeling the smooth coldness (how unlike him), not losing contact until he reached the first rung of the ladder in the back of the Mech that would allow him into the machine. He climbed up, stoically, carefully placing one foot above the other and pulling his body along by sheer force of will. This was what he was born for. The decision was taken out of his hands, he never wanted to do this. This was what he was born for. The conflicting emotions felt like they would split his heart in two, and he quickened his pace until he was opening the hatch, climbing inside the cockpit with his eyes closed, settling into the seat, becoming motionless so the Sacrifice would not be in vain.

He let himself have a few moments, breathing in deep through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, counting to five. All of those little tricks that he (they) had been trained on for the past fifteen years coming back to haunt him as he struggled to cope.

As he opened his eyes, he reached his hands out to touch the steering mechanism, realizing at the touch that they were custom formed to his hands, that the grips were perfectly shaped for his thicker fingers to have full, tight, control. He laid his head down on the control board and openly wept, not bothering to be concerned with where his tears fell.

CHAPTER TWO

“Ice has covered up my parents hands
Don't have any dreams don't have any plans.
Growin' up in some strange storm,
Nobody's cold, nobody's warm.”
“Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” - Arcade Fire

Sakurai Sho stormed out of the Alliance meeting, boots slamming against the floor, unable to control his emotions as he made his way down the stairs of the Counsel building and heading into the public street. His aide chased after him with his umbrella, but Sho’s body language strongly encouraged the aide to change course, hailing down another young man he knew and pretending that they were just meeting for coffee, after all.

Sho had argued, for the past five years, ever since he had been offered (and accepted) his seat at the Alliance table, that there was plenty of room on the flotilla for more people. Between the three ships, there was more than enough space for 10,000 each. Sure, selection would be a difficult issue, but there were literally millions of people around, healthy and young enough to be able to assist with rebuilding humanity’s existence in Luyten’s Star. Dismissing the idea out of hand was the stupidest thing he ever heard…

When Sho emerged from his angry cloud, he realized that he is further down in the Township than he had been before. The cold rain that soaked through his shirt and trousers helped cool his temper a little, and he laughed at himself when his brain replayed his aide and the umbrella that he had neglected in his fugue. He was amongst the dormitories, and as his stomach growled at him angrily he decided to stop and get some sushi at a streetside stand. There is one other patron, which is surprising in and of itself on an evening like this.

Sho takes a seat, ordering some salmon sashimi and an eel roll. As he waits, his attention strays to the man next to him, hunkered over the seat and folded in on himself. The dampness curling his hair around his ears but relative dryness of his training suit indicates that he has been at the stand for a while, but there is still half a roll of sushi on his tray. He watches as the man silently reaches out and picks up a piece, bringing it to his mouth but sighing before setting the piece down uneaten.

A few minutes later, the man is gone, leaving behind a soggy stool and a word or two with the vendor. Sho’s eyes follow him as he enters one of the dormitories; if Sho can recall correctly, they’re located in the farming and pilot quadrant. The vendor notices the direction Sho’s attention has taken, and he leans over the counter.

“Sacrifice yesterday,” the vendor says, voice heavy with third person grief. “Quiet young man, kind. A little too gentle for piloting, but I don’t know. I could be wrong.”

Sho nods along, not really understanding what the vendor is telling him. Aren’t all piloting pairs a mixture of strong and delicate, hard and soft? And what was their Sacrifice? And where was the other pilot? Sho had encountered other Sacrifices in different sectors before, but it was rare to see a pair separated for long afterwards; even those requiring medical treatment were often kept company in the recovery center.

Sho tosses the vendor a tip (he completely misses the surprised look on the vendor’s face as the coins remained on the bar) and heads back uptown towards the Township. He waits at the nearest train station, mind continuously returning to the shape of the other man. He wasn’t sure what was causing the waves of absolute grief to roll off of him, but Sho was surprisingly interested. He wanted to know more, and would use whatever connection he could to find out.

When he arrived in the center of the Township, he pulled out his communicator and typed a quick message to his aide. “Had dinner, heading home.” He walked down a tree lined corridor, smiling and nodding at neighbors and acquaintances taking a stroll in the romantic mood afforded by the beautiful dusky rose light of the sunset.

He entered the lobby and a bellhop greeted him, asking if he had any packages that needed to be handled (“No, but thank you”) and preceding him into the elevator, pushing the button that would take Sho to the top floor before bowing and exiting the elevator car. Sho’s fingers drummed against the handle, humming a little along with the canned, aptly named “elevator music.”

The bell dinged and he exited, steps muffled against the plush red carpet as he walked past the first two doors. He stopped outside the corner suite, pulling out his keys and jingling through them until he found the right one before turning the lock.

The overhead lights turn on automatically as Sho tosses his suitcase down on the entryway table and heads to the dressing room. He pulls off his tie, tossing it into the clothing hamper, and slowly disrobes, mind lost in thought. As he heads into the shower, he begins pondering about what he can do at the Alliance Counsel meeting tomorrow.

The grime of the day washes away under the hot spray. Sho takes a few moments to just bask in the heat beating down on him, allowing the heat to soothe away the stress he was carrying in his shoulders.

As he got out of the shower, he pulled down a soft, warm robe from behind the door and wrapped himself in the luxury. He stopped by the refrigerator, pulling out a beer, and took it onto the balcony. As he watched the last bit of the sun sink into the dark blue sea, the retreating storm clouds added drama to the evening sky. He thought about how many more nights would he be free to enjoy the ocean breeze; soon, he would be on board his very own passenger ship, rocketing through space towards their new planet, in charge of the lives of the thousands of people under his care. The air would be recycled, the light simulated; would they be able to bring along any of their constellations, their legends and mythos? Would their settlement have Cassiopeia rising from the ocean during the fall months? What colors would paint the sunset?

Sho almost falls asleep outside, but a training Mech flies a little too close to his building and jars him out of his doze. He heads in, throwing himself amongst the sheets in his high four-poster bed, relaxing into the softness and letting his dreams take him away.

The next day, Sho meets up with his officers. They are planning on heading out into space within the next six months; the hope and weight of expectations were heavy on his mind as he met with his commander and lieutenants. He looks over plans and course trajectories; he talks about rations, hydroponics, gravitational simulation.

Right before the break for lunch, Sho is taken to the hangar to meet his Mech team. He is excited and a little bit anxious. He’s heard about the Mech program since he joined the Alliance at 18, but in the past seven years nobody had really given him an in-depth understanding of their role. He knew that they existed to help protect the ship, and that there were two pilots, but that was the extent of the base knowledge that he had.

He walks into the office of Nagase, the head of the training department. As Nagase stood, he felt dwarfed by the older man’s presence. Tall, with a deep voice and a hearty handshake, Nagase invited him to take a seat across the desk and settled into his own sturdy desk chair. He cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on his desk, but Sho noticed that his attention was actually focused out the window, to the garish Mech standing on the tarmac. The eyes of the Mech flashed an intense cobalt blue, seeming to stare right back into the window.

Nagase pulled his attention back and began addressing Sho.

“Well, that’s your Mech out there. Mech #3104, piloted by Ninomiya Kazunari. They are new to Sacrifice, and it might be a little rough as they work out the kinks.”

“I thought that the pilots were in partner pairs?” Sho’s confusion was evident as he narrowed his gaze, noticing the seeming attention the Mech was paying to the two of them. He raised an eyebrow, turning and meeting Nagase’s gaze.

“Oh, they train in pairs…” Nagase trailed off and seemed to brace himself before continuing with his answer. “Until the Sacrifice.”

“The Sacrifice? I thought that was just when farmers, had to work 18 hour days cyclically, followed by 36 hours off; not a big deal. I mean they don’t get to see the other four in their Hands as much as they rotate shifts, but...”

Nagase sighed deeply. He averted his eyes, staring straight into the Mech, and the following words lit up Sho’s nerves like firecrackers.

“Each Silo’s Sacrifice is different. For Pilots… well. The Sacrifice is to become one with the Mechs. Number 3104 out there? Just yesterday… he was Ninomiya’s Partner.”

When he heard those words, Sakurai Sho stormed out of the training grounds, boots slamming against the floor, unable to control his emotions as he made his way down and heading into the public street. He isn’t sure exactly where he is going, because the rage is narrowing his vision. The “Sacrifice” that Pilots had to undergo for their safety… Wasn’t just putting their lives at risk enough?
Sho wasn’t sure if he was more angry that the Sacrifices were done, or if it was that he had been complicit in this without even knowing for the past five years; almost six now. He had willingly smiled and nodded along when talk centered about them increasing. He had received clarity from Nagase, that the only ones to lose their corporeal existence during a Sacrifice were the Pilots, but that the Scientists were made to perform final experimentation on their human partners so that the most effort possible was made to reduce errors; or, in other words, to not fuck it up. He knew that the end of the world was a cruel thing, but this deliberate cruelty in the name of “necessity” was too much.

Sho is still in shock, a bit, hearing that the souls of the Sacrificed pilots were somehow used to create a secondary defense system within the Mech itself. The technology was such, the computer so complex, that the actual central nervous system of the Sacrifice was built into the Mech, thereby allowing the computer to access the network of electrical receptors, transmitters, and synapses. With the brain, of course, came the memories; with memories, the self of the Sacrifice. Because of the connection between the Pilots, knowing that the actual soul of their partner was with them eternally made the surviving Pilot immensely loyal and tied to his Mech. In turn, the Mech itself had its own hybrid awareness; the Mech knew who it was carrying, and the intimate knowledge between human and machine kept either the computer or the human from taking extraordinary risks.

At least, in theory. From what Sho understood, the Ohno/Ninomiya duo were the first to successfully Sacrifice, although that fact remained unvoiced to pilots. There were two more ships to go, but the Alliance Command was confident that the upcoming Sacrifices would also prove fruitful. Sho’s limbs were shaking with rage as he continues thinking about the inequality of the entire situation.
Even as much as the Alliance deemed this process necessary, the all-too-human heart in Sho’s chest ached. What was the line between safety and sacrifice? The Alliance did not seem to see one, and Sho’s current position did not leave him with very much room to argue; he just wished he had asked sooner.

His stomp away from the Township landed him in pretty much the same place he had visited last night; the dormitories, complete with sushi vendor and single occupied stool. Although this time, he did not sit in the farthest stool but went ahead and took the seat second from the end, leaving a solitary seat between him and the lump of dark hair and flight suit. The vendor perks up when he sees Sho, and slides the coins back over the table that Sho had given him the previous day.

Sho’s not quite sure what to make of this, so he picks up the money and puts it in his pocket. The vendor lets him know that he’s appreciative, but in the Township money doesn’t matter. No one is charged for any goods or services; he runs the sushi stall as required for his government-issued housing and a place on, coincidentally, the Hope in the Darkness, Sho’s ship, as a purveyor of Japanese culture and cuisine. Sho keeps quiet about the connection, murmuring an apology for the confusion and thanking him for his honesty.

The money exchanging hands draws the attention of the blob. Or, maybe, it’s the mention of the Hope that has the flight suit with hands sitting up and a messy head emerging from the neckhole. Sho listens as the seat’s occupant begins a quiet conversation with the vendor; he was going to be with the Hope as well, and wasn’t it crazy that they were leaving in six months. Sho is excited to hear that this isn’t the last time he will see this curious lump, even if from a position of power like he will have, there isn’t anything he could do other than watch from a distance.

For some reason, he really wants to see the other young man smile. There are laugh lines around his eyes that appear strange when not in use, and the languidness of his movements seem awkward and bizarre. Suddenly, Sho remembers what the vendor had said about the Sacrifice, and his heart hurts again. This man next to him had someone hurt or lost. And while there were always some consequences, unintended or otherwise, for a plan such as theirs, knowing and seeing the aftermath were two different things.

The man removed himself from the stool and left while Sho was deep in thought. After he finishes mindlessly eating the last piece of sushi from his roll, Sho collects his coat and briefcase and thanks the vendor, accidentally telling him “see you soon” before walking back towards the train station and the Township.

Sho takes his time returning home this evening. He has a lot on his mind; colonization, procurement of vital resources, Sacrifices. He wonders what would be considered his Sacrifice, and comes up with nothing, really. He has lived a “normal” life; with a father deeply involved in politics and a social darling of a mother, even the threat of eminent doom did not do much to limit his aspirations. He was born a couple of years before “donation” became mandatory, but he always knew he was being raised to lead a new colony. His family had been one of the first Alliance supporters and fought for inclusion for him before his life, his very heartbeat, was even confirmed. His younger sister and brother were just after-thoughts, just in case scenarios. He was never close to them, but knowing that his compliance and leadership had bought their safety affirmed his choices.

As he walked, he ended up alongside a canal that fed water to the nearby ocean. He leaned against the rail, looking down at the seagulls gathering in the near-dusk. He wasn’t sure what to do next; should he go ahead and talk to his pilot? Let him know how sympathetic he was? But he had so many other items on his agenda; meetings with the lead Hands, discussions with the Scientists about the appropriate amount of fuel and the expected travel time… how close they were to leaving.

How many more evenings would he have on Earth? What would happen to the people he left behind? He knew that entire Earth annihilation was inevitable, but with another 15 years before the end was expected, would they make it to Luyten’s Star before Earth’s end? Would they ever know the fate of the Yashio or the Pikanchi, the two other ships also making their way to other stars? Maybe a miracle would happen and the neutron star would be neutralized or change course…

Full of such thoughts, he wound his way home, up the elevator, to his soft bed. He drifted to sleep full of plans for the future, for the changes that the new planet would have in store, and his place in that world.

CHAPTER THREE

“I got two letters from you
Last words I threw away
Your love was written so true
And now I can’t speak your name”
“I Hope You Suffer” – AFI

Nino wakes up and immediately counts the days. It is day three; day three of being alone. Day three of being himself. Day three of climbing into a lifeless machine and missing the soul of the one who should be beside him. Day three of being one who should be two.

He climbs out off of his cot slowly, each foot hitting the floor with a leaden thump. It takes an enormous force of will to pull his body up to follow, to stumble into the shower, alone. He pours into the living room, taking care not to touch, terrified to disturb a memory, to shake any ghosts into wakefulness.

After being admonished by Nagase yesterday, he knew he could not return to training without sustenance. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t want to eat anything. He just wanted to end. But, orders were orders, and so time to grab a protein pack and call it a meal, right? He is halfway to the refrigerator, not even bothering to open his eyes all the way, when a bit of white on the otherwise dark table catches his attention.

He comes to a full stop, not quite able to draw a full breath. He must have stood there, staring, full of hope and hate and burning, living, terrible pain. He closes his eyes tightly, squeezing and feeling and hurting as new (old) tears wear a fresh (engrained) path down his cheeks. He takes a step forward and almost falls into the table in his eagerness to snatch up the envelope, to turn it over in his hands as he traces the characters of his name, written in three day old ink on the crisp paper. Carefully, reverently, he opens the flap and eases a single page free, unfolding the missive with shaking hands. He reminds himself to breathe again as his eyes land on the last words of Ohno Satoshi.

Kazu,
I’m sorry.
I can be the grace, but I can’t be the mind. I can be the soul, but I do not have the instincts. We need your hands, we need your reflexes, we need you more than we ever needed me. They need you. Protect them with all that we are.
I love you.
Goodbye.

The paper wrinkles in his fist as he falls to his knees, his head slamming into the table on his descent as his body is thoroughly racked with sobs. Moments (forever) pass as he keens his sorrow, these final words securing the fact in his mind that Ohno Satoshi, his lover, confidant, friend, partner, everything, is truly gone.

It is much, much, later before he gathers the pieces of his soul together enough to make it out the door. Fuck breakfast, it would never last on his stomach anyway. He doesn’t even stop to visit with others in the hangar as he goes, immediately, to the blue and orange base of Number 3104. He climbs methodically and purposefully, boots clunking in the relative silence of the hangar. For the second time, he climbs into the cockpit, located in the head of the Mech, and settles into his seat. With still-red eyes and shaking hands, he pulls the crumpled remains of the letter from his pocket, tear-stained and wrinkled, along with a small magnet shaped like a fish that he took from the front of the refrigerator at home. He uses the magnet to affix the letter within sight but out of the way, off of the edge of his display.

Squaring his shoulders, he flips the switch for the Mech’s auxiliary power and flicks through the displays, making sure to place the gauges and meters in the most efficient arrangement for his workflow. Oxygen meters, being important to survival, are close to center, as are missile detection units, radar, and visible external views; there is no such thing as a “blind spot” on a Mech. Once in a while, he’ll notice a gauge or two moving themselves, settling into a position he would not have chosen himself but realizing that it was a better spot than what he had planned. He smiles through tears, running his hand across the console, murmuring a quiet “thank you, Captain” before returning to his work.

Eventually, he is satisfied with the set-up of Captain and radios to the control booth, requesting access for a test flight and a training mission. Command patches him through on a direct, private line with Nagase, who questions his current emotional state. In response, Nino hangs up the call and fires up the boosters, preparing Captain for first flight without tacit approval from Command, and starts moving the Mech to the front of the hangar.

Nagase must have understood Nino loud and clear, as his mission details flash across the console and are neatly placed in a readable location by Captain. Nino parsed through the instructions quickly; it was just a grab and return mission from the next port over. He is sure the cargo train that was originally scheduled for this route is halfway there and the engineer is cursing him and Captain, but he knows he just doesn’t care as they clear the hangar and set out into the blue sky.

The custom steering mechanics make it feel as if someone is holding his hands as he eases them back, guiding the Mech higher and higher up into the sky. For the first time, they breach the atmosphere and Nino can’t help the yell that escapes his lungs as the curve of the Earth spreads to the distance and the sky turns inky black. With a twist of his wrist, the Mech spins through its ascent, causing a dizzy array of stars so much brighter in the distance (but perhaps that’s because of the haze of tears).

Two hours later and they are halfway to the moon, thrusters not even engaged. Nino is putting Captain through his paces with an ease that he wishes he could just attribute to his years of training. Captain moves almost at the exact second that he thinks the action, nothing like the cumbersome training mechs that were piled up outside of the hangar (and not rated to leave atmosphere). Captain is armed with a beam scythe, and he easily slices through several old satellites and space debris.

Eventually, Nino realizes that they do need to return to Earth eventually and finish their mission. Now that he has a clear understanding of the controls and Captain’s response times and weapons systems, he knows that they are the most capable team in the skies. He does not want to waste valuable resources that they may need between Earth and Luyten’s Star. He turns Captain back towards Earth, and, “in order to test,” sets the thrusters to full and powers back. Although not official, Nino chuckles as they blow past the current speed record for return trips and holds his breath as they go together through the fire of re-entry, almost feeling like a phoenix reborn from its ashes as they emerge, together, markless on the other side.

It takes mere moments to scoop up their cargo and return it just outside the hangar. As he exits the cockpit, Nagase meets him at the hangar bay with a pair of lunchboxes and a frown. Nino pats Captain’s side as he leaps off the ladder and heads towards Nagase, finally feeling hungry for the first time in days.

Nagase hands him a lunch as he gets close and leads him up to his office. When they enter, Nino notices a third person already tucking into a sandwich, sitting at the desk like it’s a space he’s extremely comfortable in. Nino’s body stiffens as he recognizes the sloping shoulders, and irritation crosses his face as the man turns and he recognizes his features.

“You had me followed, Nagase?!” Nino is quick to rage, spinning to confront his superior, clenching the lunchbox in both hands as to not make a threatening gesture at his boss. He resembles an angry cat, all raised hackles and angry eyes threatening the most dire of revenges upon the fool human who has dared to tread against him.

“What? No! Ninomiya Kazunari, this is the captain of Hope in the Darkness, Captain Sakurai Sho. His father is Sakurai Mimura, one of the original backers of the Alliance and someone who has been planning to send you to your new home since before he was born. Captain, this is Ninomiya Kazunari, Pilot of Number 3104, the blue and orange Mech first in the hangar. Captain Sakurai, Ninomiya has repeatedly been proven first at all reflexology and stamina tests. I am proud to commend him as your point Pilot for the journey.”

Nagase nodded, his introductions complete, and took his lunch around to his chair, sitting down at the desk and beginning to eat while keeping his eyes volleying between the two men.
Nino’s eyes narrow at the man next to him. He knew, knew, that the gentleman before him did not belong at his sushi spot. The fact that he tried to tip Sanosuke-san, the sushi vendor, had underlined that fact. Nino was in no way ready, or willing, to face the man across from him. His loss of… his new relationship with Captain was too fresh, and this man. This man did not have to sacrifice to get what he wanted. He didn’t have to do anything but show up and state his name. And that...

Nino looked down at his lunch, no longer hungry. He crushed the plastic box between his hands, angry and impotent. His eyes dart to Nagase, who is not even pretending to eat anymore as he watches Nino’s reactions. Nino tosses his food onto the desk, throwing his body back into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at, first, his commanding officer, and then turning his ire on the other man in the room.

“So, tell me, Sir, what qualifications you have to command the Hope.”

Sho, aware of the current difficulty of the other man’s situation, chose to overlook the fact that Nino chose not to address him as most under his command would. Instead, he answered the question with the best answer that he could, knowing that it would never be “enough” in light of the Sacrifice.

“I was born, Pilot, 25 years ago. Since I was five years old, I have been attending meetings about when and what should be done about the approaching disaster. I have been trained in how to build a government from the roots up; how to mitigate disputes and appease both sides in a conflict. I know the basics of every single system that we will be taking with us, and I have also followed the careers of the people who will be going along with us - the experts in these fields. I know, Ninomiya Kazunari, that you prefer to go by “Nino.” I know the names of every single person on my passenger manifest, and I look forward to meeting and getting to know them beyond how much food they need to maintain biological integrity.”

“It’s true,” Sho continued, putting his chopsticks down and focusing intently on Nino, “I did not have to make a Sacrifice.”

At that final word, Nino’s patience with this shit was over. Brusquely, he stands up, refusing to acknowledge the other man in the room, turning to face Nagase and waving goodbye.

“Thanks for lunch,” he says, leaving the room without any other words. He’s halfway to the hangar before he realizes that his hands are clenched so tight that the half-moon crescents of his fingernails have dug into his palms and that he is bleeding steadily, the drops of blood leaving a macabre trail behind him.

He changes course, and instead of turning left to the hangar he takes a right and heads to the Science quarter. He pops into the door marked Aiba Masaki, not bothering to knock as he bursts in. The man behind the table startles, dropping his manga to the floor and curses as he bends down to retrieve it. He bonks his head against the table as he rises, and the sheer clumsiness startles Nino out of his red-visioned haze.

“Aiba-kun, I need gauze,” he says simply. He starts rummaging through the cabinets himself, leaving splotches of red behind as he goes between them. Aiba tsks through his teeth and comes around the table, taking Nino by the shoulders and guiding him to the small metal chair in the corner. He then grabs some disinfecting cloths and wipes down the cabinets, before reaching into the last one and grabbing the soft cotton pads he finds inside and some disinfectant spray.

He turns around and Nino un-clenches his fists, displaying his self-inflicted wounds to Aiba who clucks over them like a mother hen, wiping, then spraying, and finally applying gauze and wrapping the hands with bandages to keep them secure.

“Becky will have your hide,” Aiba says simply, lightly tapping Nino on the back of the head as he turns to wash his own hands in the nearby sink. He carefully places everything back into the cabinets and then heads over to the log book, carefully marking down Nino’s visit and the usage of supplies. It’s not a necessary procedure while they are still on Earth, but ever since Aiba and his wife and partner Becky have been assigned to the Hope, he makes sure that all visits with ship personnel are properly marked to build the medical history for his patients.

“Ah, you know she has a soft spot for me,” Nino says lightly, channeling his anger into the oh-so-important task of kicking at the cabinet rhythmically. At Aiba’s laugh, he feels a little more of his rage subside. Yes, there’s no way that their commanding officer, born with a golden spoon in his mouth and coddled every step of the way, would understand anything about the real world and his place in it. But, it’s not like he would have to spend much time with the buffoon anyway.

“You should join us for dinner,” Aiba’s voice is the normal that Nino needs right now, and before he can really think twice about it, he has agreed as Aiba types a quick message to Becky on his phone. He’s jealous of the gentle smile Aiba gives at the phone when he receives the quiet ding indicating her reply; he used to have that, he thinks. But, Aiba and Becky have been his friends, their friends, for so long…

He pushes himself up from the chair as Aiba shrugs off his lab coat, hanging it neatly beside the door before he opens it and ushers Nino through. Nino concentrates to make sure that his steps seem as light as he feels that they should, that the chatter that they share is simple and Aiba is excited and he keeps forcing himself to not think about his missing shadow. There are awkward silences, built after long affiliation to let a certain joke come out of a missing mouth; hastily laughed over and squashed along with Nino’s heart.

He can tell that Aiba’s not sure, not his usual confident self, and that makes his heart ping a little too. Aiba, a year ahead of them in training, was always a kind and generous older brother with a heart as wide as the sky, and knowing that he was doing his best to make sure that Nino was comfortable was killing him. There was nothing that was going to replace that hand in his, nothing that was going to replicate that droll one-liner at the most unexpected moment. The grace beside him was gone, locked inside a hangar; a shadow in contrasting colors, left behind.

It feels like forever has passed, but eventually they are walking up the steps to Aiba and Becky’s small apartment. They cross the threshold and Nino is instantly reminded that this was a full home; it felt like there was life. The Scientist Silo was slightly better kept than the Pilot’s, as it was actually a refurbished building from before the News, located closer to the heart of the Township. Plus, whereas Nino and Ohno had eschewed the idea of turning their space into something more liveable since they were going to be leaving it soon, Becky and Aiba had decided that their lives needed more color; where they had scrounged up the paint, Nino would never bother to find out, but it did make their apartment brighter, livelier.

Before he even realizes, his eyes are closed and he’s lost in memory. Helping the energetic pair paint; the splash of blue on Ohno’s cheek, the soft smile that stayed there even after Nino gently wiped it away. Illicit birthday celebrations, gathered around a tiny cake baked with applesauce instead of the rationed sugar, whisper-singing to make sure they weren’t reported, Ohno’s hand in his and his beautiful voice singing directly into his heart.

Nino puts out a hand to catch himself as he almost falls against the wall, and his eyes blink open slowly to see a worried Aiba and Becky filling his vision. He hurries to console them, without thinking mentioning that he hadn’t really eaten since… and that sends Aiba into a flurry, dashing into the kitchen and starting to chop vegetables frantically.

Becky simply… holds him. She reaches out her arms and pulls him in, and he feels the dam holding back his tears that he had been desperately clinging to shatter under the weight of her gentle affection. She leads him to the overstuffed couch, sitting down next to him and providing a shoulder as he sobs into it, gently rubbing his back, becoming the human connection he had been desperate for during the past 72 hours.

Nino’s wails turn into whimpers, descending into quiet whuffs as Aiba enters the living room carrying a large pot that he carefully lowers onto the waiting trivet on the coffee table. He leaves but returns momentarily, as Nino accepts a handful of tissues from Becky and works on cleaning up the mess he has created of his face. Aiba settles on Nino’s other side, making sure to press against him so that Nino can feel his warmth as well. He hands Nino two bowls, and Nino takes one and passes the other to Becky as he holds his steady for Aiba to spoon in some savory beef stew.

As Becky takes the bowl from his hand, Aiba fills them in turn with the thick mixture of beef, potatoes, carrots, and broth. Nino pulls his bowl close to his face and just breathes in the smell of warm comfort food. His stomach audibly growls and he exhales, before grabbing his spoon and carefully beginning to ladle it into his mouth.

After the first spoonful hits his stomach, his body feels like it is going to rapidly remove the food from his innards, and he places the bowl down on the coffee table and gives the sensation a moment or two to pass. He listens to the conversation pingpong between Becky and Aiba; each talking about their days. Aiba is a human health Scientist, and he talks about some of the odd things he has encountered through the day and ends with a verbal recreation of Nino’s appearance in his office that afternoon. Becky chides him softly, and Nino’s soul feels like it has healed a little bit as she turns the conversation to her day in animal Science. The two on either side of him giggle about the similarities and differences between people and “lesser” animals and Nino returns to his food, leaning forward and spooning in a bit more. After he successfully gets about half the bowl into himself, the ravenous beast of his hunger wakes up and he inhales the rest of the serving. He gets up and heads into the kitchen, helping himself to another bowl - but this one primarily consisting of warm beef broth. He notices the freshly baked bread resting on the counter and grabs himself some as he returns to the couch, dipping in the bread until it becomes soggy with flavor, snarfing it all down and feeling satisfactorily full for the first time in a very long while.

When Nino finishes, hunger finally satiated, Aiba hops off the couch and collects the threesome’s bowls, heading into the kitchen and clanging around a bit while cleaning up. Becky picks up the TV remote and clicks through the channels, eventually finding a program on raising sheep with the warmest wool. She pats her lap in invitation, and Nino happily obliges, swinging his feet up onto the couch and laying his head in her lap. Aiba returns and lifts up Nino’s legs, flopping back down on his other side but pulling Nino’s legs across his lap like he’s a safety bar on a carnival ride. Nino’s relaxes as he thinks of how good Becky’s fingernails feel, gently scratching his head and behind his ears. He drifts off to sleep, lightly woken a bit later by the soft murmur of voices and the feeling of a blanket being laid over him. After that, his sleep is sound and sure, dreamless and restful.

CHAPTER FOUR

“When they kill the lights
You’ll remain my conductor
And if they didn’t drain your life
I’ll become your conductor
Don’t cut the connection”
“The Conductor” – AFI

Sho couldn’t remember a day when he had ever felt nervous. He knew what nervousness was; per Dr. Aiba, it was the cause for his sleeplessness, restlessness; his heart palpitations and inability to stay calm; the stiffness of his very muscles. But he had never felt it before.

But then again, he had never left his planet for good, either.

Standing on the catwalk, eyeing the door to the Hope, he wasn’t quite sure he measured up to the task ahead of him. Of course, he had only been preparing for this his entire life, but he had failed in so many ways. He had failed last week, with his last ditch effort to get more people on board before they launched. He had failed in reconciliation of donated children (now adults) and their parents before the general send-off. He had failed in keeping the Alliance from tossing in a couple of “bonus” children, orphans, really, just to keep things feeling “normal,” they said.

He supposed he couldn’t make too much of a difference there; the Alliance was full of old people, really, who just wanted their plan to succeed. There hadn’t been much vision other than at the very beginning, and most of those visionaries had died out in the riots that followed. Sho’s father was one of the only ones who survived and…

Here he was, coming up to say goodbye.

Sho’s hand was shaking as he reached out to clasp that of his father’s. Although, due to the stress and schedule of his work, they had never been close - this was still his father, the person for whom he could contribute the bulk majority of his successes. His father is the one, after all, who had chosen to father him in order to train him effectively for captaining the Hope. And, his father had named the Hope, planning to fill it with the spirit of a species who, without the 3,000 on board, would become extinct. The two other ships, Yashio and Pikanchi, were back-up dreams - leaving Earth in the next couple of years to find their own future. The modern day Noah’s Ark was also home to a wide array of animals that would help keep the human population alive and well, with several DNA samples for enlargement of the herds through cloning when they did finally arrive on Aozora.

Sho’s father ended up pulling him into a one-armed hug, then stood with his arm around Sho’s shoulders and tugged him around to face the camera. Sho’s face automatically smiled, white teeth glinting in the afternoon sunlight, as cameras attached to drones buzzed around getting the historical photo.

Eventually, Mimura was expected to address the crowd, but Sho did not want to hear. He chose the moment that Mimura stepped up to the mic to slink through the door into the ship. As he walked, the walls seemed to grow closer to him, his walk became unsteady, his heartbeat racing and breathing labored. He stopped for a moment, leaning against the nearest wall to see if he could catch his bearings, but that seemed to make it worse.

He felt along the wall, opening the first latch he found and stumbling inside. Luckily, it was nothing more than a glorified broom closet, and he was able to sink to the floor without being discovered by a passing crewmember or passenger. He held his knees close to his chest, eyes squeezed tight as he pulled a shaky breath in, holding it for a five-count until he breathed out. It took several minutes until his breathing stabilized. He forced himself back up, pulling the epaulets at his shoulders back into position and straightening his uniform jacket, cursing the wrinkles he had probably added to the back and to his slacks as he gave himself just one more moment before heading back into the hallway on shaky legs.

He headed towards the bridge, accustoming himself to the clank of his boots on the metal floor as he made his way through the galley. He settled into the captain’s chair thankfully, giving a nod of acknowledgement to his crew, and scrolling through readouts and weather information to take his mind off of his still-racing heart. They had a very specific window in which they had to launch in order to use the earth’s rotation to assist their trajectory, and the large blinking red numbers counting down to lift-off did nothing to soothe Sho’s overwrought nerves.

***

“Tomorrow cannot be like this, and even though it’s such a simple world
Tomorrow cannot be like this, tomorrow they will take a stand
We’ll leave no heart unbroken”
“17 Crimes” – AFI

About a mile away from the Hope, Nino and Captain were getting prepared for their own departure without the added benefit of fanfare. Nino had spent the last six months crashing at Aiba and Becky’s place, becoming a common fixture on their couch, and it was singularly odd to be by himself again. Well, only a little alone, he told himself as he smiled at Captain. He had come to realize how much of Ohno Satoshi was left inside the Mech; especially at how Captain could technically move of his own accord, with or without Nino at the controls. They worked hard to keep that part a secret; this was one of those things that Nagase didn’t need to know before they left.

That hadn’t kept Nino from leaving a message in his commander’s locker that morning, however; confident that the secret would not be discovered until well after Captain and the Hope were in hyperspace. Although Nino was very much aware that Captain was not the same as Ohno Satoshi, just the fact that his partner was there in some capacity relieved some extent of Nino’s numbing grief and guilt. Ohno’s Sacrifice was the closest they had to true mech sentience, however, and Nino knew that it was possible that the other Pilots might run into a situation where they would need to fully be more than just them. Although, part of him knew that what had created this miracle in Captain had more to do with the bond Nino and Ohno had, more than a simple scientific process.

Nino finished the final buffing of the outer walls of Captain’s hull before climbing up the rungs and buckling himself into the pilot seat. Although they had practiced the idea for the maneuver a million times over, today would be the first day that they would actually dock into the Hope briefly before achieving hyperspace. Although Captain could jump, himself, it made more sense to conserve energy and use Hope’s larger hyperdrive when able.

Nino’s stomach clenched a little uncomfortably at the idea of going into hyperspace. Although the idea was well researched, due to lack of resources there had been no test hyperflights. It would take the crew about four days to reach the first hyperzone; during that time Nino and Captain would perfect their own maneuvers multiple times in deep space. The journey itself was uncomplicated… on paper. However, once they entered hyperspace and came out near Luyten’s Star, it was possible that any amount of time between six months to six hundred years could have possibly passed on Earth.

Not for the first time, Nino was glad that he and Captain had somewhere to dock during that first foray into the unknown. Although Nino felt confident that they were going to make history, becoming the first group of interstellar colonists and leading Earth’s humans to their new home, it was still terribly frightening. Captain, sensing the tight grip of his fingers around the steering, begins wordlessly crooning through the speakers. Taking that as his encouragement, Nino’s fingers start flipping control levers and Captain begins his exit of the hangar, achieving flight and angling to the left, heading towards the silhouette of Hope in the near distance.

Nino heard Sho’s voice come through the intercom, requesting that he bring Number 3104 around to the Hope for a photo shoot. Nino grumbled, but called back a “yes, Sir” before guiding Captain around. He had already received word via Nagase that Aiba and Becky have successfully made it on board, and so he is just antsy to leave. This is his first time beside Hope, and he’s amazed at how little it makes even Captain seem. He’s on level with the view from the bridge, and the people scurrying along on ground level seem to be as tiny as sugar ants. He chuckles a bit, wondering if Sho’s planning has properly accounted for all of the possible insect-shaped stowaways.

He sees the drones from the news crew and, as he is feeling charitable, he poses right next to the letters, as big as Captain, spelling out Hope in the Darkness along the starboard side of the ship. He’s happy that the mirrored tint across Captain’s eyes, where his pilot seat is located, will be enough to keep them from getting an actual picture of him; he was never one to seek the spotlight, but he feels Captain deserves it. They are the Pilot, after all.

Eventually the drones buzz away, and Sho’s voice once again fills the cockpit.

“Pilot, are you ready to launch?” Sho’s voice queries. Nino notices a bit of a hesitation in the voice, but files the information away for later. There will be plenty of time to investigate, if he even bothers.

“Yes, Sir,” he responds, emphasizing the “sir” as he powers Captain’s thrusters and leaves lower Earth orbit behind. As soon as he clears atmosphere, he removes himself from launch trajectory and pulls open a window with a satellite feed from the Earth news stations. He watches, enamored, as the thousands of people that had just been finishing loading the giant ship take off in shuttles to exit the area. They head towards the outskirts of the Township, where the rest of the citizens have gathered within the protected zone. They did not anticipate anything other than normal launch, but just in case they lose the Hope, all residents had been evacuated to the outer zone.

Shortly, Nino is caught up in the drama of the riots happening right outside the secure facilities of Township; so many people, so many weapons. Through the obviously censored news he received through the Alliance, that they all received, he would have thought that everyone outside the Township would be celebratory, but that does not seem to be the case. He holds his breath as a truck plows through the crowd, breaking down the fence as many others pour in behind it, racing as fast as they can towards the Hope.

“Sir, do you see this?” Nino’s voice crackles into Sho’s earpiece, the distraction that pulls him away from the telescreen where his entire bridge is staring, entranced as they watch desperate people put forth their last efforts for escape, for freedom, for hope.

“All personnel to stations, we launch in five seconds,” Sho’s voice comes out stronger than he anticipates, but he was born for this moment and they need to go. He hears the final echo of his voice through the near-silent hallways. Although his heart is being ripped to shreds watching the reckless abandon flooding in like a tsunami, he knows that his place is in getting his 3,000 people safely away.

“Launch in five, four,” his second-in-command begins the countdown, uniformed officers rushing to buckle in; others too far from their assigned stations taking cover near furniture they can hang on to.

“Three, two,” the ground camera farthest out, abandoned in place by a fleeing news crew member, goes live as wheels and hundreds of feet move past it; the sheer pounding on the ground causing it to vibrate.

“Launch,” Sho calls, and braces himself as he feels the main engine engage. Within seconds, they are a hundred feet from the Earth, launching upward at an angle that will put them directly in orbit. The unsecured passengers scream almost in unison as the abrupt change has them sliding throughout the bridge, and Sho can only imagine those that did not specialize in Space Operations throughout the ship tumbling around. He can only hope that his doctors were more prepared and will be spared injury in order to help those most affected by the sudden change in launch time.
Momentarily, they stabilize slightly as the boosters are jettisoned away. Sho takes a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, to hope that their trajectory wasn’t altered too much, that the boosters still land safely in the ocean and that there are no more additional casualties to their abrupt flight from Earth. The next forty minutes go by in a blur, as his command is filled with minute adjustments and the final thrust that flings them out of orbit. They are now in the correct direction to bypass the rest of the solar system, and without any interference they now have four days to adjust to outer space before achieving hyperspace.

Sho unbuckles his belt, set to help his crew and check on the status of his passengers. He flags down his second and asks Toma to make sure that he is updated as to casualties on his return. He then takes himself down to the on-board clinic, opening the door to see a flurry of activity. Dr. Aiba has just re-positioned a dislocated shoulder, and the painful scream the young man emits makes Sho add that to his mental list of “injuries not to get for funsies.”

Dr. Aiba sees Sho come in, and a giant grin crosses his face. “Finally, a nurse!” he says, and, to Sho’s amazement, the next thing he knows he’s got on a pair of gloves and is carefully patting a minor wound clear of blood from a young lady Hand. She smiles at him gratefully as he places a bandage, and he can’t help but return it with a grin.

However, the next voice he hears has him stiffening all over again.

“Yo, so, Sir, when do we get to dock?”

Sho’s retort is sharp, underlining the near-desperate edge of panic he had thought he had conquered just moments before.

“Whenever, Pilot. We have other, more important, manners to deal with.”

Sho shuts off the comm, avoiding the sharp gaze of Dr. Aiba and nodding unseeing at the Hand he had just finished patching up. He glanced around the rest of the ship’s clinic, not seeing anybody that needed his urgent or immediate attention. He stops and kneels beside a toddler, hovering right inside the entrance with a small purple teddy bear, sucking his thumb with a tiny red bump on his forehead.

“Are you okay,” he quietly asks, and apparently that is enough for the young boy to break into sobs. Sho scoops him up, shushing him and bouncing him on one hip. He maneuvers through the small crowd of people seeking treatment, murmuring calm phrases to the kid the whole way. When he makes it over by Dr. Aiba, he sets the boy on the nearest treatment table, murmuring a quick word and letting him know he’ll be right back, and then soundly whacks the good doctor on his shoulder to get his attention.

“The kid,” he says, pointing over his own shoulder to the child, who looks even smaller sitting on the treatment bed, tears streaming down his face, red bump on the side of his head.

“Ah, Kazamapon,” Dr. Aiba walks over to the boy, and Sho’s eyebrows arch up on his forehead; he’s not amazed that Dr. Aiba would know the name of each of his passengers, but more that he would bother with an add-on like the boy. Sho thinks back to his passenger manifest, and recalls that there are roughly a dozen children under five with them on the voyage. Most of them had been marked as members of the family groups that had birthed them; be it a collection of Hands or a Science pair. But this Kazama is new to him; he must be one of the last minute orphans tacked on for PR. He thinks back to the riots he witnessed via camera, and thinks about how such a small token might have just fanned the fires of the masses.

A small murmur pulls Sho back, and he watches with fascination as Aiba gingerly pats the lump on the child’s forehead and then looks into Kazama’s eyes with a small penlight. He nods in satisfaction and calmly lets the small one know that he’s going to be ok, but he’s going to go ahead and get him a bandage just in case.

Aiba stops next to Sho on his way to the ship’s copious medical cabinets, speaking softly so as not to be overheard.

“He’s one of the ‘testers,’ Captain. He turned four last week; parents unknown. He was bundled on straight from the Alliance nursery, who even knows where he was during launch. He’s a little bruised up, but seems otherwise fine. What do you want me to do with him?”

Sho shakes his head in frustration; the “canaries,” the Alliance’s name for these family-less children, were placed on each of the ships in order for their more sensitive systems to be valuable input for the doctors and crew as to the feasibility of life on any particular planet - regardless of the PR purpose for the cameras. The idea was that they were to be shuttled to surfaces first, and left alone while being observed for a few hours. The Alliance, albeit cruel, were thorough. Sho’s stomach lurched a little as he gazed at the child, and he made a last minute decision that would change his world.

“I am going to take him with me,” Sho said simply, and scooped the boy back up into his arms. Kazama leaned into him, his warm arms looping around Sho’s neck with a level of trust Sho did not feel was deserved. Sho rested his own chin on top of the boy’s head as they headed toward the bridge.

The Captain was not immune to the surprised glances that were cast his way as he entered the Bridge with a strange child on his hips, after having abandoned his post for hours. Some of the looks, however, were filled with a new sense of respect, and he felt his stomach calm for the first time in days. He had made the right choice, he thought as he settled into his chair.

“Report?” His voice came out a little gruff, but Toma jumped right up and came to provide his report.

“Few casualties. A couple of broken arms, three broken ribs, one of the Hands broke a wrist that Aiba-kun said will take a couple of weeks to heal. Nothing too major.”

“Thank you, Toma.” Sho’s heartbeat slowed a little more as he reviewed the charts and data in front of him over the top of the head resting against his shoulder, the heartbeat thumping solidly against his, reminding his own the speed at which it should pump.

Eventually, he feels under control enough that he gives Toma the command to go ahead and open up the docking bay. He opens the comm channel to his Pilot, and his brusque command to dock is met with an abrupt “Sir,” as he watches the small blip on the radar screen, flying just a bit ahead of them, return to join with the Hope.

He shifts Kazama as he stands up, who has fallen asleep and is numbing the entirety of his right shoulder and arm. Extending his left arm, he indicates the ending of his shift and turning over command to Toma as he ponders what to do with the child. His earlier actions have obviously joined their fates together, and just holding the young boy is helping get his conflicting emotions under control. He is still captaining the Hope, but it doesn’t feel like it’s 3,000 unknown people he’s just trying to get to safety just because that is what he needs to do. He thinks of the young Hand he met in Dr. Aiba’s office earlier, Dr. Aiba and his sweet wife, and the scared boy in his arms.

He strolls down the corridor to his quarters slowly, quietly humming to Kazama when the boy stirs in his arms. He makes it into his space, crossing through his living/conference room with the view of Mars passing by the port window. He takes a moment to just stare in awe, watching the red planet pass them by and promising himself that the stories of the god of war that the ancient greeks and romans had preserved with life and limb would not be forgotten on Aozora, along with so many other cultural artifacts of Earth.

Sho uses his shoulder to push open the door to his private quarters, and he carefully settled Kazama into the bed, settling the blanket around the boy and waiting a moment as Kazama stretched and then curled on to his side, tucking his thumb into his mouth and snuggling deeper into Sho’s pillow. Sho smiles softly, backing out of the room and flicking off the light but leaving the door open slightly as he reaches for his comm.

Dr. Aiba appears shortly thereafter, bringing along a giant bag of food from the staples pantry and a beer he hands over to Sho before hustling into the kitchen. Sho has never cooked for himself, let alone for a toddler, and he watches as Aiba makes quick work of boiling a pot of water and tossing in a few handfuls of oatmeal and lowers the heat on the stove to a simmer. He pulls out an apple and chops it up to small chunks, waiting until the last bit of boil has dissipated before tossing in with the oatmeal.

Aiba abandons the stove and starts tossing things into the small fridge. On the ship, most people were expected to eat in the large dining/cafeteria spaces scattered throughout the ship, but each sleeping area did have a small cooking and storage area for those times when folks just didn’t feel like dealing with other people. Aiba smirked a little, thinking of how empty those dining halls would be if the ship was only populated by the people he considered friends.

Rising from putting in the last container of apple juice, Aiba meets Sho’s eye and grins wider.

“So, Dad, what’s the plan?”

Sho shrugged a little, obviously uncomfortable with the title, and cast his eye towards the bedroom door. The only bedroom door. As Captain, he had his choice of living quarters and had chosen to live separated a bit from the rest of the ship’s population. He was not used to the smallness of his space yet, and when he had toured the ship the rooms had felt a little claustrophobic. Glancing past Aiba’s form, his eyes narrowed a bit as he thought of the blueprints and what lay beyond the adjacent wall.

“Where are the engineers at at this hour? How dangerous and noisy do you think it would be to take out that wall?” Sho knew the space next to his was un-inhabited by design, and that it actually held a suite of two bedrooms, fully outfitted in case another family in the ship expanded. Sho hadn’t chosen it originally because it was closer to the center of the ship and would not provide the port to the stars that his own outer-ring room had, and he had clinged to it desperately to fight his claustrophobia.

“I think most of them are asleep, but I don’t think taking out that wall would be dangerous at all, even though the noise would get a bit intense. Better to do it during the normal day cycle, right? Besides, what are you going to do with the little bit while you’re at the helm?”

Sho was surprised that he himself had not thought of that; he was usually so organized and forward thinking. However, it’s not like becoming a father and launching a ship within twenty minutes of each other was something that anybody ever planned, so he cut himself some slack.

“I think I was just thinking that I would take him on the bridge with me, but that wouldn’t really be very effective. Any ideas?”

“My wife and I love kids, and not getting to spend any time with them on this journey was already getting Becky down. And she and I get paged when we have ‘customers,’ so to speak, so there’s no reason he can’t hang out with us during the day.”

Relieved, Sho thanked Aiba wholeheartedly and then escorted him out the door. Aiba left directions about the oatmeal on the stove, reminding him to turn it down to low and waking Kazama up in the next little bit to get at least some of it in him before he sleeps through the night. Aiba confirms Sho’s shift start the next morning, and lets him know that he and Becky will be awake and available as a parting message as he wanders down the hallway back towards his own set of rooms.

Sho returns to the kitchen, setting the oatmeal to keep warm and turning on the TV. Obviously, they are too far away to get the latest episodes of the newest dramas straight from Earth, but the Communications Silo had brought the entire television discography and had already set up a revolving TV schedule, with a channel dedicated to each of the 150 nations represented on board. Sho laughed a little to himself as he thinks about there being a hundred and fifty channels, but still nothing to watch, as he settles on an old American game show where little red goblin things ran across the screen snatching money from players and saying silly things. Keeping the volume down, he cracked open the beer Aiba had brought him and relaxes into the couch, decompressing.

It had been a crazy day; launch itself should have been momentous enough, but the entire idea of the riots on Earth as they departed had really wedged a hole in his heart. He spent a few minutes worrying about the things he could do nothing about; did the crews of the Yashio and Pikanchi make it? Was it a restless night or had the peacekeepers stepped in on time? What was the cost to the Alliance?

Knowing that he would never get the answers to those questions only made his heartbeat race. He felt the darkness start closing in on his peripheral vision, his breath coming in quick gasps. Just as he started concentrating on controlling his breathing, the door between the two rooms slowly pulled open. Kazama did not leave the doorway, hovering just beyond the circle of light the door created, but Sho could feel the eyes watching him closely.

“Are you hungry, Kazama-kun?” Sho smiled softly as the young boy nodded, coming into the light of the living area and shifting nervously back and forth on his feet. Sho padded over to the kitchen, turning off the stove and spooning the oatmeal concoction into a bowl, sprinkling on some brown sugar and gesturing for Kazama to take a seat at the small table attached to the wall, chairs bolted to the floor. Sho smiled, thinking for the first time how such normal things took on very different personas on the spacecraft.

Grabbing another bowl for himself, Sho places the bowl in front of the young boy, taking the seat opposite as Kazama scoops up some oatmeal on his spoon and hovers with it above the bowl. Sho’s nose gets a whiff and he realizes how delicious the oatmeal smells. Grabbing his own spoon, he quickly dips into his bowl and brings the spoon into his mouth, depositing it on his tongue and immediately realizing his mistake.

“Ah! Thot, thot!” he yells as he jumps up and runs back into the small kitchen, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and emptying the contents of his mouth into the paper. He hears a small gasp from the table and smiles through the pain, turning around ready to comfort Kazama. Before he gets all the way around, however, small arms grasp him around the waist, diverting their course until they’re in front of the sink.

“You can’t burn your tongue! Where is a glass, I can’t reach,” Kazama says, pointing to the cold water tap and waiting impatiently as Sho reaches up and pulls a plastic cup from its secure location above the sink. He runs some cold water into the cup, and even though he feels it’s a little too much for a mildly scorched tongue, he diligently rinses out his mouth under Kazama’s watchful eye. They return to the table, and it is like Sho’s injury burst the dam in front of Kazama’s tongue as he quickly endures a veritable tongue-lashing by the child.

“You are supposed to blow on it first! My brother always said, if you can see the steam coming from the plate or bowl, you have to do this!” Kazama quickly demonstrates the process, picking up his abandoned spoonful and blowing on it - huff, huff, puff.

“Then, you wait, one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, and then you try it. You don’t dump the whole thing in your mouth! That’s how you get hurt.”

Sho is entirely charmed by the lambasting he is receiving. He nods along to the new instructions, carefully reclaiming his spoon and repeating Kazama’s motions, letting the boy count him to “three one thousand” before placing the spoon back into his mouth, avoiding the singed taste buds and realizing that the oatmeal was the best meal he had eaten since he last visited Sanosuke by the pilot Silos more than six months ago. However, as the flavors danced across his tongue, Sho’s brain caught on to something else Kazama had said.

“You have a brother? I do, too! But he’s younger than me.” Sho’s casual disclosure belied the clench around his heart at the thought of Shu, soon departing Earth on the Pikanchi, and Mai, his younger sister, also heading towards the unknown on the Yashio. He took a moment to hope deeply for a safe journey for them, before returning to the youngster, carefully spooning oatmeal into his mouth with a faraway look in his eyes. Sho, immediately, thought the worst and rushed to head off the expected tears.

“I can’t see him anymore, either. Do you think you might want to be my little brother? I know it won’t be quite the same, but at least that way we have each other.”

Kazama’s eyes rose slowly to meet his, and Sho’s heart wrenched as the little boy wiped away the beginning of tears and forced a smile.

“I don’t need another brother. But I’ve never had a Papa, and I don’t think you’ve been one, either. Would you be my Papa?”

It was Sho’s turn to have tears pool at his own eyes, but the smile adorning his face was beatific as he opened his arms in answer. Kazama threw himself into them, and Sho’s heart filled all the way to the brim as the little boy squeezed him as tightly as he could.

After that, they finished their dinner, the conversation bright and merry, peppered through with “Papas” and “Kazama-kuns.” After dinner, Sho pulled out a spare toothbrush and monitored as Kazama industriously brushed his teeth and prepared for bed. Sho tucked Kazama back into his own bed after having him change into one of Sho’s shirts, much too large on his tiny frame. Sho clicked off the light and headed out the door.

“Good night, Papa,” whispered behind him, almost too low to hear.

Sho wakes up in the morning on the couch, a small warm body cuddled under his chin, resting on his chest. Even with the added weight, his heart feels lighter than it ever has.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I will return again,
I am part of you
I am…”
“The Face Beneath the Waves” - AFI

“Nobody else, can take me higher
Nobody else…”
“Tiptoe” - Imagine Dragons

The stress Nino surrounded himself with after docking Captain into the bay of the Hope lifted away immediately after they entered hyperspace. His steps were lighter; his slouch more deliberate and sly as he haunted the halls of the Hope, startling crew members with a smirk and entertaining the few children he found around the ship while their parents were busy with their assigned duties.

As Pilot, Nino had few duties shipside. He spent a lot of time with Captain, making sure he remained clear of space dust and shiny enough to reflect the lights in the cargo bay. He bounced around from quarter to quarter in the ship, subtly checking on the crew and making sure everyone had what they needed; having grown up with just the bare essentials, he was always concerned that someone would fall between the cracks and receive less.

Speaking of people to worry about, Nino’s mind skipped over to the young child he had met at Aiba’s last week. The boy, named Kazama and demanding to be referred to as “Kazama-sama” by Nino alone, had caught his interest immediately. He questioned Aiba about it, and he had responded that he was looking after the boy as a favor for Sho. Count on that bastard to demand someone else to handle his responsibilities.

Speaking of, Nino bounced down the last few rungs of Captain’s ladder and headed deeper into the ship, plot set to Aiba and Becky’s quarters. He had a few things he wanted to talk to them about; Kazama-kun, for one, and something the kid kept saying. Kazama kept referring to an older brother; ship records, nor Aiba’s for that matter, mention nothing about Kazama having a sibling, and this makes Nino question. Was the brother a figment of Kazama’s imagination?

Nino makes his way up into the part of the ship housing Aiba and Becky, barely knocking before busting his way in. He hears heated voices from the small kitchen and makes his way through the living room, tripping over some of Kazama’s small tinker toys along the way. A visibly upset Becky pushes past him, mumbling something about Kazama and a nap before entering the small bedroom alongside the living area.

Eyebrows raised, Nino takes in the sight of Aiba with hunched shoulders and a stern expression. However, not one to involve himself in the obviously personal affair of his friends, he decides a change of subject is what Aiba needs most.

“How’s work? Any amazing stories of really stupid injuries?” Nino leans against a counter, taking on a nonchalant pose that Aiba absentmindedly mirrors.

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Aiba says, pressing his fingers against his temples briefly, then raking his fingers back and pulling his hair away from his eyes.

Nino’s eyes narrow briefly; Aiba never wants to talk to him about anything work related. He usually has to wheedle it out of him until he is so frustrating the other man breaks and spills all of the stories; knowing that they would never go further than Nino’s ears often gives Aiba a secure sounding board when some patients were just being odd.

“There’s some food missing from the supplies. Not a lot, and nothing particularly delicious, so I know it’s not just workers sneaking extra goodies for themselves or friends. And,” his voice lowers a bit, even though there’s no one else around to hear. “The amount of mayonnaise that has gone missing is absolutely astronomical.”

Aiba pauses a second, waiting to make sure that Nino got the pun, before continuing.

“Becky told me the same thing was happening with some of the animal fodder; nothing like hay, but some carrots, some apples, just a few here and there.”

“Do you suspect that there’s rats?” Nino’s voice betrays his nervousness; he has very ancient memories of the feeling of small feet in the dark. Life before he was paired with Ohno was dismal.

“I’m not sure,” Aiba says, surprising him a bit. “Let’s take a walk down to the hold to see if we can uncover the mystery.”

Nino nods and the two men leave the quarters, heading deeper into the ship. The food was stored separate from Captain, who was kept with most of the other big machinery that could be belted down when they turned off gravity. Nino had never actually been to this part of the ship, and his curiosity was peaked as they wandered through garishly lit hallways and through the industrial innards of the galley.

As they walk, they talk in passing of everything imaginable; when they can expect to exit hyperspace (another week and a half); what they can expect when they land (lots of work). They circled back around to their relative homelives, and when Nino inquired about the conversation he had interrupted earlier, Aiba just shook his head sadly and shrugged.

“But, listen,” Aiba’s subject change was not unexpected, and Nino tilted his head as their boots stomped along the corridors, the sound echoing around corners and sometimes sounding like there was an entire platoon. “Kazama-pon, he’s very insistent that his big brother is here.”

“His big brother? You mean his imaginary friend.”

Aiba’s head shake was emphatic. “Nope, it is always his big brother. And it’s always in current tense. ‘My big brother tells the best bedtime stories. My big brother gives the best horsey rides.’ It’s always current, and it’s always something different.”

Nino hummed in agreement, thinking back to the several hours he had spent with the little boy and the stories that he had told. The stories of his big brother were missing the little tidbits of grief that seeped through when he talked about playing outside, or with some of his friends that had not made it onto the Hope.

“So? What are you thinking?”

In answer, Aiba swipes his hand along the bio-lock beside the hold door and it glides open. As they enter, Nino can smell the Earth… dirt still clinging to the root vegetables, the smell of freshly cut hay for the stock animals, all of it made Nino think of the warm Earth sun beating on his shoulder blades. He fights a sudden wave of useless homesickness and continues to follow Aiba’s shoulders, bobbing through the barrels.

After a few minutes, the two make eye contact and then pretend to leave the hold, chatting about Nino’s last space walk with Captain while walking towards the door, shutting off the light, then loudly closing the door. They hunker down silently, and Nino was able to count to 300 before they heard the first rustle of movement.

Nino placed a staying hand on Aiba’s shoulder, counting slowly again up to 300 before standing and flicking on the light. They aren’t surprised by what they see.

Dirty, with smudged eyes and unruly hair, a young boy around the age of 14 stands to the side of the hold; one hand tucking an apple into the pouch he has made of his shirt, the other defiantly popping a small piece of cheese into his mouth, making eye contact with Aiba but also obviously savoring the flavor.

Aiba waits until the boy swallows the cheese, and then quietly asks the question to which they already know the answer. “You are Kazama-pon’s brother?”

The boy does not break eye contact but nods once, briefly.

“I know you have to report me so go ahead and take me in. I should have known the little brat wouldn’t have been able to keep his mouth shut.”

Nino immediately bristles at the tone from the teenager, but Aiba puts a calming hand on his shoulder and then takes a couple small steps forward.

“I’m not going to report you.”

Nino’s head whips around; he hadn’t wanted to report him either, but if the ship’s captain discovers the boy…

Nino’s smirk grows wide as he contemplates the merits of hiding the teen from Sakurai; Kazama’s brother had made his own Sacrifices to get here, evidenced by his all-too-thin frame and the dirt collected on his person. At that moment, he knows he is committed fully to Aiba’s plan, regardless of the direction it might take.

~~~

“Draw a line that cannot be crossed
Make a circle out of salt
Knowing it was all your fault”
“Rewind” - AFI

It is much later on the clock by the time they are able to sneak the boy (“Jun,” he had stated simply when Aiba had asked) up to Aiba and Becky’s quarters. They couldn’t keep him there for long, but they should be able to keep him long enough to get him cleaned up. The sound of the shower is running, and Becky is rifling through Aiba’s clothes looking for something that would fit him. It galls Nino to admit it, but Jun is much closer to Aiba’s height than Nino’s, even with the many years Nino has on him.

“A ha!” Becky’s victorious outcry catches Nino’s attention, and his heart feels light as he listens to Aiba whine that this shirt is the very last Lotte t-shirt in existence in the universe and why is she giving it away. Nino can’t help the chortles that escape him as Becky easily keeps the shirt away from Aiba, eventually swatting him with it and telling him to find Jun some sweatpants or something Aiba I swear to God I have no idea how you snuck all these clothes on board. Eventually Aiba finds a pair of jeans that Nino knows for a fact he outgrew six years ago, grudgingly knocking on the bathroom door and muttering that clothes are available before slinking back towards the couch.

Much like their apartment on Earth, the Masaki quarters on the Hope are somehow warm and welcoming, even though it has the exact same furniture allotment as Nino’s own apartment. Nino beats Aiba to the couch, and the two men settle down, proud of their accomplishments of the evening.

When Jun eventually emerges from the bathroom, it is like seeing a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis. Nino is amazed at the change a little bit of hot water has wrought in the teenager. The cocky attitude is still there, but the layers of dirt are gone; Jun obviously helped himself to some of Aiba’s hair products, and even his cuticles are in good order.

Nino’s confusion only grows as Jun settles in on the couch as well, graciously accepting a bowl of Aiba’s famous beef stew from Becky, and tells them his life story. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, his father was as influential as his mother was not; Kazama-kun (said with soft fondness, this time) was the beloved legitimate son of his father and his father’s wife of 27 years.

Nino could hear Jun’s bitterness as he recounts a childhood of relative splendor, overshadowed by impending doom. He had always known that Kazama was destined to a ship; although born too late to be an official member of the ship’s crew, their father had worked out a deal for Kazama to be Hope’s canary. Jun stated that their fathers knew how soft-hearted Sakurai was, and that he would never use a child as a guinea pig.

Nino’s estimation of Sakurai shifted in that moment, hearing him spoken of as a known softie. Nino hears Jun recount Sakurai’s impassioned pleas to bring more people on to the Hope, made to the Alliance in the months preceding their departure. He listens to the teen sing Sakurai’s praises for a little while more, until his brain short circuits him into flying loop de loops out of boredom.

The conversation eventually changes direction to the always imminent future. Jun insists that he cannot stay with the Masakis, and would prefer to stay in the hold. However, they all know that is a very short term solution that will not work forever, and Nino hits on an idea.

“Hey, what about Captain?”

The suggestion shocks Aiba and Becky into silence, but Jun’s ignorance shows. “Captain? What about Sakurai? It’s not like we can just tell him.”

Aiba quickly breaks down who and what Captain is, and Jun’s excitement grows. “An actual Mech? Wow!”

It takes a lot for Jun to curb his enthusiasm, but the men launch into a discussion of tactics designed to essentially sober Jun up from his excitement. Using Nino’s access to the ship’s routines, they break down when Jun will be able to leave Captain and procure food. Nino will bring food to him when he’s able, but it will be hard to squeeze into the same pilot compartment with Jun; even though both are slim, the compartment is built to only hold a single slim pilot type of Nino’s height. Jun will be responsible for returning to the food hold via the various ship’s innards he had used previously to wander around the ship; Aiba and Nino would endeavor to make it as safe for him as possible.

Finally, it became time for Nino to sneak Jun into Captain. Jun says he will meet them there, and disappears into a hatch in the wall; Nino stalks the familiar pathway between the Masaki’s quarters and Captain’s berth, waving at individual crew members as he passes. Finally, he slips into the hold and his breath catches in his throat.

“Hey, Toma, what’s up?” he asks, hoping his tone is much more casual than his heart. In front of him, he sees that idiot Toma, holding Jun with his arms behind his back and casually using a ziptie to hold the teen’s arms together.

“Oh, hey, Nino,” Toma’s voice echoes loudly in the Hold, and Nino’s glad for their current distance. It gives him just a little bit of time to pull himself together and act casual as Toma and his captive reach him at the doorway. Nino is impressed, as Jun’s eyes gaze over him nonchalantly and then skip to the side, making no indication of their acquaintance.

“I found this guy here, which is funny because I would’ve guessed we’d find him closer to the food. Captain Sakurai mentioned that some of our food stores were decreasing, and so we increased our patrol patterns and hey, it apparently worked.”

Nino is accompanying the two silently as they head towards the Bridge. He and Aiba had been so sure that nobody else would have noticed the missing food already…

When the corridor split, Nino waved goodbye to Toma and headed away towards his own quarters, his mind running circles in his head. He was unsure what he could do, but his mind just kept playing worst-case scenarios; Jun being jettisoned into hyperspace. Jun being executed upon their arrival planetside. Jun being offered up as an additional Sacrifice…

Nino threw himself on to the bed in his quarters, rolling up into a tight ball and rocking slightly. The scenarios kept running through his head, and it was hours before he caught any sleep; his dreams were full of Ohno, being ripped out to space in the hangar.

~~~~

“But I threw you the obvious just to see
If there’s more behind the eyes of a fallen angel
Eyes of a tragedy
Here I am expecting just a little bit too much
From the wounded but I see through it all and see you”
“3 Libras” - A Perfect Circle

Sho held his head in his hands, cursing under his breath every single decision that brought him to this point; his decisions, those of his father, those of his grandparents, every single fool person in his lineage going back until he was cursing the first bacteria to crawl out of Earth’s primordial seas.

He groaned as he thought back to the events on the Bridge earlier. Toma, pulling that teenager in front of him, who immediately stood straight and tall, holding himself upright and looking Sho directly in the eyes. Confronting him and his command; immediately pulling his conflicting ideals and his mission parameters into direct focus.

Surprised and unsure, Sho had Toma lock the teenager into one of the few holding cells in the brig. He just needed some time to think, some time to figure out what to do that would not cause his ship’s inhabitants to rise up in mutiny but still secure his command.

Sho shoves himself up from the bed he had inhabited for the last two hours. There was no use just laying there; there was no way he was going to fall asleep, and nothing could be accomplished. Pulling on the nearest clothes to him, he checked in briefly on the sleeping Kazama before heading into the hallway.

As his door slides shut behind him, he sets his course for the hold. He figures he might as well try to figure out where the young man had been staying, to make sure there weren’t any more uninvited passengers before he decides what he’s going to do about it. When he arrives, he rustles through boxes of potatoes and rice, wheat seeds and radishes (really, radishes; nobody even likes them! Why did they have to take them off-planet?).

As he slides aside a container holding beans, he finds a hatch on the wall, unscrewed and ajar. He pulls the hatch down, and using his communicator tablet shines light into the space as he crawls in, slowly so as not to startle anyone inside terribly. He breathes a sigh of relief as he finds nothing to indicate that there was more than one occupant; there’s an old tattered blanket, a small battery-powered lantern, some tattered paperback mystery novels, and a cherished cookbook - tomato splattered and worn.

Sho gathers these few belongings, and his heart clenches as a small, purple teddy bear falls out of the blanket. He remembers that first fateful meeting with the small boy he considers his son, and wonders why he hadn’t noticed the bear missing before now. His heart starts beating a stuttering rhythm as he recalls countless conversations with Kazama-kun, about his older brother. About a couple of conversations about a “Jun” and a “Grape” that he had thought were memories older than the past two weeks.

He’s crawling out of the small hatch, arms full of the last belongings of the teen, when he’s startled by the main overhead lights switching on.

“What are you doing here, Nino?” Sho asks, eyes narrowing a bit as he starts unscrambling the pieces of the past twelve hours. The teen being apprehended in the cargo bay; Nino’s timely appearance but absence from the Bridge; Aiba’s inability to look him in the eye when dropping Kazama off.

Nino, obviously startled, is true to form as he reverts to immediate, cocky, rage.

“Me? You’re the one who has important things to do, like killing an innocent boy just because he was trying to escape certain doom!”

“Wait, what?” Sho’s simple question has opened a dam, and Nino’s rage floods over him.

“Why are you holding him captive? Sure, he didn’t have to go through a Sacrifice to be here, but neither did you, Mr. High And Mighty Ship Command! You sit there ordering the rest of us around, and you’re going to decide the fate of that young boy just like you and your father and the rest of the Alliance decided that millions of people were unworthy of a chance at life, that Scientists had to hope that they calculated correctly or watch their most loved ones suffer and die horrifically, that Pilots needed to be Sacrificed! It wasn’t worth it, this stupid future isn’t worth it, and I swear if you harm one hair on that boy’s head, I will slice the Hope in half.”

The sudden silence after Nino’s tirade leaves Sho a bit stunned. Nino is halfway to the door before Sho finds his voice, the weight of his recent discovery adding to the emotion-filled rasp.

“Wait, Nino, I would never, ever, hurt him.”

Nino scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Like you and your family have never hurt anybody. You’re just looking for an excuse to get one more unwanted off your ship.”

“It’s not like you’re still on Earth, Pilot. Yes, you lost your friend, and there is nothing that can return him to you. But everyone on this ship, they really love you. You have a connection to them that I can never have; and you get to live your life any way you choose. That is privilege.” Sho’s counter was a surprise, and Nino’s anger ramps to new heights.

“You think I wanted this? It was never supposed to be me, here. It was always supposed to be him. I don’t give a shit about this, any of it, but I will not let his Sacrifice be in vain. At least I know that nobody has ever died at my hands!”

“I have never hurt anyone. It might be true that my family has, my father can be rather unscrupulous. I never wanted anyone to die! I fought, and fought,” as the weight of all the human lives that he was unable to save settles firmly on his shoulders, again, Sho’s knees give out and he sinks to the floor, clutching Grape like a lifeline as he grits out “I only ever became Captain of the Hope because my father told me it was the only way my brother and sister would have a place on Yashio and Pikanchi.”

Confused and flustered by the unusually human appearance of Sakurai Sho, Nino slams his hand down to open the door of the hold, using his fingertip’s trace against the corridor wall to keep him upright as he stumbles to the cargo bay. With numb fingers, he climbs into the Pilot compartment, slamming it closed behind him.

Sho watches him go, fingers clenching on Grape and the tattered blanket, and heads to the Bridge. He knows what he has to do, how to realize his dream of the future.

~~~

“So I bare my skin
And I count my sins
And I take it in
And I’m bleeding out
I’m bleeding out for you (for you)”
“Bleeding Out” - Imagine Dragons

Nino sprawls in his chair, legs strewn over the armrest, head leaning on the other. His rage has subsided, and he is drained like he had run a training marathon back on Earth rather than just walked over to Captain from the hold.

With his left hand, he drums along Captain’s dash, smiling as the buttons light up with the touch of his fingers.

“He’s not so bad, Captain.”

The dash lights up in a rainbow, and Nino can feel the question.

“I’m not ready. Sure, he’s handled running the ship okay. He’s done some really great things with Kazama-sama, and it feels like he’ll take care of Jun-pon, now, too.”

There are some beeps, some whistles, and a soothing hum. Nino shakes his head, insistent. Suddenly the chair tips forward, sprawling Nino into the small space on the floor and startling a laugh out of him.

“Fine, fine, you’re right, he does have a nice ass.” Even though he’s alone, Nino feels his cheeks heat up at his admission. “Idiot.”

Nino’s mind flips through images; of that stupid man handing money to the sushi vendor; the indignation on his face when Nino walked out of Nagase’s office; his calm voice over the comm during the riots of launch; the day Nino was hanging out at Aiba’s and Sho came to pick up Kazama-kun, dropping to his knees to enfold the boy in a hug that turned into a carry, ignoring all the adults in the room in order to greet the boy warmly first. He especially lingers on Sho’s earnest face during their altercation in the hold; even under duress, the man was eloquent and clearly able to defend himself.

“I guess he’s alright, overall,” Nino admits again, shyly, and then laughs in delight as the dash lights up red and sultry jazz music starts playing out of the speakers.

Uninhibited, relaxed for the first time, Nino leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the display. “But I will always love you most.”

The triumphant bugling of trumpets blends with Nino’s laugh as he descends the rungs of the Mech, heart light, full of hope.

It’s time to join the future.

~~~

“When the light turns green I’ll find a way to disappear
Blend in with the crowd and fade away
I’ll change my name and do my best to grow a beard
You won’t find me hiding in the light of day
But you can stop me anytime, with the palm of your hand in mine.”
“Stoplight” - Sam Hart

Sho attempts to assume a non-chalant posture in the captain’s chair on the Bridge, but the nervousness in his stomach underlies his every thought. From years of diligent research, from watching the greats in action, he knows that sitting up straight and holding his chin in just the right way will do wonders for his perceived command.

Toma brings out the boy, helping him around to stand in front of Sho. Sho sees Nino slide into the back of the crowd, and amazingly feels calm wash over him. Nino has seen him at one of his lowest moments, and called him out on his perceived injustice, and that the other man is here to see Sho set it right again makes it feel like the Hope has been flying slightly off-axis and has now corrected itself.

He wonders why that is, but his attention is diverted when Toma clears his throat and pulls him back into the present.

Addressing the teen, Sho adopts a tone that indicates he means business.

“I am Captain Sakurai Sho, Commander of Hope in the Darkness. Please state your name and country of origin, for the record.”

“Matsumoto Jun, son of Matsumoto Tamago and Shinada Keshiki. I am from Earth, national heritage Japan, and I have one younger half brother, Matsumoto Kazama.”

Even though Sho’s guess had been proven right, it still punched him in the stomach to know the extent to which Kazama’s brother had risked himself to join him on the ship. However, he could not take the time right now to fully internalize that information.

“And how did you get onboard the Hope?”

“My father, Captain, knows your father. He was able to procure placement for Kazama, but because I am illegitimate, your father refused to provide the same for me. However, my mother used her influence with the cultural guild, and they kindly helped me get in by sacrificing some of their personal effects.”

Sho’s mind flashed back to the extremely friendly sushi vendor, Sanosuke, back in the Township; how proud the man was to be bringing Japan’s cultural heritage on to the ship. He nods at Jun, and then asks his final question.

“What were your plans?”

Jun hesitates for a minute, chewing on his lower lip, and it is at this moment that Sho remembers that the boy is essentially a child. He had such amazing courage for being only 14 years of age, and Sho was glad that his plan would take some of the immense responsibility for his little brother’s welfare off of him.

“I was hoping to remain undetected until we arrived planetside, Sir. I had procured some assistance to get me off of the ship, and at that point, I would help my brother as much as I could while trying to escape detection. I was hoping that after terraforming, I would be able to integrate myself in with some Hands and remain undetected, Sir.”

Sho is impressed by the youngster’s tactical plan. Chances are high that, if he had not had to pull from the Hope’s stores, and if Kazama had been able to stop talking about him for longer than four days, that he would have been successful with his plan.

“I see no other option. Matsumoto Jun, for the crime of keeping yourself alive, you are sentenced to protecting and helping your little brother for the rest of your life.”

As shocked gasps ricocheted through the Bridge, Sho’s eyes caught Nino’s as the other man smirked and winked at him. Sho’s heart skipped a beat for a completely different reason, noticing the sudden sparkle in Nino’s eyes that had not been there before their argument in the hold.

“As your Captain, I want to state a new mission for Hope in the Darkness. Before we arrive on Aozora, I want us to practice being a beacon for each other. Finding out what we can all do to help, to make dreaming and living for others the core of our civilization. We have the destiny, the spirit, and the hope of billions of people riding with us; I hereby announce that our original settlement will be named Beacon, and we will always remember this moment, to head towards the light, and to be the Hope in the Darkness.”

“It is with heavy heart that I left Earth, knowing that there were only 3,000 lives on this ship that were saved. But we can turn the heartbeats of 3,000 into the love of 3,000,000.”

Sho’s speech was met with a thunderstorm of applause, and he quickly gave Toma the command to set Jun free. The teen immediately ran through the crowd, pushing laughing people out of the way in his quest to his little brother, being held in Becky’s arms. She happily handed the toddler over, and the love between the two was obvious as they were reunited, Jun swinging Kazama up over his head and the boy screaming in glee.

Sho wasn’t surprised to hear Nino’s voice, but was a bit taken aback by how easy it was to pick out his voice from the din that surrounded them, even though he was speaking quietly.

“You did good,” Nino said, and Sho was shocked to turn his head and see how close Nino was standing to him, barely an inch separating their arms. “I think it will turn out alright, don’t you?”

Sho threw his head back and laughed; from the other side of the Bridge, Aiba’s eyes lit up when he saw how closely Nino followed the movement. Aiba elbowed Becky and pointed towards the men, and Becky’s grin was contagious as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

After ten minutes of merriment and glee, the Bridge cleared out. Everybody was excited, but it’s not like there was food or other libations to keep people’s interest, and the main party moved towards the galley. Aiba, in mid-sentence to Nino, was suddenly pulled down to Becky and she whispered feverishly into his ear. At first he protested, but the noises were replaced with a sly smile and he looped his arm around her shoulders, the two of them heading away and back towards their quarters, leaving just Sho, Nino, and the two boys still on the Bridge.

The festive atmosphere from earlier had slowly left the room as the foursome were left alone. Jun, hand still holding Kazama’s, looked nervously between Sho and the door.

“Uh, I don’t know where to go, now that I’m not hiding in the hold…” Jun stated simply, the implication that Kazama was not welcome back with Sho now that Jun was around heavy in his tone.

“Oh, Jun-kun, I’ll show you the way home,” Kazama said, tugging on Jun’s hand and trying to lead him to the door. Jun resisted, dropping to a squat and looking into Kazama’s eyes to speak with him. The posture was very similar to what Nino had seen Sho do the week before, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Kazama-chan, we can’t. Brother doesn’t live there, and now that I’m here, it’s not nice to assume that the Captain will still be responsible for you. I’m sure there are lots of other things he needs to do, and we will just get in his way.”

Sho reached out and placed his hand on Jun’s shoulder.

“Actually, Jun-kun, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Being the captain, I was able to get my quarters revamped when Kazama came to stay with me. I just wanted to let you know, there’s plenty of room there for you both.”

Kazama’s small voice piped up at this point.

“Jun-kun’s silly. I told Papa all about you, and my room’s so big! You can stay with me.”

Nino reached out and pulled Sho’s hand away from Jun’s shoulder.

“Jun, go ahead and see if Kazama can get you home.”

The two boys headed towards the exit, the shell-shocked expression on Jun’s face showing that he never expected to actually be alive at this point, let alone accepted into the captain’s own family.
Sho watched with a warm expression as the doors opened and closed, leaving him alone with Nino on the Bridge. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he realized that Nino was still holding the hand that had been on Jun’s shoulder, and Nino was threading his fingers between his.

“Listen,” Nino’s quiet voice seems to echo on the Bridge, but Sho is sure it is actually within his own mind. “Occasionally, I might be wrong. I don’t admit it when it happens, but it does. And I’m saying that, when I immediately pegged you as selfish and egotistical and all about you, that could possibly have been one of those times.”

“But I’ve been watching, because that’s what I do, and my opinion now is that you are nurturing, that you are selfless, and that you care about others so much more than you care about yourself. So, how about giving a try at caring about me?”

Sho doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to squeeze the hand in his and let the question hang in the silence. There was a lot to consider; was Nino’s heart truly free? He knew the rumors about Partners. Was this just an offer made spur of the moment? Would it survive the trials of colonizing the new planet?

Sho thinks back, on a life of agreeing to the plans of others, compromising for the sake of others, doing all that he could, alone, to get to just this one singular moment. And it would be nice, to have this teasing voice, slim body, and amazing soul next to him for at least part of the ride ahead. He remembers back to the sparkling eyes, the laughter he had witnessed with Aiba, the curiosity that had just provided him with a second son.

His response is glib, not quite giving away the depth of how his emotions were changing. “Only if you never throw a lunchbox at me again.”

Nino’s head thrown back in a laugh is more than Sho’s heart can really take, and he uses their entwined hands to tug him the scant distance forward needed to bring the shorter man into reach. Sho enfolds Nino into his arms and holds him as his laughter turns into hiccuping tears.

Eventually, Sho wipes away the tears. Eventually, they find another place to sit and talk, pulling out their emotions and laying themselves bare; in more ways than one. Eventually Nino abandons his own quarters and moves in with Sho and “the boys.” Eventually, Nino takes Sho to meet Captain, really meet him.

And eventually they land on Aozora. But that is a story for another day.

Comments

[reveetoile]

Dear Anon. I really don’t know what to say. This story was heart wrenching. That Ohno would sacrifice himself for Nino broke my heart. I can understand that he would do that but the pain Nino must have felt was like a fist to my stomach. I had a hard time swallowing my tears down. Luckily he had his friends and I’m happy that Sho was like that throughout the story. I also like that Ohno was still there somehow even if it makes me hurt that he isn’t alive anymore. Not really at least. Thank you so much for sharing this. It was wonderful

[pikamiya]

The Sacrifice is the worst; for pilots most of all. :( I had to take a break after Ohno walked out the door to pull myself back together and look at the final picture again. xD