There are few things Hinata hates more than waking up to the blaring of sirens. He jolts upright, knocking aside sheets with his half-asleep fumbling, smacking the warm lump next to him accidentally. Said lump growls a warning and shoves a pillow over his head.

"Wha' the fuck...Hina...wha' time's it?" Kageyama grumbles once he realizes that the alarm won't be stopping any time soon.

Hinata forces his blurry eyes to clear enough to make sense of their bedside clock. "4:03 in the morning," he croaks, disbelief evident. "Don't those kaiju have something better to do...?"

"I swear if this is a drill..." Kageyama warns, sitting up as well and rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He shakes his head once, and then he's alert, hopping out of their crudely made bed, a combination of their two doubles pushed together. Hinata watches him get dressed with little interest, flopping back down onto the mattress. Three days later and nothing had really changed.

He's hit in the face by his own clothing and the order to get changed you moron, we have a planet to save. The thought of piloting makes him liven up enough to pull on his uniform and jacket, but not enough to wander into the too-bright fluorescent light of their kitchen. Kageyama darts back in a few minutes later, snorting at Hinata's uncharacteristic lifelessness and fluffed hair. Hinata looks up when he's offered an only-slightly-burned piece of toast, grabbing it in his teeth and chewing contentedly.

Kageyama rolls his eyes. "Hopeless," he mutters, but there's an almost-smile on his face. "Come on, we better hurry."

Hinata manages to get out of bed and trudge into the bustling hallway, but there's no rush to his movements. Impatient and antsy at their slow reaction time, even in the dead of night, Kageyama gestures for Hinata to hop on his back. Surprised, Hinata swallows the last of his toast and obliges, latching onto Kageyama like a leech and burying his face in Kageyama's neck.

"I don't like losing to you, you know. Not even in waking up early," he complains. Kageyama hoists him a little higher up and rolls his eyes.

"We're a team, stupid—it's my job to look after you. 'S not a competition." Hinata smiles despite himself, warm affection sweeping over the bond. Nothing had really changed—right, but it was nice not to hide this happiness and love. His tiny okay resonates between them, too content for someone about to engage a kaiju in battle.

They run into Tsukishima and Yamaguchi on the way to the Shatterdome, as they tended to do more and more often. Hinata is often prone to wondering if he and Kageyama don't have a kind of mental connection with the other young team. Ever since that night they fell asleep together at the beach, the four had grown strangely close—running into each other in the oddest places, holding civil conversations, even managing to strategize like Daichi and Koushi had been training them to do without tearing each other's throats out. That didn't mean Tsukishima got any more pleasant to be around, though.

"Ew," he says, wrinkling his nose at the piggybacking. "Don't let me be seen with you." Kageyama returns the curl of his lip with a dark glare of his own, looking hilarious and unintimidating. Yamaguchi and Hinata make eye contact and snort in laughter, much to the annoyance of their partners.

"You wanna be dropped on your ass?" Kageyama hisses at Hinata, still shaking with breathless laughter.

"Oh come on, Tsukki," Yamaguchi grins. "They're kind of cute, aren't they?"

Kageyama and Hinata go pink and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. "You're delusional, Tadashi," he mutters. "Let's just go." He stalks off, lengthening his stride so that Yamaguchi has to trot to keep up, but not before he spins around and winks conspiratorially at the other flank team.

"That means he agrees, you know!"

Kageyama huffs, trying to make it seem like the whole situation didn't matter, stiffly following them into the Shatterdome. Hinata headbutts him, gentle and adoring. They were pretty cute, all things considered, even if Kageyama was embarrassed. Hinata is dumped unceremoniously off of Kageyama's back when they arrive at the small elevator leading up to their Drivesuit Room. He knocks their shoulders together and grins at Kageyama until he feels exasperated fondness rise from his partner.

When they slide into their drivesuits, the bond is already humming, warm and flexible between them. Hinata hops in place, trying to shake the last dregs of tiredness from his person. He has good feeling about this drop—there's no mental disturbance between him and Kageyama, Yamaguchi is chipper enough to put Tsukishima in what qualifies as a good mood for him, and they will get the day off for sure once they take down the kaiju. To his left, Kageyama makes some final nitpicky adjustments to his suit and then they're out the door and onto the catwalk leading to the Conn-Pod and their Jaeger.

Saeko wastes no time in updating the three teams on the status of the kaiju's size (Category Four, codename 'Stinger') and its apparent offensive capabilities (lean and swift body type but weak defense; specialized weapons include a dagger-like tail tip). It's not heading for land very quickly despite its speed abilities, mostly hovering just off the edge of the continental shelf.

Tch, Daichi grumbles across the com. I hate the fast ones. And a Cat. Four, too, this is gonna be rough.

Strike is one of the fastest Jaegers ever commissioned, Tsukishima reminds him. We've yet to come across a kaiju we couldn't outpace.

Looks like we're going to be using a strategy focusing on Gold Strike as our main offensive weapon, then, Koushi sighs. AA can run point for you, but since Omega hasn't clashed with many of the bigger kaiju, I want them to stay out of this one's striking range unless we need them to execute a plan as the situation changes.

Roger, Kageyama and Hinata reply. Hinata makes a face, knowing Koushi can't see him. Kageyama catches this out of the corner of his eye and shoves at Hinata.

"It's for the best—Suga-san is right, we've only ever fought one Category Four and it wasn't directly either. You saw how big it was," he reasons with Hinata. "Just go with the flow until we get better."

"Yeah, yeah," Hinata rolls his eyes. "Let's just get out there and kick this kaiju's ass." The doors open from above and searchlights from the cargo helicopters flood the base with white light, their cables lowering to attach themselves to the massive metal golems slowly roaring to life. Saeko calls for the neural handshake, and then it's six humans and one entity seeing through three different sets of eyes as they're lifted from the base to the storm-tossed choppy waves of the ocean, a black and ominous abyss licking up at them.

(And in the K-Science bay, the kaiju's appearance has already wreaked havoc, judging from the paper scattered wildly across the floor and chalk and marker decorating the metal walls in incomprehensible equations, the work of a madman sealed in his cell.

Noya and Tanaka are floored, watching Asahi tear his side of the bay apart, the bags under his eyes so heavy they make him look skeletal. Judging from the coffee cups and energy shots lying around the room, the only thing keeping Asahi upright is his fanatical obsession with his math and a self-induced hormone imbalance. Noya steps in when he spies what very well could have been a needle with a shot of adrenaline concealed under a folder.

"Asahi!" Noya barks, sharp and angry with worry. "What the fuck are you doing? You're killing yourself!"

Asahi's quiet chatter to himself stops altogether, and when he turns to face Noya, his hand trembles from the jittery side effects of the drugs, brushing away a strand of hair. "The kaiju," he says, sounding broken. "There's only one kaiju...there should be two, it's the only explanation, where is the second..."

"There is no second kaiju, Asahi-san," Tanaka says, trying to be as placating as possible. "The sensors are fully functional; they would have definitely detected a life form as large as a second one. There's no input from any of the other bases either. It's really just the one."

"You don't understand," Asahi whispers, mournful. "I'm not wrong—I have checked the full extent of my math twenty-three times," he gestures wildly at the scribbles adorning the walls, "the reality doesn't match."

Tanaka shrugs. "Maybe this time it's just wrong—"

"Numbers never lie!" Asahi shouts, more distressed and angry than either of the two had ever heard him—not at them, but at himself and the situation at large. More softly, he adds: "People lie. Careless predictions and unsteady sciences lie. But numbers—those are absolute. You can always trust the numbers."

Tanaka and Noya exchange helpless glances. Noya steps forward, ducking his head a little. "Asahi? You haven't slept since that night, have you? Please...please come back to the room. There's nothing more you can do; you're only hurting yourself. We need you, so please, please look after yourself."

Asahi allows himself to be shown from the bay, casting one more weary glance back. "I was so certain..." he whispers. Tanaka and Noya's hearts beat quicker at that, anxiety and doubt nestling in their minds.)

On the battlefield, the kaiju launches itself out of the water and straight at Gold Strike, digging its claws into any chinks or connection in the Jaeger's armor and holding on, using its incredibly versatile and lethal tail to stab at Strike's legs, its back legs scrabbling at the lower half of Strike's torso. The grating sound of thick claws on tough metal screeches up to the Conn-Pod, making the pilots wince in pain while still trying to fight.

Strike requesting immediate assistance! Yamaguchi hollers across the com. Get us out of here!

Apocalypto Alpha surges to the rescue, wielding a two-handed blade that she cuts straight across the back of the kaiju, both dislodging it and making it spill great amounts of thick kaiju blue. Screeching, the kaiju falls back, only to have its underbelly and legs torn into by the heavy caliber rounds Tyrant Omega unloads from a fair distance. The behemoth crashes into the water, but not before its tail twists around Strike's legs and drags the Jaeger off balance, sending him tumbling into the water. There's a panicked yell from both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.

Hinata's nerves are wired and he's strung tight, Kageyama equally tense beside him. The kaiju is no longer in sight, but a confirmation from Mission Control asserts that the kaiju is still showing signs of life. Omega takes a few steps forward as Strike, bogged down by the weight of the water on top him and buffeted by the waves, rises dangerously slowly.

Stay back, Tyrant Omega! Koushi orders, his tone absolute. The newbies hold, but Hinata smacks the com in irritation.

Suga-san, with all due respect, Strike is completely vulnerable right now, if the kaiju were to—

We're standing guard for that very reason, Hinata. Hold. Daichi's tone matches Koushi's, leaving no room for argument. Hinata growls.

Kageyama bites his lip, uncertain. But with Strike down, who's going to protect you? He wonders aloud.

As if hearing Kageyama's words, the kaiju explodes from the water again, this time throwing itself far enough forward that it lands perched on top of AA's Conn-Pod, jaw wide and tearing at the thick walls of enforced glass, blocking Daichi and Koushi's view. Claws dig into AA's shoulders and the tail wraps down her arm, digging the claw where AA was struggling to keep a hold of her sword. Daichi and Koushi curl their hands into fists, sweat beading down their brows at the effort, determined not to lose their weapon. But even gritting their teeth and digging in, the kaiju twists its tail's talon, shattering the fingers of the Jaeger and sending the weapon to the bottom of the ocean. Daichi snarls aloud in frustration and the two force Apocalypto Alpha to stumble on, trying to knock the kaiju off, walking blind.

Zero visibility here, Koushi says. Strike, Omega—we need this thing off now.

Coming, Kageyama and Hinata say together, Omega dropping to all fours to run towards them.

Hey Omega, Tsukishima's voice breaks in. Fetch. Now standing upright, Gold Strike turns to face the kaiju, takes two steps forward, and blasts it with his plasma cannon, sending the kaiju sailing through the air.

Nice job, Gold Strike, Koushi says. But I think you clipped us in the process. There's a hole in our Conn-Pod the size of a golf cart. We can't go down now, or we'll be dead.

Take it easy, Apocalypto Alpha, Kageyama suggests. It's a bit insubordinate, but they can't afford to risk their main team's lives on a half-dead kaiju. We'll do clean-up.

Alright, Omega, Daichi huffs, amused.

The kaiju is swallowed by the water once more, but this time, Tyrant Omega won't be letting it go so easily. Kageyama and Hinata feel for Omega's consciousness, calling out the instincts built into the kaiju species as they make the final leap, following 'Stinger' down into the water. At the last second, the pilots feel the twitch of instinct in Omega's synthetic mind, translating and amplifying the feeling into a spasm of faux muscle that twists Omega's trajectory just enough that the Jaeger lands on one of the kaiju's back kegs, pinning it down and stopping it from escaping.

The beast, not expecting to be captured, rears out of the water, intent on freeing itself. Its turns to Omega, baring its teeth in a ferocious snarl before leaping at him. Kageyama and Hinata manage to dodge most of the kaiju's blows, only taking a few slight scratches and one deep gash from that lethal tail that leaves them dripping blue to match the kaiju. Omega doesn't stop with the attack, though, and with the kaiju's back to him, Omega gets the literal jump on it, pinning the body of the kaiju down by physically throwing his body across the kaiju's. Stinger thrashes wildly at the indignity, snapping its jaw and puncturing Omega's body multiple times with its tail.

A little help here? Kageyama growls, annoyed and gritting his teeth.

Hold it steady, we're here, Yamaguchi says, and true to his word, Gold Strike flanks them, the clip of the plasma cannon reloaded and ready to fire. On my mark, in three...two...

The second kaiju bursts through the surface at the same time Saeko's frantic shouting resonates across the com.

There's no time to assess its strengths and weaknesses. No time to devise a strategy to kill it, no time even to classify its category. No time to listen to Saeko's and the Marshal's rapid-fire instructions or allow the dread to sink to the pits of the pilots' stomachs. There is only time to kill and to defend, to push their bodies and minds to the breaking point.

It's no longer a battle—it's the struggle of three tired, weary animals thrown into a ring with only their instincts and their experience to help them survive against opponents they could hardly match.

Take the shot, Strike! Koushi's voice cries desperately before he's cut off with a grunt as the second kaiju—heavier than the first—rams Apocalypto Alpha.

Shit, Tsukishima hisses, but Yamaguchi yanks his focus back to their pinned kaiju, which has increased its desperate struggle with the appearance of its brother. With one final lash of its body, the kaiju scrapes free just enough to ram the horns on the back of its head into Omega's shoulder once, twice...

Holy shit, take the shot Strike! Hinata screams, watching the systems in their left arm go from functional to critically damaged in a heartbeat. Gold Strike fires, blowing a neat hole through the neck of the kaiju, but it's off just slightly and the kaiju keeps moving, escaping with another violent wriggle. They shoot once more, this time blasting its spinal cord and knocking it down and out for good. Just in case, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima drive a knife into its skull and split in down the middle.

Good and dead now, Hinata breathes a sigh of relief. AA, how're you two holding up? ...AA? The two Jaegers turn only for both sets of pilots to yell and rush to the aid of their point team.

In the short period of time that it took the flank teams to kill the first kaiju, Daichi and Koushi had found themselves utterly outclassed. The kaiju had thick, plate-like scales that couldn't be pierced with their second sword, and it fought at such a close range that Apocalypto Alpha didn't have time to switch to their cannon. They were barely defending each hit, but with the damage already inflicted from the first kaiju, they were struggling. The second kaiju seemed to know to attack the weak points, worsen what was already injured. Koushi's blood ran cold. Just like we did with the last few kaiju attacks. Next to him, Daichi's jaw clenches as he reads Koushi's thoughts.

They raise an arm to block the swipe of a too-massive paw, but the kaiju bats it away like the thousand ton arm is nothing, ripping out circuitry and hydraulics that hold AA together. In that one movement, the HUD shows critical failure in that arm and Daichi yells, broken and hurting like it's his arm being ripped apart. The kaiju headbutts them, sending the Jaeger stumbling back and denting the chest plates. Chest plate integrity compromised 34%... the display taunts them.

We're coming to your aid, Alpha, Tsukishima says. Hold on.

"...No," Daichi says, meeting Koushi's eyes. "You stay away from us, hear me?" Koushi's eyes flutter shut and he swallows thickly. There's a pause of confused silence.

...Daichi-san? Yamaguchi murmurs, soft with disbelief.

Daichi-san, Suga-san, you need assistance, that kaiju is going to attack any second! Hinata seconds.

The kaiju is circling Apocalypto Alpha, not even engaging her. The behavior is almost mocking. And then Kageyama sees it, clear as day—the monitor, the control room, the trembling fingers of the techs at their computers...

He's seen this before, now, hasn't he?

"Kageyama?" Hinata looks over at him in alarm when their whole connection shudders. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he hisses, just as Tsukishima growls at the main team, You can't mean to take down that kaiju all by yourselves.

You'll do as I order you to, Daichi commands across the com. And I'm giving you orders to not interfere.

("It's alright, we'll take this one," the too-familiar voice says. "Trust in us, okay? We won't let it reach the city." The kaiju is impossibly large, standing on two legs with tens of claws on its two club-like paws, breath easing from its mouth and nose in steam in the cold winter air. The Jaeger is so small, dwarfed by this giant, down one plasma cannon and his weapon of choice.

But what about you, Kageyama thinks, what about you and your co-pilot, your Jaeger, what about me—)

"Kageyama! Ack!" There's an edge of hysteria to Hinata's voice as the memory shifts, bleeding into his mind from where Kageyama fights to keep a lid on it. He's slipping, scrabbling for control but it's like sliding on ice and he can't—

It shudders free from the cage Kageyama had trapped it in, spreading its wings and consuming him whole. He slips from Hinata and Omega, spiraling in deeper and deeper into himself. He forces one rational thought to the surface, to Hinata: don't let Daichi...he's just like him...just like Hajime-san, don't let him...

Kageyama's grip on the Drift slips away, and Hinata is left to shoulder the weight of his mental load. He winces against the strain, trying to right the Jaeger, but his efforts are futile. Even with Tyrant Omega beginning to take on some of the weight himself, Hinata can't manage it, not without his co-pilot.

"Kageyama is chasing the rabbit," Hinata says into the com, eyes wide and frightened at the way Kageyama's body goes limp, eyes focused dead ahead and pulse rising, fixed on some distant image only he could see. Hinata bites his lip. "I repeat, we are out of commission, our Drift is fading."

Stay with him, Hinata, Saeko orders. Follow him in, you have to convince him it's a memory or he will get lost down there, do it now.

"B-but...the kaiju..." Hinata argues weakly, looking at the HUD, where the kaiju still circles, occasionally bashing into Apocalypto Alpha.

This is a direct order, Saeko commands, voice stern.

Gold Strike, protect Tyrant Omega until he comes back online, Koushi adds. Don't let anything happen to him. Leave the kaiju to us. It's the last thing he hears before he follows Kageyama's memory, allowing himself to get swept in the tidal wave of panicked thought.

-------------------

Kageyama is thirteen years old, and Oikawa Tooru is a veritable god.

He watches, expression blank but eyes intensely focused on the elder boy who tosses the volleyball up so lightly and naturally, like he was born to be one with the game he loves so much. Then Oikawa dashes into the approach, leaping and smashing the ball across the court, devastating the receiver. He lands lightly and primly, a satisfied grin on his face. Kageyama watches every minute stretch and pull of his muscles, every flicker in Oikawa's posture and movements, recording it in his mind, fingers already itching to get out there and play.

"Oi, Kusokawa, stop showing off already," a new voice interrupts, gruff and irritated. The owner is a smaller senpai with prickly black hair and the personality to match. He punches Oikawa hard in the arm, earning a squeal of pain from the captain.

"How mean, Iwa-chan! Someone needs to break in these newbies," he mutters the last part under his breath.

Kageyama blinks. This is an unexpected development. He examines the other player; his sharp, angry eyes and short temper contrasting with the surprisingly relaxed and open posture he held. Was this guy a friend or a foe? Kageyama tilts his head curiously. He would have to pay closer attention to this 'Iwa-chan' who could challenge the expertise of the team's setter.

He finds out later that this is the co-captain, Iwaizumi Hajime, as the other shows him how to jump for max height and blocking power, tone conversational and expression open.

Iwaizumi-san is not someone to be idolized. The girls and scouts don't flock to him; he has no flashy moves. He's the ace, but at the same time it's not impossible to block him, and not every spike is incredible. He's above average, but not the god that Oikawa is or the natural Kageyama is. And yet, Kageyama is drawn to him. He has an honest, helpful personality hidden under the layer of bristling fur. Where Oikawa rules supreme above his team during practice, Iwaizumi is down with the commoners, fixing a stance or tossing for a first-year, never above helping others.

Kageyama is curious about Iwaizumi, but he is not who Kageyama needs. Kageyama needs the power and the technique of the captain, needs his skill in order to improve, and he makes this need known. Oikawa looks at him, really looks at him the first time, assessing his teammate coolly. Only, in that moment, Kageyama feels the faint chill of knowing Oikawa is seeing not just who he is, but who he will become. And with that image in mind, Oikawa sticks his tongue out and scurries off.

However, Kageyama is nothing if not persistent. He pursues Oikawa during practice and outside of it, watching his moves when Oikawa pushes him away for the thousandth time until he is harshly glared at. His cause is simple: to get better. But Kageyama was dead wrong in thinking that Oikawa would take well to understanding that commitment and assist Kageyama in his pursuits.

When Oikawa swings at him, eyes flashing with a pain Kageyama had never known, he understands Oikawa fully as a person. Iwaizumi—that interesting person, again—saves Kageyama from the price of his persistence, he is too surprised to take Oikawa's aggression to heart. Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a sharp tongue-lashing and a head-butt for good measure before ushering Kageyama out of the gym and leaving their captain to die. Iwaizumi buys Kageyama milk—a brand he doesn't usually get—and tosses it to him. Kageyama blinks in surprise and Iwaizumi wordlessly gestures to the stairs where they sit down together, quiet for a long moment.

"Are you okay?" Iwaizumi asks, to start. Kageyama nods. Iwaizumi pauses.

"You know he's not what you need, right?" he asks hesitantly.

Kageyama nods again, chewing on his straw. "Oikawa-san isn't a genius. I saw it in his eyes, just then."

Iwaizumi exhales, relieved. "That's right. He's not a genius, and he hates those genius-type guys who can just stroll onto the court and own it without the amount of effort and pain he's put into his level of skill. In short, he hates you."

Kageyama isn't fazed. "I see that now. But I can still learn from him."

Iwaizumi scoffs. "Sure, if you want a fist to the face. Listen, if you want to become a setter whose skill rivals Oikawa's, it won't be much of a challenge. With your natural ability and feel for the game, it'd take no time for you to excel." Iwaizumi stands up. "But...you'll never beat him with skill alone."

Kageyama's brow furrows, and Iwaizumi grins at that. "If you want to beat Oikawa as a player, you're going to have to watch how he interacts with others. How he brings out the best in every player. He can make even the most apathetic stretch a little farther, jump a little higher, block a little harder. You might be individually superior, but you can't even begin to compare with Oikawa when he's leading us into battle."

Iwaizumi ruffles Kageyama's hair fondly. "You're a really good kid, Kageyama. I wish I had the skill to push you to greater heights—you'd certainly fare better with my personality than that prissy baby over there. He can't stand competition."

"Iwaizumi-san does help me," Kageyama insists. "Not as a setter...but in other aspects."

"Oh yeah?" Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. "In any case, think about what I said, okay?" And Kageyama tries, he really does.

Kageyama is sixteen years old and Oikawa Tooru has turned his life upside down.

"You...quit?" Kageyama repeats, not believing his own words. Oikawa laughs.

"Don't sound so surprised, Tobio-chan—there're better uses of my talents," he says matter-of-factly, almost smug.

Kageyama takes the bait. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it turns out I've got the makings of a Ranger. You know, for the Jaeger Program?" Kageyama's breath catches. "I'm a cadet right now, but Iwa-chan and I go in for out final sync tests in a few days, and who knows? Maybe we'll get our own Jaeger."

Kageyama reels. "You're going to war?" he whispers. "You're going to fight kaiju?"

Oikawa raises an elegant eyebrow, like Iwaizumi had, that night. "In case you haven't noticed, there's something bigger than volleyball going on in the world. Someone has to be the protector." His tone of voice is serious, like it gets before the match starts, like it was when he showed Kageyama his personal demons.

He straightens up. "So. How's Shiratorizawa treating you? Still the genius wonder boy?"

"I'm the starter," Kageyama replies. "Starting my second year, actually."

"How do you like it?" Oikawa asks, genuinely curious, it seems. They aren't rivals anymore, not really—Kageyama's not actually sure what their relation is anymore.

"It's boring," he confesses quietly. "No exciting tosses, no challenges—we overpower everyone in our path with little effort, thanks to Ushijima-san."

"Sounds to me like little Tobio-chan is getting jaded with victory!" Oikawa laughs gleefully. "What a thing to be upset over nowadays!" Leaning in close, his breath tickles Kageyama's ear.

"If you want to really fight, maybe stop playing a game first, hmm?" he suggests in a whisper, amused.

Turning on his heel, Oikawa saunters off with a sarcastic wave. "See you around, Tobio-chan! Have fun winning every single match until you graduate! I'll say hi to Iwa-chan for you."

He lasts only two more months before, ironically enough, he is replaced by a first-year setter genius with his eye on the volleyball and nothing else. Kageyama looks at his kouhai's blank devotion to the sport and nothing else and shudders. He graduates, but Oikawa's visit does not leave his mind.

Kageyama is eighteen years old and Oikawa Tooru is pissed.

"You know, what I said a year ago...I didn't mean it literally," he growls. "Stop following me." He stalks away, still just as much of a child as he was in junior high and high school. Iwaizumi watches him go with disinterest.

"Welcome to the Tokyo base," he offers. "I'll show you to the cadets' quarters." Kageyama follows him, at the heels of his senpai once more.

Of course, Kageyama is a natural when it comes to piloting. He has the strength, the skill, and the focus to go far, soaring through the cadet rotations until he's just a few below the top. His sync score improves with every simulation, and he's nigh unmatched in the Kwoon Room. He impresses the officers and scares the other cadets. Kageyama Tobio takes to his new calling like he took to volleyball—with all his heart and his talent set on the goal of becoming a Ranger. Oikawa, already a Ranger, grits his teeth and resents him, but Iwaizumi takes Kageyama under his wing now that he can actually help him.

Iwaizumi is the first to step into Kageyama's head, a gentle, lukewarm presence that tugs Kageyama along each step of the way, training him until he can manage each element of the Drift himself—from the vastness of the in-between to the do-or-die of the bridge to the actual Drift, the verging of souls. Kageyama becomes accustomed to Iwaizumi's mind guiding him with gentle suggestions when he's stumped and letting him figure it out when Iwaizumi knows he can do it.

In the Kwoon Room, they are a fair match. Kageyama's got the natural ability to read his opponent's moves and construct a concise counterattack within a heartbeat, but Iwaizumi has the experience. He knows every trick and tell of the newbies—seen it all before. And to him, Kageyama is no different. Their clashes are comfortable and friendly, the type of fighting that leaves Kageyama giddy with energy and light in his heart. He looks forward to these days, the sparring matches with Iwaizumi.

"Iwaizumi-san," he calls one day, putting up the staffs. "It's pretty late right now but if we hurry we can still get breakfast. Would you...care to join me?" He ducks his head awkwardly, feeling like a child under the amused and weighty gaze of his superior.

"Hajime," he replies after a moment.

Kageyama blinks. "Pardon me?"

"You can just call me Hajime, Kageyama," he huffs, laughing. "I know that I'm an officer, but we go quite a ways back, don't we?"

"Y-yes, I suppose we do...Hajime-san," Kageyama fumbles.

Iwaizumi jerks his head at the door. "C'mon, better hurry if we want to eat." Kageyama hurries past him, aware of the way his ears burn, hiding his eyes under his fringe of bangs. Kageyama isn't oblivious enough to discount the slight tightening in his chest at Iwaizumi's kind words and helpful touches. Not oblivious—but Kageyama doesn't think too much on it either.

His situation gets better. Oikawa, in a surprising show of mentorship, takes Kageyama specifically to the Jaeger he shares with Iwaizumi—Grand King—and teaches him about the parts and controls. It's a valuable, hands-on experience that Kageyama files away in his mind furiously. They spend all day in the Shatterdome together, Oikawa treating him with professional politeness and only the occasional quip, even introducing him to engineers or technicians prowling around.

"Oikawa-san," Kageyama starts, puzzled. "This is an incredibly helpful lesson that will improve my performance as a cadet. And although I am beyond grateful, I always thought you...hated...me. Why are you taking me on, of all times?"

Oikawa exhales loudly out his nose. "As it stands now, you're clearly head and shoulders above the other cadets, our main choice for another auxiliary team, if we can hook you up with a partner. It only makes sense that a commanding officer would give you preferential treatment." He raises an eyebrow at Kageyama. "You're not wrong. I don't like you—never have, really. I envy your talent, in this as I did in volleyball. But in this case, I have achieved the status I worked for. And more importantly, I have something you don't have—experience."

Kageyama glances to the side, sullen. Oikawa nudges his shoulder almost playfully. "Besides, Iwa-chan has taken a special shine to you, so maybe he knows something I don't know. He's my better half, after all...don't tell him I said that," Oikawa warns at the end. The peace offering startles a half-smile from Kageyama.

"You Drift together—I'm sure he knows it all already," Kageyama replies, and Oikawa laughs, light and true, drawing eyes to them.

And Iwaizumi does. Iwaizumi knows every edge and shadow of his co-pilot, inside and out. They flow together as one, whether Drifting or just walking down the hallway. There's always that sharpness and acidity in their relationship that burned caustic to Kageyama when he was younger, but now that he's older, he can see the flicker of hungry fire that dances in Oikawa's eyes when he teases Iwaizumi and the answering jump of sparks when Iwaizumi roughs him up. In the times when no one is looking for it, Kageyama sees the twitch of a smile on Iwaizumi's lips as Oikawa gestures wildly, intently, and trying to prove a point. It's different from how he smiles at Kageyama, all fondness and amusement. This one is dangerously soft and bright as lightning, there and gone so fast one could miss it so easily, the times Iwaizumi Hajime looks on Oikawa as if he'd never seen anyone like him before.

'Tooru,' he always called him. Tooru. The only man he was on a first name basis with was his partner. And every time, he got that answering 'Hajime.' Oikawa was so much freer with his emotions and affections around Iwaizumi, throwing an arm over his shoulders or jabbing him in the side. Those were the obvious ones. But there was also the accidental brush of fingers that lingered too long, the sleepy cheek rested against a resigned back or shoulder, the slide of arm against Iwaizumi's. Oikawa could not rein himself in like Iwaizumi, prone to becoming over-expressive to hide his real feelings, but in those softer moments, Kageyama could see them—the ways Oikawa really loved and held Iwaizumi dear to him. Kageyama wasn't jealous—he couldn't be. It was a pointless exercise. They held a knowledge of each other that couldn't be matched by Kageyama's occasional extra sessions with Iwaizumi. The Ghost Drift bound them as one soul, never to be parted.

So he moved on.

As Oikawa predicted, Kageyama was selected along with another, less extraordinary recruit to shadow the point team for a few months in preparation for their final tests. From there, the results would be sent out to all the kaiju-defense bases and if chosen, Kageyama would most likely be transferred and paired with another cadet who he could Drift well with. The thought of leaving Japan—hell, even leaving the Tokyo base—was mildly terrifying, but Kageyama had gotten this far, and he had no intention of backing down.

One of the great privileges the selected cadets got was the opportunity to observe the kaiju battles from the high-energy Control Room. The theory was that they would get a feel for how much trust they needed to put in the command and what it was like to fight a kaiju start to finish. That day, the Category Four wasn't abnormally large or with a particularly deadly weapon. In fact, to Kageyama it looked lumbering and stupid, reacting slowly to the two teams that went out to engage it. Soon that would be him, running at Hajime-san's side, shielding Grand King in preparation for the final killing blow.

No one expected that its strange, slender arms could move like whips tipped with ugly, spiked paws. The flank team was down before they knew what had happened, and the kaiju fell on them, ripping holes in the armor and letting the pilots drown. Grand King, in his hurry to protect the other pilots, stepped into the kaiju's striking range after emptying his clips into the beast. One massive punch from the claw-paw took out Grand King's leg, and then Kageyama can only remember a faint, high-pitched screaming in the back of his mind as he watched and as he listened. As Iwaizumi promised his partner, Control Room, and the world that everything would be okay. As he stared into the jaws of death.

"Trust in us, okay?"

Kageyama doesn't remember what other words were exchanged between the co-pilots, but he does remember Grand King's feint in reaching for a sword, the swing of the claw-paw and the firing of the final plasma cannon shot, Oikawa's too-soft "Hajime?" when the entire left side of the Conn-Pod is removed by the kaiju's last blow. The com cut off just as the last remaining pilot began to scream.

Kageyama is twenty years old, although he feels at least eighty-two. He has just watched his mentor, friend, and someone desperately important to him, die. Kageyama is twenty years old and the only person worse off than him is Oikawa Tooru.

The on-base hospital is solemnly quiet, as if reverent and respectful of its one occupant. Kageyama doesn't know why he's there, why his feet dragged his body down to the hospital. He's not sure why no one stopped him, why they thought it'd be a good idea for him to be there, waiting outside Oikawa's room to be let in. His lip is bleeding and aching from repeated biting, but he keeps at it, keeps tasting the blood, using it as a lifeline to tether him to the real world.

A nurse steps out. "Oikawa-san isn't really taking visitors..." she says softly, awkwardly, glancing back at the door a little too much for Kageyama to believe her.

"Please," he begs, in a voice not his own. There's nothing recognizable in the scratchy, hollow tone or the slight sprinkle of blood across his lips. The nurse looks at him—really looks at him—and Kageyama sees mournful recognition in her eyes. He pushes past her gently, stepping into Oikawa's room.

He expects screaming and crying, the sounds of a tantrum and of suffering. Kageyama is greeted with none of these. Instead, he is faced with the slumped form of the man he once called a god, dethroned and fallen from grace. His hair is bunched and dirty, making him look ragged and worn, despite the fact that Kageyama cannot see his face. The sheets spilling around his waist are an ocean of white, swallowing the hunched figure of a broken man.

"Oikawa-san..." Kageyama starts, then stops. This Oikawa, this officer—he was a friend. They had begun as rivals and grown into mutual acquaintances who sometimes even enjoyed each other's company, and the last thing Oikawa probably needed was stuffy formality. "...Oikawa."

Kageyama swallows. "I'm no good at this kind of thing, but I'm so—"

"So what?" Oikawa asks, voice not wavering or breaking in the slightest. He sounds almost deadpan in his question, surprising Kageyama into flinching at the strength of his voice. "So...sorry? Understanding? Upset? Do you commiserate with me, Tobio-chan? Do you feel as I do, because you held some semblance of affection for him?"

"That's not what I—" Kageyama replies, horrified.

"Of course it is," Oikawa interrupts him. "You loved him to, did you not? But you weren't inside him, didn't feel him as I did, didn't love so deeply you couldn't tell where you stopped and he began. How could you? No one develops the Ghost Drift from a few measly test Drifts." Kageyama swallows, throat too tight to breathe properly.

"No matter, no matter," Oikawa sighs, sitting upright to look at Kageyama, face tired and nothing more. He offers Kageyama a small smile. "In any case, you don't know how I feel. Do you want to know how I really feel, Tobio-chan? Do you know what him being gone has done to me?"

Kageyama feels a chill down his back at how unnaturally calm Oikawa is, blinking slowly and patiently. He shakes his head suddenly, regretting that he ever stepped in the room.

"Too bad," Oikawa whispers. "I'm fucking pissed."

The calm façade drops in a heartbeat. Oikawa's face curls into snarl, eyes as wild as an animal's and he bares his teeth, tearing at the bed covers with his hands. "That motherfucker, that piece of shit, Iwaizumi Hajime set me up!

"All along, this was his plan! He drew me in, loved me more than anyone ever has, fucked me so well I dreamed of it, made it so I wouldn't—couldn't—leave his side, but that still wasn't enough for him. He just had to bring in the Ghost Drift, bind me in spirit to him so that I felt his every breath, his every thought, his very soul within mine, so that I could never love another as deeply as I did him! This is the crime of Iwaizumi Hajime! He made it so that I would not be able to live without him, and then he left me on this earth to burn alone!"

Oikawa tears out of his bed, wrapping his hands around Kageyama's neck and squeezing like Kageyama is the very image of his dead partner. Kageyama chokes and claws at Oikawa's hands, trying to kick out at him, but Oikawa is iron—unmovable and hardened into callousness. "Do you see," he hisses. "Do you see now the error of your ways, Kageyama? You fell in love with a sadist and a killer!"

He drops his hands from Kageyama's neck, allowing him to suck in several desperate breaths, hands on Oikawa's to keep him away from his neck. When his vision stops blurring, Kageyama realizes that it's not just his hands that are shaking, but Oikawa's, clasped in his, too. Oikawa shudders, squeezing his eyes shut. Tentatively, his fingers curl into Kageyama's, weaving through so that they meld together at Kageyama's side. Amazed, he watches as Oikawa presses his face into Kageyama's collar, shaking like a leaf and letting out half-noises of broken keening.

"It's his fault, isn't it, Tobio? It's his fault for dying, and in turn, killing me. I can't live without him—can't survive on my own anymore. Not like I used to. Because if it's not his fault, then I—" Oikawa hiccups, shuddering again.

Kageyama squeezes his hands, tears pricking at his eyes. It was too much—the fear, the weakness Oikawa was showing, the pain in Kageyama's own heart. Tears drip in fat rivulets before he can stop them, and he buries his face in Oikawa's hair. "It's not your fault," he whispers. "Not yours, not his, not anyone's, it's just—"

"It's just bad luck," Oikawa replies softly. He looks up at Kageyama, freeing his hands so he can hold Kageyama's cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. "Tobio, Tobio...look at me. Promise me. Promise me you'll never Ghost Drift. Don't ever get close enough to someone so that you cannot live without them. Do not become dependent. Always stand alone. At the expense of friendships and love, resist. Because if you don't..." Oikawa's eyes go hard again, and he digs his nails hard into Kageyama's face until he cries out and flinches against the steely grip.

"If you don't, they'll take everything you were, everything that made you human, and bury it six feet under," he hisses, forehead pressed against Kageyama's, practically spitting his warning. "You will die a death worse than death. Even now he is here with me, taunting me, replaying over and over in my head, that last desperate scream, those last desperate thoughts...!"

Kageyama wrenches free, pushing Oikawa off him and turning to run out of the room. Oikawa's voice follows him down the halls and through his memories and in his dreams: "Your partner will destroy you!"

When Kageyama grieves for Iwaizumi, it is down one of those abandoned halls in an empty room. His entire body shudders and quakes with the weight of his cries, silenced by a thin pillow holding in his screams and his tears. His nails draw red, bloody lines across his arms to match Oikawa's on his cheeks.

Kageyama is twenty-one years old and he's watching Iwaizumi Hajime die all over again.

------------------------------

"Why is it hesitating?" Koushi whispers. "It knows that it has us cornered, and without Kageyama and Hinata..." He swallows, mind whirring as quickly as Daichi's to try and find a possible solution. At least the other one was dead. Gold Strike and Tyrant Omega could manage to take the second down if they were to...were to...

Koushi snaps back to attention when he realizes Daichi's mind is oddly quiet. He looks over to see Daichi concentrating with single-minded focus, staring at the HUD as if he could set it ablaze with his mind. And yet, his mind was blank. No, that wasn't right; there was a wall, why was Daichi putting up a wall?

"Gold Strike, give us a direction while still staying close to Omega," Daichi commands suddenly, waiting for the slightly confused confirmation before he turned to their control board, tapping in instructions with half-formed thoughts slipping over the wall too fast for Koushi to catch.

"Daichi, what—"

And then, like an electric shock to the base of his neck, Koushi feels the Drift go slack and fade as Daichi forces them out of alignment. Panic starts building in Koushi's chest as Control barks for a status report on Apocalypto Alpha, why was their Drift down? Saeko's voice is starting to get hysterical when neither Daichi nor Koushi respond.

Koushi doesn't even recognize this Daichi.

He searches his partner's stony face for any trace of the Daichi he knows, pushing desperately at their bond but denied every time. He couldn't feel Daichi, couldn't understand him, and he was about to free himself from the command platform when Daichi beat him to it, tapping some final commands in and hopping out of the locks around his drivesuit, hissing as they disengaged. Now they were completely vulnerable. Koushi's heart beat erratically, eyes flickering back and forth from the HUD to Daichi, trying to keep tabs on his partner while also ensuring that they weren't under direct attack. Thank god Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were doing their jobs.

"Daichi, I swear to god I will kill you, get back on the command platform this instant," Koushi seethed, furious and scared. Ignoring Koushi's insistence, Daichi approached him instead, tapping some instructions into his gauntlet. Koushi watched in horror as it deactivated.

"In the name of everything holy, what is going o—"

Escape pod start-up functions activated. Special request 2574: binding of patient, Apocalypto Alpha's computer hummed in a low voice over the PA. Koushi balked as his command platform eased backward to meet the metal casing of the escape pod. What the hell was Daichi doing? Then the metal bindings eased around his arms, chest, and legs and he yelped aloud.

Looking desperately at the man he knew and loved, Koushi pleaded with him. "Daichi, I can't—what are you doing? What is this? We can't leave them to fight this kaiju alone, so why are you..."

Daichi's expression softened finally, and he brushed a thumb over Koushi's cheek tenderly. Everything hit Koushi at once as Daichi spoke.

"No."

"I won't leave them alone, Koushi," he whispered. "I'll stay, take it out myself. You know this is the only way."

"No, no no no no no, Daichi, this isn't the only way, no, you can't leave me, Daichi you have to take me with you!" Koushi sobs out the last part, thrashing against the bonds in a desperate attempt to free himself. "We're partners! We're co-pilots! If we die, we die together!"

Daichi only smiles that soft, precious smile he reserved for Koushi and Koushi alone. "I can't let that happen," he says, shaking his head. "They need guidance, and I—I need to know you grow old and die softly, not terrified and struggling for life in the belly of a Jaeger."

The wall falls down between them and Daichi's mind fumbles desperately for Koushi's, holding them close to feel all the mutual love and warmth that they shared. Koushi let the tears fall as fast as he could, not wanting the water to cloud his vision of Daichi...his last vision of Daichi...

Daichi leans over to kiss Koushi, strong and afraid, gripping his face as Koushi clutches at his elbows. Koushi can feel the trembling of Daichi's lips, sense the spikes of fear in his heart at facing the kaiju alone, but at the same time the even greater, soul-deep dread that he would lose Koushi. Daichi pulls away with tears wetting his vision, too, and in one impulsive movement, he removes his helmet and pulls his dog tags from around his neck. He places them in Koushi's hand, smiling at him one last time, sorrowful and deep.

"Until we meet again, Sugawara Koushi," he says.

"Don't go," Koushi pleads worthlessly, as the escape pod lid seals him in. Across the Ghost Drift, Daichi's feathery I will never stop loving you touches Koushi's mind, and he wails—the noise drowned out by the whooshing of the escape pod being propelled out from the Jaeger and into the sea, GPS and automated motor carrying Koushi back towards the base.

This is a one-man mission, Daichi says across the com, a single, commanding voice across the otherwise empty space. He is greeted with solemn, respectful silence from those who had heard the entirety of their conversation and understood exactly what Daichi was putting on the line. I'm going to detonate the entirety of AA's grenades while in close vicinity of the kaiju. All other teams are to stay back, that's an order. Oh, and Tsukishima...you and Yamaguchi are in charge effective immediately following the detonation.

...Yes, sir, they murmur.

Daichi, Daichi...please don't do this, Koushi's whispered pleas reach them from the com system in his escape pod. Please, please...

Daichi takes one threatening step towards the kaiju, and it turns on him, howling and angry, barreling AA over with the sheer force of its tackle. AA falls like a ragdoll and the kaiju tears into her armor with a vengeance, screeching. All at once, there's a blinding light and a massive explosion blows the waves and kaiju sky high, the deep boom of the blast fading into an ear-splitting screeching that makes the pilots wince. The sound from the grenade explosion does not fade once the water and kaiju fall to earth.

No. That isn't the sound of an explosion, Yamaguchi realizes. It's Suga-san screaming.

The sound is horrific and scarring, burned into the pilots' mind when they hear it. Usually so composed Suga-san, happy and helpful Suga-san, calm Suga-san...that man had been erased and replaced with a wild animal that wailed as if it had been set on fire and left to burn. The screaming does not fade or lessen, absorbing the entire wavelength of the com with howling sobs that they could hear wrack his body in the final verdict. Sawamura Daichi was dead.

Saeko cuts off Koushi's transmission. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she calls out to their last functional team. "Gold Strike...that kaiju...it's still giving off a signature. It isn't dead yet."

Roger that, Tsukishima's voice replies, sharper and colder than ice. Gold Strike immediately shifts into sniping position despite the close range, pulling out the big gun. The kaiju stirs slightly, using a chunk of what used to be Apocalypto Alpha to right itself, a low groan coming from its throat. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi fix in on that throat, and as one they fire once. Twice. Four times. Six times. They keep on firing until the kaiju is decapitated, spilling its kaiju blue across the stormy waves.

Two silent golems stand in the ocean, buffeted by waves and too weak to move, the searchlights of the helicopters hunting them down to carry the shattered soldiers home.

-----------------------------

"He's fine, he's fine," Hinata snaps at the medical officers poking and prodding at a haggard Kageyama. "Leave him alone for god's sake, we need to see Suga-san!" Hinata pulls roughly on Kageyama's arm, freeing them from the crowd of worried doctors and nurses and towards the other two pilots. Tsukishima's jaw is set and his posture is rigid and uninviting, while Yamaguchi has pulled his legs to his chest in an extremely defensive position, burying his face into his knees.

"Where is Suga-san?" Hinata demands of them. Yamaguchi doesn't look up, but flinches from Hinata's volume. Tsukishima shows no visible reaction, nor does Kageyama at his side. Hinata takes a furious breath, about to repeat his question, when a chorus of yells distracts all four pilots.

Approaching them rapidly was a group of medical officers centered around carrying and restraining a single person in the middle. Suga-san. All four pilots jolt to attention, broken from their stupors with the appearance of their superior. They anxiously watch as the group slowly moves towards them, when there's one determined yell and Koushi bucks out of their grasp, falling to the floor. The medical officers move towards him again to help, but Koushi snarls at them, lashing out at whoever comes near him. Like the rest of them, he had been stripped of his drivesuit, but in Koushi's case, that seemed to be a mistake. All along his arms are ferocious gashes, bleeding and ugly, coating every inch of bare skin. He was hugging himself still, digging his bloodied fingers in and trembling, shaking his head even when no one approached him.

A weak moan escapes his throat, a sound so sick all four pilots flinch. All at once, Koushi's legs give out from underneath him and he collapses, curling into himself and spasming. His eyes go wide, nearly rolling back in his head and the sickly moan gives way to clipped wails and then howls of such pure and unadulterated pain, it's like he's being tortured. And he is—the howls give way to the sobbing of Daichi's name, over and over again as he relives Daichi's death again and again in a destructive loop. Kageyama knows this. He had seen it happen to Oikawa, but never as bad as this.

Kageyama is quick enough to pull Hinata into his chest and clamp his hands over his ears as Koushi starts to spasm and moan, shielding him from the brunt of Koushi's illness. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are not as lucky, watching the entire attack progress with ice in their limbs and sickness rising in their throats. Yamaguchi retches but can't turn away, horrified.

"Koushi!" The call is loud and familiar.

Asahi runs to Koushi's side faster than he thought possible. He pulls the man into his lap, grabbing his face and forcing Koushi to look at him. "Koushi, Koushi, look at me!" Asahi commands. "Look me in the eyes; tell me what my name is!" Koushi shakes his head softly but Asahi reaches a hand back, hesitating for a moment before slapping him across the face.

Koushi comes to with scattered gasps, clawing at Asahi's arms to steady himself, still shaking but able to look Asahi in the eyes. "Who am I, Koushi?" Asahi demands again, and Koushi stutters, taking a weak breath.

"A-Asahi," he whispers. "Asahi...Asahi, oh Asahi, he was...and then..." Koushi pauses, taking a few deeper breaths before looking back at Asahi. "Asahi he was so scared, he was so afraid to die, I felt it, I felt him die, he drowned, Asahi! Out of everything that could have happened, I felt his panic and his terror as his body fought to breathe!"

"He regretted it," Koushi says, voice small. "In the end, he regretted everything. He died so horribly and he didn't even kill the kaiju, Asahi, he suffocated and died alone in the most horrible way for nothing! I should have died with him! Instead I'm stuck here, reliving the memory of Daichi's death and we're both alone!"

"I'm here," Asahi whispers, hugging Koushi tightly while the other tried to escape, pushing at him. "I'm here, you're not alone."

"I wish I was dead," Koushi chokes out.

"I know," Asahi says, closing his eyes tightly. "I know." He lifts Koushi's frail body into his arms, following the medical officers to the hospital, tears dripping down his cheeks, too. And in his arms, tiny and a shell of his former self, Koushi moans his desire for death endlessly, clutching Daichi's dog tags like a lifeline.

--------------------------

When Asahi finally returns to their shared room, pushing open the door with a tired squeak, Noya jolts to his feet, hands balled at his sides. Asahi looks up at him, and all the courage in Noya's heart dies at the deep bags beneath his eyes and the defeated darkness within his eyes, almost refusing to reflect the light of their room. Noya swallows, but does not back down. He opens his mouth—

"Don't. Please, Yuu, don't," Asahi says wearily, turning to close and lock their door.

Noya is incredulous. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"

Asahi walks towards him but does not make eye contact. He shakes his head, morose. "Oh, maybe not exactly. But if it's something like an apology or blame towards yourself for not trusting my calculations, then I can't accept it. Yours was the logical mindset; you have nothing to take responsibility for." Asahi walks into their kitchenette, pouring himself a cup of water and splashing his face in the stream.

"But if we had taken you more seriously! Taken any precautions at all!" Noya exclaims, stepping towards Asahi. "Maybe then—"

"Yuu." Asahi's voice leaves no room for argument. He exhales, long and loud. Noya reaches a hand up to smooth at the tension in his back. At the contact, Asahi flips around to pull Noya into a warm, bone-crushing hug. Noya squeaks at the contact, surprised, but he feels the light trembling in Asahi's limbs and settles, wrapping his arms around Asahi in return and kissing his temple.

"Don't disappear," Asahi whispers, voice heavy, and Noya understands.

It's the one and only time Asahi shares his singular, selfish desire. Don't let me end up like Suga, is what he's not saying, and Noya has to swallow again, thickly, choking back tears that tremble unshed. Asahi doesn't hesitate, wetting Noya's shoulder with his tears but with silence that speaks of self-hatred. Shouldn't he be sad over Daichi? Shouldn't he be trying to help Koushi? Yet here he was, begging for his own life to hold itself together. How selfish. How cruel.

Only, it wasn't.

Noya breaks from Asahi to pull him to their bed, coaxing him with gentle words and the promise of touch. They hold each other tightly, Noya tucked into Asahi's chest and their legs twined together tightly. Asahi is still crying those frighteningly quiet tears, not allowing himself to let go. Noya kisses his tear streaks anxiously, wanting to know what was wrong. Wanting to know how to help.

"Asahi..." He begun. "It's okay to want to protect what we have. It's okay to come to me for help even if...even if some of us can't go to their significant others. This is only natural, please don't torture yourself like this."

Asahi takes a deep breath and rubs along Noya's side absently. "I should have insisted. I should h—"

"No, no, you can't blame yourself for something like th—"

"No, listen to me, Yuu. This is my burden to bear. It's my job to ensure anomalies like this don't just happen, I'm supposed to accurately predict and help stop them. If I had tried to push the Marshal harder on prepping for this, then maybe Daichi—and Koushi—" Asahi squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering.

Noya shakes his head, reaching up to still Asahi's when he balked at Noya's defense of him. "Can you control a kaiju?"

Asahi blinked at him, like he had just asked something ridiculous, which, granted, he had. "Of course not."

Noya nods. "And who's the expert on the kaiju?"

"You?" Asahi replied, dumbfounded.

"That's right. Me. And let me tell you, I have spent the latter half of my life studying kaiju, and never, ever, do they fight 100% according to plan. They evolve; they learn. There's no way we can know what kind of kaiju will appear or what it can do—they are from beyond our realm of knowledge. And yet, you have managed to accurately predict what times they will appear through mathematics." Noya takes a breath. "The fact that you can do that alone is amazing. No one expected more, and yet you still gave it. Asahi, you did everything you could do. Sometimes the kaiju are just...better."

Asahi is quiet for a moment. But then his shoulders slump and he whispers so quietly Noya almost doesn't hear him. "God, if you had seen him, Yuu. If you had seen what losing Daichi did to him...you may not have forgiven me so easily."

Noya's blood runs cold.

---------------

Daichi's death—the first pilot death in the Miyagi base's short history—brought the morale of the entire base crashing down with him.

No sector was left untouched. In tech training, Saeko, who had witnessed the entire event and Michimiya, a childhood friend of Daichi's, lacked the focus to train new recruits and had to pass most of their classes on to the graduated Jaeger techs. The fact that there was now greater pressure on them to find promising new recruits only worsened their lack of motivation, and grief left the base barely functional with the absence of the two greatest technological minds.

Engineering scientists combined with mechanics to sort through and recover whatever was left of Apocalypto Alpha's wreckage. Like any other battle, large chunks of metal were airlifted from the ocean to be scavenged and recycled in order to save the base money, but when the entire carcass of a Jaeger lay before him, Tanaka felt illness churn in his stomach. The rest of his crew were uneasy, too—AA, marred as she was, still shone silver and gold. If one ignored all the tears and dents in the armor, it was almost like she could be recovered.

"Do you think they removed his body?" One of the mechanics whispers to another.

"Shut up!" The other hisses. "Be more goddamn respectful of the dead!"

But Tanaka is already doubled over, retching out the contents of his stomach, whether it was the idea of seeing Daichi's bloated dead body and bulging eyes or an attempt to purge all the pain from his body, Tanaka never really knew.

To the cadets, the Jaeger pilots were veritable heroes, and to see one fall in battle was tantamount to destroying any desire they had to improve their own skills. Perhaps it was the fear that they too would die like he had, or maybe just the end of hero-worship and the grieving that followed—either way, the cadets could not be stirred to push their limits or do much else besides the normal routine. And the officers, known for the harshness of their punishment where slacking and laziness were concerned, couldn't be bothered to even raise their voices to scold.

Kiyoko holed herself up in the Kwoon Room, practicing until she passed out more often than not.

Even the Marshal, usually so detached and formal, resented handing out paperwork and issuing orders to find a new point team. Hated it, actually.

Slamming the file on his desk with unnecessary force, Marshal Ukai evened the papers out, a muscle in his jaw working. He threw open the file drawer, tossed in the file, and slammed it shut again, each rapid and loud noise causing his visitor to jump. Takeda-sensei fiddled with his glasses nervously until he finally had Ukai's attention.

"Marshal Ukai, we really must finalize the preparations for the funeral."

"Fuck the funeral," Ukai hisses decisively. "I just lost one of the best—no, fuck it, he was the best Ranger I've worked with since I was chosen to run this base--and you expect me to talk about what flower arrangements will be stacked around his grave?"

Takeda knows that Ukai isn't angry at him, specifically. Maybe mildly irritated. He's angry at the war and at the injustice of what happened to Sawamura Daichi when he was standing right there in Mission Control, unable to lift a finger to help him. It's the feeling of an ex-pilot who has lived and breathed in that same exact way, risked his life in the same exact way, and understands the gravity of the loss.

Distraction or progress are not what the Marshal needs. What he needs—who he needs—is someone to rely on and to mourn with.

"Keishin," Takeda murmurs, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't...talked to anyone, have you?"

Ukai laughs. "Of the three I would go to, one is dead, another is grieving more than I, and the third suffers a fate worse than death." Takeda rubs circles along the tense lines of Ukai's back.

"I am not the professionals they are, and I don't know what it means to struggle and fight, but...if I can be of any service to you, I just want to let you know that I am here," Takeda says hesitantly.

The Marshal blinks and looks at him as if really seeing him for the first time. A man with such an honest desire to help and to heal...well. Ukai leans down kisses him on the side of his mouth.

"You are enough," Ukai says gruffly but with an edge of affection that makes Takeda's hand slide down to Ukai's waist and hold him there, his other hand joining on the opposite side, as if to anchor Ukai in place. Ukai kisses his forehead. "You are enough."

------------------

"Sawamura Daichi was a great man," the speaker began. "A bastion of peace and stability; a warrior who nobly rode into battle—fearless until the very end."

Hinata stops listening after that, his skin crawling. The speaker is some pompous military man with more ribbons and medals on his chest than there were ornaments on a Christmas tree. He had flown in to speak on Daichi—a man he had never met—and then fly out, carrying with him a video byte that would put him in a good light, should he ever need the political manipulation. Hinata is certain that this guy hasn't the first idea about Daichi or what 'bastion of peace' even meant. Granted, Hinata only knew one of the two, but he clearly wasn't here as a publicity stunt. Even the Marshal was pursing his lips in barely concealed irritation.

He blatantly refuses to clap after the speech, even at Kageyama's insistent elbowing. The Marshal gets up next to give a eulogy on how hard and humbly Daichi worked, how he was an inspiration to everyone and loved by all, and Hinata doesn't listen again, this time because tears are pricking at his eyes with every honest word out of Marshal Ukai's mouth. Hinata doesn't want to cry in front of all these strangers dressed in their nicest black uniforms, hats tucked at their sides. He doesn't want to cry when there are more white flowers than he's seen in months all around the memorial service and all he can think about is how Koushi and Asahi and Noya aren't even here.

Hinata's sick of fucking crying all the time, whether it's him or the people around him. He's suffocated and wants to run, but he sits in that uncomfortable folding chair and too-comfortable uniform because that's what Daichi would have told him to do, elbowing him in a knowing way and pointing out someone with a ridiculous outfit on or starting some kind of game to keep both himself and Hinata entertained. Daichi would have known what to do with a blubbering Jaeger tech on his left and Kageyama on his right.

But Daichi was dead, now, wasn't he?

A pastor or clergyman of some kind says a prayer and then they're released, Hinata shooting out of his seat so fast he nearly rockets into Kiyoko, who steadies him and nods a little in understanding. Hinata loosens his collar, turning his back on the silvery grave of his mentor and friend and storms away. He won't stand around and talk about 'what a fine memorial service it was' or 'how well everyone spoke', he won't.

In the end, they don't really care for Daichi at all, do they?

"Hey," Kageyama hisses, grabbing Hinata by the arm and pulling him to the side. "Just where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Oh I don't know," Hinata says breezily. "Why don't you just follow me, I mean we have a bond—oh...wait..."

Kageyama releases him and recoils as if burned. "How dare you, after all that's happened—"

"After all that's happened?" Hinata stares at him incredulously. "Kageyama...you kept a past history of trauma from me. Me. You know, the one person you need to put faith in above all else? How could you not tell me?"

"It's not your business," Kageyama growls. "I was trying to protect you."

Hinata feels frustrated tears build behind his eyes. "Not my...Kageyama, I saw everything. I saw how much that tore you apart, redefined your entire world and built in a lingering sense of fear that I would leave you like he did..." Hinata stumbles in his words, one hand fluttering for Kageyama's. "You're my partner. I care about you and I want to help you. How can you say this isn't any of my business?"

"Even when Suga-san..." Hinata swallows. "Even when he had that...fit, you were trying to protect me. Did you never consider that I would want to do the same for you?"

"Hinata..." Kageyama starts, voice small. But then he shakes his head and the softness is gone. "No, it doesn't matter anymore. If anything, this whole situation proves that Ghost Drifting is dangerous more than it is helpful. It was a useful crutch for a while but...no more."

"So you're going to shut me out again, after all that," Hinata says, incredulous. "After I've seen everything and we could fix this, we could heal."

"Hinata, I'm doing this because I l—" Kageyama chokes on the word halfway through, balling his hands into fists.

"Can't even say it now, can you," he scoffs. Hinata barks out a laugh. "You know what...fuck you, Kageyama. Just...fuck you." He turns tightly and storms off, his heart aching and with no second soul to reach to.

----------------------

Yamaguchi went ahead of him after the service.

Tsukishima didn't think much of it; Yamaguchi had been pretty subdued the whole time, it was probably emotionally exhausting for him. He had been too busy thinking about how Daichi would be rolling in his grave if he saw the gross excess wasted on his death and the hive of people attending his funeral—people he didn't even know—to cry and to talk about him, while his actual friends snapped their jaws shut and burned. It was absolutely disgusting. Seven rows in front him, Hinata had been fidgeting and curling his lip the whole time, practically a mirror of Tsukishima's internal disdain.

He decided to pass on the wine after all.

Excusing himself, Tsukishima made his way through the throng of people, working his way back to the base where he planned to take a long, scalding-hot bath and sleep for the rest of the day. He was tired from all the fakeness of the people around him.

Tsukishima clicked their door open silently in case Yamaguchi was sleeping, discarding his older jacket on their table by the door. He takes a few long strides into their living room and is about to come into view of the bedroom when a muffled sob stops him. His entire body goes painfully rigid.

It's Yamaguchi.

Stealthily as possible, Tsukishima peers around the doorway into their room, only to see a tiny ball of Yamaguchi curled up on the floor next to his bed, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other digging half-moons into his arm. Tears stream down his face and he shudders with the weight of another sob, this one coming out as a faint whine. He's rocking back and forth a little, eyes squeezed shut so tightly, Tsukishima doubts he'll be able to open them.

Yamaguchi looks as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it's the first time he hasn't come to Tsukishima for help in all their years together. Tsukishima feels a pang of confusion and something deeper and infinitely more painful.

Ah, what is this feeling in my chest, again? Tsukishima wonders. That's right—sorrow.