Archive of Our Own

When Black Crow goes down, it comes as no surprise to anyone.

The Jaeger is old, a little outdated even, a seasoned veteran in a Defense Corps that is slowly tearing at the seams. In comparison, the Kaiju it faced was a biological weapon fresh from the Breach, a beast of a category four that did extensive damage before escaping.

The status of Black Crow is changed from ‘active’ to ‘missing’. The Jaeger’s team, pilot Kageyama Tobio and his co-pilot Kindaichi Yuutarou, has a long history together, reaching all the way back to high school. They’re talented and fearless, holding an on-going streak of successful kills despite their young age. The fact that they eventually buckled under a Kaiju proves that not even they are immune against weaknesses and mistakes. Besides, rumors have been circulating about them for a while, creating cracks in their admired picture – rumors of disagreements, of incompatibility, of a right hemisphere pilot who’s self-centered and proud. All it takes is one rift in the pilots’ bond of trust for it to crumble.

So it’s a big shock when the Jaeger suddenly returns several hours later, a battered wreck somehow reappearing on the radar, dragging itself back to safety. It’s nothing short of a miracle, to say the least. The rescue mission is carried out in a state of celebration, surprise, and awe – only to turn into growing suspicion when the pilots’ condition is known. Kindaichi has fallen into a state of complete unresponsiveness and is barely even breathing. Kageyama on the other hand is alive and well but traumatized, some would even say guilt-ridden.

It’s obvious that one looks more like a victim than the other.

Everyone wants an explanation of what happened, and in the midst of it all Kageyama ends up having to defend himself against numerous accusations – of ‘toxic teamwork’, of ‘an oppressive atmosphere’, of ‘a kingly attitude’. Heroic deeds are overlooked in favor of criticism, drowned out by assumptions of selfish behavior, and he’s told repeatedly how arrogance is a dangerous trait to bring into a drift.

Kageyama, a pilot once held in high regard, loses his good reputation. He’s remembered not for the bravery he showed, but instead as someone who had to apologize for his team’s mistakes. The fact that he managed to pilot Black Crow all the way home on his own is ignored.

And the scene that met the rescue workers – of the broken Jaeger kneeling on the shore, cradling an unconscious co-pilot in its large hand – is very soon forgotten.

**

People should’ve remained humbly superstitious, like the sailors and fishermen of old. Instead they decided to bring science into it, but science didn’t give anybody a good enough reason to stop believing. Science only confirmed the old myths and legends. The Kraken is real, has always been real – it’s just taken on a different form.

Kageyama forces his eyes open and blinks slowly, staring up at the blurry underside of the empty top bunk. It’s been stripped of all sheets and pillows, leaving only the rusty wires of the mattress. It’s warm in his room, almost claustrophobically airtight, and his body feels heavy, like lead. He makes a faint mental note about adjusting the thermostat before it turns tropical.

Or maybe he should leave it alone. If he’s lucky he’ll suffocate in his sleep.

The roof is too far above him to give it away but he knows it’s raining outside, and quite intensely as well. He can tell by the faint pitter-patter echoing through the room, probably due to a small leakage in a crumbly drainpipe somewhere. Seems like it’s always raining lately.

Kageyama rolls over on his side, wondering what time it is but not concerned enough to actually check. It’s probably five or six in the morning; he tends to wake up around this hour, alarm or not. He rubs his face into his pillow and is met with a slightly rank smell telling him it’s high time to change the bedding. How long has it been since he felt he was on top of these trivial chores? He can’t remember. That seems forever ago.

It’s only been little over a week since he was let out of the infirmary. During this week he’s been holed up in his room for the most part. Not a lot of people have come by to check on him in the meantime – in fact only his Commander, Daichi, has showed the most concern for him, but Kageyama assumes he’s obligated to do so. And he understands it has to be this way. He gets it, totally. He knows what people are saying and thinking about him.

He’s kept an eye on the door, though. He’s held out some hope, however unlikely, that Kindaichi would finally stop by. He’s been waiting for him to come around just to tell him that he’s a massive fuck-up but that he’s glad they’re alive and safe. He’s been waiting for him to update him on the Jaeger’s status, maybe to assure him the damages on Black Crow look much worse than they actually are. He’s been waiting for ages.

But Kindaichi is still in the infirmary. Ever since they returned he’s been fighting for his life, failing to regain consciousness. Kageyama really has no idea how he’s actually doing; they wouldn’t let him see him and he didn’t really put up much of a fight to convince them. He feels rotten for it, for not trying harder.

If only he’d had the same radiating nuclear heart of a Jaeger burning within his chest, maybe then would this guilt be easier to deal with. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt guilty at all. But he’s not a machine and he’s not a robot. His heart is red and beating and broken. He’s just a human being who’s done most things by the book and been praised for it. Most other pilots have either wanted to be him or to be partnered up with him. Now he’s made a mistake, something that had serious consequences for someone else, but he never meant for it to be this way.

Monsters, Kageyama thinks gloomily. Monsters tend to bring along their own ending.

He faced a powerful Kaiju, he survived against all odds, but instead he got stuck with his own personal monster. It’s been hovering over his shoulder ever since he got back, spawned from shock and trauma, and now it’s latched onto his mind to infect his dreams and his memories and his soul. In a way it’s much worse than the Kaiju; at least they can be defeated. Invisible monsters on the other hand can live on forever.

Maybe this is his ending. He supposes he deserves it.

Kageyama rolls over on his back again and stares through the old mesh above him, just listening to the metallic tap-tap-tap of rainwater against the muffled sound of his heart. It all washes steadily over him once again, a crashing tidal wave of memories, and his breath hitches in his throat.

For a few seconds during their last battle they had been so smoothly in sync that he was able to envision everything. They had the upper hand and he could see it all play out in his mind; what the attack would look like, how big the wave would be on impact, even the angle the Kaiju was most likely to fall at. There was going to be some damage, sure, but they would be safe. In his head it had looked perfect and because of that he didn’t wait to confirm with his partner; he went straight for the kill.

He’s not sure exactly what happened but he can vaguely recall it felt like Kindaichi was lagging behind. In turn, it caused Kageyama to hesitate. It only lasted for a second but he definitely paused. That small window of hesitation opened up to a whole room of doubt. It made him freeze up and by the time he’d regained focus it was already too late. Instead of finishing the monster, the tiny delay in their attack made them vulnerable. The Jaeger received a blow so violent that the cockpit nearly fell apart in a shower of sparks. Suddenly they were on their knees in the ocean, struggling for their lives, and next thing he knew his drift with Kindaichi was brutally severed.

“Shit.”

Kageyama grits his teeth against the tears and covers his eyes with his hands, pressing hard until he sees small bursts of light.

He made one stupid mistake almost at the cost of his co-pilot’s life. And yet here he is, waiting for someone to come and comfort him. The self-pity is disgusting. It’s almost as disgusting as the blood he’ll have on his hands if Kindaichi actually ends up dying.

The mattress complains as he wearily gets up, his eyes wet and his heart empty. He takes a long overdue shower, dresses in his cadet uniform, tries his best to make himself look alive and presentable. He’s sure Commander Daichi wouldn’t mind either way but Kageyama at least has some dignity left.

Then he heads out to formally resign as a Jaeger pilot.

**

Half a year later the Breach in the Pacific Ocean is successfully collapsed, thanks to the sacrifice of a Japanese-American Jaeger-team. The result of their mission effectively cuts the alien world off from Earth, stopping the monster invasion. All that is left now are the Kaiju who made it through undetected before the portal was destroyed. The threat is still there but maybe not as real and not as constant as it used to be.

Once all the celebrations have died down, the United Nations drastically cuts back on funding. It’s as if they’ve been waiting for this exact moment. Financial support from the higher-ups was always reluctant from the start but now the moneybag has been sealed shut even tighter. Needless to say the Jaeger Program is balancing on its last remaining limb. It’s only a matter of time before somebody thinks of a new, more cost-effective plan to deal with the remaining Kaiju and the whole Jaeger project will be terminated for good.

The pilots are not really needed anymore, and while that’s actually good news it also feels somewhat bittersweet. It’s a strange existence, to suddenly have less shit to deal with, to go from being ready to die any minute to having vacation days.

Kageyama has already gotten used to a more laidback work environment, though. He’s still at the Shatterdome, a rootless military veteran at the grand old age of twenty-three with nowhere else to go except remain at the headquarters. But he’s no longer a pilot. His Jaeger is also still there in its new and restored form, but it’s been parked on base for months, immovable and unused. Not a lot unlike Kageyama himself.

He has hardly seen the machine since the incident six months ago – he hasn’t set his foot in a cockpit, let alone considered drifting again with another pilot. So far he’s been perfectly fine carrying out mundane computing tasks and simple repair work on the other Jaegers, even keeping himself busy archiving and digitalizing old files from a more glorious time. It makes time pass just as efficiently as being in battle, if he’s honest. It also keeps his mind occupied, only leaving him with sleepless nights, a good dose of guilt, and the occasional recurring nightmare. Nothing he can’t endure.

All in all it has made him feel as though he can survive this way, by living an okay life without directly contributing or being too involved. And if a Kaiju was to suddenly descend upon their base and he would find himself completely defenseless… well, then so be it. Kageyama doesn’t really care either way. He just wants to be left alone.

It doesn’t seem like the Defense Corps cares as much as it used to, either. Maybe it’s the combination of having stayed in the game for too long and constantly having to beg for funds, but whatever the case they begin to gradually shut down their Shatterdomes throughout the Pan Pacific. It costs running a war against an alien monster species after all. It costs time, money, and brainpower.

It’s therefore a cruel twist of events when fresh reports are suddenly coming in of an unexpected increase in Kaiju movement, completely independent of Breach activity. Nobody can say exactly why, but then again the Kaiju have never been an average deep-water monster. It’s an intelligent weapon of mass destruction capable of both adaption and reproduction. They’ve always been one step ahead and this seems to still ring true, even now in the aftermath of humankind’s victory.

In an improvised attempt at emergency recruitment, a handful of leftover pilots are flown back in to the Tokyo Shatterdome. These guys are mostly a broken bunch of soldiers, veterans just like Kageyama. The majority of them have nowhere else to return and nothing left in life to lose. Maybe some of them can still prove to be useful.

Commander Daichi, ever the dedicated leader, puts Kageyama in charge of assigning quarters and giving basic instructions. The new temporary job has him longing for his secluded workspace back in engineering. Sure, he’s a tidy, organized person but being a chaperone and guide isn’t for him, especially not when the other pilots seem to know exactly who he is and what he’s done in the past. Not everyone recognizes him by face but as soon as his name comes up they quickly make the connections – to that Jaeger, to that co-pilot, to that incident. It’s the same as always and it annoys him. He really isn’t in the mood for awkward silences, insincere compliments, and behind-his-back gossip. He is never in the mood for it.

Kageyama makes his way through the repair bay, on his way to meet the last pilot flying in from the Nagasaki Shatterdome. The Nagasaki headquarters used to be their smallest branch and has fared pretty badly under attacks and losses and downsizing. The fact that they’re only sending them a single lone pilot, and a rookie at that, speaks volumes.

Flying sparks appear in Kageyama’s peripheral view and instinctively he slows down to a stop. He turns in direction of the flashing lights, gazing towards the hangar where he knows Black Crow is. He had no idea they were working on it.

“Curious, huh?”

Startled, he quickly tears his eyes away from the hangar and comes face to face with Tanaka, who’s looking back at him with a grin. Kageyama has often worked alongside him, ever since he was transferred to engineering. Tanaka Ryuunosuke is loud, outspoken, and brash, but he’s also reliable and excellent at his job. He’s one of the very few people on the base who never judged him any differently after the incident and has always kept it real with him. Kageyama knows he can trust him not to talk behind his back. Tanaka is alright in his book.

“I – I’m not curious,” Kageyama murmurs. He swipes at the tablet in his hand, pretending to check something, before he hesitantly shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “You, um – are you in charge of it?”

“You mean Black Crow?” Tanaka beams, puffs his chest out. “Yeah! She’s got a new chrome surface and everything. The new orange details look great on her. Wanna have a look?”

“No,” Kageyama replies, maybe a little too quickly.

Tanaka barks a laugh and slaps him hard on the back, forcing a cough out of him.

“You know what you need?”

Kageyama glances warily at him. “What…?”

“You need to find someone and get laid.”

“Not this again…”

He sighs heavily and tries to back away, but Tanaka is already on a roll.

“Here –” he says, and before Kageyama can speak he unashamedly pulls a strip of condoms right out of his pocket. “Take one of these,” he continues, snapping one of them off and casually shoving it into Kageyama’s pocket. “Actually – take two; you never know.”

“Tanaka –”

“And, oh, here –” He goes on to conjure up a small tube from seemingly thin air and waves it in front of Kageyama’s blushing face. “Look! It’s lube! But travel-sized, like toothpaste! Wait, it’s not actually toothpaste, is it?” He frowns at the logo for a second but then nods, satisfied. “No, you’re good. Take that one, too.”

“Tanaka, please –” Kageyama flails his arms, trying to keep him from filling his pockets with more stuff, but his co-worker just ignores him.

“Now, you’re probably wondering why I carry all of this on my person –”

“It can’t possibly be because you’re getting laid all the time,” Kageyama replies drily, knowing Tanaka is notoriously all talk when it comes to these things.

“Uh – I – n-no –!” He splutters, turning red all the way up to the hairline of his buzz cut. “I – look, never mind, okay, I’m trying to help you here! Just – you’re a one-track mind kind of guy, Kageyama. That’s never good. Whether you end up doing this or something else entirely, you should definitely get your mind onto a different track, even if it’s just for a little while. You need a change of pace.”

Unsolicited advice is usually considered too straightforward and uncalled for, especially when given to someone who technically holds a higher rank, like Kageyama. But Tanaka is older, he’s served longer, and at the end of the day he’s really just looking out for him. He cares about his well-being without asking for anything in return and this is probably the best guidance he could think of. It’s heartwarming, in a weird way.

“Thanks,” Kageyama says earnestly, “but what’s on my mind doesn’t have anything to do with this. I’m just busy, that’s all. I appreciate the effort, though.”

“Sure.” Tanaka still has that worried frown but he nods and steps away. “Any time.”

Kageyama hurries out of the repair bay before the conversation gets a chance to flare up again. He makes sure Tanaka’s ‘advice’ is hidden away deep in his pockets before returning his attention to his tablet, checking his information as he goes. The pilot from Nagasaki is young, having turned twenty-three only a few months before him. Being a rookie, he’s completely inexperienced and has never been involved in an actual Kaiju-battle, but his overall score in the Jaeger simulator is impressively high.

The only one who holds a better score is – well, Kageyama.

He stops his trail of thought right there before any flashbacks can get to him. He brushes a hand distractedly through his hair and steps out on the deck to look for the newcomer. He spots him, eventually, and when he does he can’t help but check his information one more time. For a moment he’s convinced Nagasaki has somehow managed to send the wrong guy.

The boy doesn’t look a lot older than a teenager, and apart from his honey brown eyes and messy tangerine hair he hardly looks anything like the picture in his files. He’s much shorter and appears less athletic than what’s considered average for most pilots, and it makes the bag he’s carrying seem too big and heavy for him. Kageyama can’t even picture him anywhere near a Jaeger, let alone inside, trying to control it.

He watches from a distance for a little while, frowning. Despite his presence being entirely out of place the young man is wearing a smile that looks so genuine it’s almost offensive. There’s even an excited bounce in his step, like he’s about to go weightless any second. The way he turns his head in direction of anything that catches his interest, bright eyes staring in pure awe as if he’s never seen such a sight before, makes Kageyama unwillingly think of a small, enthusiastic puppy. Finding someone drift compatible with this guy is going to be a challenge.

He gives a resigned sigh and walks up to greet him.

“Hinata Shouyou?”

The redhead turns around at the mention of his name, still with that inquisitive smile on his face. He straightens up and raises his hand in greeting.

“Yep, that’s me! Hinata Shouyou reporting, sir!” he exclaims happily. “You must be Kageyama Tobio, right? I was told you’d be the one to meet me.” He moves a little closer, again with that bounce in his steps.

The moment he says his name Kageyama can tell that Hinata knows exactly who he is. Once again Kageyama’s reputation precedes him and he’s not particularly impressed with the curious look on the newcomer’s face, no matter how friendly it might seem. He supposes he’ll just have to endure this, too, like everything else.

“I’m not your superior,” he says and turns away, avoiding the big eyes staring attentively at him. “You report to Commander Daichi. I’m just the guy showing you where to sleep.”

Kageyama is hardly even listening to himself as he drones on about the different aspects of the headquarters. The information he rattles off is rehearsed and automatic; he could just as well be reading the bullet points on a presentation. He’s telling Hinata exactly what he told the other pilots and honestly, he doesn’t care whether the new recruit is listening to him or not. If he’s not paying attention then fine, it’s not his problem. He has no intentions of making anything sound exciting or appealing. It’s not like any of this actually is.

“Hey, you’re Black Crow’s pilot, aren’t you?”

Kageyama is absently talking his way through the safety instructions when he’s interrupted and has to stop and repeat the question in his mind before it makes sense.

“You are, right?” Hinata skips half a step ahead of him and shoots him a genuinely interested look. “Your kill count is one of the best! It’s definitely the most famous. I’m a big fan, seriously! Who’re you teamed up with now? Did you get assigned a new mission already or are you still waiting?”

Annoyed, Kageyama purses his lips and looks down at his tablet. He saw this coming, although not so soon. Of course the chattiest guy has to be the nosiest, too. He’s ready to bet his right arm that there were all sorts of gossip going on over at Nagasaki, about the one pilot who almost got his partner killed and couldn’t even save him properly. He doesn’t trust Hinata’s friendly interest for a second. He knows how much bitter cruelty someone like him can potentially hold.

“I don’t have one,” he states tersely. “I’ve resigned.”

“What? For real?” Hinata’s eyes grow wide. “What the heck, why ever would you quit? You’re my age, right? So you’re in your prime! You even remind me of those recruitment ads that were so popular back in the glory days – you know, the ones picturing tall, good-looking pilots.” He pauses and pouts indignantly, scowling up at him. “You’re literally the poster boy for the whole Defense Corps, damn it.”

Kageyama ignores his rant and nods at the door next to them. “Here’s your room. You report tomorrow, at five.”

“Five? Like five in the morning?” Hinata whines. “C’mon – you can’t be for real?”

“You do what you want with that information,” Kageyama mutters sourly, already in the process of leaving. “I don’t care either way.”

“Seriously, what’s your problem?”

He stops in his tracks, not sure exactly what he heard. He turns around slowly and stares incredulously back at Hinata, whose cheeks have worked up an angry red. Did this guy just call him out?

“Come again…?”

“Your attitude has been nasty for no reason! I didn’t do anything to you, I’m just trying to be nice and make conversation.”

“You don’t like my attitude?”

“No, I don’t,” Hinata confirms. “It won’t hurt you to be a little more welcoming.”

Kageyama looks him up and down, once again taking in his short stature, his messy hair, his intense stare. This guy wants a warm welcome? Then what the hell is he doing here, in an organization that’s barely holding on?

“So you wanna pilot a Jaeger?” he asks flatly. “You came here because you wanna be brave and fight monsters?”

Hinata frowns at his question but straightens up as much as his full height will allow him. “Yeah, of course,” he replies, determined. “I’m here to make a difference.”

Kageyama scoffs loudly. He doesn’t know how many times he’s heard someone say that. He’s heard it from his superiors, from his co-workers, from pilots who are now dead; at one point he even said the same thing himself. But the real difference is that nobody talks like Hinata does anymore. If it wasn’t so sad he would’ve laughed.

“Okay. Well, here’s the thing: you weren’t recruited because the Defense Corps wanted you. You’re here because you’re all that Nagasaki had left. What’s worse, you’re ignorant and new. You’re still a rookie at twenty-three when you should’ve stopped being one at eighteen. So instead of becoming a useful asset, you’ll require that they spend time, money, and resources on you instead. It’ll take you ages before you become drift compatible with someone, if you even find a co-pilot in the first place. And you’re asking me what my damn problem is?”

Deep inside he knows he’s being unnecessarily harsh to someone who really can’t help the situation he’s in, but another part of him finds it hard to actually care. He allows for his words to settle and waits for a reaction, for reality to sink in – but in the end Hinata just offers him a nod and a shrug.

“Great,” he says, eyes too sharp and blazing to match the casual tone in his voice, “I guess all I have to do is overcome all those obstacles, then.”

His unexpected response leaves Kageyama speechless for a second. Taken aback, he searches for anything that might look like disappointment or heartbreak in Hinata’s expression. He’s obviously faking this attitude, just putting up a front – and yet he seems bent on staring him down.

As much as he hates doing it, Kageyama gives up. Delusions and fighting spirit is an annoying combination and he’s not here for it, especially not when it’s presented to him like this. This is definitely for someone else to deal with.

“Alright, good luck,” he says curtly. “Enjoy your stay while it lasts.”

**

The new pilots make out only the smallest fraction of the people on base, but Kageyama feels as though it’s gotten more crowded. Maybe it’s because they add to the number of people whispering and staring. The interest in him has been rekindled against his will, and words somehow weigh heavier than shoves and punches. He can easily win a fistfight. Spoken words on the other hand are harder to control.

Or maybe it’s because he keeps spotting a certain tangerine splash of color everywhere he looks.

Hinata only arrived two days ago but he acts like he was born right here at the Tokyo Shatterdome. Kageyama gazes across the mess hall, where Hinata has declared himself the judge of a spontaneous arm wrestling contest. People have gathered around him, placing their bets on the winner, and the whole scene grates on Kageyama’s nerves in a way he can’t fully explain. How can one single person be so annoyingly loud, in every possible way? How can a newbie come into a place like this and immediately have everyone following his lead like they’re nothing but a flock of sheep? His gaze morphs into a glare and Kageyama squeezes the mandarin in his hand so hard juices start dripping from it. Idiots, the whole lot of them.

He doesn’t even hear Daichi coming up to him. The Commander has to clear his throat twice before he finally takes notice.

“A word, Kageyama, if you don’t mind?” Daichi inquires, eyebrows furrowed in slight irritation.

Kageyama apologizes, quickly wipes his hand, and scrambles to his feet, following his superior out of the mess hall and in direction of the repair bay.

He can tell from the tense determination in Daichi’s broad shoulders what this one word will be about. The circumstances have been pointing towards it and Daichi isn’t the type to talk to his subordinates one-on-one. He likes to round everyone up and give his orders once, short and brief. A private meeting indicates that there’s something more to it.

“So –”

He rests his hands behind his back as he looks out across the repair bay, where maintenance on Black Crow is still on-going. Kageyama knows it looks a little different now but he hasn’t checked it out for himself yet. He’s been drawn to that hangar, and Tanaka keeps trying to lure him there, but so far he has stayed away, always opting for other fighters to work on.

“What’s your opinion on the new recruits? You’ve met them all.”

“I don’t have an opinion,” Kageyama replies, because in all honesty he really doesn’t.

“The majority of them have lost their co-pilots,” Daichi continues after a while. “Some have sustained injuries that they won’t recover from any time soon. Some need to work on establishing a stable drift and you know how much time that takes. All of them will have to start over again.”

“To be fair, it’s that way for all of us.”

“So you’re willing to be fair?”

He directs his dark brown eyes at Kageyama, his intense look carrying something that resembles worry, maybe even impatience. Kageyama feels a bit trapped by that gaze, like he should take a step back and leave, but instead he straightens up and holds his stare.

“What do you mean?”

“We need you back in the field, Kageyama.”

There it is. He knew it was coming, ever since the new recruits started arriving he’s been waiting for this moment, but now that it’s finally here there’s no sense of relief or closure in it. Instead it pulls at his anxiety, prods at wounds that haven’t even had the chance to heal yet. The thought of piloting sparks nothing in him that he recognizes as good or motivating. There are only nightmares.

“I know you have requested permanent reassignment,” Daichi presses on. “But… you’re so valuable to us. Right now we’re counting on you.”

The pleading, almost desperate tone that has appeared in his voice is so sudden that Kageyama can feel his heart drop. Their image of Sawamura Daichi has always been of a compassionate, strict, no nonsense young man. He isn’t that much older than Kageyama and he also started off as a pilot, but the combination of being strategically brilliant, highly skilled, and unusually lighthearted has helped him rapidly climb the ranks of the Defense Corps. When he took on the position as Commander there was barely agreement within the UN to let him do it. Just a slight majority deemed him ready and competent enough; the rest were strongly against it. And yet Daichi has consistently proved them wrong since the get-go, even with doubt and expectations resting heavily on his shoulders. Funding issues and new Kaiju threats are not his fault, but he acts like they should be under his control anyway, as expected of a leader.

In this moment he truly looks on the verge of defeat and it hurts. It hurts because they’re not the only ones counting on Kageyama. Kageyama is counting on himself, too, but his reasons are much more basic. He just wants to live a life as close to normal as possible.

“I… I’m sorry, Commander,” he manages and bows slightly. “But I don’t think I’m cut out for this anymore. I doubt I’m drift compatible with anyone.”

Daichi frowns, watching as the welders work on a piece of steel, a partial joint from a detached Jaeger arm. His profile is etched into the flashing background and when he turns to face Kageyama again, his short brown hair has almost taken on the appearance of flames.

“Hinata Shouyou may be a fit for you. He came to me personally and asked to spar with you. In fact, he insisted.”

What?

His unexpected suggestion leaves Kageyama completely dumbfounded. He can only gape at him, speechless. That doesn’t add up at all, no matter the approach. He’s just met the guy, barely even spent five minutes with him, and during those five minutes Kageyama was anything but pleasant. And now he wants to do a sparring session with him to test compatibility? That’s outrageous. That’s careless, impulsive, and idiotic. People like that are not sane enough to be trusted. He must be doing this just to piss him off.

“If you consider Hinata to be a good match for me then I’ll be better off piloting the Jaeger on my own. We’re way too different and I don’t like him.”

Daichi falls silent, holding his gaze for so long that Kageyama is sure he’s offended him.

“It’s not about like or dislike,” he says at last. “Being different doesn’t mean you two can’t stay on the same wavelength. Compatibility works in strange ways and you know that more than anyone. If a pilot has a hunch about a potential partner then it’s worth looking into.”

Kageyama is quiet for a few seconds, slowly processing all the arguments against him and searching for flaws that can finally kill this discussion.

“With all due respect but you can’t force compatibility. We don’t act on ‘hunches’. That’s suicide. And besides,” he adds, wrinkling his nose, “he’s just a fan. He told me that much.”

“If compatibility turns out to be nonexistent then you’re right, it can’t be forced,” Daichi says firmly, his stern expression unchanged. “But first impressions mean nothing. You can’t dismiss everything and say there’s no chemistry without giving it a try.”

“I – I’m sorry,” Kageyama stutters, sensing a growing panic now that he’s being slowly backed into a corner. “I just… I can’t. I’m gonna need more time, more preparation, before I can go back into the field.”

“No, you don’t.” The Commander folds his arms across his chest and his dark eyes are more piercing than ever. “You’ve had plenty of time and now you’re in a rut, wasting away. You need to stop blaming yourself. A monster did that to Kindaichi. It was a category four Kaiju that made him like that. It had nothing to do with you; you tried to save him and you succeeded. He’s here and he’s alive. There’s nothing more you can do. I know there are rumors about you and that people love to talk, but truth is you’re an amazing pilot. One of the best we’ve ever had. I wish you could see that.”

Those words bring out a lump in Kageyama’s throat and he swallows hard, trying to get rid of it. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Only Blue Castle is ready so far,” Daichi continues seriously. “They’re one team. If an attack should happen, which it probably will, then they’re all we’ve got. Please understand that.” He turns to leave, only pausing to glance halfway over his shoulder. “I want you and Hinata ready for a sparring session before the week is over.”

“Commander, this won’t work if I don’t want to do it.”

“I know. But you don’t have to want it; I just need you to try. And that’s an order.”

“But I –”

“That’s an order, Kageyama.”

Kageyama closes his mouth and stares hard at Daichi’s turned-away back, even though he knows that was the final word. The last of his protest dies in his throat and he bows as Daichi leaves, reminding himself that he should at least be respectful towards his superior.

But his chest is tight with dread and he struggles not to show it. When he asked to be released from his service as a pilot he really thought that was the end of it. Engineering and maintenance was going to be his new future, permanently. Maybe he should have left the base altogether, gone into hiding in some remote mountain place and live off the land somehow, but he’s pretty sure Daichi would have hunted him down either way.

Kageyama glances toward the Black Crow hangar. He’s not sure when was the last time he saw his Jaeger in good condition. His last mental image of it is a wrecked and ruined one. He knows that a good chunk was gone from its left side, making it lopsided and heavy to navigate, and that the cockpit had been mostly crushed, squeezed like a bug underneath a giant thumb.

He has a vivid memory of his partner lying in the big, open palm of the Jaeger’s hand, right after Kageyama had lifted him out of the water. He had looked so tiny, his body smaller than even the machine’s little finger. The holographic projection hovering over Kageyama’s own hand had also included a miniature translucent person, just floating silently in his palm. Through the Jaeger he could feel Kindaichi’s weak pulse, his heartbeat. The fact that he could accidentally crush him if he wasn’t careful was the only thing that kept him sane, kept him going. So he braced himself against the pain and carried him back, holding him as gently as he could.

Kageyama stares at his empty palm, follows the lines and grooves in his skin. He curls his hand up and cracks his knuckles, tries to get some circulation going in his cold fingers. Maybe things will become clearer if he faces the Jaeger. He doubts he’ll feel better but maybe his feelings will be validated, no matter how bad. After all, the machine is just that: a machine. Black Crow can’t talk back and it can’t force him into anything. It will just be a meeting on Kageyama’s premises.

Slowly, he makes his way through the repair bay. He passes Blue Castle, towering majestically over them in white and mint chrome, followed by a couple of other wrecks brought back from the scrapyard for possible restoring or harvesting. His pulse picks up as Black Crow’s hangar gradually pans into view. The domed stall is brightly lit, echoing with the occasional clangs and whirrs from the engineers working high above him. His Jaeger stands secured by heavy wires and humming cables, partly hidden behind a large scaffolding that zigzags around it like a maze. Kageyama stops and tilts his head back as far as he can, his mouth slowly dropping open.

The silhouette remains the same; a broad-shouldered humanoid structure almost eighty meters tall and only a few hundred units shy of two thousand tons. It’s a little slender than the average Jaeger, but in return it’s faster and more agile than most. What’s different, however, are the new orange details. It’s not exactly an upgrade, as it’s not within budget, but it’s definitely a style change. Broad orange lines cut through the pitch-black chrome, defining the muscles and encircling the joints, before fanning out into the winged helmet crowning the head. It looks like an ancient warrior, powerful and alive, and to his surprise Kageyama finds that he likes it.

And that breaks his heart. This is a good Jaeger. It has served them well from the start but it deserves a piloting team who are truly worthy of it. It deserves a stable connection. Seeing Black Crow like this, combat-ready and almost as good as new, twists Kageyama’s anxiety into a tighter knot. It’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t belong here anymore.

He looks down and blinks against tears he didn’t expect. When he opens his eyes again he’s scowling. He’s convinced this situation would’ve been easier to deal with if it weren’t for that Hinata-kid. Daichi would probably still ask him to come back either way, but Hinata seems to have this strange pull on people, an annoying drive that complicates things, and Kageyama feels as though he’s just being dragged along no matter how hard he resists.

He leaves the Black Crow hangar and heads for his room, where he digs out a volleyball from his belongings. His head is boiling as he makes his way to the basketball court.

Everybody on the base knows the reason why he resigned as a pilot. None of this is secret in any way. And now a rookie thinks he can come here and decide to change these things on his behalf? Just because of a good hunch? Kageyama snorts. As if he could ever drift with someone like that guy.

There’s already a small group of cadets gathered on the court, shooting hoops and chatting. They exchange a few uncertain glances at the sight of him and it doesn’t take long before they pack up their things and leave. Kageyama couldn’t care less. He serves the volleyball as hard as he can against the opposite wall. It hits his hand with an echoing smack and bounces off the wall with a thud. It’s a simple but satisfying action, a quick way to release some steam, and once more Kageyama serves the ball with all his might. It bounces back to him and he catches it, twirls it between his hands, and then tosses it as high as he can towards the domed roof above him before spiking it again. He repeats this, over and over, until he feels a slight ache in his right shoulder.

Kageyama is about to serve the ball again when a blur of motion flashes at the corner of his eye. A shape suddenly jumps into his view out of nowhere, the person’s knees nearly level with Kageyama’s shoulders, and the next thing he knows the volleyball has been snatched from him, mid-air.

It’s only when the person lands in front of him that he realizes who it is. They stare at each other for a long, wordless moment before Hinata bounces the ball back at him.

“Hey,” he says casually, as if he didn’t just jump almost his own height with seemingly no effort at all.

“Wh-what the hell?” Kageyama stammers, his heart wrestling with unexpected surprise.

Hinata blinks at him, puzzled. “What?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why, did I interrupt an important game or something?” He gestures at the obviously empty court, a half-joking smile on his face.

“Actually, yes,” Kageyama snaps. “I was in the middle of something.”

“Oh.” The redhead takes a step back. “Okay, then. Sorry.”

Kageyama just glares in response and continues tossing the ball to himself. He tries to pay no mind to Hinata, who’s standing right next to him, head tilted as he follows the ball’s movements. Kageyama bristles. Doesn’t he have anywhere else to be? He should be working on those obstacles he said he’d overcome, if he’s got this much free time on his hands.

“You’ve got great ball control,” Hinata comments after a while. “Did you play volleyball before? I used to play a bit myself. You should toss to me, you know.”

The last remark nudges at Kageyama’s focus. The ball spins unevenly in its path and he’s forced to skip to the side to catch it again. The toss is ruined. He huffs irritably and drops his arms, letting the ball bounce to the floor and roll away.

“Why did you request to spar with me?”

“Because I wanna drift with you,” Hinata replies simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Kageyama stares at him as though he’s insane. Everything about this guy – from his expression to his posture to the tone in his voice – implies that he’s serious. He’s here, young and inexperienced and doe-eyed, and he thinks it’s as easy as walking up and asking someone outright to be partners.

“No, you don’t,” Kageyama says, slowly, hanging onto every syllable. “You don’t wanna drift with me.”

Hinata just blinks at him again, unfazed. “You don’t speak for me, though.”

“I have no interest in sparring with you, dumbass,” Kageyama retorts. “You’ll just waste my time.”

“But you still have to try and you know it. Or you wouldn’t have been so mad about it.”

“So? Daichi doesn’t decide who gets to team up. Compatibility does.” He walks over and picks up the ball. “You should worry more about your lacking experience. Simulator results aren’t worth shit out there.”

“Well,” Hinata throws his arms up and shrugs, “if you’re so sure it’s not gonna work out then all you have to do is prove me wrong.”

The spinning ball stops between Kageyama’s palms and he feels depressingly stupid. What Hinata just said is perfectly true. The fact that such a simple and obvious solution should come from him is irritating. Kageyama knew all of that already.

“Fine,” he grits out. “I intend to.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” He breathes in, hesitating for a moment. “And I’m not mad.”

“Sure.”

“Fine,” Kageyama says again, the word slipping out before he can stop it, and a quickly ripening blush adds to his humiliation.

“I’ll leave you to your one-man volleyball match,” Hinata says, a small twitch of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “See ya!”

He turns away to leave, his eyes twinkling in the most infuriating way. Kageyama glares at his retreating back until he’s out of sight and then serves the ball as hard as he can against the wall.

**

The next couple of days pass in a blur of various Jaeger repairs. He’s working on an old model from the early days, though it’s been salvaged mostly for its parts. It’s menial work that reminds Kageyama a lot of scavenging. He’s only been added to the work team as an extra pair of hands but it’s a nice change just having to unscrew and dismantle without any further calculations. It’s also been enough to put his mind off the upcoming sparring session with Hinata, and he would’ve forgotten all about it if only he wasn’t so unsuccessful at dodging Daichi’s insistent stare. He’s been instructed to show up in the combat room tomorrow morning but he still hasn’t confirmed the order. If he could hole himself up in his quarters and get away with it, Kageyama would.

He wipes his oily hands and finally slips away for lunch. He’s spent the past couple of hours struggling to separate a valuable-looking gyroscope from its partly melted frame and now he’s absolutely famished. He’s looking forward to the cream stew, pretty much the only good option on the lunch menu, but he’s barely made it into the mess hall with his tray before Hinata spots him and waves him over.

Kageyama immediately regrets not heading straight for his room; right now there’s nothing he desires more than to eat his food in peace. A part of him wants to flat out ignore Hinata’s enthusiastic gestures – did he forget their encounter the other day or is he just stupid? – but the rest of him knows that it’ll be too embarrassing to turn around now. He also knows painfully well that all the other tables are occupied. It’s not like he has other friends willing to accommodate him.

Kageyama takes a deep, suffering breath before shuffling reluctantly over to his table.

“Hey!” Hinata flashes him the brightest sunshine smile. “It’s been a while! You been busy?”

Kageyama makes a vague grunt of confirmation as he sits down next to him. He edges away a little, trying to put a reasonable amount of distance between them, but before he gets very far Hinata leans closer and waves something round and orange in front of his face.

“Look!” he exclaims happily, although the item is much too close to Kageyama’s face, forcing him to go cross-eyed. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered you guys got real mandarins! I haven’t had any in ages! When I was a kid I used to love these. I could eat my own weight in mandarins, easily. We mostly had oranges at Nagasaki but they ran out of stock pretty quick… which was probably my fault.”

He laughs and Kageyama is amazed that someone so childish and carefree has successfully made it into the Academy in the first place. He’s obviously not one to be discouraged by unpleasant first impressions; he’s either a fool or incredibly stubborn. Kageyama assumes it’s a combination of the two. He’s just so loud.

He sighs and resigns himself to the situation, letting Hinata go on about his favorite food for a while. He isn’t paying much attention until he receives a hard nudge in the ribs that almost has him choking on his stew.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hisses irritably, rubbing the tender spot left by Hinata’s pointy elbow.

“Who’s that over there?”

Frowning, Kageyama follows his gaze until he spots the two young men who just entered the mess hall. The first one has dark, spiky hair, his thick eyebrows drawn into a searching frown. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, olive green eyes scanning the room. The other is slightly taller but not by much. His brown hair is nicely styled, swirling outwards from a cowlick, and he smiles and waves a couple of greetings in the passing. It’s entirely fake and Kageyama gets the sudden urge to slap that smile right off his face.

He glares and shrugs. “No one important. Just Iwaizumi and Oikawa, the Blue Castle pilots.”

“So that’s them?” Hinata stares at the pair with obvious awe. “I’ve heard about Blue Castle. They took down that mean category four in Sydney, didn’t they? They’re freakin’ tall, too! What’s with this base and tall pilots, seriously?” He huffs, his shoulders slumping. “So unfair.”

Kageyama picks up his spoon again but only ends up absently stirring his food, his appetite lost. Next to them a few of their colleagues waves the two over to their table. Kageyama looks away. He hasn’t spoken much to them lately. They battled side by side in the field once but after his incident and reassignment to engineering they fell out of touch. He has seen the battered insides of their Jaeger more than he’s seen them.

“Hey, you guys know when you’re headed out yet?” someone asks, making room for them.

“No.” Iwaizumi flops down on an empty seat. “But probably soon if the reports are anything to go by. Some of us have to do the dirty work, I guess.”

“Especially now that the wonderchild of the Defense Corps isn’t doing much to help,” Oikawa cheerfully interrupts, and Kageyama doesn’t have to look up to know he’s smiling across the table at him. “It’s a sad state of affairs, really.”

“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi cuts in with a low sigh, a slight warning in his voice. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what I meant.” He pauses, leans closer, and raises his voice slightly. “So, Tobio-chan – how’s life as a Jaeger tech? I never would’ve imagined the King being stuck in a commoner’s job.”

Kageyama keeps his eyes on his stew, fingers curled into a fist around his spoon. As much as Oikawa gets on his nerves he’s determined not to allow himself getting sucked into his obnoxious comments.

“Shut up,” he mutters, well aware of how all eyes around the table are directed at him, Hinata’s included. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Actually, it’s got everything to do with me. I’m the one piloting the Jaeger you sometimes do maintenance on.”

“Any maintenance done by me will be excellent,” Kageyama grits out. “I guarantee it.”

“You thought you were an excellent pilot, too,” Oikawa bites back. “We all know how that turned out.”

A stifled buzz rushes through the now quiet crowd and everyone else at the table stares wide-eyed at Kageyama, as though dreading his response. Oikawa’s comment is deliberately vicious and truly hits where it hurts the most. The spoon caught in his fist is trembling. There are a thousand things he would like to say but he’s already explained and defended himself about this, over and over. That energy and will to argue back just fizzles out over time.

He’s about to brush him off and take his leave when there’s a scraping of chairs followed by a brief flash of orange. In less than three seconds, Oikawa is suddenly kneeling on the floor with his arm awkwardly twisted behind his back, and a great commotion erupts in the mess hall.

It takes an extra second or two for Kageyama to realize that Hinata is actually the one who’s causing this. He’s the one standing over Oikawa.

“Touch me and I’ll break his arm,” Hinata says to Iwaizumi, who’s on his feet and ready to pounce. His voice is breathless but at the same time terrifying in a way that makes Iwaizumi – and just about everyone in the vicinity – step back.

“You really should apologize,” he continues and digs his knee harder into the small of Oikawa’s back, earning himself a painful cry. “I wasn’t kidding about breaking your arm.”

Oikawa’s breath is coming out in labored gasps. His face is bright pink from the strain, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and an angry vein has popped up near his temple. Never in his life, not even once, has Kageyama seen Oikawa like this – cool, calm, and always collected Oikawa Tooru. He’s so shocked he can’t do anything but stare at this bizarre scene playing out in front of him.

“What the –!” Oikawa spits, trying and failing to wriggle out of Hinata’s grip. “Let go of me! How are you even – ! You’re – what? – twelve!”

“That’s rude! I know I look young but give me some credit! I look at least sixteen and a half!” Hinata doesn’t show any intention of letting go however; instead he just tightens his grip on his arm. “And this is just leverage, it’s pretty basic Academy stuff. You should know that, you’re smart. I suggest you either figure out how to one-up me, or you apologize to Kageyama.”

“What – I’m not apologizing!”

“Then I guess we’ll be here for a long time. Did you have your lunch yet?”

Kageyama blinks, unsure whether or not he should trust his ears. He doesn’t understand. Why should Oikawa apologize for something he’s right about? And what is Hinata even doing this for? What does he gain from this? Whatever his motives are, he strongly doubts Oikawa would ever apologize, even in this situation. He’s too proud and besides, he shouldn’t have to do that.

And yet there’s something about this whole scene that stirs feelings in Kageyama that he fails to identify. The approach is a bit aggressive but he feels looked out for. It’s a relief somehow, kind of flattering even, but at the same time he feels embarrassed and exposed. He can’t handle being in the center of all these conflicting feelings.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he manages. He gets up from his seat, impatient to escape the awkward silence of the mess hall. “Let go of him.”

Hinata looks up, his expression betraying neither disappointment nor surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, leave it,” Kageyama insists. “It’s just banter. It’s no big deal.”

Hinata considers his words for a moment before he nods, releases his grip, and steps back. Oikawa immediately scrambles to his feet and indignantly brushes his hair out of his red face, his forehead damp and his shirt crumpled. He rubs his wrist and glares at Kageyama, who half expects a declaration of war or revenge. No one says anything, however, and even though he would like nothing more than to knee Oikawa in the gut he decides to save it for another day. Instead he turns to walk away.

After a few seconds Hinata has caught up to him.

“So… Oikawa Tooru, huh?” He laughs. “Hate to say it but he’s kind of a jerk.”

“Why did you do that? That was unnecessary.”

“What he said was uncalled for.” Hinata shrugs, goes quiet for a minute. “And you weren’t standing up for yourself so I figured I might as well. You’re pretty mean but Oikawa’s meaner.”

“Shut up,” Kageyama bristles, ears growing hot with embarrassment. “I don’t need you to stand up for me.”

“I wasn’t gonna actually break his arm, you know.” Hinata beams up at him. “But it was fun! His face was priceless!”

Kageyama wrinkles his nose in disapproval. As far as he’s concerned people stopped having fun after the first Kaiju attack back in 2013.

“I’m not as helpless as I might look,” Hinata continues and flexes his bicep. “I’ve always been smaller than everyone else, so I’ve had no choice but to work twice as hard. But it’s paid off! Besides, the less they expect of me, the more I’ll catch them off guard.”

Kageyama doesn’t have anything to argue on that. He sneaks a sideways glance at his young colleague, wondering if his size actually works to his advantage in all of this. Maybe he’s not as tall or physically strong as the rest, but he’s obviously fast and athletic and clever enough to have someone pinned down before they can figure out his move. Kageyama assumes this must be the reason why his Academy-records are so good, because he has somehow managed to correctly apply those skills to being a pilot. He’s direct and fearless, as if he doesn’t care about stopping long enough to become hesitant or scared. He doesn’t think, he just acts, and he acts with his heart. That is actually a subtle form of genius and he doesn’t even seem to be aware of it, unless his pure innocence is just for show.

Kageyama catches himself wondering how he actually fights, if he pilots a Jaeger as boldly and quickly as he moves. Honestly, it wouldn’t be much unlike his own fighting style, meaning he could possibly accommodate to him if they ever were to –

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

He abruptly stops his trail of thought and looks up, confused. “Huh?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hinata repeats. “At the sparring session?”

“Oh.” Kageyama had almost forgotten about that. “Right.”

What was he even thinking? It’s not like he’ll be co-piloting with Hinata anyway, whether they test their compatibility or not. They’re obviously a complete mismatch and what happened in the mess hall only further demonstrates that. Putting them inside a Jaeger equals suicide and Kageyama is going to prove to Daichi once and for all that he’s wrong.

He is not, and will never be, ready to go out there again.

**

The next morning Kageyama wakes up with anxiety churning in his stomach. It makes him sick to the core, so much that he actually has to scramble out of bed and into the bathroom. He dry heaves a couple of times over the toilet bowl but nothing comes up except bile and acid, followed by a thin string of spit that sticks to the back of his hand when he tries to wipe it away. There’s a persistent taste of salt stuck in his mouth and it won’t go away no matter how thoroughly he brushes his teeth. In the end he goes against his better judgment and decides to skip breakfast altogether.

He carefully steers clear of the mess hall although Hinata somehow notices him anyway. Obviously Kageyama could just as well have been walking around with a large neon sign pointing at his head. Same thing.

“Oi – Kageyama!” Hinata calls out, waving for him to come over.

When Kageyama blatantly ignores him and keeps on walking in the opposite direction, he leaves his seat and dashes after him.

“Kageyama! Hey – wait up, Kageyama-kun!”

Kageyama tenses up, his heart stuttering in its beat. Apart from Oikawa he hasn’t had anyone tack any sort of honorific to his name ever since he was a kid. It’s not something people do anymore, especially not around here. It’s a thing of the past, to be polite, but the way Hinata said it didn’t sound polite at all. It was just casual – friendly, almost. Kageyama frowns.

“Can you not?” he mutters as soon as Hinata has caught up to him.

“Can I not what?”

“Can you not call me by my name.”

“What else am I gonna call you by, then?” Hinata stares at him, perplexed. “Your given name? Your work title? Your nickname –”

“Just shut the hell up!” Kageyama barks. “Don’t call me anything.”

Hinata gives a muffled laugh, a piece of half-eaten toast caught between his lips, his hands fumbling with a small plastic cup of strawberry jam that he’s managed to sneak away.

“I’m sorry but you’re funny,” he says lightly, taking a bite of his toast. “You’re rude, and your face is scary, but I gotta admit you’re funny.”

Hinata keeps talking as he follows him inside the combat room, which is already filling up with a bunch of other cadets. Kageyama zones out of his rambling monologue and makes sure he is two steps ahead, all the while resisting the strangest urge to reach out and brush the breadcrumbs off of Hinata’s shirt.

He can only imagine Daichi’s face when he finds out this was a bad idea after all. As much as he would like to help his Commander out he can’t wait to prove him wrong. The sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can return to the safety of his predictable maintenance tasks. Plus, there’s still work left on those Jaeger parts from yesterday. He never did manage to detach that gyroscope and it’s been bugging him…

“…and so I thought to myself, ‘hey, maybe Kageyama actually considered leaving his partner to die’.”

A piece of Hinata’s endless chatter suddenly grabs his attention and sucks him in. The comment hits like a lighting bolt, well-aimed and crystal clear, and Kageyama stops dead in his tracks. It feels as though the words have physically struck him square in the chest.

He slowly turns to face Hinata, who has finished his toast and is busy digging jam out of the plastic cup with his finger.

“What did you just say…?”

Hinata looks up at him, his eyebrows drawn together and his eyes full of wonder, and for a second Kageyama is convinced he must have misheard him. Then he smiles widely, head innocently tilted.

“Oh, it was nothing. I was just saying that maybe you considered letting your partner die after all.”

He shrugs and turns his attention back to the cup in his hand, shoveling another gracious dollop of jam into his mouth.

“And… why… would you think that…?”

Kageyama’s voice is strained, trembling, and he barely manages to force the words out. He balls his hands into hard fists, suddenly all too aware of how his entire brain is pulsating inside his skull.

Hinata looks up, and again he’s wearing an expression of ridiculous innocence. He smacks his lips, the pink tip of his tongue sticking out to lick the rest of the jam away from the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that someone like you, who was once a good pilot, obviously must be feeling guilty in order to do a one-eighty like this. I don’t think you did it intentionally or anything, but at the end of the day isn’t it all your fault? Maybe Oikawa’s got a point? Maybe you’re so self-centered that you just –”

Kageyama has taken a swing at him before he’s even consciously aware of it. It’s not that he wants to hit him. He would never throw the first punch, especially not in front of his superiors and a bunch of curious onlookers. This bears no dignity at all but Hinata’s words come dancing out of his strawberry mouth so easily and carelessly. Although his tone is innocent enough, the semantics are so rude, so horrible and so painful, that something within him just snaps. His mind goes blank in a momentary gap of soaring rage and it’s impossible to keep his body from lashing out.

Yes, he does feel guilty. It is his fault. And he wants to scream out how much he doesn’t need to hear it but he can’t. So he throws his fist instead.

His angle is a little off in the heat of emotion, but Kageyama puts all his weight into the punch and aims right at Hinata’s face – except he never hits his target. Instead his fist flies through the empty air, throwing him gracelessly off balance, and in the next few seconds his punch somehow backfires on him. Hinata, being of a smaller build, dodges him easily and acts too fast and too smoothly for Kageyama to keep up. He is suddenly served a blow to the abdomen, one that isn’t powerful enough to hurt but just low enough to incapacitate him, and it sends him staggering backwards.

Before he knows it he’s sprawled on the ground with Hinata straddling his waist. He’s pinning him down, surprisingly strong, with hands clamped firmly over his wrists, his fingers still sticky with jam.

“Gotcha,” he whispers breathlessly, his bright hair falling into his eyes as he smiles down at him.

“…huh?” Kageyama counters stupidly, his voice barely audible.

“Gotcha,” Hinata repeats, grinning. “I knew you’d fall for that.”

Kageyama just blinks up at him in response, his breath trapped in his chest as he waits for him to continue, to explain.

“Kageyama – I wanna drift with you.”

He’s heard the request before but now it sounds almost like a confession. It’s so intimate and private that Kageyama squirms underneath him, eager to get up. He feels heavy lying here on the floor, like all strength has been drained from his body.

“Dumbass… What are you talking about –?”

“I wanna drift with you,” Hinata repeats, quietly this time. He looks straight into his eyes, molten gold gleaming in the dim light. “Please.”

Kageyama is suddenly hyperaware of his heart thumping furiously, his pulse beating embarrassingly fast against Hinata’s palms.

“Why – why do you insist on me…?”

“I… I don’t know?” Hinata admits to this surprisingly fast and his cheeks instantly turn a rosy shade of pink.

“You… don’t know?” Kageyama stares doubtfully at him.

“No, I just – I just really want to. I’ve been trying to suggest this to you ever since I came here but man, it’s like talking to a wall. I figured I had to do something drastic to show you that I’m worth listening to, in a sense.”

His face falls slightly and he proceeds to bow down until his forehead is resting against Kageyama’s chest.

“I’m really sorry I said those hurtful things,” he continues, his voice muffled. “I didn’t mean it, I swear, not a single word. It was hard for me to say it. I hope you can forgive me.”

Kageyama can feel one of his trapped arms twitch, his hands itching to move up, to do…something. Anything.

“If – if you’re so set on this… you should at least have a good reason. You can’t always get what you want in life. Drifting is serious stuff,” he adds lamely, pointing out the obvious. “Doesn’t work for everyone.”

Hinata lifts his head again and hesitates for a moment before blurting out, “I think it’s my compass.”

The reply is so random and unexpected that Kageyama can’t help but frown deeply, more confused than ever. He forgets all about the weight resting on his stomach and the knees pressing warmly against his sides. Hinata blushes a deeper shade of red and finally lets go of his wrists, sitting up slightly. Kageyama is finally free to move his hands but he doesn’t.

“It’s your what?”

“Um –” Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, starting over. “Okay – I don’t mean like a physical compass but it’s… it’s on the inside of me, kinda. It’s a feeling. My Mom always used to joke about how I acted like I didn’t have a proper heart, that I was just running around following a compass. And it had to be broken, she said, because I’ve always been all over the place, like a windup toy not really going anywhere.”

He stops for a second, biting his lip. “But now… it feels like that compass actually works – you know? I don’t know if I’m going in the right direction but that’s not what it’s about. I don’t know how but I feel that it’s just… it’s fixed on you. I can’t explain it,” he adds with a tentative smile. “But… maybe it’s destiny? I just want to drift with you because it feels right. Can’t you feel it, too?”

Kageyama stares up at him, momentarily tongue-tied. He finds the whole situation incredibly awkward, not to mention uncomfortable. But there’s also something about all of this that has him mesmerized, something that makes him not want to run away. He swore he would never step inside the cockpit of a Jaeger again and he has been stubborn about it all along, but right now he’s not so sure anymore. However small it is, there is something in Hinata’s confession that Kageyama feels like latching on to. It makes him strangely curious.

“I… don’t believe in destiny,” he murmurs, face red as he looks off to the side.

“You don’t have to believe in destiny to give it a shot,” Hinata replies, eyes wide and shining.

Someone clears their throat loudly, followed by a looming shadow. They look up to see Daichi hovering over them, arms crossed and eyebrows knitted, and they both remember they’re actually in a room full of people. For a long, frightening moment he doesn’t say anything, he just keeps his gaze locked on them both.

“Excuse me, Commander –” An analyst appears next to him with a journal clutched in their hands. “Would you like to put them through a proper sparring session? There are other candidates here that may be a better fit –”

“No need,” Daichi interrupts them, still not taking his eyes off of Kageyama and Hinata. “You two have twenty minutes to suit up,” he adds, and Kageyama catches an ever so tiny trace of hope in the young Commander’s eyes. “I want to see how well you guys get along with Black Crow.”

**

He thought it would be upsetting to put on a drivesuit again – somewhere in the back of his mind he was even prepared for it to not fit him anymore – but once it’s on, Kageyama doesn’t feel so bad. There’s no anxiety hidden in the seams of his suit, no panic ready to slither out and choke him. Instead it hugs him snugly, a warm and welcoming fit, and the circuitry suit underneath is already tingling slightly against his skin, as though in anticipation. The only unfamiliar thing about it is the new winged emblem engraved on his chest. Big feathers are spread out over his heart in shimmering black and orange: Black Crow’s wings. It’s a strange feeling.

What’s even stranger is seeing that emblem mirrored on someone else, worn proudly by another pilot standing right next to him.

It’s impossible to ignore Hinata in a drivesuit. His warm eyes and bright locks stand out against the black, streamlined outfit, which is well-fitted and almost makes him look a bit taller, more grown-up. But as eye-catching as his appearance may be, it’s the subtle change in him that’s fascinating. He doesn’t look nervous, even though he’s about to step inside the cockpit of the Jaeger he’s been admiring for such a long time. He doesn’t even look particularly excited or eager. Instead he looks balanced, as if all his thoughts have been organized and placed where they are supposed to be. He looks like he belongs there and he knows it.

More than anything, this change only emphasizes his lack of experience. Most experienced pilots lose those shining eyes once they’ve been one too many times in battle.

But here he is and Kageyama seems unable to take his eyes off of him.

“Ready?” Hinata asks and smiles.

It takes Kageyama a second to realize that he’s borderline gawking at him. His hand shoots up to mess awkwardly with his fringe and he quickly clears his throat, blushing deeply.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Let’s go.”

They step into the cockpit and Kageyama automatically heads for the right hemisphere, his old spot. At first he doesn’t even notice Hinata trailing one step behind, obviously to let him choose sides first. It’s weird how a habit becomes so integrated in the body while the brain does everything to forget about it.

Kageyama glances around the dimly lit cockpit. His last memory from this place is of sparks flying and rain drifting in, a claustrophobic wreckage ready to cave in on him at any second. Now it looks as good as new, bathed in a calming amber and cyan, all displays and holograms up and ready to go. The repairs are extensive and it must have taken them countless hours of non-stop work to make it look like this.

The rig is lowered for them and Kageyama exhales shakily before he speaks, his nerves flaring up for just a second.

“Prepare for trial run.”

“Preparing for trial run,” the A.I. confirms, the robotic voice completely detached but nonetheless familiar. “Welcome, pilots.”

The two of them succumb to thoughtful silence as the technicians work on getting them both hooked up to the machine. Even though he knows they’re not actually going out there to battle, Kageyama’s heart is thumping hard within his chest. The moment he snaps his helmet securely in place it really hits him: he’s about to connect with Black Crow again. He used to feel at home here, controlling the right hemisphere of this massive fighter, and that feeling is now carefully nudging at his consciousness, trying to remind him that this was his Jaeger. This is his Jaeger.

The countdown sequence starts, sure and steady, and with three seconds left Kageyama closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath before the plunge and then a familiar surge, like an invisible hook, grabs hold of his mind and pushes his consciousness into the magnetic currents of the drift. This is the trickiest stage, battle skills and synchronicity aside, the moment where the consciousness of each pilot is merged and fused with the machine. They bring their own individuality into the drift and now they have to find each other and unify with the Jaeger.

“Initiating Neural Handshake.”

The first few seconds are nothing but a confusing blur, a stream of tangled, submerged memories that become clearer and clearer as the mental connection between them strengthens. When Kageyama manages to find his way back to some sense of clarity, he sees memories from his old middle school first of all. He’s alone in the gym, a bruise on his cheek and a volleyball in his hands. Then there’s a flash of his grandmother’s house, followed by his high school and a bunker packed full of panicking students. Kindaichi is there, looking pale and frightened.

This all quickly vanishes and is replaced with something he doesn’t recognize; the image of a little red-haired boy climbing a tree, with scrapes on his bare knees and a wide smile on his face.

“Pilot to pilot connection,” the A.I. informs them, its voice nothing but a distant, dull sound. “Neural Handshake at 100%.”

The boy in Kageyama’s mind shifts into a teenage version holding a paper bag of steaming meat buns. Before he can take in the unknown memories flooding his mind, another flash of Hinata quickly appears, a recollection of him as a new cadet.

“I’m gonna work real hard and become a pilot!” he says excitedly, his determined voice echoing through Kageyama’s head. “I’m gonna become the best in record time! One day I’ll be piloting the left hemisphere of a Jaeger, because like my Mom used to say: whenever in doubt, always go left. That’s the heart side. And you should always follow your heart.”

His brave monologue doesn’t last long. In a split second, completely out of nowhere, a little girl screams for her big brother. In that very moment Kageyama’s thoughts are lit up in different shades of red. It’s like a firework going off in his mind, the insides of his eyelids bursting with crimson, scarlet, ruby, blood. It’s all red; ugly and saturated and glaring, drowning out all other visible imagery.

Kageyama physically recoils, confused and terrified. He opens his eyes with a sharp gasp, choking up for no obvious reason. He turns to his left, eager to establish clear contact with his co-pilot before his mind gets the best of him – but it’s too late. Hinata isn’t there anymore.

All he can see is Kindaichi, as clear as day. Kindaichi is standing right there. In one moment he holds out his fist to him, ready for them to bump knuckles. Kageyama almost does it, almost reaches out to meet him. One blink of an eye later and the cockpit is flooded with water, their surroundings crumbling all around them, as the Kaiju tears the Jaeger apart.

It feels like Kageyama’s heart is torn right out of his chest, still beating, and he knows they’re about to die. If he can’t breach the surface they will both surely die. His lungs are screaming, his limbs heavy like lead, and the blood streaming from his fresh wounds clouds the water surrounding him. In the sensible depths of his mind he knows this isn’t actually happening, he knows it’s nothing but a persistent flashback, but the fear that grips him is real and strong.

With tremendous effort he gathers all his strength and mentally drags himself back into the present. It’s like waking up from sleep paralysis. He staggers, fights to catch his bearings as the warning lights go off around them.

“Black Crow.” Mission Control is talking to them this time, and the voice of the communications officer is loud and abrupt. “Black Crow, you’re way out of alignment. You must stabilize.”

“I got it,” Kageyama gasps. “I got it, just – give me a sec.”

“We’re losing Hinata.”

Kageyama looks over to his left once more, just in time to see Hinata’s eyes glaze over. The warning of the A.I. keeps repeating throughout the cockpit, red lights flashing everywhere, and in that moment he knows Hinata’s mind is gone. Kageyama’s unwilling trip down memory lane made them both lose control of the drift, and Hinata, who’s lacking experience in handling these sorts of situations, is unable to find his way back. He’s bound to wander straight into one of his own memories and get lost in it.

Since they’re already connected, Kageyama hardly has any choice but to chase after him.

Hinata’s memory materializes out of a colorful blur, piecing itself together into an unfamiliar and eerily empty kitchen. The house seems to have been abandoned in a hurry, leaving overturned chairs and broken plates. In the distance Kageyama can hear the faint blare of sirens, the Kaiju-warning telling people to evacuate immediately.

For a second or two he remains still, unable to take his eyes off of the half-empty glass of milk on the kitchen table. It has toppled over, most of its contents spilled into a pool on the floor, and big drops of milk continue to drip steadily over the edge. Time is standing still here in the past but it also feels impossibly real and present. It’s the end of the world.

Kageyama finally looks up at the sound of running footsteps and immediately recognizes a very young Hinata entering the kitchen. He’s a little shorter, his cheeks still chubby and his jawline soft, but his usually warm brown eyes are wide and panicked.

“Where is it?” he mutters under his breath as he picks his way through the messy kitchen, searching frantically under chairs and inside cupboards. “Where did she leave the stupid thing –”

His search is abruptly interrupted by a loud, deep tremor. It shakes the entire house, all the way down to its very foundations, and Hinata falls against the nearest cupboard. He crumbles into a quivering heap, arms coming up to cover his head. Another rumbling vibration rattles the walls again, slamming doors and drawers. It’s closer now. It’s an earthquake, an earthquake brought on by giant footsteps.

Get out, Kageyama thinks, even though he knows the streets are most likely worse. What are you doing? Get the hell out, dumbass.

At the third tremor, Hinata utters a frightened yelp and scrambles in Kageyama’s direction. He frantically pats the floorboards until he finds a small, square hatch, which he promptly tears open. Kageyama peers over Hinata’s shoulder as the hatch reveals a dark, damp basement, just a narrow storage room for canned and dry foods.

Okay, this could work as a bunker. Kageyama’s heart flutters with a small glimmer of hope. Good kid.

Maybe this memory won’t turn out to be so bad after all.

He’s hardly processed that thought before a violent quake makes the entire house literally sway, and even Kageyama, who’s not even physically there, feels like he’s about to lose his balance. Hinata is getting ready to jump into the basement when a small voice suddenly cuts through the rumbling noise.

“Onii-chan!”

Once again a cascade of red explosions appear in Kageyama’s mind, materializing out of nowhere. They’re abstract and fuzzy, twisting into shapes he can’t make sense of, but everything in his head is blood and crimson and soaked through with fear. He’s positive the sensation was triggered by that small, high-pitched voice.

Both Kageyama and Hinata turn to look over their shoulder at the same time and Kageyama’s heart drops so fast it almost makes him nauseous. Trying to make her way inside the house is a little girl, around five or six years old, and it’s obvious from her bright, wild hair that she’s Hinata’s sister. She’s crying loudly, terrified sobs ripping from her throat.

Hinata stares at her, his face turning white as a sheet.

“Natsu –?! Natsu – what are you doing here?? Where’s Mom?! I told you to stay with her, I thought you guys went to the shelter already! I told you not to wait for me!”

By now Kageyama is fully in sync with Hinata and completely immersed in this memory that’s not even his. And he knows all to well what’s going on here. He knows that the little family was ready to evacuate and that Hinata’s sister forgot to bring her teddy bear. He knows that Hinata, fueled by adrenaline and big brother responsibility, rushed back inside before his mother could stop him, and that he told them to go, that he would be okay. He knows that they waited for him anyway and that the result was disastrous.

“Onii-chan, Mommy is –”

Natsu never gets to finish that sentence. Everything goes bright red again and then the house collapses around them like a house of cards. Kageyama finds himself pulled out of the memory just as Hinata falls into the darkness of the basement. His muffled screams linger in his ears, even after he’s returned to the solid reality of the Jaeger’s cockpit.

Kageyama looks around, a little dazed, and realizes that the systems are offline and that Control must have manually shut them down. Then he discovers Hinata next to him. He has dropped down onto his knees, doubled over with tears streaming down his face. His gloved hands are clawing at his helmet, his body slowly rocking back and forth.

“My fault –” he gasps breathlessly. “She – she followed me… That stupid girl… It was my fault…”

“Hinata…”

Kageyama stares at him, struck by a sudden wave of concern. When Hinata doesn’t respond he unhooks from his rig and kneels down in front of him, quickly releasing his helmet.

“Oi, Hinata,” he repeats intently, trying to catch his tear-stained eyes. “Hinata! Snap out of it. It’s not worth losing control over your memories, especially not when you’ve put them behind you.” He reaches out hesitantly and puts his hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s okay, you made it out of there. You’re not in the basement anymore.”

Hinata’s breath hitches at Kageyama’s words and he looks up, blinking at him as though he’s seeing him for the first time.

Kageyama bites back a curse and sighs. His heart sits tight in his chest, his head is throbbing, and he has to fight the urge to reach up and wipe the imagined blood running from his nose. He knew they were going to end up here; that it would turn out like this. He had said so, repeatedly.

“I’m done,” he says. He turns towards the visor of the cockpit and the communications officers sitting on the opposite side of it. “I’m not doing this again. It’s not worth it.”

“Kageyama.” Daichi’s voice comes on over the speakers. “Let’s just –”

“Look, this obviously isn’t working. Hinata isn’t ready and neither am I. I gave it a try, as ordered, and now you’ve got your proof right here.”

Kageyama pauses, joined by a moment where everything seems to have frozen in place. His head hurts more than ever and he swallows, his mouth dry.

“We’re not drift compatible.”

He pulls his own helmet off and turns around before anyone can protest. As he exits the cockpit he can feel Hinata’s piercing gaze following him. He makes sure to avoid it, shields his eyes behind his hair, and heads for the changing room.

That was a disaster waiting to happen. He knew in his heart of hearts that it would go wrong one way or another. And yet for one moment during their run he had believed, actually hoped, that maybe… Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut against that feeling. He doesn’t want to allow room for any disappointment or expectation.

His name is suddenly called out before he makes it to the changing room. He turns around to find Hinata standing behind him in the corridor. His stance is wide-legged and a little unsteady but he’s on his feet and there’s determination behind it. He glares at him, lips curled in anger.

“You’re the one who knocked me out of alignment!” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I saw your memory too, about what happened to your partner. That impulse trigger caught you off guard!”

“You’re wrong, you idiot!” Kageyama yells back. “The impulse trigger came from you! If you’d only had your memories under control we wouldn’t even be here.”

“I did have my memories under control!” Hinata argues. “They entered that drift just as calmly and naturally as yours!”

“And still you ended up chasing one!”

“Because you pushed me into it!”

Kageyama is about to hurl back a response but catches himself. Instead he takes a deep, hopefully calming breath. He doesn’t have the energy or the desire to stay here and argue. They’re just throwing the blame back and forth and he’s convinced they’ll keep doing it until the end of time if they don’t move along. He’s tired and he’s got loads of work to do.

“Just… just give it up,” he says finally, although at this point he’s not sure whether he’s talking to Hinata or himself. “You’re not cut out to be a pilot. Accept it and move on.”

Kageyama doesn’t know if it’s because he just stepped out of a drift or if it’s because of something else, but just as he starts walking away he can sense Hinata coming for him, almost before he even moves. He turns around in the exact same moment Hinata lunges at him, completely ready. He catches the fist flying at his face just before it hits his chin. Hinata’s attack, as well as his own sharp intuition, surprises Kageyama so much that he’s too slow to follow the next move. Hinata is quick and light-footed and soon he finds himself slammed back against the wall.

“One, zero,” Hinata breathes out, his eyes lit on fire above his wide grin. “To me.”

A hot burst of anger and irritation flares up in Kageyama’s chest. He quickly pries himself free and grabs Hinata by the wrists. In one swift movement he kicks his legs out from under him, bringing him out of balance and onto the floor with a hard thud. Kageyama crouches over him.

“One, one,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “Don’t mess around.”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before he feels Hinata’s knee against his gut. His surroundings are all of a sudden flipped upside-down and next thing he knows he’s being hurled over Hinata’s head. The roof spins and he lands heavily on his back, but before Kageyama can collect his bearings Hinata appears above him, quickly pinning him down.

“Two, one,” he breathes. “And I’m being serious.”

Kageyama stares up at him, and he’s starting to realize that he’s never felt this way while sparring with anyone before, including Kindaichi. This wasn’t even a sparring session; they were literally just fighting – weren’t they? Hinata just defeated him, but strangely enough he doesn’t feel defeated.

That raw sensation of synchronized intuition slowly trickles out of him, taking the anger and the fight with it. Something else blooms to life within him, something that feels both familiar and scarily intimate. He knows what this means. He’s capable of recognizing possible compatibility when the potential is there, which it definitely is right now. Looking into Hinata’s bright eyes, he knows that he knows, too.

The spell is broken by a broad shadow blocking most of the light out. Once again they look up to find the upside-down image of Daichi frowning at them.

“Well, this situation looks embarrassingly familiar,” he remarks drily.

They both blush deeply and Hinata quickly lets go of Kageyama’s wrists.

“Commander, we –”

Daichi interrupts him with a shake of his head.

“I’ve never seen such a stubborn yet undecided pair of pilots before.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, sounding extremely tired. “Look, you don’t have to decide on anything in this very moment, but at least sleep on it. Maybe things will be clearer come morning.”

**

Daichi’s advice turns out to be easier said than done. It’s been over two hours since Kageyama went to bed but sleep still insists on evading him. He tosses and turns, his mind buzzing with too many thoughts. He keeps replaying the moment when he chased after Hinata into his memory: Hinata falling into the basement, the entire house collapsing around him, the world stained red and dissolving right in front of his eyes, taking his loved ones with it. He felt what Hinata had felt in that moment, a cold numbing horror that cut straight to the bone and then spread through him like wildfire. It’s hard to remain unaffected by that kind of intensity.

It puts their fight afterwards in a much clearer light, now that he thinks about it. It went down with a different kind of intensity that all the same was hard to ignore. The feeling is vague yet familiar, and it has stayed with him, making his entire body itch.

When his watch displays 3 a.m. Kageyama gives up on sleep. He rolls out of bed, gets dressed, and heads out to find a vending machine. In the end he decides on the one furthest away from his quarters, just for the sake of passing time. He shrinks into his hoodie, shuddering against the industrial coldness of his surroundings. He finds enjoyment during this time of twilight silence. The Shatterdome never really sleeps, the place is simmering with night duty technicians, but the noise is different at night than it is during the day. The busy corridors are now mostly deserted, and the sound of hammering and welding is somehow more muffled and distant.

Kageyama stops by the maintenance bay and Black Crow’s hangar. He stares up at the towering machine, a large frame reaching for the domed ceiling several meters above, sparse lights reflecting on chrome surfaces. Even at this age it’s still a powerful fighter. It can definitely hold its own next to the newer classifications. The Jaeger looks empty now, though – its long humanoid limbs heavy and unmoving, its shoulders square and stiff, the cockpit unlit and silent.

Like most Jaegers tend to do after a while, Black Crow has come to form its own personality, a mechanic soul that stems from its pilots, especially the dominant one. The more the pilots meld with the machine, the more this soul manifests in the drift, as though flicking a switch on and off. In the end it turns into an individual trait, much like a thumbprint, and it is often perceived as a low hum with no apparent source.

Earlier today, albeit only for a moment, Kageyama could sense the presence of Black Crow’s soul.

It’s difficult to accept and embrace that feeling of being a pilot again. The drawback of being human is all the emotional baggage they sometimes bring into the drift. But… before things went south today, Kageyama hadn’t hated being back in the cockpit. He definitely didn’t feel like escaping. Black Crow had felt alive around him, like Kageyama was literally breathing life into it and receiving a pulse in response. That particular sensation is very extraordinary – and also very difficult to hate.

Kageyama cracks a yawn and stretches, his back and shoulders complaining a little. His nightly walk has lasted much longer than he planned and he should probably consider trying to sneak a nap in before he has to get up for real. He heads slowly back to his room, playing absently with the now empty water bottle, lost in thought. It’s when he’s about to turn right at the usual corner that he stops for a second. When he looks up he realizes that the opposite direction will take him directly to the west wing. The west wing is where the infirmary is located, where their treatment and recovery facilities are.

That’s where Kindaichi is.

Kageyama’s stomach immediately does a backflip. He hesitates, fights a couple of mental rounds with himself. He knows he never went back there after he was denied access the first time. He knows it’s become harder and harder for him to conjure up a clear image of Kindaichi’s face in his mind. He knows he should have done this a long time ago.

He breathes deeply a couple of times before he finally turns left and heads through the double doors.

The west wing is brighter and quieter than the rest of the building, much like a hospital. At the same time it’s sterile and less welcoming. It’s been a while since Kageyama felt welcome at the Shatterdome but he definitely feels more at home in noisy hangars, surrounded by giants. He hurries down the empty, hollow corridor and slips past to the ICU, not stopping to wake the night nurse.

Kindaichi’s room is quiet and dark. It also comes across as surprisingly cramped, even though they’re alone. It must be the medical equipment’s fault; Kageyama can see the displays of several machines glowing in the shadows.

Kindaichi is currently receiving the best treatment possible but hasn’t shown any signs of coming around yet. It’s not unexpected but at the same time it’s very strange. He is able to breathe on his own, he responds to painful stimuli, and from time to time there are prolonged bursts in brain activity, as though he’s dreaming just like any other healthy person would. And still, that’s where it stops, like there’s a final barrier he can’t cross. Maybe it’s trauma, maybe it’s a deeper injury they haven’t discovered yet, maybe it’s just plain stubbornness. Kageyama has no idea. He’s no expert on medical conditions.

He lingers by the door for a moment, afraid to disturb. He clears his throat, tentatively tests the silence, waiting to see if there’s any possible response. Of course there are no changes in Kindaichi’s vital signs and Kageyama feels stupid for even trying.

He tiptoes into the room and carefully takes a seat. The large bed turns his former partner into something small and fragile, which is strange because he never was anything like that. His complexion is pale against the white sheets, almost translucent, and his chest is ever so slightly rising and falling.

“Hey,” Kageyama whispers, his voice loud in the quietness.

He immediately feels stupid again, like he’s talking to someone who’s deliberately ignoring him. He reminds himself that Kindaichi’s condition doesn’t qualify as a coma and that it is possible he’s actually listening in, even though it’s unlikely. It won’t hurt putting his thoughts into words anyway. This is maybe the safest place to do just that.

“Black Crow says hi.” Kageyama smiles a little despite himself. “You should seriously see it, it’s got new details now – orange chrome, of all things. But it fits, it actually looks good.”

He bites his lip, watches the monitor screen for a few beats.

“I… also tried drifting with someone new today. And it went okay until… well, until I fucked it up. I made a rookie mistake and fell out of alignment. Stupid, I know.”

Kageyama hesitates and twists the sleeve of his hoodie into a tight knot. His hands are cold, he realizes.

“I guess… I’m just wondering what it’s like to have that sort of connection with me. I don’t have anybody else's point of view but my own. And right now it would’ve been really nice to hear about it from someone who’s actually been in my head before. Because… I’m not sure what I’m thinking anymore. I don’t know if drifting with me is such a good idea, you know?”

He looks up at Kindaichi’s silent profile, embarrassed that he for a split-second actually expected a reply. That makes him jump all the more violently when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

Kageyama turns around, expecting to see the night nurse coming in to yell at him, but to his great surprise it’s Hinata’s face that peers into the room instead. His expression lights up when his eyes meet Kageyama’s.

“Hello,” he whispers.

“Uh… Hi?”

“You wouldn’t answer your door and so I went looking for you. This was kinda the last place I hadn’t checked… The Shatterdome’s really big and…um. I got a little lost, too. Sorry if I’m interrupting…”

Hinata gestures into the air and then trails off sheepishly, remaining there by the door. His face is concealed by the shadows, his body nothing but a bluish silhouette, but Kageyama can see his ridiculously bright hair shining through the darkness. Apparently it doesn’t seem to be anything urgent; for whatever reasons he was just trying to locate him.

“Okay…” Kageyama mutters after a moment. “Well… Come in –?”

Hesitantly, Hinata steps into the faint light seeping in through the half-closed blinds. He walks through the room in a wide arch, not really looking at Kindaichi, and takes the chair on the other side of the bed.

“How, uh, how is he?” he asks awkwardly, his voice still dropped into a whisper.

“Stable.” Kageyama shrugs. “So he’s good for now.”

He expects him to ask more questions – after all he has shown himself to be a naturally nosy person – but Hinata just nods solemnly and leaves it at that. They resign themselves to an odd silence where Kageyama wonders what Hinata actually wants without knowing how he’s supposed to ask about it.

“It’s synesthesia, in case you were wondering.”

Kageyama frowns at Hinata’s words, which appear out of context, like an afterthought in the dark.

“Huh?”

“That color explosion you saw in my memory,” he explains. “Hearing a person’s voice sometimes makes me experience flashes of different colors. My memories aren’t only about isolated events but they also tend to include the colors I’ve associated with them. I guess it must’ve rubbed off on you or something during the drift.”

“Oh… Right.”

It’s an unexpected confession. Kageyama knows the phenomenon is relatively rare – but he’s also not all that surprised. It seems typical, that someone with a personality like Hinata’s would find a way to be colorful on all possible levels.

“Natsu’s voice wasn’t always that bright, glaring red you saw,” Hinata continues. “It was mostly pale pink, like lemonade. Sometimes it was peach or cherry, especially if she laughed out loud. But on that day…” He pauses, his soft smile wavering. “She was scared. She was so terrified that it stained her voice. Since then I’ve honestly never cared much for the color red.”

Before Kageyama can think of anything even remotely comforting to say, Hinata looks up, a big grin on his face. The few glittering teardrops clinging to the corners of his eyes disappear in the shadows.

“Yours is blue, though,” he says, pleased.

“My what’s blue?” Kageyama blurts out.

“Your voice, you idiot.”

“Oh. Of course.”

He waits for Hinata to continue but he doesn’t offer any further comments and Kageyama is weirdly disappointed. He would like to know exactly what shade of blue his voice is. Does it give Hinata a good feeling or does it repulse him? He said he doesn’t care for red anymore but what about blue? Kageyama wonders about that – and then he wonders why he’s even wondering in the first place. It’s not like it’s important information.

“I’m really sorry,” Hinata says quietly, his fingers busying themselves with a loose thread in his sleeve. “About earlier, I mean. You were right, it was my memory that knocked us out of alignment.”

“Nah, it happens. Don’t worry about it.” Kageyama rubs at his neck, hesitating. “And… I probably should be experienced enough not to let something like that affect me.”

“Being in an actual Jaeger was way, way different than I had imagined,” Hinata admits. “The simulator can’t even compare. It feels weird to invade each other’s consciousness so literally.”

The steady beep of the monitor fills Kageyama’s head. The sound crowds his thoughts, creating an ebb and flow of noise and memory.

“The drift is pretty personal,” he finally says. “To stay unguarded enough for another human being to step inside your head doesn’t come easily. It’s natural to want to shut someone out because you’re embarrassed or scared of what they’ll see. It’s… difficult to trust someone that much.”

The words leave him sounding defensive – and he supposes he is. He squirms in his uncomfortable chair, trying to gauge how much Hinata would be willing to listen to him, but when he glances at him he’s met with an open, waiting expression. He searches his face for a second or two and finds himself reassured somehow, even though he’s not quite sure exactly what he’s looking for.

“When you’re in a drift with someone –”

Kageyama cuts himself off and glances at the unconscious person lying in the bed, almost half-expecting a response, maybe a protest. But of course there’s nothing but silence. He gives it another try.

“When you’re in a drift with someone it hurts to be ripped out of it. It really hurts a lot, both physically and mentally. It happened to me when Kindaichi was… Well, anyway. It’s something I don’t want to experience again. So… the thought of letting someone new in… that’s not easy for me. I think I have my defenses up more than I’ve realized.” He looks down, picks at his fingernail. “You were doing just fine today, seriously. I’m sorry, too.”

Hinata stares back at him in wonder, as though he didn’t except Kageyama to share something so personal with him, let alone an apology. And to be honest, neither had Kageyama.

“I won’t do the same mistake twice,” Hinata assures him. “Lightning never strikes the same place twice – isn’t that what they say?”

“I think it actually can, if given the chance.”

“But even if it did, I trust you won’t knock me out of alignment again,” he replies sincerely. “So please give me a second chance. I promise I’ll stay focused.”

Kageyama’s voice may be the color blue but in this very moment his face is definitely blushing a deep crimson red. It’s maybe the most genuine thing anyone has ever told him. He’s not sure how it is possible for someone to trust another person this much, so soon after meeting them, but Hinata isn’t giving him any reasons to doubt what he says. He looks like he’s ready to battle anything thrown at him.

Just then the night nurse enters the room and whatever Kageyama had planned to say dies in his throat. He only manages a quiet nod of agreement before she irritably ushers them out, but it’s enough to bring the widest, happiest smile to Hinata’s face.

It’s 4 a.m. by the time they finally say goodnight and head off to their quarters. Kageyama knows he’ll surrender to the insomniac in him and stay awake until breakfast anyway. There’s no way he can sleep after being struck by a thousand-watt smile like Hinata’s.

**

The second time Kageyama is hooked up to Black Crow together with Hinata, he immediately starts resisting. It happens so automatically he’s not even aware of it at first, not until he tries to commit to the drift and nothing really happens. It’s as if his mind has doubled down on its defenses. He can feel the static currents of the drift lightly treading the periphery of his consciousness, but there’s no hook, no plunge.

Kageyama can’t make sense of it. He had felt fine at breakfast, even kind of looked forward to a new trial run. He’d been a little worried about things turning out different in daylight, that maybe his newfound inspiration and Hinata’s seemingly blind trust would disappear come morning. But Hinata had waved him over to his table and jumped straight into conversation, as excited as ever, and both Kageyama’s appetite and mood had been pretty good.

Now, however, his mind has been thrown into an instant chaos. The more he tries to clear out his thoughts, the more his head fills up with hazy, irrelevant memories. Strangely enough, these are the kind of memories he’s okay with – harmless, boring, idle memories that have no pain or trauma or importance attached to them. It takes another moment for him to realize that he’s subconsciously screening everything that comes to mind. He’s beside himself, looking in from the outside, subconsciously trying to control what to think.

“The Neural Handshake is still inactive,” the communications officer tells them. “The delay’s coming from your end, Kageyama.”

Kageyama grits his teeth, grimacing inside his helmet. “Yes, I’m aware,” he growls, frustrated. “I’m trying.”

The thing is, though – he’s not sure how trying works. It’s just like that occasional split-second’s blackout when he can’t remember his security clearance code, or the PIN to unlock the door to his room. It sends him into a brief moment of panic and he starts overthinking. Maybe it worked better for him yesterday because he went into it with low expectations. Maybe his late-night conversation with Hinata made him hyperaware of his thoughts. Or maybe this whole thing is still too frightening for him.

He’s about to give up and call it off when he hears it. It somehow filters through all of his muddled thoughts, a familiar lighthouse coming into view somewhere in the back of his mind. It’s not the roar of an engine, or the buzzing of electricity – it’s the low, omnipresent hum of Black Crow.

The next thing that fights its way through, floating above everything, is Hinata’s presence. Kageyama knows he’s standing right next to him, but Hinata didn’t reach out to touch him and neither did he say anything. It’s almost as if they’re already drifting, even though there’s no active neural handshake and therefore technically no headspace in which to communicate.

And still Hinata is in his head somehow, asking him what he’s waiting for, telling him to trust him. They’re simply on the same wavelength.

A dam suddenly breaks in Kageyama’s mind. The pull of the drift grabs him, firmly yanking him into its ripples of tangled memories, and he comes out on the other side in unity with Hinata. There are no blinking warning lights, no abnormal readings on the heads-up display in front of him; just a calm and steady clarity. Maybe lightning can’t strike in the same place after all.

“I literally have no idea how you guys pulled that off,” the communications officer admits. “But, um, you both look good and stable right now.”

Kageyama glances over at Hinata, who’s already looking at him, grinning. It’s like an inside joke only the two of them understands, or a shared secret nobody else knows about. But what ‘it’ exactly is, Kageyama isn’t able to put into words. He just knows it’s a good thing.

Don’t get too cocky now, Kageyama thinks, smirking.

He’s not surprised when he hears Hinata snort and reply, “As if.”

A sudden commotion on the other side of the visor makes them both look up. Kageyama can see Daichi rushing over to the science officers, hunched over their displays. The expression on the commander’s face changes through a range of emotions, going from surprise to shock to determination within the span of a few seconds. A moment later Kageyama’s growing suspicions are confirmed.

“A category three has been sighted just off the coast of Honshu,” Daichi explains over the intercom. “We’ll deploy Blue Castle and I know this is sudden, but… if you guys feel like you’re ready –”

“We’re ready!”

Kageyama and Hinata’s response is given immediately and in perfect unison, interrupting Daichi’s suggestion. Even the feedback received through Black Crow is nothing but an impatient buzz, random electric impulses bursting within the drift like small explosions, as though the Jaeger is agreeing.

Daichi hesitates thoughtfully. The blue reflection from the holograms blends with the red alarm filling the Mission Control center, bathing his features in pale purple. Then he nods, his face set.

“Okay. You’ll go with Blue Castle as backup.”

No trial run, Kageyama thinks as Black Crow goes through the final preparations, fully bridging the connection between the three of them. It feels like he’s a rookie about to head out on his very first mission. Like it or not this is the real deal.

“I know,” Hinata replies next to him. “It’ll be fine. I’m right here.”

A rush of surprise passes through him and Kageyama grins despite himself, the knot in his chest loosening up a little.

“Get out of my head, dumbass.”

It’s overcast and dark when the aircrafts carrying the Jaegers eventually take off from base. The sky is wet and silvery and a packed army of rainclouds steadily rolls in towards the mainland, gathering into a small storm.

The drop is unsteady and disrupts the water more than necessary. Black Crow stumbles against the ripples but they manage to stay on their feet. The Jaeger’s movements are slow, almost sluggish, and each heavy step sends crushing tidal waves towards the shore. There’s a bit of a slant to the rain and it adds to the white swell in the dark water. It won’t be long before the mist turns into a downpour.

Kageyama never really liked wading through deep water in the first place, but he realizes now how perfectly justified the fear of the ocean is. There truly are terrible things hiding in these endless depths. If you lose something out here it’s lost forever.

“Kageyama?”

Hinata’s voice pulls him out of the anxiety brewing in his mind. He glances at him and the expression on his face says it all; he’s never been in a situation like this before. Kageyama, on the other hand, has. He needs to pull himself together, if not for himself then at least for his co-pilot.

“Alright, everyone.” Iwaizumi’s voice crackles to life on the radio, his tone composed and steady, almost casual, like an aviator. “Let’s try and get this over with in time for dinner, okay?”

“Heard you guys messed up your trial run yesterday,” Oikawa cuts in. “Don’t know about you, Tobio-chan, but I’m keen on making it back in one piece. I hope you’ve got your shit together by now.”

“I’m not the one who had to surrender to someone twenty centimeters shorter than me,” Hinata deadpans and Kageyama can’t help but snort a laugh.

“You’re a rookie,” Oikawa replies sourly. “Anything you have to say is invalid.”

“Oikawa, could you for once pick your battles more wisely?” Iwaizumi interrupts, annoyed. “Guys, I’m sorry, this one’s an incurable dumbass.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Whatever,” Kageyama says drily. “Oikawa is fighting monsters and his own insecurities. We should all cut him some slack.”

“Literally no one appreciates your kingly remarks, so shut it.”

“Shut up all of you!” Daichi sounds utterly enraged as he finally ends their petty discussion. “Thousands of people are putting their lives on the line, every single day, in order to keep this project afloat. And here you are setting our reputation on fire by bickering like children! Have some goddamned pride!”

They all promptly fall quiet, expressing their apologies in muttered, shameful unison. Daichi may be awfully young, but over the last couple of years he’s gained almost a decade’s worth of military experience. He can be downright terrifying when he wants to.

“Blue Castle!” Daichi barks, causing all of them to jump. “I’m counting on you guys. Black Crow – don’t you dare move in without my say so. Don’t even think about it or I’ll personally fly out there and kick your asses.”

Black Crow is left behind patrolling the shore while Blue Castle makes its way towards the island. Kageyama steals a glance at Hinata and his heart skips a surprised beat when he sees him grinning back at him. He was wrestling all kinds of worries this morning but he’s relieved to see that Hinata at least seems relaxed and balanced when it really comes down to it. He feels strangely comfortable in this drift, even a little safe. He never thought he would live to experience that again – that perfect, streamlined silence embracing his mind.

“Do you think we’ll get to fight?” Hinata asks.

“I don’t know. Let’s hope not.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa make a capable and efficient team, probably the best they’ve had since Kageyama and Kindaichi. Their fighting style is elegant but powerful, direct and head-on, but very much by the book. With the right tactics they’ll manage fine on their own. Then again, tactics need to be flexible and sometimes they’re anything but. Kageyama hopes for everyone’s sake that they’re having a good day.

About fifteen minutes of rainy silence have passed when there’s a burst of static on the radio. It’s so loud and sudden that both Kageyama and Hinata grab at their helmets in a vain attempt at covering their ears. Then Iwaizumi’s voice appears, his fragmented words faraway and impossible to decipher.

“Iwaizumi?” Kageyama responds loudly, trying to make himself heard over the crackle of static. “What’s happening over there?”

“Iwaizumi–!” This time Oikawa clearly comes through and he sounds panicked. His voice is drowning in what sounds like howling wind, as if the pilots have been exposed to the open air. “Iwaizumi, don’t –”

The line goes dead before he can even begin his sentence and Kageyama can literally feel his heart stop, a chill racing down his spine.

“Oikawa? Oikawa!”

He desperately tries to reach Blue Castle on another frequency but no matter how many times he keeps repeating their names, there is no reply. He exchanges a nervous glance with Hinata, whose eyes are wide and shiny and terrified, looking like it never crossed his mind that this could actually happen. Kageyama reckons it never would happen in a simulator.

“Hey –” he says faintly. “We – we have to do something… right? We have to – we have to help them.”

“No, you don’t.” Daichi interrupts them. “You are not to do anything without my orders.”

“Can you reach them from Mission Control?”

“No, but their readings are still coming in just fine. Sudden radio silence doesn’t necessarily mean danger.”

“But, Daichi – Commander –!” Kageyama all but yells in response, his eyes locked with Hinata’s. “We can’t sit here and wait! We have to –”

“I said, you’re not going to do anything! I’m not risking losing two teams in one fell swoop! If they go down you’re all we’ve got left, so stay put and wait for further instructions, is that clear?”

Hinata is slowly shaking his head at him, his teeth sunk deep into his bottom lip, desperation written all over his face. Kageyama knows very well what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. He can sense it with every fiber of his being, so strong that he’s nearly vibrating.

“Black Crow?” Daichi speaks again, his voice sharp, demanding them to confirm. “Is that clear?”

There is nothing great or heroic about disobeying an order. But remaining passive while fellow pilots might be dying is unthinkable. Like Hinata, Kageyama doesn’t want to leave the mission feeling like he didn’t do everything in his power to save them. He fully understands Daichi’s point of view, but if he obeys him now he knows he can wave goodbye to every remaining sense of self-worth, even if he turns out to be wrong.

“Sorry, Commander,” he says and reaches up to kill the communication with the military base. “Oikawa’s a real bastard but I don’t hate him that much.”

Maneuvering the Jaeger is an incredibly heavy task, like trying to push a rock through an ocean of tar. It seems to require tremendous effort just to make Black Crow pick up speed. Kageyama can’t remember it being this difficult to pilot and he can almost feel his head spin, his breath short and trapped in his chest, but there is a rhythm somewhere and he struggles to fall properly into it. The Jaeger is rusty and so is he – but Hinata isn’t. Instead of trying to make excuses on behalf of the machine and himself, Kageyama latches onto his co-pilot’s explosive energy and powers forward.

“There!” Hinata exclaims suddenly and points through the visor. “I can see them!”

The cold beam from their beacon falls directly on Blue Castle. Through the whipping rain they can see the Jaeger hunched over as it grapples with the Kaiju. The beast isn’t the biggest Kageyama has seen but it’s bulky and compact, and its massive arms are joined with wide, strong shoulders that appear to be covered in a leathery armor. Its clenched fists are about the size of its head, which is nearly sunken into its thick, short neck. Blue luminescent poison seeps between its sharp fangs and down its square jaw, revealing wounds that the Castle has managed to inflict on it. But it’s nowhere near enough.

Kageyama quickly assesses the state of the other Jaeger. Its left side, Iwaizumi’s side, appears largely defunct and is hardly operating at all. That’s bad. There’s also a large crack running along the length of the cockpit, as though the Kaiju has tried to pry it open, and their main missiles seem to be missing altogether. That’s even worse. It doesn’t leave them with much other choice but to battle with their bare fists.

“Chest or belly is our best chance here,” Kageyama says hastily. “We gotta separate them first so brace yourself and run at it as fast as you can.”

Hinata nods a determined ‘okay’, his eyebrows pulled together in a focused frown, and then they charge. Their long, heavy strides create small earthquakes that disappear with the yielding waves, before coming to an abrupt stop as they slam shoulder first into the Kaiju. The collision with hard armor sends a shiver through the Jaeger strong enough to snap anyone’s spine in half, but the attack is surprising and effectively sends the monster tumbling into the ocean.

It seems like only a split-second passes before it reappears, roaring with what is clearly pure rage. It shakes its head, squares its broad shoulders, and hurls itself at its new opponent without hesitation. Kageyama and Hinata brace themselves for the crash, simultaneously reaching out and shoving Black Crow’s right arm into the Kaiju’s wide open gape. The monster shows no intensions of stopping and their arm is soon forced further and further down its throat, all the way until it’s buried up to the shoulder, and the final impact sends them flying.

The Jaeger digs its fingers into what has to be part of the beast’s respiratory tracts, because the firmer their grip, the more high-pitched the monster squeals. It gives a final choked shriek as it is dragged down with the Jaeger. They’re partly submerged but they take advantage of their momentum, giving the beast’s belly a kick powerful enough to flip it over their heads. It requires all the strength they’ve got but it all goes down in one fluid motion, and Kageyama is certain he’s never felt more in sync with another person’s movements before. His senses are keener and lighter, more flexible. There’s no time to be scared or anxious or hesitant.

Their hold on the Kaiju finally gives and they’re left clutching a dripping piece of the monster’s throat.

“That’s gonna piss it off for sure,” Hinata says breathlessly, and he’s perfectly right – it takes more than that to kill a Kaiju.

They have hardly regained their footing before the monster is charging at them again, toxic waste spilling down its chest as it roars, nearly voiceless now but no less furious.

They just barely manage to sidestep it and by the time it turns around and comes back for them, they’re ready. With a boost from the thrusters in the Jaeger’s elbow, they successfully rocket a powerful punch straight into the Kaiju’s exposed chest. The monster staggers, leaving a narrow window of vulnerability that they seize immediately.

“Finish it!” Kageyama shouts, although his instructions are hardly necessary. Hinata is right there with him, perfectly balanced on the same wavelength and thinking the exact same thing.

Black Crow’s right arm plasma cannon is charged in a heartbeat and they fire all rounds into the beast, not relenting until they’re finally left with nothing but a limp, wasted carcass.

Everything appears perfectly still after that, like the storm has been put on hold. Kageyama and Hinata turn towards each other, breathing heavily, and several seconds pass where they feel nothing but exhausted numbness. They share a smile of pure relief before simultaneously breaking into laughter.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama asks once he’s caught his breath.

Hinata nods, practically beaming at him. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Thanks? For what?”

“For having such a clear mind. That was awesome!”

Kageyama stares back at him in amazement. Until now he’s been convinced he had anything but a clear mind, that he was instead bringing all sorts of deadweight emotions into the drift. But Hinata is grinning at him, cheeks rosy and eyes bright, and there’s nothing about him that says he’s lying. For the first time in several long months, Kageyama is genuinely elated.

**

They return to cheers and celebrations. The result of the mission isn’t exactly a miracle but they were still extremely lucky, considering how close they were to disaster. Pilots have lost limbs, not to mention died, facing smaller Kaiju than a category three. Oikawa escaped only with a few bruised ribs and a mild concussion, while Iwaizumi came out of it with a broken arm.

Kageyama and Hinata didn’t sustain any injuries at all. They receive a stern talk (and an apology) from Daichi for disobeying orders, although it’s nowhere near as bad as it could have been. In the end they’re ushered off to the infirmary with a pat on the back. When their check-up is done and they’re finally free to leave, they both find themselves too full of adrenaline to go to sleep. Making it back safely from a battle always leaves a certain feeling of restlessness, a strange kind of emptiness that aims for the chest and forms a temporary pit filled with lingering ‘what if’s and nonexistent worst case scenarios. It’s nightmare fuel and something that only quiet company can shake.

They decide to hang around the mess hall for a little while, sharing a bottle of water but not really saying much. Kageyama picks absently at the bottle label while replaying the earlier events in his mind, carefully taking note of the main highlights and filing them away for later scrutiny. He then resigns himself to watching Hinata gradually nod off. It’s not until a thin trail of drool starts making its way down his co-pilot’s chin that he nudges him awake and suggests they call it a day.

They part with muttered wishes of a good night’s sleep and make their way to their respective rooms. Kageyama is lost in thoughts of a warm long shower when someone quietly approaches him, and he does a double-take when he realizes it’s Oikawa.

“Hello,” Oikawa says awkwardly as he falls into step with him, one hand moving up to brush through his fringe, the other coming up to clutch at his side as pain shoots through his ribs.

“Oikawa…” Kageyama frowns warily at him. “Um. Shouldn’t you be, like… resting?”

Oikawa shrugs and looks off to the side, a small pout forming on his lips. “It’s fine,” he mumbles. “I couldn’t sleep and Iwa-chan snores, so…”

“Yeah,” Kageyama just says, partly in agreement and partly in sympathy.

“Look, we probably won’t end up being friends, despite what you did. Hero of the day or not – it doesn’t change the fact that I’m better than you and that your personality sucks.”

Kageyama shrugs, not particularly hurt by that confession. “Ditto.”

They keep walking in silence. Kageyama waits for the rest of his speech while Oikawa tries to figure out how to say it.

“But…” He hesitates, drawing in a breath before continuing. “I don’t think we’d be alive right now if it weren’t for you two. So – thanks. For saving our lives. I’m not planning on telling that to the annoying shrimp, though,” he adds with a proud sniff. “Pass it on if you want.”

Kageyama is surprised. Right now Oikawa strikes him as genuinely sincere, despite how hard he’s trying to mask his confession and despite how unpleasant things have been between them lately. Kageyama has never heard him say anything like this to anyone before, not even to his co-pilot, and they’re currently the closest team on the entire base. It seems like today’s mission put a couple of things in perspective for him.

“Oh… It’s okay,” Kageyama replies, blushing slightly. “We’re on the same side after all, you don’t owe me anything.” He pauses, twirls his empty water bottle around in his hands, his mood struck by sudden amusement. “Just don’t make it a habit. I don’t wanna commit myself to saving your ass all the time.”

Oikawa snorts a laugh. “Never again, I promise.”

He hesitates, eyes locked on his feet, before he slows down to a stop. Kageyama does the same and just waits for him to continue, sensing he has more on his chest.

“I’m sorry about… the other stuff, too. You know, back in the mess hall when shrimpy went for my throat like some psycho. I just… I know how it is when you get so comfortable in your compatibility that it backfires on you. Ever since Iwaizumi and I relocated from Sydney it’s been… well, it’s been hard for both of us. We don’t… connect in the ways we used to anymore. Most of the time we do but… not always. I just don’t wanna lose him, is all.”

Oikawa bites his lip and looks away, his eyes hidden by his hair falling into his face. Then he clears his throat and looks up again.

“Anyway, I was out of line and never should have said what I said. It was a bad take and I’m sorry.”

“Um. Thanks,” Kageyama manages, unsure of how he should handle this sudden display of honesty. “Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

They fall into halting awkwardness, not knowing how to say their goodbyes, and ultimately the conversation ends with a brief nod and a ‘goodnight’. Oikawa disappears down the hall and Kageyama stares after him.

Almost everyone on this base has their own personal monster, a ghost left by the Kaiju that could have killed them. Instead it lingers in the back of their minds, either pushing them towards the light or wrapping them up in darkness.

Kageyama can’t tell how Oikawa feels. But personally he’s considering taking a hesitant step out of the gloom and, if not into the light, then at least into the shade.

**

Their short period of rest remains just that; short. A week or so later there are reports of disturbances along a deep trench just south of the country, and a new attack is deemed imminent. They double down on maintenance to get the Jaegers back into shape as quickly as possible, and whenever they’re not training both Kageyama and Hinata have been lending a hand in the reparations.

Kageyama cracks a wide yawn and stretches thoroughly as he steps out of the shower. It’s been a long day spent alternating between welding sparks and grimy hands, and all he really wants now is a good, peaceful night’s sleep.

He ruffles his damp hair with a towel and swipes his palm over the steamy mirror, leaving a wet open area that he doesn’t really look at. He’s just pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats when there’s a soft knock on his door. Kageyama frowns at his reflection and then glances at his watch, which tells him it’s far too late to have any visitors dropping by. There’s another short knock, confirming that it wasn’t just his imagination.

To his surprise he finds Hinata standing outside.

“Hey,” he says, lips curled into a small smile and his hand raised in a greeting.

Kageyama just frowns at him, puzzled. Then he pokes his head out the door and glances up and down the corridor, half expecting Daichi or some other higher officer to be there together with him, but the area is deserted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Um, nothing really…” Hinata peers hopefully over Kageyama’s shoulder. “Can I come in?”

Kageyama blinks stupidly, not sure how he’s supposed to respond to this unexpected request, but he’s already learned that Hinata’s straightforwardness hardly knows any bounds and that he’s probably not going to easily take no for an answer. Besides, he apparently has a strange talent of always getting his way, no matter what. Kageyama sighs as he steps aside and gestures for him to enter, closing the door behind them.

“It’s late, you know.”

Hinata stops in the middle of the room and turns around to look at him. “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.”

Kageyama crosses his arms, struggling to fight back his growing annoyance. “So what did you want?”

“Oh, uh…” Hinata lets out a little laugh and scratches his chin apologetically. “Nothing in particular, actually, I just wanted to say that… I think being your co-pilot is really awesome. I mean, I guess this sounds a little weird and all but I’ve wanted to tell you that. I really enjoy the connection I have with you.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow in slight disbelief. He seriously came just for that? He would have taken it as some kind of joke or bet, but Hinata’s eyes are practically sparkling with admiration and Kageyama isn’t sure what to make of it, whether he thinks it’s flattering or embarrassing or just uncomfortable.

“Uh… okay. Thanks? And… and that’s it?”

“…I guess so?”

Hinata is staring at him, almost expectantly, and an awkward silence follows. Kageyama can feel his face burning, can tell that his pulse is nowhere near resting, and he has no idea why. Is this really all Hinata wants, to tell him this? He’s too outspoken and straightforward to struggle with a confession like this, he could’ve easily told him any time. It doesn’t make sense to come to his room at this late hour, all alone, only to walk out the door again. And Kageyama… well, strangely enough he doesn’t actually want Hinata to leave. Not when he can tell something else is obviously going on.

“Okay. Right. I think I’ll just head back now, so… Good night!”

Hinata turns around but only gets to place his hand on the door before Kageyama has grabbed him by the wrist. That’s not something he would usually do and he ends up glaring at his own hand for a couple of seconds, his knuckles white and his veins blue, wondering if their minds are still somehow connected or if a part of Hinata has just rubbed off on him.

“Kageyama…?”

“I –”

He realizes he doesn’t have anything to say. He can’t explain why he’s holding Hinata back like this. He felt confrontational a second ago, irritable even, but now he’s not so sure. Words are repeating in his head, over and over, something sensible along the lines of ‘let go of him,’ but he can’t really figure out what it means. And wouldn’t it be awkward? If he lets go of him now he’ll still have to explain why he held him back in the first place, and then Hinata is going to ask him what’s wrong, what he wants, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’ll take ‘nothing’ for a sufficient answer. Kageyama himself doesn’t even know what he wants right now.

“Hinata,” he says in a second attempt, his hand still clasped around his wrist and his mind frantically working to make something up as he goes, “I just –”

He doesn’t get any further before Hinata closes the gap and presses his lips against his. Kageyama makes a startled sound somewhere at the back of his throat – this isn’t what he wanted to do, was it? – and he’s about to pull back and apologize when it dawns on him that he actually wasn’t the one to initiate the kiss. Hinata kissed him first.

He finally lets go of him, to which Hinata responds by clutching the front of his t-shirt and pulling him closer. The whole thing is very clumsy and Kageyama has no idea where he’s supposed to keep his hands. They both stumble further into the room, their movements locked against each other, partly in disagreement and partly in eagerness, until the back of Kageyama’s knees hits the edge of his bed. His legs give way underneath him and he falls flat onto the mattress, dragging Hinata with him. He ends up with Hinata pinning him to the bed and he wonders why he always feels so caught up in this guy’s pace, why he’s always, always, tagging along.

“I –” he starts, for the third or fourth time. “I’m sorry,” he finally blurts out, confused and stupid.

Hinata stills, his breath hot against his neck. “For what?”

“I… don’t know.” Kageyama swallows, his pulse racing, and he has no idea what words actually are. They simply won’t connect. “Sorry for… losing my balance and – and making you fall… on top of me…”

In that moment Kageyama isn’t even joking; he really is sorry. And maybe it’s the strange innocence of his words, or maybe just the sheer idiocy behind them, but Hinata pulls back and blushes furiously, like he’s only now fully realizing what they’re doing.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he mutters and gets off of him, taking a step back and half-bowing stiffly. “I – I apologize for being so rude!”

“Wait –”

“Please excuse me!”

Before Kageyama can protest Hinata turns on his heel and disappears out of the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind him, and he’s left still trying to figure out how words go together. He stares into the silence left by Hinata’s departure, his mouth hanging open, before he groans and falls back onto his bed.

He throws an arm over his eyes, his head hot and heavy, his body tingling. What the hell was that just now?

Kageyama honestly feels a bit betrayed by the drift. They’ve been connected so many times this past week alone. They’ve spent countless hours in relentless sparring sessions, they’ve practically been living in the Jaeger simulator, they’ve even played volleyball in their spare time in order to get to know each other better. Not to mention they’ve already been in battle, which is the ultimate test. They’ve been attached at the hip lately. So shouldn’t he have noticed by now if Hinata had feelings for him? And what about himself? He hadn’t exactly resisted the kiss – in fact, he’s pretty sure he reciprocated – but it all happened so fast and so suddenly.

He frowns, thoroughly confused. He can’t really tell what he feels. He hasn’t given it much thought because he hasn’t had any reason to. Hinata is just his co-pilot and partner. Sure, drifting with him is nice. It’s perfect, actually, but it’s purely professional. The fact that they’re a team now doesn’t necessarily mean anything beyond that.

No, Hinata is just an idiot; an idiot who went ahead and did something like this, something that could potentially make their relationship awkward and in the end mess up their compatibility.

“We’ve worked hard for that drift,” Kageyama grumbles.

He’s not going to worry, though. He’s going to dismiss this as a one-time incident, just an impulsive, unconventional way of letting off some steam. It would seem like typical behavior for someone reckless like Hinata anyway. Kageyama is going to put this out of his mind and get some long overdue rest. They’ll just have to figure this one out later.

“Dumbass,” he mutters and turns over, briskly fluffing his pillow before settling down.

When he eventually falls asleep his watch displays 3 a.m.

**

The suspicious activity coming from the trench turns out to be a category two Kaiju. Due to it being a smaller type, as well as a not quite recovered Blue Castle team, Black Crow is ordered to take on the mission solo.

For the first time, Kageyama’s number one worry before battle has nothing to do with the Kaiju. He glances over at Hinata while the technicians work on hooking them up to the Jaeger. It’s been two days since Hinata kissed him out of the blue and they haven’t touched upon the subject since. Hinata seems to pretend that it never happened and Kageyama hasn’t pushed him about it. The only reason he’s left it alone is because he hasn’t noticed any change or strain in their relationship since then. It’s funny but he’s been wary of Hinata’s behavior, expecting things to at least be a little bit weird.

But there have been no problems. Their compatibility remains unchanged and the connection between them is maybe stronger than ever.

And it’s when the drift hooks them in, when the world consists only of Black Crow and the two of them, that Kageyama can truly tell his own feelings apart.

Within the stream of memories washing over them he catches a brief glimpse of their kiss, but he doesn’t know whether the memory belongs to him or Hinata. He absorbs it anyway, like he does with everything else the drift brings, and once they’re safely inside their headspace he can tell it doesn’t matter whose memory it was. It was there, he let it pass, and he feels no different. He’s still in perfect alignment.

The mission passes by in a blur. The Kaiju is smaller and defensive, not uncommon for a category two, but it’s sturdy and armored and will undoubtedly do extensive damage if it’s allowed onto the mainland. The monsters are intelligent and running into a Jaeger at one point was most likely something it had already anticipated – but it had probably never expected to meet a fighter like Black Crow.

The battle itself plays out as one smooth, continuous movement. From the drop to the encounter to the moment the Kaiju goes down – they never stop moving flawlessly through the motions. They hardly have to say a single word to each other, and even Mission Control keeps checking in on them because they’re so unusually quiet. When they’re finished Kageyama almost feels a little sorry for the monster. It never stood a chance against their teamwork.

It’s a first for the both of them, to experience pure compatibility on this level. Kageyama’s mind has been left in a crystal clear bubble of silence and trust, and all he needs to do is give in to the flow and follow it. It’s nothing less than amazing and as he looks over at Hinata, cheeks flushed and short of breath, he knows he feels the exact same way.

Their return to the Shatterdome passes in contemplative, strange silence. The mission is over, the Kaiju has been slain, and yet Kageyama’s body is buzzing, as though all nerve endings are firing continuously, in rapid succession. He makes it through debriefing without paying much attention to what’s being said. It feels like he’s still in the drift, still in-tune with Hinata’s mind.

They accidentally bump shoulders when heading to their rooms for the night. Kageyama isn’t sure how to interpret it but he can tell Hinata tenses up from the sudden contact just as much as he does. They exchange a glance that confirms it’s definitely not only Kageyama’s imagination – but he kind of knew that already.

Once he’s in his room he goes through the same routine as he always does before bed; he showers, changes his clothes, brushes his teeth. But instead of going to sleep he sits down at his desk and ends up waiting for maybe the ten longest minutes of his life. His watch is pushing eleven when there’s finally a knock on his door and he opens up to find Hinata standing outside. His hair is damp and unruly and the hem of his t-shirt is wrinkled, like he’s been constantly wringing it in his hands.

Kageyama lets him in without a word and has barely closed the door before Hinata is on him, lips pressed feverishly against his, hands roaming to touch the bare skin under his t-shirt.

“Took you long enough, dumbass,” Kageyama mutters into the kiss.

Hinata let’s out a small, breathy laugh and insistently steers him towards the bunk. “Sorry.”

They simply continue from where they left off the last time. Once again Kageyama ends up with Hinata pinning him down, straddling his waist, and it really hits him how cramped the bunk bed is. Hinata hesitates for a moment and then leans down to kiss him again, his lips a little clumsy but at the same time soft and insistent, tempting Kageyama’s mouth open and leaving him breathless when they break apart.

“So you feel the same way too, huh?” Hinata whispers, as if they aren’t in the middle of making out.

Kageyama snorts. “Obviously.”

“It wasn’t obvious when I kissed you before.”

“I had a hunch. I just needed a drift to actually get it.”

“Seriously,” Hinata grins. “You’re an idiot.”

Kageyama is about to tell him off for that when he suddenly notices his slowly reddening cheeks.

“I haven’t actually –” Hinata pulls back a little, his face now flush with embarrassment. “I’m not really… you know. I haven’t done this sort of thing very often, so I’m not exactly… experienced.”

Judging by how rapidly the heat spreads across his face, Kageyama is pretty sure he’s never blushed harder in response to being told something. He hides behind his hand for a couple of seconds under the pretense of fixing his hair.

It’s not like he’s got much to brag about, either. There was one boy, in what seems like ages ago, back at the Academy. At first he caught Kageyama’s eye because his co-pilot was his twin brother. He seemed brazen at first, maybe a bit cunning, a polar opposite to his much quieter twin. Kageyama didn’t particularly care for him. Then he realized the boy was also talented, resourceful, intelligent, and hardworking. He softened up, gradually, and a few months later the boy kissed him, because he genuinely liked him back. It was an on-again, off-again relationship, really nothing more than a fling, but Kageyama didn’t mind it. He even started to feel a budding attachment, a sense of stability. Not long after that the boy and his brother were suddenly gone, slain in an ill-fated encounter with a Kaiju. The entire experience was terrifying.

Having Hinata this close, kissing him and touching him, is also terrifying. But unlike most people that have passed through Kageyama’s life, Hinata exists. He’s very much alive.

Hinata stares down at him, waiting for him to say something, his lips pink and parted. He looks torn between continuing and calling it off, and Kageyama knows they should probably go for the latter, make sure they don’t rush into things. But he can’t ignore just how much he enjoys this. It feels like they’re about to engage in a different kind of drift. It’s new but it feels good.

After some unsure fumbling his hands end up resting on Hinata’s thighs. It registers, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’s trembling slightly against his palms. Before he knows it he’s tilting his head up, silently asking him to please continue the kiss.

And Hinata does, more confidently this time. Kageyama’s hands resume their awkward wandering, like he’s subconsciously prompted to touch, like he can’t even help it, and it’s not until he instinctively bucks his hips upward that Hinata utters a low moan and immediately jerks away. He hides his mouth behind clasped hands, eyes blown wide into a panicked stare.

“That – that was weird sound,” he rushes, whispering. “I’m so sorry.”

“No –!” Kageyama protests, suddenly feeling just as panicked as Hinata looks, and shakes his head vehemently. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have moved around like that or anything – I’m sorry.”

The tension is electric but also about as solid as a brick wall. Things are moving frighteningly fast and Kageyama isn’t used to cutting corners, ever. One step too far into the road now and everything might be ruined. He takes a deep steadying breath, having really no idea what to do next. All he knows is that he doesn’t want Hinata to leave.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.” Hinata nods, gives it a thought, bites his lip. “But… I want to.”

They’ve currently ended up in some kind of deadlock and they both feel a bit stupid. Kageyama supposes one of them has to make a move, eventually. Hesitantly, he pats Hinata’s thigh, urging him to get off of him. Hinata watches, a little puzzled, as Kageyama gets up, crosses the room, and rummages through the drawers of his messy desk. He’s so sure he put them in there somewhere… At last, among screwdrivers, split wires, and uncapped pens, he finds what he’s looking for. When he heads back to the bunk he carefully avoids Hinata’s gaze.

“Um,” he begins, blushing as he opens his palm.

“What –” Hinata cuts himself off, his face immediately turning red when he sees the condom and the small tube in Kageyama’s hand. “Oh…”

Kageyama cringes a little and shrugs. “Tanaka,” he just says.

“Yeah…”

“Uh… So… You can still change your mind. I mean, I know you’re tired after today and –”

Hinata reaches out and grabs his hand, effectively stopping him in his rambling tracks. He searches his face for a moment, his hair curled softly at his temples, the rosiness still high in his cheeks, before he pulls him back onto the mattress.

“And,” he repeats, kissing him carefully, “I already told you ‘okay’.”

He curls his hand in the fabric of Kageyama’s t-shirt, encouraging him to take it off, and soon their hands roam impatiently, their lips reconnecting in the cramped space of the bottom bunk. The room isn’t cold but Hinata’s body is tense; Kageyama can feel it as he presses his hands against his naked skin. He leans heavily into him and pushes him down, enjoying how he trembles in response. He’s obviously nervous but he’s eager and bold as he kisses him, his lips soft and willing as they part, allowing him in, his tongue wet and hot.

Kageyama fumbles one-handedly with the lube before he thoroughly slicks his fingers up, making sure his hand is warm to the touch. Without leaving room for any more hesitation he slips in between Hinata’s legs, his hand lightly rounding the slope of his inner thigh. Hinata immediately bucks his hips, mostly in reflex, but he stays still and only moans softly when Kageyama carefully pushes his fingers inside him. He starts with one and quickly follows up with a second, inching them further knuckle-by-knuckle.

Hinata whimpers quietly, his hands reaching up until they find purchase in Kageyama’s hair. He keeps them there, loosely tangled, his eyes glazing over. He pushes back against the movements of Kageyama’s hand, as though his body is moving on its own accord, and it’s completely mesmerizing to watch. Kageyama only eases up when small impatient noises steadily begin to tear from Hinata’s throat, fading out into the otherwise so quiet room.

The silence is broken with Hinata’s heavy sigh, his breath torn somewhere between relief and irritation. There are no words spoken, no questions, but those intense brown eyes are still hooked into him, like a magnet. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Kageyama looks away and busies himself with the condom, his fingers numb and trembling like they don’t even belong to him. He makes an effort at pulling himself together and latches onto the comfortable silence that has formed around them. It’s a wavelength they’ve both tuned into, a private drift that they’re about to engage in. He’s thankful for it, as he’s pretty sure he’s lost the ability to string words together into something coherent.

Kageyama leans down again and captures Hinata’s mouth with his own. He traces his bottom lip with his tongue and then gently bites down on the soft, plump flesh as he slowly sinks into him. He chases his hesitation to the back of his mind and doesn’t stop until he’s buried all the way. Hinata lets out a breathless moan in response, his hips arching and his arms snaking tightly around his shoulders, craving the warmth and the closeness.

Their pace is slow and stuttering to begin with, swayed by embarrassment and discomfort, and Kageyama can tell Hinata is just as unsure about everything as he is. Being Jaeger-pilots is a strange and scary way to start a relationship, especially when matched up so suddenly. They haven’t known each other for very long, but at the same time they know each other more intimately than most people could ever wish for in their lifetime. It’s a situation that’s difficult to get used to, although Kageyama is sure it all comes down to trust and adjustment – much like this.

The contact between them is almost more than he can handle. Kageyama tilts his head down and connects their mouths once more. Hinata curls up underneath him, his thighs pressed around Kageyama’s waist, his heels digging into his lower back, urging him to keep moving. It results in kisses that gradually turn more and more unsteady, constantly interrupted by shallow gasps and trapped words.

Kageyama buries himself deeper, tries to keep some kind of cool in the middle of it all, but his mind is balancing precariously on a ledge with nothing but melted white static on the other side. Just the sight of Hinata throwing his head back against the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut every time he bottoms out is nearly enough to send him tumbling over the edge, plunging into that vague, hazy static. Kageyama mouths against his exposed neck, teeth scraping over pale skin. In the end that’s what seems to do it for Hinata. He arches his back and comes with tense jaws and a cut-off moan, teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, bruising the thin rosy skin.

Hinata is still writhing underneath him when Kageyama falls off his rhythm, his hips stuttering. He drops his head, wanting to hide in the crook of his partner’s neck, when Hinata lets go of his shoulders and reaches up to cup his face in his hands. He doesn’t say a word, just locks eyes with him, watching him intently as he comes. Kageyama’s mind whites out so much, pleasure overtaking him so completely, that he forgets to be embarrassed about it.

He laces their fingers together and exhales, his heart racing fast, echoing in his ears. His head is still buzzing when he rolls off and reaches for the tissues on the nightstand. For a few long seconds after that they just lie there, staring up into the shadows of the top bunk.

Eventually, Hinata glances at him, his hair comically tousled, pale skin gleaming in the dim light.

“I think you’re supposed to cuddle after.”

“I know,” Kageyama smirks. “I’m waiting for you to move closer.”

A beat passes, a second of dead silence, and then Hinata snorts a laugh, smiling brightly. He tosses and turns and then finally settles, inching into Kageyama’s embrace. Just having this radiating warmth and closeness from another person feels comfortable and safe. Over the years he’s gotten used to his own company and that’s been plenty enough – but this isn’t bad at all, simply being together with someone else, just existing.

“You sleepy?” Hinata asks after a while.

“I was but… not really,” Kageyama says, which is an understatement because he could honestly not be any more awake.

“Maybe we should actually start bunking together,” Hinata suggests. “Now that we’re partners and all. You can ask me anything you want, by the way,” he adds matter-of-factly. “Like, if you wanna talk.”

Kageyama studies the unmoving shadows splayed out in front of him without really seeing them. “To get to know each other better, is that what you’re saying?”

“Exactly! Something like that.”

Kageyama can’t help but laugh, amused. “Alright, then…” He ponders all the possible things he could ask and grabs the first one that comes to mind. “That little girl from your memory… she was your sister?”

“My little sister, yeah.” Hinata lets out an exasperated groan. “Six years younger than me, no less! Seriously, dealing with Natsu was such a hassle sometimes!” He sighs dramatically. “Little sisters can be so annoying.”

“You miss her?”

“Are you kidding me?” He sighs again, quieter this time. “I miss her so much it hurts.”

Kageyama isn’t sure if he should ask, he doesn’t want to unnecessarily stir up bad memories, but Hinata had said ‘anything’.

“On that day… For how long were you stuck in that basement?”

Hinata shrugs, a slight nudge against his shoulder. “I’m not sure, actually. An army search party found me maybe four or five days later? I was the only one they rescued from that entire neighborhood, it was kind of a miracle. Luckily I had an aunt up north willing to take me in so I didn’t have to end up in an orphanage.”

“Do you… remember what it was like, being trapped? Having to wait all alone like that?”

“Honestly? I just remember the mandarins.”

“Mandarins?”

Hinata gives a sad little laugh, which passes as a warm current against the crook of Kageyama’s neck.

“We had a crate of mandarins delivered to us just days earlier. I got hungry while I was stuck down there and so I ate nearly all of them, except I was so scared I threw everything up again afterwards.” He hums thoughtfully and shifts a little closer. “Mandarins should be bringing up nightmares for me, all things considered, but instead they only remind me of my sister. I don’t think about the dark basement or the monsters or any of that stuff. Whenever I taste anything citrusy I only think about summertime and the beach and blue skies… Fragments of life before the Kaiju, y’know? Maybe it’s just a coping mechanism but… it’s kinda nice.”

Kageyama thinks back to how heartbroken he had been when Hinata had trapped him in his memory – and he was just a passive bystander. He can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for a young boy to be trapped underground while knowing that his family is facing a raging monster right above his head. What did it really feel like knowing they all could have made it safely to the shelter if he’d only found that stuffed animal sooner? Kageyama never had to deal with that kind of trauma as a kid. His parents died when he was too young to remember it. His grandmother, who he lived with until he was old enough to enlist, passed away later from old age. He’s never really had to worry about anybody but himself. And yet Hinata seems to have recovered remarkably well. The experience has definitely put a toll on him but the monster he faced all those years ago didn’t drag him down. Instead it pushed him into the light, making him shine all the more brighter.

“Hey –” Hinata looks up at him, “I’m sorry if I talk too much. I can ramble on for hours, just a fair warning.”

Kageyama smiles softly and shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

Hinata peers at him through his messy curls. “You don’t talk to a lot of people, do you?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled against the pillow.

“No, I don’t.”

“They talk a lot, though. People, I mean. About you.”

“I’m aware.” Kageyama stifles a huff, a brief spark of irritation brushing past. “But I don’t really care. Let them talk.”

“Well… It’s not all bad, at least from what I’ve heard. You’re one of the very few who’s managed to pilot a Jaeger all the way back on your own, not to mention you were levelheaded enough to save your partner in all the chaos. Most people admire and respect that.” Hinata bites his lip, hesitant. “I think people talk and speculate because you never share anything, so they don’t have any firsthand information to go on. And I totally understand that. But you don’t have to deal with it all of this alone.” He pauses, considers his words. “Plus you’re kinda intimidating. I think people are just scared you’ll beat them up or something.”

Kageyama remains quiet. He has tried not to think about this. He has tried to shut everyone and everything out, pushed the blame back on the faceless crowd that is ‘them’, but he knows he’s not without fault for feeling this way. He knows he’s made everything a little bit worse for himself even though he’s been desperately trying to make it better.

He closes his eyes against the images intruding on his memory – the Kaiju tearing into the cockpit and dragging Kindaichi with it, Kageyama piloting the Jaeger alone, out of his mind and nearly crumbling under the neural load, Kindaichi’s lifeless body floating among the waves of the ocean, and Kageyama reaching out to him, scooping him up and holding him in Black Crow’s hand, a hand that had never before weighed so heavy on him. Those are his worst, most painful memories, but he didn’t do all of it in vain. He did a good thing, no matter how much he’s tried to convince himself of the opposite.

“I’m sorry if I spoke out of line,” Hinata adds apologetically, misinterpreting his silence. “It’s not really my place –”

“No, it’s okay,” Kageyama says. “You’re not… wrong, or anything.”

Hinata falls quiet for a second and when Kageyama glances at him he’s biting absently on his thumb, frowning.

“When you decided to become a pilot… did you want to? Like, really, truly?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama replies earnestly, his heart aching a little. “When I joined the Defense Corps I really truly wanted it.”

Once again they succumb to silence. For a while only the sound of their quiet breathing fills the room.

“I’ve been set on joining the Defense Corps ever since I was old enough to understand what it was,” Hinata tells him eventually. “I wanted to enlist at sixteen like everyone else but then my aunt fell ill and I was only able to join last year. Not long after I was ready to begin my pilot training, they started shutting things down, typically enough… Honestly, I never thought I’d get to be in an actual Jaeger. I definitely never thought I’d find a co-pilot. Because of that, I never was afraid to die.” He pauses, buries his face halfway into the pillow. “But now that I have drifted with someone I don’t want it to end. This connection that I have with you… I want it to last a little bit longer.”

Kageyama feels endlessly sad all of a sudden. He knows that in another time, and in another place, maybe even in an entirely different universe, they would be living ordinary lives without the threat of monsters. In a world like that, Hinata’s words would’ve evoked happier, lighter feelings.

Hinata adjusts his position awkwardly. “Is it too soon to confess embarrassing stuff like this?”

Kageyama smiles weakly before he rolls over and slips his arm tighter around his waist. “I don’t think you can confess anything too soon these days.”

“Your voice has changed color,” Hinata says unexpectedly.

“Okay? How?”

“Well, it’s still blue but… it’s a different shade now, like sapphire, or royal blue. It’s the kind of color you can trust. It suits your timbre.”

Kageyama snorts. “My timbre?”

“Don’t laugh, it’s true!” Hinata shoves angrily at his shoulder. “Just so you know, when we first met your blue was really ugly, it was sharp and oversaturated. Like when a screen’s so bright it hurts to look at. But it’s definitely mellowed out since then. It’s pretty now, like your eyes.”

Kageyama can only blush furiously in response before Hinata beams at him, as if that settles everything. He gently nudges his head underneath Kageyama’s chin, settling comfortably into his embrace. Kageyama stays still for a while, just listening to Hinata’s breathing as it gradually evens out, ghosting over his collarbones in slow, warm currents.

I want that, too, he thinks and closes his eyes. I want it to last a little bit longer.

**

“I miss eggs.”

Hinata huffs as they sit down for breakfast the following morning. Dismayed, he looks down at his food tray, which includes the standard military ration of scrambled powdered eggs, a bowl of porridge, two slices of toast, a small cup of jam, one piece of fresh fruit, and a drink of their own choice, in Hinata’s case a can of orange juice.

“You’ve got eggs right there, dumbass,” Kageyama says and points.

He breaks open his carton of milk and glances around the half-empty mess hall. They were a little late for breakfast and it’s the first time they’ve shown up together like this. Kageyama can’t help but feel slightly paranoid about the dead silence that met them and the long glances thrown in their direction. From the corner of his eye he also could’ve sworn he saw Tanaka flash him a huge grin and a thumbs-up. Kageyama firmly shoves the mortification out of his mind. Hopefully the two of them are not that obvious.

“Yeah, but these aren’t the right eggs,” Hinata continues, seemingly unfazed by the curious stares. “I miss eggs you can crack. The kind of eggs you can fry or boil or serve over rice.”

“I’m not sure if you can get eggs that way anymore.”

“I know, right? And I miss them.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “It’s just freakin’ eggs.”

“It’s not just the eggs!” Hinata pipes up and starts counting on his fingers. “I also miss roasted sweet potatoes, crepes, candy apples, taiyaki, strawberries, meat buns –”

“Those are all snacks!”

“Separately they are! But if you put them together you get a full, perfectly nutritious meal!”

They bicker and joke their way through most of their breakfast, the mess hall gradually emptying around them. Neither of them notices that Daichi has approached before he suddenly speaks, his shadow stretching across their table.

Kageyama drops his last spoonful of porridge with a clatter and turns around, startled. He meets his superior’s eyes and briefly wonders if he forgot to report something or neglected to show up somewhere.

“Um – Commander…?”

“I have news about Kindaichi.”

The subject is unexpected, to say the least, and Kageyama’s heart leaps for his throat. Next to him, Hinata looks between them, concern spelled out across his features. Instinctively and almost without noticing, Kageyama reaches for Hinata’s hand and grips it tightly, preparing himself for the possibility of bad news.

“What… about him?”

Daichi pauses, breathes in quietly before he continues. “He’s awake. He has been since two days ago.” He smiles a little at their identical wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions. “He’d like to see you, Kageyama.”

Kageyama exhales shakily as anxiety lets go of him, releasing some of the tension in his body. It’s quickly replaced by a sludgy blend of confusion and surprise. Kindaichi, who’s been trapped in some kind of unresponsive state for the last six months, has finally regained consciousness – and he wants to see him. Kageyama’s pulse picks up. That’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. He clenches his cold hands, his palms clammy and pale, and feels Hinata lightly squeeze his fingers back. He turns to him and receives a small smile and an encouraging nod in return.

When he looks back up at Daichi he mirrors that nod, accepting the request.

“Alright,” he says and stands up. “Thank you for relaying the message to me.”

He promises to meet up with Hinata later for sparring and makes his way to the infirmary. He picks the same route like he did the other night but this time it seems shorter than usual. His footsteps echo loudly as he strides down the corridor, the rhythm matching his heartbeat, and he’s walking much too fast. He slows down in some futile hope of buying himself more time to mentally prepare for whatever might meet him, but before he knows it he’s standing in front of Kindaichi’s room. He takes a deep breath, pauses for yet another, and knocks softly on the door.

A nurse answers, muffled and distant, and Kageyama enters a place that’s a bit brighter since the last time he was there. The blinds have been left halfway open, letting through the fluorescent lights from the hallway on the other side. The steady beeping from the machines is gone, muting the sounds in the room into almost nothing. All he can really hear is the nurse tapping away at her tablet, checking her patient’s stats, and it makes Kageyama nervous in a way he doesn’t know how to describe.

Kindaichi has clearly lost a lot of weight. His dull hair droops limply into his face and his features are gaunt and pale, making the dark purple bags under his eyes stand out. But he’s awake and alert, much more than Kageyama could have hoped for. Kindaichi turns his head toward him and stares for a moment, his bleary eyes betraying no emotion beyond deep, dry exhaustion. In the end he nods for the nurse to leave. Kageyama realizes he hasn’t exchanged any words with his former partner since the last time they were connected to Black Crow. It’s such a long time ago.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly and steps closer. “You look, um… you look good.”

“You’re lying.” Kindaichi’s voice is hoarse, just barely above a whisper. “But it’s fine, I’ll take it. Please sit.”

Kageyama does as he’s told, a pressing silence following in his wake. He glances around the room while searching for words. He wonders how much Kindaichi actually remembers. Does he remember how it felt when he got ripped away and thrown in the ocean? Does he remember Black Crow reaching for him, a giant hand picking him out of the waves? Does he remember his last thoughts before he lost consciousness? Kageyama knows what he wants to say but he can’t bring himself to ask these questions.

“So… It’s been half a year,” he concludes instead.

“Just say six months,” Kindaichi corrects him. “Half a year sounds like an eternity.” He pauses, clears his throat. “Heard from Daichi that the Breach is collapsed. And that you got yourself a new partner.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s alright, I guess.”

Kageyama glances to the side as the heat rises in his cheeks. It coaxes a small, tired smile from his former co-pilot.

“Good.”

Another silence fills the room and Kageyama squirms in his chair. It makes him hyperconscious of his heartbeats, hard and thundering in his ears. He kind of wishes the medical equipment were still there. He wipes his clammy palms on his thighs and exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. Kindaichi still hasn’t said anything about why he wanted to see him. What is Kageyama even supposed to say? He’s obviously lost face with him, like he has with everyone. It’s incredible that Kindaichi can even handle being in the same room, knowing how he treated him and their relationship in the months leading up to the near-fatal incident.

“Kindaichi, I’m –”

“I hope you’re not about to apologize.”

The interruption is so sudden that Kageyama immediately stops talking. Beneath the dull redness and the cloudy exhaustion there’s a piercing grey gaze that perfectly matches the tone in his voice. This is worse than what he had expected to hear. It does nothing to stop the worry and guilt from rising high in his throat.

“But I –” He swallows, frustrated. “Why not? Why can’t I?”

“Because there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Our dynamic was always a complicated one,” Kageyama continues, unable to let it go. “I know you also think that. And it’s totally okay if you do, I agree with you. We were never the best of friends in the first place. And maybe… maybe the connection we had was just off. Maybe the Kaiju sensed it, that our bond was weak, that I wasn’t putting a good enough effort into it.”

His words come out sounding more hurt and desperate than intended. Emotions crash against Kageyama’s ribs like ocean waves and he hopes his former partner can feel them too, even though they’re not connected anymore. He hopes he knows exactly how he feels, how fatal the incident could’ve been, how persistent the nightmares still are, and how heavy that guilt weighs on his shoulders. He hopes he’ll just let him apologize. It won’t cost him anything.

“The principle of the drift,” Kindaichi says instead.

“What…?”

“Remember they taught us about that? Day one at the Jaeger Academy.”

“Uh…” Kageyama picks half-heartedly through his memory but comes up empty. “I never paid much attention to theory…”

Kindaichi shakes his head at that, a moment of irritation catching up with him, perhaps a memory from high school and their last-minute cramming before exams.

“There’s science in drifting, right?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Obviously.”

“But there’s no science in compatibility. You can do all kinds of tests but you can’t really explain how it feels when you ‘click’ with someone. You kinda just know.”

“And… what’s your point?”

“The Kaiju doesn’t know what compatibility is,” Kindaichi explains. “It didn’t sense that something was off between us. It’s a monster on a mission to destroy. The attack was inevitable.”

Kageyama considers this for a second, nods shortly to confirm that he understands, before he sinks back in the chair. He drags his hands across his face and sighs heavily.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that this happened to you. It should’ve –”

“Don’t say it should’ve been the other way around.” Kindaichi cuts him off again, and this time his voice has gained strength and intensity. “I don’t remember anything but I’ve been told what you did. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. And – sure, we had our differences but… I always felt like I clicked with you, believe it or not. We achieved some great things. Don’t make it sound like that doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kageyama says quietly and swallows against the lump in his throat. “It was an honor, you know – working with you and… being your partner.”

“Oh, shut up.” Kindaichi looks away, his ears a flaring red in all his paleness. “I honestly just wanted to see your face, after all this time. So don’t talk like we’re about to die.”

He struggles to sit up straighter and coughs drily, grimacing through his efforts. Kageyama reaches out and clumsily fluffs his pillows to help make him comfortable. Finally he leans back and exhales, his breath wheezing from the strain.

“So what’re you gonna do after recovery? I’m sure you wanna get out of this place as soon as possible.”

“Daichi has offered me a spot at Mission Control, as communications officer.” Kindaichi smiles, for the first time looking like his old self. “Maybe you’ll still have the honor of working with me.”

**

Kindaichi had told him he only realized he’d been unconscious the moment he woke up. To him, those six months of darkness had felt like a long night’s sleep, like floating in and out of a vague, uneventful dream. He was aware of his own existence, his own breathing, his own muddled thought process. And yet he couldn’t tell on what plane or in which form he actually existed. He just knew he had to be somewhere.

That’s kind of how the past week has felt like for Kageyama. The ocean has been remarkably quiet lately, with a lot of activity moving away from the mainland, reminiscent of animals scurrying into hiding. It’s an anomaly and the scientists aren’t sure why this is happening, but there’s not much left to do than wait for changes to happen.

As a Jaeger pilot, going through quiet days like this without anything worthwhile to do feels like being suspended in time. You can only do so many simulator fights and sparring sessions before they join the same excruciatingly slow stream of boredom and anticipation. They’re in limbo, stuck waiting in a state of constant alertness, trying to live a somewhat normal life in the meantime.

Luckily, Kageyama has Hinata now. And the more time he spends with him like this, in this fake almost-normalcy, he starts thinking differently about piloting. His rekindled love for his trusted Jaeger is still there, a thousand times stronger than it ever was, but at the same time it’s slowly transforming into something else, a desire to explore life outside of the base. He wouldn’t mind continuing to pilot in the future, should he be so lucky to survive his missions, because that’s what he’s good at. That’s the only thing he knows.

But he also wouldn’t mind leaving this life behind completely. The world outside is more or less a wasteland, but life within the Shatterdome is often short-lived, with no guarantee of a future. The world, for all its dangers and instability, is still big and hopeful.

The quiet moments shared with Hinata, the uneventful routine of daily life, the good-natured bickering, the warm embraces and slow kisses – Kageyama could easily get used to that. If he were given the option to retire together with the most important person in his life, then he would choose that option over and over.

And the most important person in his life is Hinata. That’s what he’s become. In many ways he’s all Kageyama’s got left in this world, and he’s growing more and more precious to him by the day.

Kageyama hasn’t brought this up with Hinata yet. He still has the kind of drive and energy one can only find in a rookie. He’s new to this life, he’s already had a taste of success, and piloting is his biggest dream. He’s been waiting and working for this for a long time. But sometimes, from the way he speaks and the way he looks at him, Kageyama can’t help but wonder if Hinata might feel the same way.

Right now, though, they are Jaeger pilots. That’s not going to change any time soon. They’re living inside a constant cyclone, safe within the silent eye for only a few moments at a time, and sometimes they’re forced to step out into the raging storm. As long as there are Kaiju out there they can never rest or daydream about a normal life.

“We’ve detected some suspicious activity just a few miles from here,” Daichi tells them as he leads the way into the Mission Control room.

“Suspicious activity?” Kageyama repeats with a frown. “Other than the activity currently moving away from the shore, you mean?”

“Yes – that’s still happening but this is different.”

Daichi pulls the map up on the projector and enlarges it, flipping the image over to create an illuminated hologram. A miniature model of an uneven, rocky ridge appears in front of them, stretching across an invisible ocean floor with several tall peaks reaching for the surface, like underwater mountains.

“We suspect that a Kaiju is hiding between these two seamounts here,” he says and zooms in on the targeted area. “Lately it’s been stirring more than usual. It’s possible it’s scaring or chasing away everything else in the vicinity, including other Kaiju. Most likely it’s been dwelling there for a while already, without our knowing.”

“How can something as big as a Kaiju go under the radar?” Hinata asks, squinting into the brightness of the floating map.

“They were easier to detect when the Breach still existed because we could see where they came from,” Daichi explains. “The Kaiju that are out there now are leftovers, survivors of the collapse, and as you know the ocean is deep, with many places to hide in. They’re scattered and it’s impossible to have feelers out everywhere.”

“Do you think undetected survivors are capable of evolving?” Kageyama asks, not liking the sound of his own speculation. “You think they’ve adapted?”

“There’s no doubt that they can,” Daichi nods, his expression darkening. “Their home is destroyed, their mission has become pointless, and now their survival instinct has kicked in. They don’t work like pack animals, they don’t group together or back each other up, they don’t even need each other to reproduce. They can do whatever they want in whichever way they want.”

They fall silent, thinking about the frightening prospect of a Kaiju just hiding out there, waiting patiently until it grows bigger, stronger, and smarter before it eventually decides to strike.

“So…” Kageyama glances at his Commander. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go out there and check as soon as possible,” Daichi immediately declares, his face determined. “We nip this threat in the bud and get it out of the world before it grows any stronger. That’s the best case scenario.”

“You want to go out there, Commander?” Hinata asks, puzzled.

“Because Iwaizumi is injured, I’ll pilot Blue Castle together with Oikawa. However, it will be our first time drifting, so…” Daichi turns to them, the pale, cold light carving deep shadows into his sharp features. “I want you guys to come along.”

**

Later that night Kageyama visits Kindaichi, who’s just been discharged from the infirmary. He’s currently still in a wheelchair but he already looks much better now that he’s out of the sterile fluorescent lights. His complexion has taken on a healthy color and his hair is styled into familiar, pointy spikes. Kageyama doesn’t hang around very long but he wishes him good luck in his new job, tells him he’ll be counting on him to be Black Crow’s eyes and ears during the mission.

When he returns to their room he finds Hinata sitting at the desk. He’s pulled up the map of the seamounts on the projector, his features a ghostly illuminated blue next to the pliable shapes of the hologram.

He doesn’t say anything when Kageyama enters but leans back into his embrace when he loops his arms around him. Kageyama nuzzles Hinata’s soft hair, breathing in until the scent of earthy sunflower comes through the faint layer of citrus.

“What’re you thinking?” he murmurs against his temple.

“I don’t know,” Hinata admits quietly. “Nothing, really.”

They remain in that position, absently studying the floating projection. The underwater mountains are attached to a long, jagged ridge, with tall peaks made mostly of dark consolidated lava. It’s situated too far beneath the surface for people to explore, a looming deep-sea structure that nobody can climb – except otherworldly, apocalyptic creatures.

After a while Hinata gets up from the chair and turns around in Kageyama’s arms, snuggling into his chest as he returns the hug with a tight squeeze.

“The Castle and the Crow,” he says, his voice coming out muffled against Kageyama’s shirt. “Fighting side by side once again.”

“Are you worried?”

Hinata stills, his face hidden. At last he tilts his head up, his auburn eyes glimmering excitedly above pink-dusted cheeks.

“I’m not worried,” he declares. “It feels like a completely different mission but I’m looking forward to it! We can take that Kaiju down, no matter how big it is. We’ll just have to do what we always do and we’ll be fine. We’re invincible together!”

He flashes him another one of those bright smiles, lighting up the room like the confident force of nature he is. His words are honest and genuine, despite their ridiculous bravado, and Kageyama is surprised at how easily he believes in them, just like that. Hinata always does this to him. He always grabs him and pulls him along; further, faster.

This time, though, Kageyama is worried. It’s definitely a completely different mission. It’s less structured and more uncertain, not to mention Blue Castle won’t have the usual connection with its pilots. Daichi has lots of experience, his compatibility with other pilots is extremely flexible, making him more or less the ideal partner, and he knows Oikawa well from his training days. But it’s been a very long time since he was physically in the heat of battle.

It’s a risk they’ll all have to take, as always. It’s nothing new. But still, Kageyama can’t help but feel worried. He doesn’t know if it’s a brand new worry or a ghost of his old anxieties but something is there, lurking in the back of his head, gnawing at him.

“Kageyamaaa,” Hinata teases slowly, grinning widely at his spaced-out expression. “Are you maybe scared…?”

His mischievous smile is enough to stall his thought process for a moment. Flustered, he does the first thing that comes to mind, which is to wrestle Hinata into a headlock and thoroughly ruffle his messy hair.

“Hey – don’t –!” Hinata tries to wriggle out of his grip, fits of giggles drowning out his complaints. “Leave my hair alone, you idiot, I’ll go bald!”

Kageyama tickle-fights him onto the bed and attacks him with kisses. If he could just believe in Hinata’s words as much as Hinata does, then maybe he can easily forget or ignore these worries. Maybe, once their mission has been successfully completed, he can even sit back and laugh at them.

**

The night of their mission arrives with a clear, cold, starry sky. They’ve been preparing for several days, all the while keeping an eye on the slowly increasing activity-levels around the deep-water mountains. They’ve been going through their usual routines and procedures but it’s difficult to prepare for unknown threats, even when knowing what it most likely is. Kageyama has never given it much thought before but it’s obvious now that the Kaiju rating scale provides them with a sense of certainty, even safety. It’s just a number, a category, but at least they can go out there with some sort of expected estimate in their heads.

The drop is wobbly, a little clumsy, all the way from deployment to landing. Even reconnecting the cockpit with the Jaeger’s body had felt irregular in its execution, as if the seams wouldn’t slot together properly. Of course that’s all in Kageyama’s head. The engineering part of their mission is always spotless and everything is functioning the way it should. All systems are go.

But Kageyama is worried, a bit uneasy.

He hasn’t managed to shake that feeling, like he had hoped – which is another worry on top of an already existing one. He prays Hinata won’t notice, even though he knows he will anyway. Kageyama makes excuses for himself, blames this feeling on a bad mood, exhaustion, indigestion. They aren’t used to doing these vague patrolling missions, where something may or may not happen. Besides, he would pick cuddling with Hinata over wading around in these waters any time. Of course he’s on edge. Anyone would be.

They trudge through the depths with slow heavy steps, swiping the shoreline with their beacon, the bright light reflecting off of the waves. The distant azure lights of Blue Castle flickers up ahead, revealing their position, but it’s mostly just Black Crow, the wide ocean surrounding them, and the weakly gleaming contrast of the dark horizon. There’s something unsettling about it all that Kageyama can’t explain.

“What kind of Kaiju do you think it is?” Hinata asks, interrupting his moody thoughts.

“Not sure,” Kageyama mutters. “Maybe it’s mainly aquatic, since it’s been dwelling in the deep. Hopefully it’s a weaker one,” he adds, though without much conviction.

“Well, either way it’s no problem,” Hinata says briskly. “We just gotta kill it.”

He sounds convincingly confident but his movements are restless. Kageyama can feel bits and pieces of his co-pilot’s own anxieties poke through the drift and prod at his consciousness, small annoying nudges that he can’t physically brush off or push away.

The radio crackles to life, followed by Daichi’s voice.

“Do you guys see anything?”

“Nope,” Kageyama replies. “Completely still on our end.”

He wants to say how much that worries him but he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

“Same here,” Daichi agrees and it seems Kageyama doesn’t have to say anything. The tone in his Commander’s voice reveals that he feels the same way.

“Hey, is that Sakishima Islands I see over there?” Oikawa’s voice cuts in, his question ending on an incredulous, almost suspicious note.

Next to Kageyama, Hinata frowns. “Sakishima? Here?” He squints at their surroundings, his lips pulled into a doubtful pout. “That honestly sounds geographically off…”

“That’s… that’s not Sakishima…” Daichi says slowly, before Mission Control suddenly interjects.

“Blue Castle,” Kindaichi says urgently. “Something’s approaching you real fast –”

Their conversation crumbles in a chaos of shouts and static, and before it cuts off entirely there’s the piercing sound of scraping steel. The ground beneath them shivers violently, almost knocking them straight down. Just up ahead they can see Blue Castle’s lights swaying erratically, nothing but a shivering beam jumping from spot to spot without settling.

Kageyama doesn’t have to tell Hinata to start running; he’s already lurching forward, putting all his weight and energy into his pace. The Jaeger groans around them, almost complains, before it imitates their stance, slowly picking up speed with long, thundering strides, sprinting through the water.

The others are still just a glinting dot off in the distance but even from here Kageyama can see them grappling with one of the largest and ugliest Kaiju he’s ever seen. It’s possibly a category five, the biggest and strongest on the scale, which is very bad news for all of them.

The beast has clearly ambushed them from behind and is now hanging onto the machine’s broad shoulders, going straight for Blue Castle’s head. The cockpit is the most vulnerable place on a Jaeger. If allowed easy access, a Kaiju’s massive claws and strong arms can peel it open in a heartbeat, like a tin box. Blue Castle is obviously struggling, only doing feeble attempts at fighting back. That’s even worse news.

The Crow is quick and agile in a way that the broad and boxy Castle is not. Without slowing down, Kageyama and Hinata barrels into the fight and surprises the Kaiju with a thruster-boosted punch right off the bat. It doesn’t do much damage but it’s powerful enough to confuse and perhaps buy them some time, even if only for a few seconds. They throw two more punches in rapid succession and the monster stumbles thanks to its own clumsiness, falling into the waves with a loud shriek.

“Daichi had some kind of seizure!” Oikawa shouts, his distressed voice barely making it through on the grating radio line.

“What–?! What happened?”

“I don’t know! He passed out and now I can’t get through to him, I – I’m getting nothing.” The panic is shrill in Oikawa’s voice and it sends shivers down Kageyama’s spine. “Daichi... the entire left hemisphere... there’s no response at all.”

“His vital signs are gone on our end...” Kindaichi confirms, followed by a brief, hesitant pause. “I – I’m sorry.”

Kageyama feels like he just swallowed a mouthful of seawater. His insides have gone cold and heavy, squeezing tightly around his chest, and his throat is welling up with salty tears. His brain is trying to process what’s happening and what this means for them, but his thoughts are slow and sludgy in all this chaos and peril. There’s no time for this right now.

“Alright,” he says determinately and looks over at Hinata, who despite his paleness nods bravely. “Oikawa, get in the escape pod and go.”

“But… to leave Daichi like this – I don’t think I can –”

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi appears on the radio, his voice wavering between anger and terror. “If you die on me now I swear I’m gonna come and kill you myself. Just get the hell out!”

There’s no time to wait for Oikawa’s confirmation. The Kaiju has caught its bearings again and has shifted its attention from Blue Castle to Black Crow. It gives off an angry roar before it dives into the ocean. The monster is swallowed by the waves as it snakes through the water, building up speed. A second later it bursts through the surface again, this time aiming right at them.

And it’s in the bright, wide beacon of the Jaeger that Kageyama finally gets a really good look at it – the long, scaly body, reminiscent of a crocodile, the big, clawed arms, the terrifying jaw that splits into a wide gape, spilling luminescent blue – and he recognizes it.

This is the Kaiju from his past. This is the category four that attacked him and Kindaichi, the exact same one. There’s no mistaking it.

This is Kageyama’s personal monster.

Except, it’s bigger now. It’s so much bigger it can no longer be classified as a category four.

An injured Kaiju grows stronger, Kageyama thinks absently, pieces of theory from his training days coming back to him. If it’s allowed to heal it’ll become more powerful.

Once that thought has passed, he loses focus.

He can see that the Kaiju is coming at them, and he can hear Hinata’s voice in his ear, but it’s all muddled. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do. In this very moment, he’s petrified. By the time Hinata finally breaks through to him and snaps him out of it, it’s too late.

The Kaiju swings at them full-force and buries its claws into the Jaeger’s right side. Kageyama takes the full brunt of the hit and searing pain shoots through his arm, burrowing deep into the bone, as if the Kaiju have actually sunk it’s claws directly into his own flesh. He lets out an anguished scream, his entire right side burning as though it’s gone up in flames. The Kaiju shoves and shakes them before striking again. The impact is so powerful it sends the Jaeger stumbling, and they fall backwards into the waves before either of them can even think of regaining their balance. Kageyama registers faintly how strategic the Kaiju seems to be in the way it fights. It wants them under water, where it will have the upper hand.

The beast wastes no time and pounces them head-on, metal crunching and crackling in its large claws as it practically pins them down by the shoulders. The machine screeches and protests while it’s being submerged, the Jaeger’s back crashing hard with the shallow floor of the shoreline.

They attempt to wrestle Hinata’s left arm free so they can use their plasma cannon, but they’re completely exposed like this and the Kaiju is methodical and efficient. Without hesitation it tears into the cockpit, creating large cracks in the visor, disrupting their heads-up display.

“Escape pods!” Hinata shouts. “Now!”

Kageyama knows what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that this is bad, that it’s better to save this for another day, that they’ll surely die if they stay like this. It’s beyond frightening to find oneself facing a monster this way. But it will take them somewhere between twenty and thirty seconds to unbuckle, get into the escape pods, and then launch them. It will take the Kaiju between five and ten seconds to break through. Either way, they’ll be stuck here – and Kageyama knows it’s safer to remain hooked up to the machine in the hopes of regaining control, rather than disconnect completely and become nothing but a defenseless human.

“Hinata, no! Don’t unbuckle from the rig –!”

He forgets that Hinata works fast. He’s already cut himself loose. In the next second the left side of the cockpit is wrenched open. Ice cold, murky water floods in, disorienting them. The monster flips its head up and backs away for a moment, dragging with it a big piece of the Jaeger’s left arm and shoulder, like a wolf tearing its prey apart. Kageyama shields his face against the debris floating towards him and through the havoc he hears a chilling, desperate scream, followed by an abrupt mental disconnect that cuts deep into his soul.

He looks to his left. The left side, the location of the heart – his heart – is now empty.

“Hinata –?” Kageyama looks around frantically, splashing the water that’s now reaching him to the chest. “Hinata!?”

The panic is overwhelming and blinding, almost threatening to knock him out. He searches what’s left of the screen in front of him, looking for any indication of a person somewhere in the water, but the images are jarred and blurry. He’s about to try Mission Control when a loud, howling scream fills the night air.

That’s right. They were in the middle of something.

Kageyama knows he has to stay rational and levelheaded should he have any chance of survival. Shock and fear is going to consume him if he doesn’t pull himself together, and once that hits him he knows it won’t be long before grief announces its arrival. He will have given up by then. The fact is that Hinata was there five seconds ago and now he’s not. His status is currently unknown but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s dead. Kageyama must leave it at that and focus on the Kaiju, which is still very much alive.

You’re literally on your fucking ass in the ocean, he thinks, his mind still whirling with remains of the drift. Do something or you’ll die in this pitiful state.

The ground trembles as the beast comes charging at him again. Half of the Jaeger is dead meat now and almost too heavy for him, and these constant attacks aren’t leaving enough room for him to find his balance and get up. But at least his limbs are free, if only for a second. His entire body is throbbing but the rush of adrenaline is stronger. He grits his teeth against his own screaming muscles and manages to swing his arm, an action that effectively charges his plasma cannon. His aim is way off but the beam burns a wound into the Kaiju’s left shoulder. His shot is powerful enough to push it back and into the waves.

It’s a small victory but there’s no time to celebrate it. Besides, it’ll take a while for his plasma cannon to recharge, which leaves him with no effective weapon for the time being. As if that wasn’t enough, Kageyama knows he’s got about fifteen minutes or so of solo-piloting left before the neural load gets the better of him. The last time he faced this particular Kaiju he ended up solo-piloting for much longer than that. He’s positive his brain won’t be able to endure such a brutal task again. And yet he doesn’t have any choice left but to try. If only he could get back on his feet somehow, it would make him less vulnerable. He’s just so weak and tired…

Kageyama shakes his head. He may be lying down but he’s still breathing.

Monster first, he thinks as the Kaiju turns a one-eighty, its big tail creating a small flood that crashes against the shore.

Monster first. And then Hinata… Hinata maybe later.

The Kaiju lunges at him again, relentless in its aggression and strength, as if its injuries are nothing but scrape wounds. Gravity latches onto all the joints in Kageyama’s right arm, from his fingertips to his shoulder, determined to keep him down – but he pours all his energy into it and wills it to move. He curls the Jaeger’s hand into a tight fist and swings it through the air, praying it will connect with something.

It does. He hits the monster square in the jaw just as it descends on him. Pain shoots through his arm on impact, traveling all the way down his spine, prickling him like a million needles. The Kaiju staggers backwards with an enraged scream, almost sharp and loud enough to blow his eardrums into pieces. The beast’s terrifying three-part jaw splits wide open, blooming into a gaping cavern of luminescent toxins.

Kageyama estimates no more than five or six seconds before it’ll come running at him again. He catches a glimpse of one of his displays through the blurry water, telling him the status of his plasma cannon is still in the process of recharging. In this condition Kageyama doesn’t really have much besides his bare hands to fight with, but he can’t keep on dealing out blows forever. It’s useless against a category five, only causing it to grow angrier and more determined. It’s a miracle he’s even been hanging on for this long in the first place.

He realizes his nose has started bleeding. He reckons it’s a matter of minutes before his brain overloads. So maybe he won’t be around for much longer after all.

Scaly armor glints in the weak moonlight and another roar shakes the coast. The beast is coming at him again. Just raising the Jaeger’s arm in an attempt to shield what’s left of the cockpit is taking a lot out of him. The Jaeger is starting to crumble, not only under all the damage it’s taken but also under its age and all its technological drawbacks. It’s somewhat ironic that they built these amazing machines that in the end turned out to be so frail and useless. Kageyama just doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fight at this point. It seems unlikely that he’ll win. He’ll either die at the Kaiju’s hands or if he’s lucky, his brain will fry before it comes to that.

He really just wants to go home – all the way home, back to his grandmother’s house up in the mountains, a place that the Kaiju didn’t seem to know existed. He wants to go back to his carefree childhood; back to where the lavender fields bloomed in summer, where he had to shovel snow off the roof each winter, where he learned how to drive in the neighbors’ old lorry when he was twelve. He wants to go back to his old elementary school, even though the other kids there used to bully him – for his easily tanning skin, for his blue eyes, for his dead parents. He wants to go back to the time when his growth spurt finally hit and nobody dared messing with him again. He wants to lay his head in his grandmother’s lap and cry, so she can tell him one more time that it’s okay to shed tears as long as he doesn’t let it overcome him. He just wants to go back to being a kid again, that’s all.

Kageyama wonders if this is what it feels like when you’re about to die, when time slows down and your whole life flashes before your eyes – that sort of thing. Or maybe he already died minutes ago and now he’s in hell, doomed to face the monster of his past for all eternity. It makes sense.

Help me, he thinks – to himself, to the machine, to Hinata, to anyone. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that it’s not directed at God or any higher deities. If divine intervention hasn’t happened by now it never will.

Just as he’s having that thought, the Kaiju’s thundering run is interrupted by – well, by something. All Kageyama sees is a bright flaring light that hits perfectly, right underneath the beast’s armored scales, but it comes in so fast and so suddenly he can’t tell what it is. It’s well-aimed and precise, effectively saving him from the impact. The Kaiju is shoved violently out of its path and into the darkness.

He doesn’t waste any time wondering what just happened. This is his chance. As quickly as he can he clumsily maneuvers the Jaeger up on one knee. With tremendous effort, his body doubled over in pain, he somehow manages to get both legs under him. He staggers into an upright position, water cascading out of the cockpit as he unsteadily gains height on the ocean.

“What’re you doing, Tobio-chan? Taking a nap?”

The voice that abruptly comes on the radio almost startles Kageyama right out of his skin. He’s so surprised he doesn’t even recognize it at first. He swivels his head around, his broken beacon searching the waters, and eventually his beam catches on a looming figure out there in the ocean. It’s lopsided and shattered, with large cuts and scrapes in its white paint, leaving jagged, gaping holes in the armor. It’s still standing, though, and the missile launcher located on its chest is smoking. It’s Blue Castle.

“Oikawa –?” Kageyama utters in numb disbelief. “What – I thought you escaped –”

“So you could save me a second time?” He can practically hear the grin in his voice. “I’d much rather die.”

Kageyama doesn’t know what to say to his unexpected savior. He was so sure he was entirely alone out here, only seconds away from dying – which he really was. The relief he feels right now is strange and hollow and immense all at the same time. He supposes he should feel lucky and grateful most of all, but he can’t help wishing for another outcome. If only things had added up differently, a little bit sooner…

“Oikawa, I –”

“No time to be sentimental now,” he interrupts him. “That was my last missile and I doubt it was enough to kill the bastard. Also, I… I’m barely holding on here. How can you even solo-pilot this thing for so long…?”

Only now does Kageyama notice the strain in his voice. It has obviously taken all of his strength just to walk this far, and somewhere in his exhaustion and injury Kageyama can hear the tears, too. A pilot suffering a seizure and then passing away right next to you is a traumatic experience in itself, and it becomes even worse when it happens within a headspace, through a strong connection. Something like that doesn’t filter through the drift unnoticed. He doesn’t want to imagine how Oikawa must have felt when pain and horror invaded his mind so violently. He must have died a little with Daichi in that moment.

“It’s fine, fall back,” Kageyama replies, just as the Kaiju screams at them through the darkness. “This one’s mine to kill.”

He quickly assesses the state of Black Crow. The cockpit has more or less been beaten into a wreck by now, with sparks flying from torn cables and the lights constantly flickering. His display is still working however, and now it finally shows what Kageyama has been waiting to see for what feels like an eternity. His plasma cannon is recharged. A small glimmer of hope lights up within him.

As for himself… Well, he’s standing somewhat upright and that gives him a better chance. His mouth tastes of blood and his vision has started to blur, but his connection with the Jaeger is just fine. Despite all the beating they’ve taken he can still clearly hear the machine somewhere in the back of his mind; that low, scratchy hum of near perfect silence.

The ground beneath him shivers again and his beacon shakily falls on moving shadows charging towards him. This particular Kaiju is scaly and armored on ninety percent of its body except for the underbelly, which has to remain flexible for the sake of movement. That means he can kill it with one blow if he gets close enough. And Kageyama only has enough time to fire one round.

He braces himself, his feet unsteady on the trembling ground. Blood is trickling down his throat, pooling at the corners of his lips, and the buzzing of the machine is louder now in his head, more intrusive, as if the Jaeger is trying to overtake him. Kageyama breathes deeply and grits his teeth as he swings his right arm, charging the plasma cannon once more. The Jaeger’s wrist powers up with a loud whirr, lighting up bright neon blue, its large palm and fingers dismantling to reveal the rail gun inside. Even if he dies here completely out of his mind he refuses to do it without taking this beast with him.

Time stretches into slow motion as the Kaiju gains height on him; a massive mountain with clawed arms reaching wide, mouth split open in a roar, belly exposed.

This moment, at this angle – right now.

Kageyama extends his arm and fires, aiming a thick beam of charged plasma through the air, its brightness reflecting in the waves curling at the monster’s waist. Cold light from the Jaeger’s broken beacon mixes with shades of cyan, illuminating their surroundings in a sharp greenish-blue that forces him to close his eyes shut.

The beam splutters, emptying itself into the night, before the cannon dies and a long, excruciating silence follows.

The Kaiju’s scream turns into a rattling squeal that echoes across the ocean and the large body stops in its tracks. A big hole has been seared into its belly, right beneath the line of armor, the burning wound closing up around toxic blood. The monster staggers and sways, its split jaw going slack, and in the end it finally flops over with one last, dying wail. It plunges into the waves with a massive quake, creating waves and ripples strong enough to nudge Kageyama out of balance.

Once Black Crow starts stumbling, Kageyama lets it go and crumbles with it. The Jaeger resigns itself to gravity and drops heavily onto its knees. He just barely manages to extend an arm and brace himself before the machine falls against the rocks with a mighty crash.

His head is still buzzing when he finally unbuckles from his rig, his beaten body trembling and aching, but his physical state can’t compare to his grief and heartbreak, which is now hitting him full-force. He feels no joy whatsoever over the defeated Kaiju. It already took so much from them, from him. This is such an ungrateful end to what was a cursed mission already from the start.

Kageyama half crawls, half tumbles onto the visor. It’s mostly dark and cracked, only giving off the occasional warning informing the pilots that the Jaeger is critically hit. He fumbles with his helmet, manages to drag it off, and rolls over on his back. He can’t even recognize the cockpit from this angle. Everything’s hanging in bits and pieces, sparks constantly bouncing off of wet surfaces smeared with oil and Kaiju blood. He glances to the side where a large chunk of the left-side shoulder is missing, torn out only to leave a gaping hole. Through it Kageyama can see that it has started raining, and somewhere in the far off distance he can hear the choppers coming to pick them up.

He imagines the hole in the Jaeger must look a lot like the hole in his heart. Right now it’s hollow and empty, a cavity that remains just as ripped and ragged as these broken steel edges.

“It’s over,” Kageyama says to no one in particular, his voice barely making a sound. “I’m done.”

“Kageyama...?”

Kindaichi appears on the radio, the signal far away and scratchy.

“I’m done,” Kageyama repeats. “I’m done piloting and I’m done with Kaiju… I don’t care anymore, I’m not doing it again. Daichi’s gone, and…” He swallows hard, fighting the lump blocking his throat, the corners of his eyes prickling and burning. “And… H-Hinata’s gone… It’s over, I’m through with everything.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that just yet…” Kindaichi’s tone is amicable, comforting, but also too tinny and detached to inspire anything. “Let’s get you guys back to base first. You can rest, collect your thoughts, and we’ll talk about it then – alright?”

Kageyama doesn’t pick up on his words. He only leaves them hanging there, abandoned. He just can’t be bothered. He closes his eyes, presses his palms hard against them – and then an explosion of color suddenly erupts behind his eyelids. It’s all different shades of blue, blooming and cascading and flowing, going from the darkest midnight to the brightest aqua. He chokes back a gasp and opens his eyes again, his head spinning.

“Kindaichi,” he whispers, though he can barely hear his own voice over his hammering heart. “Kindaichi, respond.”

“Yes–?”

“Are you getting any readings from Hinata?”

“What…? Hinata?”

Grimacing, Kageyama scrambles onto his knees, breathing hard and fast. He has no idea if the sudden activity in his head is a product of his own thoughts, if his brain is so broken and fragmented that it’s firing wildly on all cylinders, but he’s certain that something must have triggered this.

“Kageyama, there’s nothing –”

He doesn’t stay for Kindiachi’s reply. With all his remaining strength he ignores the pain and crawls towards the hole left by the Kaiju. He drags himself outside and tumbles onto the dark rocks, which have been polished by the ocean and made slippery by the rain.

It’s possible that he’s just experiencing the effect of shock and grief. It could be nothing but a phantom haunting him, threatening to push him into some kind of delusion or madness – but these colors he’s seeing in his mind don’t belong to him. He’s not the one creating or imagining them; they’re too uniquely somebody else’s. It’s almost as though he’s catching the faint remnants of a drift. If Hinata really is gone then it should be impossible, but maybe… maybe if he dares to believe in it it’ll turn out to be true.

Kageyama struggles to climb the sharp rocks of the shoreline, his feet slipping, his fingers numb. The rain hits his face like a whip, washing away the drying blood, and he can taste it on his bruised lips, tangy and metallic. He’s fumbling in the darkness; all the light there is comes from the moon above, which is barely visible through the clouds. Still, he continues reaching out, grasping for something he can’t explain, something invisible yet tangible, something he can’t ignore. He doesn’t know if he’s even going in the right direction but these blue fireworks in his mind just won’t stop. It’s as if they’re pulling him along, guiding him.

After a few more scrambling paces, Kageyama suddenly catches a glimpse of something bright amid the rocks, an anomaly in the sea of blacks and greys. It’s a familiar shade of bright orange; a tangerine pop of color that has always demanded his attention, from day one.

“Hinata…?” Kageyama stumbles in his direction, scrapes his palms up as he flings himself onto the ground. “Hinata –!”

He carefully gathers his body into his arms. He’s limp and heavy and offers no response of any kind, but at least he feels warm against his chest, even through the drivesuit. Or maybe Kageyama is just imagining it, he can’t be sure – it seems like a lifetime ago since he was last able to hold another person close.

Hinata still has his helmet on, which has been reduced to a partly smashed and torn shell that leaves half his face and a good amount of his hair visible. Kageyama unclasps it and gently pulls it off, allowing the wind to ruffle Hinata’s wet hair. He cradles his head in his lap and looks at him closely. His face is pale, he has several cuts and bruises on his cheeks and forehead, but he has a pulse and looks otherwise unharmed.

Kageyama wrestles with his mind in order to keep the flashbacks at bay. He saw exactly this in Kindaichi, this eerily pallid and untouched silence that ended up lasting for months. He doesn’t want that. Not again, not for Hinata.

“Come on,” he says hoarsely, his voice on the verge of breaking, and he has to restrain himself from shaking him. “I know you’re in there.”

It feels like he’s about to fall apart, the last of his resolve and hope slowly ebbing away. Even his mind is quiet, the blue fireworks now replaced with a dark void. He closes his eyes, his forehead coming down to rest against Hinata’s.

“Hey…” he whispers. “I love you. I wanna keep this drift with you for the rest of my life. Alright? So don’t die on me now, dumbass.”

Kageyama’s confession is met with a long stretch of merciless silence. Then, rather than hearing it, he suddenly sees the sound of his name.

Blue dots appear behind his eyelids, slowly erupting into small explosions that soon fill his entire head, flooding all his senses so much that he can’t focus on anything else. Soon a weak voice breaks through, piecing his name together slowly until it finally registers with him.

He pulls away abruptly and finds Hinata peering up at him. Kageyama stares back, wide-eyed and disbelieving, and his heart jumps, wiping all the aches in his body away for one blissful moment.

“H-Hinata…?” he stammers, gripping his shoulder tightly. “You – are you –”

“…was just thinking about you.”

“What…?”

“I… couldn’t call out… So I thought about you…” Hinata reaches up and touches Kageyama’s cheek, braving a small, insecure smile. “I thought about your face… and your voice. Did you hear me...?”

Something lets go inside him, flooding his emotions with relief and joy, leaving him feathery light. A sob tears from Kageyama’s throat and he leans down to kiss him – his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips – determined to chase away whatever’s left of his worries and fears.

“Yeah, I heard you,” he whispers, tasting seawater and teardrops on Hinata’s skin. “I heard you loud and clear.”

**

They somehow ghost drifted.

At least it’s the only explanation their science officers can come up with. Ghost drifting, when pilots feel like they’re connected even long after the drift itself has ended, is not a novel phenomenon. But for most drift-experienced people it tends to manifest on a subconscious level, usually in the form of shared dreams.

Kageyama and Hinata’s ghost drift was different. Their phantom connection was almost purely telepathic, a direct communication from mind to mind, saturated with Hinata’s memories of his color perceptions. Maybe it’s unique for their personal constellation of traits and experiences and feelings, but it was a conscious sensation for the both of them. Hinata deliberately targeted Kageyama with his thoughts and Kageyama sensed them and immediately thought of Hinata. They both knew they were communicating, somehow.

Kageyama blinks up at the infirmary roof and yawns widely, fighting against the pull of the nap he just fell into. He had a brief dream about fireworks; warm yellow and orange colors popping to life in his head, eventually blending into the deepest, most soothing blue before fading away. He’s had these dreams a lot ever since they made it back to the Shatterdome. Honestly he doesn’t mind if these are the kind of dreams he’ll be having for the rest of his life. He considers them proof that miracles do happen.

His last solo ride came with a price, though. Kageyama has only had the preliminary tests done so far, but they’re all pointing towards one thing: that his piloting days are most likely over. He’s solo-piloted twice within a relatively short period, and both times he kept going for much longer than what’s recommended, or should even be possible, for an average person. Most of the doctors and scientists agree that allowing him to control a Jaeger after this, even when sharing the neural load with Hinata, will demand too much strength from him. Putting him inside a Jaeger again might actually kill him.

In the end, Kageyama got what he wanted: a permanent resignation. And now that it’s settled he feels strangely sad about it.

He turns over on his side, careful not to trigger a dizzy spell or a headache, and immediately meets Hinata’s gaze from across the room. He’s sporting a few cuts and bruises, as well as a couple of broken ribs, but otherwise he’s been given the all clear and is just there to rest.

“Hey.” He grins at him. “About time.”

“Did you wait for me to wake up or something?”

“Well... I was bored,” he admits with an innocent pout, before waving him over. “Come here, I wanna cuddle.”

“You’re the least injured one,” Kageyama argues, definitely not up for the three-meter journey from his bed to Hinata’s. “You come here.”

Hinata whines. “What is this, a competition?”

“Try piloting a Jaeger on your own and see how your head feels afterwards,” Kageyama snaps. “Now come here.”

After an exasperated huff and a magnificent roll of his eyes, Hinata quickly checks that there are no nurses on the way and trots across the room. He swiftly climbs into the bed, shoves his cold toes against Kageyama’s legs, and tries to fit as best he can on the narrow mattress.

“Ouch! Mind the arm –”

“At least scoot over a bit, you big baby,” Hinata hisses as he wriggles against him. “You have plenty of room, still.”

“Plenty?” Kageyama repeats, annoyed. “This is a hospital bed, you jerk, it doesn’t come with plenty of room.”

“Well, maybe if you had come over to my bed…”

“It would’ve been the same thing!”

“I’d actually make some room! Not just lie there like a slug –”

After a bit more bickering and shoving and squirming they finally settle into a comfortable enough embrace. Hinata is warm, satisfyingly so, and he must have showered just a while ago because his hair is still damp and smells flowery. He presses up against Kageyama, one arm winding around his waist tightly.

Kageyama squeezes him back. He’s so glad they made it out of that battle alive. He’s so glad the Kaiju attacked on shallow water, so close to the shoreline. He’s so glad it wasn’t actually the monster that pulled Hinata out of the cockpit and into the ocean, but rather the strong currents of the water. He’s so glad the debris shielded him and that he had enough of his senses with him to swim for the nearby rocks before passing out. He’s so glad he had all possible fortune, all of the universe’s luck, on his side. He’s so glad Hinata survived so he could tell him all of this.

He really is so glad, so overjoyed, in a way he can’t even explain. Kageyama gets to keep Hinata amid all the losses he’s been dealt in life. It’s his biggest victory.

“Hey…” Hinata says, prodding absently at his chest, “do you think the Kaiju are gone now?”

Kageyama closes his eyes, tries to imagine such a world. There have been many moments in his career where he hoped the Kaiju would finally vanish completely. He also knows that the Kaiju they just killed is only one of many. As long as there’s even a single one of them alive they could thrive and rise again. An alien race created a weapon of mass destruction – and weapons of mass destruction tend to be hard to destroy. Besides, it’s unclear what will happen to the Tokyo Shatterdome now that Daichi is gone. They either appoint a new Commander or they shut the whole place down, like almost every other branch of the Defense Corpse. But it’s not up to them to decide.

“I doubt that,” Kageyama sighs. “There’s a lot of work left.”

“Yeah…” Hinata nods, his hair brushing against his chin. “I think so, too.”

He hesitates, traces the Defense Corpse logo on Kageyama’s shirt with his finger. When he eventually speaks again his words are quiet and thoughtful.

“I admit I didn’t make a lot of plans beyond piloting. It’s not like I thought too much about the future when I chose this line of work, you know? But… if you can’t pilot a Jaeger anymore then I don’t want to continue doing it, either.”

Kageyama stills for a long moment, his heart somersaulting so suddenly he almost finds it hard to breathe. He was already thinking about this possibility before, of the two of them retiring together sooner than planned – but ever since he was told a piloting comeback is impossible, it’s been on his mind near constantly. He has found it difficult to bring it up with Hinata, though. Piloting a Jaeger has been his dream for such a long time. He doesn’t want him to give it all up just for his sake.

“Well, that’s…” He swallows heavily. “That’s totally your decision.”

“Oh, come on!” Hinata smacks him lightly on the shoulder and laughs. “You’re overjoyed that I’m resigning! Just look at you, your smile’s all wobbly!”

Kageyama blushes hard and looks away. “Shut up, it’s not.”

“Besides,” Hinata continues matter-of-factly, like he didn’t even hear him, “drifting with someone else now would feel weird and wrong, I don’t think I could do it. Even if I turned out to be compatible with someone else, you’re the only one I want to be compatible with.” He falls quiet for a moment, rests his head on Kageyama’s shoulder. “We don’t really have a lot of glamorous options, being veterans of an apocalyptic war and all, but… just know I’ll follow you wherever you choose to go.”

The personal monster residing in Kageyama’s mind suffers another devastating blow at those honest words and he grins to himself. They both know full well that Kageyama is the one who’s doomed to follow Hinata forever, a fate he’s completely okay with. He’d follow him to the ends of the universe and beyond if he had to.

“Doesn’t matter where we are,” he corrects, gently tilting Hinata’s chin up for a kiss. “As long as we’re together.”

**

The ocean is still wild. That won’t ever change. It rages on despite the horrors it hosts and that’s just the way the world turns, just the way people keep on living. Kageyama shudders as the wind whips through his hair and leaves scattered raindrops on his cheeks. He was never a big fan of the ocean.

“It’s been a while since we could visit a beach like this!” Hinata exclaims and pulls him out of his musings. “It’s been a prohibited area for so long now, I forgot how it actually feels to walk on sand.”

“It’s technically still a prohibited area,” Kageyama points out. “There’s a sign that says we have to leave.”

Hinata ignores both him and the rusty sign and takes a couple of tentative steps towards the shoreline, waddling like a penguin. Then he squeals with giggles, hurriedly skipping back before the water can soak his shoes. Kageyama watches him throw pebbles into the waves for a little while, his tangerine hair ruffled into a mess, his cheeks sweetly pink.

“We should come back here once the weather looks up!” Hinata adds with a smile and rubs his cold hands together, before hurrying over to him. “Have a picnic or go treasure hunting or something.”

“Say…” Kageyama begins, muttering into the neck of his downy jacket. “Whatever happened to that compass of yours?”

He isn’t sure why this question occurred to him so suddenly, out of the blue. It’s completely unrelated to the current topic but he finds it oddly fitting, all the same. It’s compass weather.

The question also seems to take Hinata by surprise. He stops abruptly in his animated motions, pushes his curls out of his face, and frowns curiously up at him, head tilted.

“What about it?”

“I don’t know.” Kageyama shrugs one shoulder, a bit lost on where he was going with it after all. “I was just thinking it must be going haywire again now that we’re no longer fighting or drifting or anything. It must’ve lost its purpose.”

Hinata mulls it over for a few seconds, taking a moment to pick up another smooth pebble and weighing it against his palm.

“I actually never gave it any more thought,” he admits eventually. “I think I must’ve lost it somewhere along the way. But it doesn’t really matter.” He closes his fingers around the small stone and throws it as far as he can in direction of the rolling waves, where it disappears in a swirl of white foam. “I don’t need it anymore!”

“You don’t?”

“Nope!” He grins, sunny and familiar, and links their arms together. “What am I supposed to do with a compass when my heart side is right here, next to you?”

Kageyama blushes a sharp red against the northern winds. His ears, which have been freezing all day, suddenly feel like they’re on fire. He awkwardly clears his throat and carefully avoids the brown eyes sparkling up at him. He isn’t sure if he’s embarrassed or amused or somewhere in between. Or maybe he’s none of that; maybe he’s something else. Maybe he’s just in love, like some regular, pathetic fool.

“I thought you wanted to be a pilot,” he murmurs, trying to take the edge off whatever emotion he’s struggling with. “The Jaeger was supposed to be your place.”

“People change,” Hinata says easily. He then glances hopefully at him, lips quirked into a wry smile. “Hey, since we’re so close now and all… does that mean I can finally call you Tobio?”

“I – you – oi –!” Kageyama splutters, his words stumbling on his tongue. “Don’t just go ahead and change the topic like that!”

“You did the same thing earlier, stupid!” Hinata protests and proceeds to pull childishly at his sleeve, his lips curling downward into a pout. “We’re way past the point of being just friendly, to put it mildly. Why I gotta keep addressing my boyfriend by his last name anyway? That’s just weird.”

“Dumbass –”

“To-bi-oh…” he singsongs and sways against him. “It’s a really cute name, too! It’d be a waste not to use it on the daily. Tobio, Tobio, To–”

His teasing words are cut off when Kageyama leans down and kisses him – hard and forcefully before slowly softening, his fingers knitted in Hinata’s windswept hair, his lips yielding, melting into him, until they both can’t breathe anymore.

“I’ll keep kissing you until you stop that,” he murmurs. “Shouyou.”

“Tobio,” Hinata counters immediately, laughing. “Tobio, Tobio, Tobio!”

“Shut it. Let’s go home.”

Hinata cups his face in his hands, his palms warm against Kageyama’s icy cheeks, making him wonder if this guy ever feels cold at all.

“Home is wherever you are,” he says and smiles so brightly it could replace the sun on the overcast sky. “I’ll race you there, though.”

Kageyama allows him a head start up the path, watching his footprints weave an uneven trail in the soft sand. The monster that’s been plaguing his mind for so long stirs weakly. It’s faded and wilted now, its form crumbling steadily, its hold on him slipping.

This is it, he thinks. This is all that’s left.

Kageyama grins and charges after his partner, leaving his monster behind without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He only feels it, very faintly in the back of his mind, as the monster steps out into the light – and disappears.