Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

Leandro wasn’t entirely sure if he was mumbling his endless stream of curses aloud, since the alcohol had severely damaged his ability to filter what came out of his mouth, but he supposed it didn’t matter much as he tore after Akira through the blinking red halls.

They were like two mad men, skirting around corners as their jackets whipped behind them. And all the while, that Galra man, Lotor’s voice echoed in his head, bouncing around in his skull and torturing him endlessly.

“I wonder what this Lower Sector scum will think when he finds out who was with his family when they disappeared.”

He’d been searching for so long, infiltrating Galra bases, questioning and stealing and in some of his lowest moments, begging. Who could his family have possibly been with? What had Lotor meant?

Leandro supposed he’d never know now.

He’d felt so many emotions, so quickly. Confusion, rage, and a deep and unsettling fear that had emerged as everything around him fell apart and klaxons assaulted his ears. He didn’t know if he could trust Akira anymore, didn’t know what the hell he would do if he even made it out of this god forsaken complex alive.

Leandro had been lost in his thoughts, panic’s clever claws slowly tightening their grip on his sanity, but then there were footsteps coming from up ahead and Akira was stumbling to a halt, Leandro right behind him.

“Get ready,” Akira muttered, pulling out his cyber-swords once again.

Leandro drew his twin pistols, feeling them hum with life in his hands. He was on the verge of something, he could feel it. On the brink. Things were about to fall apart, and he just prayed that he would be lucky enough to end up in one piece. He held his breath.

The first guard rounded the corner, and Akira swiftly cut him down, the heat of his blades cauterizing the wounds so that the corpse fell to the ground unaccompanied by the typical pool of blood a normal sword would create. The smell of burning flesh rose and hung in the still air of the corridor.

Leandro focused, shaking himself from his drunken stupor. He had time to panic, time to think , but that time was not now. Now, he had a job to do.

More and more Galra guards rounded the corner, and Leandro easily shot them down, dancing around carelessly swung blades and poorly aimed lasers.

Everything was a blur. Bodies were falling to the ground and he could feel a freshly stinging cut, shallow on his forearm. The hallway was filled with the stench of death, and Leandro’s eyes watered with it. But their small scuffle was over and Akira was urging him on, saying something that didn’t quite register with him. Leandro stared at his chapped lips, curving and bending and forming words his addled mind couldn’t parse. Finally, he made one out.

“Run!”

And so they ran, leaving behind a trail of dead bodies in their desperate bid for freedom. Leandro had forgotten that they’d come here with money in on the mind. It felt like lifetimes ago, the race, crashing, getting drunk at the bar. It had all happened so fast -- too fast.

Up ahead, Akira tripped over one of the tripwires they’d passed on the way in, luckily falling flat on his face rather than being caught by one of the darts that had been launched due to his recklessness. Leando hurried to him, yanking him back to his feet. His mind was everywhere but where he needed it to be, but he was desperately trying to pull himself together He had a family to save and to do that, he needed to be alive.

“Which way to the stairs?”

Akira’s eyes were blown wide, and it was like Leandro was looking into a mirror, for a brief moment. All of his fears and anxieties were reflected exactly on Akira’s scarred face, and Leandro realized that he wasn’t the only one in danger of losing everything.

“We-- we went through the air ducts… I don’t--”

“Akira, you do ,” Leandro said gently, gripping his friend’s shaking shoulders. “Calm down. Breath.”

Akira’s eyes roved over him, and Leandro surprised even himself with this attempt to maintain order, in some small way. Minutes ago, he’d been the one panicking -- if he was being honest, he still was -- but now Akira’s heaving breaths were coming farther apart and the tension was bleeding out of his body, slowly but surely. Leandro felt something too, like a crushing weight being lifted from his chest.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Akira rushed out, and now Leandro regretted their drunkenness. Maybe with clearer minds, with sober thoughts-- “I recognize this hall. We’re goin’ left. Come on.”

Leandro inhaled sharply and followed. It was all he could do.

They stumbled through the long white halls, narrowly avoiding trip wires and clumps of Galra guards. As they went along, Lance’s mind became clearer, less muddied. They whipped around a corner and before them, the staircase stretched on into darkness.

“After you, Mullet,” he said, raising his voice over the alarms as he shoved his curls away from his face.

Akira didn’t hesitate, taking the stairs two at a time. Leandro hustled after him, the puffs of their labored breaths hardly audible. They were almost at the top of the stairs when Leandro had the sudden thought that there would almost certainly be Galra cavalry waiting for them on the warehouse floor.

“Akira,” he hissed, long legs not particularly helping as he hauled himself after his white-heaired companion. “Akira, wait!”

Too late .

Akira burst out of the stairwell and was immediately met with a rain of laser fire. Leandro was pinned down in the stairs, unable to get into the warehouse under such heavy fire.

“Akira! Are you hit?” he called out desperately, peeking up and firing a round from his right pistol.

Two men went boneless, collapsing to the ground with electric barbs between their eyes. Leandro’s pistols were still recharging for more lasers, but luckily Hunare had worked out a secondary firing mechanism that used actual ammo. Leandro doubted his friend had ever imagined him using it in a situation like this.

“I’m okay! I’m going to draw their fire so you can get out of there!”

Akira's voice came faintly floating down to Leandro’s ears, and so he intermittently peaked over the edge of the stairs, taking out any Galra who were too dumb to find cover.

By Leandro’s count, there were at least twenty Galra guards spread out in the warehouse, taking cover behind various crates and appliances. The flurry of motion had distrubed the thick layer of dust, and Leandro could make out the occasional coughing and sneezing of people. One of them could’ve been Akira for all he could see from his place.

True to his word, though, the shouting and firing seemed to shift to the left of the stairs, and Leandro figured it was now or never.

He rose from his crouch, knees protesting as he darted out from the stairwell. He felt his precious seconds tick by as he sprinted through the open warehouse, lasers singing his air and whizzing past his long limbs, but then he was diving behind a large shipping container, a giant plume of dust left in his wake.

“Leandro? Where are you?”

Leandro was able to sort of figure out Akira’s position, and he peaked over to try and -- there, across the floor behind the forklift. A flash of white hair, pale skin, and neon red. Leandro grinned, feeling his pistols humming once again in his hands. He felt his second wind hitting him.

“I’ll come to you, pretty boy!”

Leandro vaulted over the shipping container, taking out the three men who had been employing one of his brother Luis’ old tactics -- spraying and praying. It had never worked out well for him during their water-fights, and it certainly didn’t do those Galra goons any good.

He wove through the warehouse-turned-battlefield, twisting and turning out of the way of danger as if it was second nature. Akira was holding his own on the other side of the building, and all Leandro had to do was shoot down a couple more rich assholes who upheld a classist institution.

Easy.

Yet even as he told himself that, even as he felt the truth of it flowing through his veins alongside the copious amounts of alcohol, even as he took down Galra guards left and right -- he felt a sort of fleeting shadow in the back of his mind.

He couldn’t say if his doubt had been founded or if the doubt was what had led to it, but he had settled for a careless shot to the shoulder on one of the guards as he moved past. He was focusing single-mindedly on Akira, cutting his way through men like a man possessed. He had almost gotten there, almost found cover behind the forklift.

Karma . That was his first thought, as a white-hot heat seared through his lower body and he stumbled forward from the force of a laser shot to the back . He’d taken too many lives tonight, too many lives in general during his quest to uncover the truth about his missing family, and here was the universe’s answer.

He could hardly see, vision whiting out even as he resorted to blindly firing a spray of lasers, limping his way to Akira. He coughed, and there was something he could see. Red. Blood.

It was sobering enough, and Leandro would’ve laughed had the situation not been so dire. There were so many things out there to get high on -- drugs, alcohol, murder, the rhythm of lasers bursting forth from the smoking barrels of his trusty pistols.

Leandro grit his teeth, blinking away the encroaching black. First white, then black. The world worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Two more Galra down. Akira was beside him now, blood splatters tinting his white hair pink.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Nice hair.”

Leandro could feel blood slowly seeping down the back of his undershirt, but at least he could feel something. He fired his guns and Akira hacked and slashed with his swords, the number of Galra guards dwindling to the final few who fell into one of two categories -- smart, or cowardly.

The alarms were still going off, the sound grating at Leandro’s ears. But Leandro didn’t care -- victory was at hand.

He grinned, motioning to Akira in some complicated gesture that vaguely represented his plan. Akira blinked at him owlishly, but slowly, a cheshire smile slipped onto his face. They split apart, and Leandro stepped lightly as he stalked through the maze of storage crates.

They flushed out the final dregs of what had been a massive Galra army, executing them brutally and efficiently. Leandro was glad to be done with them, but knew they’d spent way too long escaping from the labyrinthine warehouse.

“There’ll be more guards.”

They raced for the door, and just as they made if there was more clambering in the stairwell they had emerged from just minutes earlier. It sounded like a lot more than the twenty-something Galra they had just fought off. There must’ve been more passages underground, connecting more Galra facilities. It made enough sense, and Leandro struggled to wrap his drunken mind around the idea of an entire network of tunnels underneath the city.

But that was a problem for another time. They burst out of the front doors and back into the chill night air. Behind them, a host of Galra were breathing down their necks. Leandro knew he’d heard stomping combat boots and the clattering of guns -- whoever was behind them, they certainly weren’t lowly warehouse guards.

Before them, the twisting streets and alleys of Terra, ones that Leandro had been navigating his whole life. His back pulsed, as if to remind him of the whole that had been seared there, but if anything it was like the whip at his back.

There was only one way to go, now.

Akira really didn’t want to jinx it, but the night just kept on getting worse and worse. 

Now outside of Lotor’s warehouse, block’s surrounding buildings seemed to loom over him, taunting him with claustrophobia for his series of unfortunate mistakes that lead to that night.

Sprinting desperately away from the slew of dead bodies he and Leandro left back at the warehouse, Akira tried to rid his mind of the image of broken bodies and sightless eyes. Sure, he had seen blood before, but never had he taken down a horde of assailants so efficiently.

From his peripheral, he quickly glanced at Leandro. The boy seemed to be in a similar state to him, disheveled and coated with odd splatters of blood and sweat. It could have been the shock, yet there had been an odd warmth that grew in Akira’s stomach. 

They made a good team.  

And somehow, he didn’t shy away from that fact.

Clumps of blood-spattered hair blew in his eyes, obscuring his vision. If they got out of this alive, he’d have to bleach his hair -- unfortunately, blood stained white hair, a fact he learned after a gruesome hoverbike race.

“This way,” Leandro said from beside him, inching slightly ahead so that Akira could follow his lead. They turned down a street, continuing their mad dash away from the Galra. 

Internally, Akira thanked whoever bothered to look over him as Leandro navigated them through the Lower Sector. They weaved in and out of streets and buildings, hurtling down the darkest alleys and through the most obscure Lower Sector streets. Every so often they’d come across a group of Galra patrols which caused them to double back or even take them out.

But as the night wore on and as the moon started to lazily set, he and Leandro were forced to evade more and more. Akira had to sheath his blood-stained cyberswords after his arms became too heavy to wield, while Leandro’s sprint morphed into a pained hobble. 

He couldn’t see any wounds, yet Akira knew something was wrong with him.  

Unsurprisingly, what little energy the two had left had almost completely dwindled away after who-knows-long running. Akira estimated that they were a handful of kilometers away from the warehouse, but it wasn’t enough.

He barely noticed Leandro lagging behind until he looked back, spotting the boy a few metres away.

“Come on!” Shouting, Akira stumbled back and practically pulled Leandro’s arm out of its socket. For some reason, Leandro’s sprint slowly but surely began to slow down where Akira knew he usually had the stamina to keep on running. They had to hurry up, or the Galra would catch them.

Distantly, Akira could hear the alarms from the warehouse wail into the night.

Fucking hell. They were well and truly screwed. He could basically say goodbye to any prospects of finding Krolia or hell, even his freedom. The Galra were relentless to anyone who dared cross them, and ruthless especially to traitors in their family.

Maybe that’s why Krolia’s gone , Akira thought bitterly. Maybe she fucked up too. 

He could almost feel her disappointment weighed upon his shoulders. Throughout his life Krolia had always been forgiving to his many, many screwups, but he had a feeling this time, he’d gone too far. And that?

That terrified him.

“‘m going as fast as I can!” Leandro said, his voice breathless from running. 

“Well go faster!” Akira shot back, barely sparing the boy a glance as they continued to weave in and out of the Lower Sector alleys. Yet the longer they ran, the more and more he started to lag behind. Eventually he and Leandro were neck-and-neck, powering through the lactic acid that had quickly built up in their muscles. 

It didn’t take long after that for his stamina to run out. As they rounded in on a dilapidated alleyway, Akira halted midway, chest heaving in exhaustion. Doubling over, he sucked in air like his life (quite literally) depended on it. 

Holy quiznak, did his body hurt. In that very moment, Akira wished that he had invested in something useful, say, long distance running training, rather than any of the martial arts lessons he had when he was a kid. It so would have come in handy right then..

Looking up through sweat-plastered bangs, he saw Leandro in a similar position, though looking a little less worse for wear. Akira’s breath hitched as he had stripped off his duster jacket and tied it around his waist, revealing broad shoulders and freckle-covered arms. 

He would have eyed Leandro for longer but the pain from exhaustion kicked in harder than ever; Akira’s head drooped down, swaying slightly as he couldn’t muster the energy to keep the muscles still.

With a sinking thought, Akira realised that they couldn’t go like this. Running away simply wasn’t sustainable. The Galra no doubtedly had hovercars and bikes at their disposal -- no matter what he or Leandro did, it wouldn’t be enough to get away. The Galra would track them anywhere in the city.

“We… we need to go…” he wheezed out, not bothering to look up at his friend..? Rival? Fellow thief? Truthfully, Akira had no goddamn clue what their relationship was. To him, it seemed to be a hastily-wrapped amalgam of barely similar goals hinging on a mutual want of chaos.

“Go where?” Leandro answered with none of his usual fire, “If… if you haven’t noticed, we’re pretty much cornered.”

Akira would have laughed if he had spare breath to give. “We’re screwed, huh?” He said, words tinged in a bitter inflection. Knowing that they had been so close made it all that more heartbreaking. 

“Completely and utterly fucked.” 

Odd eyes met purple, and This time, Akira couldn’t help but to laugh hysterically. It was almost funny how screwed they were. 

For a long moment neither boy uttered another word. Concentrating on getting his stamina back, Akira took a few seconds to breath, and to get his heartbeat under control. 

For the first time in too long, he felt… out of control. Like nothing he could do would even matter. He had stuck his neck out too far and now - just like Krolia - he was paying the price. Even worse, not only were the Galra hunting him but Leandro as well, and while Akira may have enough money to possibly lay low and bribe someone into getting him out, Leandro had nothing. No family, no bike, no money.

He looked back over at the Lower Sector boy, pity curdling in his stomach. 

If- no, when the Galra caught them, there was a small, tiny, infinitesimally minute chance that Akira wouldn’t end up with a plasma bolt to the forehead. Sure, he’d be in deep shit, but he had known Lotor for almost all of his life. The white-haired bastard was cunning and cruel even as a child, and unlike the reputation his parents had as merciless with more blood on their hands than a stabbing victim, his way of dealing with problems was more manipulative. The Galra were big on family; Akira wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up indebted to Lotor for the rest of his life, or something. 

But Leandro?

He was nothing. A nobody. Some random streetracer from the Lower Sector who had no family, money, or to someone like Lotor, reason to live.

He’d be dead in a ditch if they didn’t get going. 

Akira fiddled with his ring, twisting it over and over as he stared off into nothing. Streams of disjointed thoughtsideasworriesfears cut into him like shards of glass. And then--

--he saw it.

Parked at the end of the alleyway, painted black as to be unassuming in every way, it was something Akira would normally turn his nose at if given the option to ride. Given both of the boys track record with crashing hoverbikes as the idea started forming in his mind, it would be almost dumb to suggest it.

But… At least it was something.

“Hey, Leo,” he called, not bothering to waste breath in saying his full name, “you can pick a lock, right?”
Leandro’s head swiveled around, staring at Akira with a raised eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, ” he said, as if it was obvious. “Why’d you ask, ‘Kira ?”

Akira glowered at him, but held his tongue so as to not start another spat. Mutely, he pointed over Leandro’s shoulder, watching as the boy followed his gaze to the parked hoverbike at the end of the alleyway. 

“Do you think you could hotwire a hoverbike?” 

With a pained grin, Leandro nodded jerkily. “Definitely,” he said, with none of his former cockiness. It seemed that the reality of their situation had kicked in for him too, and that he had just realised how truly screwed their situation was.

“Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

-

Revelling in the feeling of the wind blowing through his bangs, Akira revved the engine of his totally-not-stolen hoverbike. He could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, though it wasn’t from the thrill of the ride.

No, his heart was practically ebating out of his chest because of how fucking terrified he was. 

After Leandro had hotwired the hoverbike, they had a small, uh, disagreement, about who would drive the hoverbike. He argued that since he was the one to hotwire it, it should have been him to take the (metaphoric) wheel, yet Akira refused to relent on the driver’s seat, asserting that Leandro had drunk a lot more than him at the bar, thus it would be safer to have him drive.

Even as Leandro claimed that he was completely sober (which he seriously doubted, by the way -- not even the most experienced alcoholics could be fully sober after a fuck-ton of drinks), Akira claimed that he needed him to have his hands free; if the Galra were to strike, hIs dual pistols would come in handy.

Eventually, Leandro hesitantly relented, but not before demanding that Akira tie his hair up so it wouldn’t whip him in the face. It was a compromise, he claimed. 

It only took a couple minutes of bickering for them to decide where to go, or rather, where to avoid. They couldn’t go back to the Upper Sector for the surveillance there was too widespread and high-tech, nor could they head into the denser parts of the Lower Sector for fears of being spotted by paid-off Galra police. 

And so a mutual decision was made to ride the back alleys and abandoned quarters of the Lower Sector hoping something went right for once. 

Knowing their track record, Akira wouldn’t have been surprised if everything went to hell. Hachiko always called him a pessimist, though he liked to think of himself as more of a realist.Realistically, he and Leandro were screwed. And that was simply a fact he had to deal with.

Krolia was like that too, once upon a time. He didn’t have memories of her before his father had left, yet everyone always used to comment how alike they were. From personality to demeanour, the only difference between him and his mother was gender, really, and Krolia’s more pronounced Galra genes. 

Come to think of it, in the months leading up to her disappearance she had been unusually… happy. Or, at least, a lot more optimistic than Akira had ever seen her. It was almost as if his mother had been hopeful about something. Someone.

Blinking harshly, he tried to rid himself of those thoughts. They were dangerous, too dangerous, especially since Akira needed his entire energy channelled for the mission at hand. 

Yet the moment he had banished the rose-tinted memories of his mother from his mind, the world decided that it wanted to distract him as much as possible. Somehow, Leandro’s arms had snaked their way around Akira’s torso in a way eerily reminiscent of their little adventure in the warehouse maintenance closet. Even through the copious amount of fabric between them he could feel Leandro’s body pressed against him, every contact point burning hotter than embers. 

Akira clenched his jaw and shook his head, trying to stay focused. The stolen hoverbike had a vastly different – and clunkier – control system compared to his trusty Red; driving it took more of a conscious effort than he had expected. And with the extra weight of Leandro and the boy’s inability to sit still for more than a minute, driving the hoverbike was proving more and more of a challenge. 

But a hoverbike was a hoverbike, and Akira certainly wasn’t complaining. Whoever owned it before had taken surprisingly good care of it. It lacked modifications, but the engine ran smoothly and for some random hoverbike parked in the Lower Sector, it had great acceleration. He had even christened the hoverbike with a name, Black, in honour of its completely matte black surface.

Even hours after the crash, he still hadn't fully mourned his trusty Red. Akira prayed to the stars that Petra wouldn’t eviscerate him once she found out he had destroyed their pride and joy. 

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Leandro cut through the silence, his voice partially obscured by the roaring of the passing wind.

Akira scoffed. “Of course we’re going the right way,” he said. “How bad do you think my navigation is?”

“Dude, I didn’t mean that . It’s just, we’re in the Lower Sector now, and I’m pretty sure you don’t live here.” Leandro retorted, though not unkindly.

He had a point. Akira didn’t live anywhere near there.

“Remember that I’ve won a bunch of hoverbike races? Lower Sector hoverbike races?”

“Ohhh.”

Akira gave himself a little self-satisfied smirk. While he was no native to the dirty streets of the Lower Sector, years of racing illegally gave him at least some knowledge of directions. That, and as part of his schooling he had been forced to memorise the main parts of Terra, which included all the different sectors and key landmarks of the Lower Sector – not that there were many, of course.

 “I think we’ve lost them.” Leandro piped up from behind. Akira could feel the pressure of the boy’s body detach from his back, and frowned. As the bike wobbled slightly from side to side, he knew Leandro was probably looking around for any signs of the Galra.

 “We still need to keep an eye out. The Galra are slippery bastards. They’ll find us if we don’t keep moving.”

Leandro chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, trust me , I know.” He said, dark undertones lacing his laughter. While Akira had no idea what Leandro did as a job, he had a faint inkling that this wasn’t his first time going up against the Galra.

Though, Akira thought, it was definitely Leandro’s first scuffle with Lotor.

“Then you should know that they won’t stop until they’ve found us.” Akira replied, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to glance back at him, then quickly refocused as he felt the hoverbike swerve slightly.  “We stole from them., and I doubt they’ll forget that.”

He felt Leandro shrug in response. “I’ve hidden from you guys before. I think we’ll be fine.

“Your funeral.” Akira replied. 

He truly hoped that Leandro understood that not only did they steal from the Galra and get caught, they stole from the Galra. Akira would have rather fought a swarm of wasps than face Lotor’s wrath.

Akira heard it before he saw it. A mechanical whirring buzzed in his ears, grating in his head with the familiar white noise. A neon purple shined in his headlights, filling his mirrors and visor with a sickly indigo glow.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

The glow grew larger and larger in his side mirror, until the whole pane lit up with a purple-hot laser. The sound of cracked glass echoed in Akira’s head; within a nanosecond the mirror had been blasted off. 

“Fuck!” Leandro shouted, immediately unclasping his hands from Akira torso and grabbing his dual blasters. Akira totally didn’t mourn the loss of contact, but as Leandro turned his torso and started shooting at whoever blasted the rear window off, he decided it wasn’t so bad. “We gotta get a move on, stat!”

Couldn’t his night get any worse? Akira bit back a frustrated growl. He clenched his fists around the accelerator, willing the hunk of metal to drive faster.

 “What do you think I’m doing, idiot!” He shot back. From the corner of his eye he saw a stray laser blast approaching from the other side of the hoverbike, and had to swerve tightly to avoid it.

From behind him, Akira could hear Leandro’s pistols went off almost rapid-fire, punctuating the leonine roar of the hoverbike’s engine with a non-stop hum.

Akira’s eyes narrowed as he forced himself to focus completely on his driving. The road ahead of him (if it could even be called that – the Lower Sectors roads were more like bitumen and gravel hastily cobbled together than real roads) stretched far enough to drive straight for several kilometres, yet he knew that  he had to shake off the Galra as soon as possible, or sooner or later they would eventually land a hit on the hoverbike.

“Hang on tight,” Akira yelled, praying that Leandro could hear him.

Waiting until the last moment, Akira jerked right on the handlebars, sending Black into a sharp drift. Leandro let out a surprised yelp as the hoverbike got dangerously close to the ground; Akira quickly yanked the handles up and clenched his fist on the accelerator, narrowing his eyes as Black hurtled down an alleyway.

 A bolt of satisfaction jolted up his spine as he heard the familiar sounds of metal crashing into walls. Akira grinned darkly. He was the reigning champion of the Lower Sector hoverbike races. No brainless Galra could ever beat him in the only thing he excelled at.

“Quiznak ,” Leandro exhaled, letting out a breath Akira didn’t know the boy was holding. “are you trying to get us killed?!”

“Shut up and shoot straight!” Akira retorted.

“Kinda hard to do that when your driver doesn’t know how to drive in a straight line.”

Akira face pulled into a tight scowl. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you drive!”

The sound of laser blasts echoed in the alleyway. Before Leandro could respond, Akira turned the hoverbike around another sharp corner.

“Fu- ahhh!”

And despite the situation, the threat of death looming in over their heads, everything, he couldn’t help but smirk at Leandro’s terrified shriek.

Adrenaline pumped through Akira’s veins like motor oil in an engine as he willed the hoverbike to go faster and faster. Leandro’s screams quickly morphed into an exhilarated cheer as Akira weaved in and out of alleyways, drifting around corners so tight that each turn left a crash of Galra pursuers in its wake. Hell, had even heard Leandro cheer a couple times at a particularly gruesome pile-up.

Real classy move from Leandro there, but Akira would be a hypocrite if he judged him. With every crash, the unyielding weight of their night’s actions slowly eased up as the prospects of them actually escaping become more and more tangible. 

Akira could almost taste the freedom. 

Despite how vow to stay focused, he couldn’t help but wonder what he would do after all of this. Obviously he couldn’t return to his home -- Lotor had definitely blacklisted his name within the Galran families by now, and Akira wouldn’t have been surprised if some sort of surveillance was set up around his apartment. 

There was no going back. Not anymore. 

A frigid sadness crept up Akira’s spine, sending shivers cascading throughout his body. No matter how much he disliked living in his high rise apartment, it was still home. 

It was where Krolia raised him, where he first came out to Hachiko and where he met Dante for the first time. It had years of memories stored away within its polished walls, hidden troves of secrets from both himself and Krolia. 

It was then that Akira realised how wholly lost he was in the world. 

A loud series of triumphant whoops knocked Akira out of his musings. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, only to be met with the sight of Leandro waving his pistols in the air like a complete maniac.

“Did’ja see that?” Leandro shouted, his face stretched into a wide grin. “Those Galra fuckers didn’t stand a chance!”

Akira couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his antics. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Leandro’s hand gesticulate with every word, pistols whipping through the cool Terran air. There was something so… endearing, about the way Leandro could stay so high-spirited in the midst of a life-threatening escape.

“Oh course I didn’t, dumbass,” Akira shot back, swerving the hoverbike to avoid another laser blast. “I’m driving.”

Chuckling, Leandro replied, “Well you better watch this one, then!”

From the non-blasted rear window, Akira watched as the boy raised his pistol and in three shots, brought down three pursuing Galran hoverbikes. His eyes widened as he heard the sounds of crumpling metal and carnage over the roar of the hoverbike’s motor.

Thank quiznak he was allied to Leandro. If he wasn’t then, well…

Akira had no doubt that Leandro was skilled enough to put a laser through his head.

The game of cat and mouse continued for almost too long, where Akira weaved in and out of incoming Galran fire while Leandro retired their laser blasts with a vigour Akira had never seen in him before. He lost count of how many hoverbikes they had destroyed, how many Galra they had killed.

That didn’t mattle. The only thing that counted was them escaping the Galra. 

And they were close, so fucking close. Akira could see the wall separating Terra from the outside – all he had to do was shake off the Galra stragglers still on his tail then he- no, they could leave this all behind. They were so close.

Akira heard it before he saw it. A mechanical whirring buzzed in his ears, a cacophony pf white noise buzzing between his eyes. From the corner of his visor a single bolt of purple grew closer and closer. Leandro’s pistols went off, once, twice, and an exploding head seared at Akira’s back, but it was too late.

Something jolted underneath him. Akira’s eyes widened in horror.

Oh, f-

Something red, fiery hot burned at his arms and legs. A shockwave flung his body off of the hoverbike like he was some sort of ragdoll, sending him back-first into the brick alley wall. The impact knocked all of the breath out of him, but his vision whited out before he could feel it.

His whole felt… numb. Static crackled through every cartilage, every muscle. For a blissful second Akira merely existed in an endless cacophony of meaningless noise.

And then--

Quiznak…

God fucking quiznak. Cheek to the gritty pavement, Akira moaned as pain coursed throughout his body. He fought to keep down his breakfast as his stomach lurched painfully.

Raising a shaky hand, he clutched his head and moaned as a wave of nausea shook his body.  When he pulled his fingers away, something sticky and crimson red stained them. A small keen slipped past his lips.

For a moment, Akira didn’t know where he was. How did he get here? He… he was at the ball… Hachiko and Dante had been there… and- and…

And suddenly, everything rushed back to him. Petra’s upgrades. The hoverbike race. The crash. Breaking into the warehouse. Leandro.

Leandro.

Akira lurched forwards, then gagged at the movement. Oh hell did his entire body hurt. There were aches and pains in places he didn’t even know existed. But he had to get up. Had to get moving.

Had to find Leandro.

When he was little, Krolia had taken him just outside Terra, where the desert met the great walls separating the city from the outside. She showed him a dinky little shack in the middle of nowhere, and just… sat inside. Eventually, Akira had gotten bored and left his mother to explore the great unknown.

 Of course, he was a young a dumb kid who had no sense of direction and had gotten lost within the first five minutes. With no food, no water, and wandering outside of the city, Krolia found him collapsed on a sand dune, unconscious from heatstroke. For years, the only thing Akira remembered from that day was the bitter, angry agony that irritated his skin, that scalded every molecule of his being.

 But trying to stand up? The agony he experienced that day had nothing on the effort it took just to haul his broken body up.

Trying not to stare down at the glass shards embedded in his skin or the still-flaming bits of debris strewn along the alley, Akira slowly but surely hobbled his way into a crouched position, almost standing up. Panicked thoughts rushed through his mind at a million miles per hour – were the Galra still coming? Had they managed to escape? Or would they—

Akira froze.

Something- no, someone had collapsed meters in front of him, body laying prone on the floor. It couldn’t be , and yet above the charred clothes and dusty hair, he recognised Leandro as clear as day.

Back to the wall, slumped over and clutching his midsection like his life depended on it, yet there he was. His signature duster jacket lay almost shredded to the side; hoverbike parts and broken glass surrounded Leandro like a sick halo of destruction.

And then Akira looked closer, to the ruddy liquid that tricked from the boy’s lips, to his unmoving chest. His whole world seemed to freeze; panicked tendrils of ice-cold fear gripped at his chest.

No no no, this couldn’t be it. With every passing second, he expected Leandro to get up, to flash a finger gun and say something utterly insufferable, yet he lay still, unmoving, head bowed down as if he was merely sleeping.

Limping over to him, Akira barely noticed the rivulets of sweat and tears running down his face as he shouted, “Leandro!"

Leandro groaned.

He’d already beens shot earlier at the warehouse, but the pain had faded to a dull ache and luckily, the laser had mostly cauterized the wound so he hadn’t been too lightheaded.

They’d driven for hours, at least what felt like hours to Leandro. And for a little bit, he had really believed they’d gotten away from the Galra. At least for that night. Ideally, Akira could’ve dropped him off at the Balmera or even his old home and he could’ve patched himself up.

This, though. Definitely not ideal.

The explosion, getting flung off of the bike, crashing into a brick wall. The impact tore open his wound and he ended up with a gut-full of shrapnel from the demolished bike to boot.

His mind was stuck right now, in an endless loop of pain that burned red hot, red as the blood that was pooling around his broken body. He really couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He didn’t have the strength to move, to crane his neck and make sure Akira was alright.

And there was a ringing in his ears, high pitched and incessant.

Leandro was hurting, but he was so fucking terrified that the pain almost didn’t matter. He was bleeding out in an alley and his only ally was probably dead and there were Galra right around the corner and he couldn’t fucking see .

His body jerked suddenly, like it wanted to obey him and flee, to run back into his missing Mama’s arms. He needed to get away, he’d crawl away if he could, but nothing was working right and the slight movement his body had managed felt like it was shredding his organs to ribbons.

He coughed and tasted copper.

“Aki-- ‘Kira!” he called weakly, though he didn’t know what he expected. He still couldn’t hear anything.

Then he felt gentle hands on his face, wet with blood or tears or more likely, both, and the simple touch had his entire body relaxing. He inhaled, but the shuddery breath caught as he felt it pulling strangely on his chest and he coughed again, trying his best to turn his head and avoid spitting up blood on Akira. The ringing slowly abated, and Leandro could hear his friend’s panicked words.

“--dro! Leandro! Please , come on, snap out of it!”

It took Leandro a lot more effort than he would ever admit, but he managed to bat Akira’s hands away and smiled through crimson-stained teeth.

“Quit your fussin’, Mullet.”

“Oh, fuck, Leandro! Come on, we have to-- shit. There’s so much blood...”

“It’s my-- my stomach. And… probably my back. Also, my head.” Leandro blinked sluggishly, watching with the sort of detachment only a dying man could possess as Akira peeled his shirt off of his stomach, wincing at what he saw. “Wha’ about the Galra?”

“They don’t matter right now. Can you move?” Akira said with a hardened resolve that left no room for argument from him.

“Maybe--” Leandro began, attempting to push himself off of the ground and immediately yelping in pain, collapsing on the dirty floor again and sending waves of agony through his body. “ Fuck! This isn’t gonna work.”

“Hey, hey, no, we’ll be fine. I can help you up, and then we can get out of here, and we’ll--”

“Akira, shut up,” Leandro said breathily, staring up at Akira’s panicking face and finding that he was kind of amused by his poorly-timed optimism. But he could also see black dots steadily encroaching on his vision and felt a shiver work its way through his body. He was running out of time, and even though Akira refused to acknowledge it, it was time to face the music. “Leave me and go.”

Leandro held up a hand, coving Akira’s mouth and the indignant reply he knew was waiting within.

“Just listen to me for a second, hot shot. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t-- I’m toast. I’m already toast. I got… shot back at the warehouse. I’ve lost too much blood. You can leave and I’ll, y’know, hold ‘em-- hold them off or whatever.”

He grinned tiredly, removing his hand from the stunned boy’s face and finding that he left a bright red handprint there. He stared into purple eyes and hoped that he was conveying what he was feeling. We don’t both have to die tonight. Not for my mistakes.

“Fuck you!” Leandro was caught off guard by the sudden fierceness from Akira, and the fact that it was directed at him . “After all of that bullshit, you’re just gonna give up? Like that?”

“I’m not --”

Before Leandro could finish his rebuttal, the sound of revving engines cut him off and his mouth snapped shut. They were out of time.

Akira’s eyes widened, but instead of running off down the alley like Leandro had told him, he bent over and maneuvered Leandro’s unresponsive body so that he was gripping him by the armpits, and then Akira dragged him down the alley and behind the dumpster.

Leandro was certain that he screamed. The shards of metal in his guts burned inside of him and he swore he could feel his flesh tearing, his organs being ripped apart. By the time Akira settled them behind the dumpster, Leandro’s head cradled in his lap even as the sound of Galra engines grew louder and louder, Leandro could hardly make out the other boy’s face through the haze of tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had to-- I couldn’t just--”

“I told you. You should’ve left. Now we’re both dead,” Leandro hiccuped out, relaxing into the warmth of Akira’s arms despite the fact that he was bleeding to death behind a dumpster, waiting for the rich assholes he’d just robbed to come and exact their revenge.

“You’re an idiot if you thought I’d ever consider it.”

Leandro noticed how Akira didn’t bother to argue over the ‘we’re both dead’ part.

The engines cut off. The sounds of boots slapping asphalt drifted down to them. Leandro could hear footsteps hurrying down the road, closing in on their location. He shifted, pawing at his pockets and eventually, after a lot of pain, coming up with his pistols. They were humming in his palms, and he felt them calling to him, but instead he handed them up to a confused Akira.

“Shoot ‘em for me.”

Akira nodded grimly, peaking over the top of the dumpster and down the alley. The Galra hadn’t found them yet, but they’d found the wreckage of their stolen hoverbike. Leandro could hear them murmuring into earpieces and receiving orders.

Leandro held his breath even as Akira inhaled and exhaled with deliberate evenness, holding a single pistol in two hands rather than dual wielding. He was using the top of the dumpster to steady his aim, keeping watch of the alley mouth.

Leandro had always hated waiting. So he spoke.

“My mom, she was the one who taught me to shoot. Started with real-- real guns, with bullets, you know? Me and Rachel and… Veronica ‘n’ Marco ‘n’ Luis… we all shot at cans. Dad never approved,” he coughed out, laughing ruefully.

Akira’s eyes hadn’t moved from where they were trained straight ahead, but Leandro knew he was listening. He kept talking, feeling a sudden desperation come over him. He was the last Sanchez -- he had to tell Akira everything before it was too late.

“Marco-- Blue was Marco’s, first. He was the racer. Mama always told him-- said he needed to work, get a real job… but it was just as a matter o’ principle. I think-- think she was proud.”

Akira squeezed the trigger twice, and Leandro gulped. The sound of two bodies thudding to the ground was followed by a tense silence. They both knew what was coming next. Akira glanced down, making brief eye contact with Leandro, and he could see some tears in his friend’s eyes after all.

They were going to die.

And Leandro wasn’t entirely sure what overcame him as Akira ducked down under the first barrage of purple laser fire, but they were face to face and Akira had beautiful cheekbones and delicate skin, and his hair was soft as it tickled his cheeks and those magenta eyes weren’t like all of the other Galra -- they had a sort of sparkle to them, like they would glow in the dark.

Leandro could hear the yelling and the laser fire, smell melting metal and coppery blood. But all he could see, all he could feel, was Akira. And he thought that was far as dying went, maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

He surged up, closing the distance between them and sealing their lips in a desperate kiss. Akira seemed surprised for only a moment, but then he was leaning into it and they were pressed as close together as their beaten and bruised bodies would allow, the dumpster the only thing separating them from death-by-lasers.

The kiss was overpowered by the taste of blood and alcohol, but it was the most exhilarating thing Leandro had ever felt. He wanted more, wanted to consume every inch of Akira’s being, wanted to just live in this moment for the rest of eternity. He could forget about his missing family, the Galra, the pain in his back and stomach, the Galra soldiers a mere fifty-something feet away. He held onto Akira like his life depended on it, and he figured that maybe it did.

When Leandro pressed his lips against his, Akira’s brain seemed to bluescreen. In that moment he could barely decipher between where one thought ended and the next began, an endless stream of ohquiznakhe’skissingmewe’reabouttodiebuthe’skissingme repeating over and over.

But then… Akira kissed back. And it was everything and nothing like he expected. 

Clinging onto the back of Leandro’s duster coat, he wished he never had to let go, wished that it didn’t take a horde of Galran soldiers for him to kiss the other bot. The insatiable heat that scorched  in his gut seemed to burn hotter than any still-bleeding wound. Nothing mattered in that moment.  

He savoured the remnant taste of cheap liquor and tangy blood, and when Leandro pulled away, he already mourned the loss of warmth. 

The heavy thump of military-issue boots spurred something inside of him. Akira took time - precious time - to really look at the bot in front of him. Despite the blood and glass that coated his body, Leandro couldn’t have been more perfect. From his matted mahogany curls to his odd eyes, Akira couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

Of all the ways to die, being gunned down in the hands of the most attractive boy he had ever seen didn’t sound so bad.

“So I guess this’s it.” Leandro slurred, eyes glassy.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Akira said. HIs mind felt as empty as his voice.

Something warm intertwined itself between his fingers, and he didn’t need to look down to know what it was. He squeezed Leandro’s hand, hoping it would reassure the boy.

But what was there to reassure? The Galra soldiers were barely ten metres away, indigo-accented guns raised and ready to fire if he or Leandro happened to move even an inch. If the soldiers didn’t kill them now, they would haul their asses back to the Galran headquarters, where Leandro would no doubtedly be killed - or worse.

And Akira.. he couldn’t bear to think of a world without Leandro. 

He had only known the boy for a couple days yet the moment Leandro stepped into his life Akira felt some sort of a connection that he seldom had with anyone else. Despite the hilariously series of unfortunate mishaps that had plagued them every step of their time together, Leandro's presence was something Akira refused to let go. Even if Leandro’s life slipped through his fingers like sand in an hourglass he knew that no matter what, he'd hold on until the end.

As the soldiers advanced closer and closer, Akira knew that their time was almost up. 

He closed his eyes, cradling Leandro’s head closer to his chest. For a moment he simply focused on the blood-mattered locks of Leandro’s hair or the way Akira could feel the other boy’s slow, almost silent heartbeat. 

I’m sorry, Hachiko, Akira thought, I’m sorry for not calling you back, I’m sorry Petra for leaving you alone again, Krolia, for not finding you, I’m sorry I’m sorry-

The thrum of a blaster cut through his thoughts. He held onto Leandro tighter.

And then-

Bang. 

Akira opened his eyes as a deafening discharge pierced through the air. The soldiers paused, only to be shot down moments later as a flurry of golden-yellow laser blasts hit the Galrans in quick succession. 

It felt unreal, yet somehow, within only a couple seconds, all of the soldiers had been gunned down. Surveying the masses, a chill went up Akira’s spine as he saw their lifeless bodies. 

What… what happened?

He couldn’t comprehend it. It was as if his mind refused to process the scene in front of him. Did someone save them? Or were they rescued from death only to be placed in a much worse situation? Truthfully, he had no fucking clue.

The dust started to settle and it was only then did Akira spot a hoverbike hurtling towards Leandro and him. In a blur of greens and yellows, he barely had time to flinch before it was only raced across the barren street and shot directly towards them. Ten meters, it didn’t stop. Seven. Six. Closing his eyes he braced himself for impact and then--

Nothing.

Tentatively, Akira blinked, only to see the hoverbike skid to a halt. It barely made a noise as it parked directly in front of them. Its motion kicked up dust again but as it started to settle, Akira could finally make out the shapes of who saved them. 

The one driving the bike -- dressed head-to-toe in dark protective gear with a helmet matching the bright-green bike -- seemed oddly familiar despite the lack of any identifying details. Their short stature was dwarfed by whoever it was sitting behind them. They were decked out in a similar outfit with a yellow helmet instead, yet they held the largest blaster Akira had ever seen in their meaty paws. 

Whoever these people were, Akira owed them his life. 

Blinking, he surveyed the riders and their bike with great interest. You could usually discern what type a person was from their bike and gear. Yet it wasn’t their clean, new-looking gear that caught Akira’s eye, but the four hundred pounds of metal between their legs. 

With dark-plated metal and neon green accents, the overall shape of the hoverbike was not dissimilar to Red’s. Hell, the handlebards and interface seemed to be a carbon copy of his late bike. Gnawing in his stomach, suspicion spread throughout Akira’s body like wildfire.   

Akira squinted. He… he recognised that engine. And those infracell upgrades. And--

“Need a hand?” The one in the green said, with a tilt to their voice that made Akira’s eyes widen.

Holy shit. It couldn’t be-

“Petra?” He breathed out.

“You betcha,” Petra said, taking off her helmet to reveal mussed-up hair and a shit-eating grin. “Did you really think I wouldn’t track y’down after you trashed my bike?”

Akira flinched. Technically, it was his bike, but a voice in his head told him that arguing would only make it worse. 

“We- we need to leave,” he cleared his throat, almost gagging when he tasted blood. “Leo needs medical attention. Now. ”

Petra’s brows furrowed, before a comprehension dawned on her face. 

“Wait, what’s wrong with Leandro?” The person in yellow bellowed. Akira almost shrunk back as their massive figure loomed over him, casting an almost shadow over his and Leandro’s bodies. “What have you done with him?!”

All of what little blood Akira had left drained out of his face. Tightening his grip around Leandro’s waist, he hunched protectively over him. 

“H… Hunare..?” Leandro croaked. 

The person - Hunare - gasped. They practically ripped their helmet off, revealing a face that did not match their- no, his deep voice. He had an almost-chubby face, soft chestnut eyes, and an expression that instantly softened into horror as his gaze landed on his friend. His expression said everything. 

“Quiznak,” Hunare swore. In one sudden motion he leapt off the hoverbike, crouching down near them. “What happened?”

“Hoverbike crash. He’s also been shot.” Akira said, words spilling out of his mouth. Hunare’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Quiznak. And you?”

Akira blinked, taken aback. Why would this random person give a fuck about him? Wasn’t Leandro more important?

“Uh… glass cut me up real bad. That’s all.” 

He tried to give Hunare a reassuring smile but it felt more like a grimace. 

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We gotta hightail it. Like, now, ” Akira watched Hunare ramble, barely aware of what the boy was saying. “I’ll take Lea. Think you can hold onto me while we leave?”

Whatever jerky motion Akira did, Hunare must have interpreted it as a yes. He offered a hand up which Akira took gratefully, wincing as the dozens of cuts and bruises chafed against his clothes. Once he was somewhat steady he walked (or shuffled, really) to Petra, trying to ignore the pain that radiated from every part of his body as he climbed on the seat.

In one swift motion Hunare scooped Leandro up and carried him to the hoverbike. As he sat down on the end the bike dipped slightly.

When Leandro barely reacted to his friend’s touch, a bolt of fear leapt up Akira’s spine. They needed to get medical attention. Stat.

“How…” a sudden wave of nausea swept over him. He had to blink a couple times before his mouth could translate the words he wanted to say. “How’re we going to get away? The Galra will track us like before.”

Petra scoffed. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?” Not waiting for an answer, she continued, “After you wrecked my beautiful bike, Hunare and I decided to make a couple… adjustments.”

Even though Hunare was behind him, Akira could practically feel his excited grin. “Cloaking tech! She’s talking about cloaking tech.” 

Holy quiznak. 

He knew Petra was smart, but cloaking tech?

One day, that girl would rule the world. 

Without a further word Petra chucked her helmet back on revving the engine back on.

“You might want to hold on. I’m not a very good driver!” 

And before he could protest, Petra gripped the clutch as hard as she could, sending the hoverbike hurtling down the alley. Looking over her shoulder, Akira watched as she fiddled with a gage on the handlebars. As it was dialed up both the hoverbike and its passengers became more and more translucent, until he couldn’t even see his own body.

“What… how…” Akira stammered, “Petra, that’s amazing.”

“Hey!” Hunare cried in indignation, slightly jostling Leandro’s body against his back. “I helped! Give me some credit.”

Huh. An itch nagged at the back of Akira’s mind.

“How, uh, do you guys know each other?”

 He had to grab onto the sides of the hoverbike as it turned sharply. Once they hit another patch of straight road, Hunare answered.

“Well, funny story actually,” he chuckled, “Petra and I met on an online messaging board discussing infracell modifications. We got into a small fight over the theoretic capacity of infracells and it got so heated we started private messaging. Long story short, she was right but we started talking about other things!”

Akira blinked once, twice. Well that cleared nothing up. 

“Oh! We also traded ideas for hoverbike modifications! That accelerant you had in your bike? That was me.” Hunare said rather smugly.

“That… makes sense?” Akira said, his statement sounding more like a question. “But how did you guys, y’know, save us?”

“Uhhh…” Averting his eyes, Hunare shot a guilty look at his friend. “Well. After Leandro wrecked his bike and ignored my calls I texted Petra to vent a bit--”

Petra cut him off, picking up the story with her own perspective, “We had a little bitch sessions where I may have spilled all your secrets - sorry, Akira - but then I realised that Hunare’s story seemed familiar--”

“And we realised who each other were!” Hunare finished with a self-satisfied smirk. “When you asked Petra to help cut the camera feeds in that Galra warehouse she asked me to help, and imagine my surprise when I saw you and my best friend staggering around drunker than a mule.”

Akira cringed, praying to the stars that there weren’t any security cameras in those maintenance closets. Petra certainly did not need any more blackmail material against him. 

Head reeling from their explanation, he tried sifting through all of the information that Petra and Hunare had just given him. Yet connecting their stories in his mind just spun more knots and tangles in his metaphoric red strings. Though there was one thing for certain: Akira was truly lucky that he had survived this long. 

What a coincidence, really . Come to think of it, he and Leandro’s hoverbike mechanics knowing each other wasn’t that big of a surprise if Akira thought back to the race. In the world of illegal hoverbike racing it was almost impossible to have two bikes similarly made. Garage modifications and the ever-changing underground trade of spare parts, blended fuels and dozens of other upgrades meant that no two racers ever had the same specs.   

From what little he saw of the hoverbike before it had crashed, Blue had almost exactly the same engine as Red, and a similar base design as well. While his bike had a lot more experimental tech going for it, Leandro’s looked a lot more mechanically sound.

The most damning evidence of all was simply the fact that Leandro lived in the Lower Sector. There was no way the boy could afford such a well-made bike (if his frayed cloak and worn undergarments were anything to go on). Yet if he had a mechanic who knew Petra, someone who could make the best modifications out of a few scrap pieces of metal, what HUnare said wasn’t so surprising.

“Huh,” Akia said. “That’s… cool. Thanks for saving our asses.”

In the rear mirror he saw Petra grin. “T’was our pleasure.”

Now that had been answered, a question still nagged at the back of his mind.

“Where’re we going?” He asked, then frowned as his words came out slurred. Sure, cloaking technology could get them away from the Galra, but for how long? How long would it be until they came for Petra, for Hunare? How long until everyone that Akira had ever loved would be brought down by his mistakes?

They turn down a nondescript Lower Sector street, and it’s only then that he realises how close they are to the edge of Terra.

Not taking her eyes off of the road, Petra answers, “I know a place just outside the walls. It’s far enough from any surveillance that we should be left alone for a while.”

That… that was a relief. No one ever went outside of Terra’s walls - lest they wished to survive. Past the city was simply a wasteland, too desolate for the Upper Sector officials to bother with any surveillance. 

Yet Akira couldn’t allay the anxiety that still thrummed in his veins. What if they were somehow tracked? What if they were caught leaving Terra? What if-

As if he’d noticed Akira’s concerns, Hunare reached over Leandro’s slumped body, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” Hunare beamed with a positive smile that could be seen through his visor. “You’re- we’re safe now. We’re almost there.”

But Akira didn’t believe him. He was still on edge even when they left the Lower Sector, even when they left Terra through a concealed tunnel in the walls, even when they left Terra behind in the haziness of the desert. It was only when Petra parked her hoverbike outside a familiar shack with Hachiko standing outside, arms crossed and looking stern as ever, did Akira let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

He was safe.

-

Leandro survived. 

Thankfully.

With one look at the broken boy Hachiko forgoed his usual spiel after Akira would do something wrong and dragged him inside. Many bandages, a bout of mild fever, and a couple days later Leandro was back on his feet with nothing more than a puckered scar to show for it.

He had been lucky. The bullet had missed his ribs and any important organs. No shrapnel or fragmentation, it had stayed completely intact in Leandro’s torso. 

Akira almost wished it had been worse, because the moment Leandro was stable, Hachiko decided to have a little talk with him.

And by talk, he meant lecture. 

For what seemed to be hours Hachiko went on and on about ‘putting others at risk’ and ‘not making dumb decisions while drunk.’ Like always, Akira smiled and nodded, and crossed his fingers behind his back when his brother asked if he’d do it again. They hugged it out like all good brothers did; Hachiko could never stay mad at him for long. Sucker.

Apparently, Lotor had indeed come for his brother after he and Leandro had been caught. A half-dozen or so Galra soldiers were set up outside his house, effectively trapping him inside. Luckily, Hachiko managed to slip out at night and made his way over to Petra’s house. At that point Petra and Hunare had already met and when they went to save Akira’s ass, Hachiko made his way over the desert shack just in case the Galra had tracked him to the house. 

All of the explanations made Akira’s head spin. Yet somehow, despite the shitty, convoluted mess they were in, he almost understood. 

And now?

Now, Akira waited. 

He didn’t know what for. A sign, maybe? Something telling him where to go, what to do next. He sure as hell couldn’t go back to Terra but where else could he go. There were so many questions that he couldn’t find the answer to. 

Where was Krolia? Where was Leandro’s family? 

Where was his place in the world?

Akira blinked, banishing the belariness from his eyes. Sitting up, he dislodged a loosely threaded blanket from on top of him and looked around. It had been almost a week since he’d arrived at the shack; within the first couple minutes it was clear that whoever lived in it prior did not intend for more than three people to live there.

There were three rooms - a bathroom, a bedroom, and a living area. As he recovered Leandro got the bedroom, meaning he, Hachiko, Petra and Hunare were all regulated to the living room. 

If he had to go one more night enduring Hunare’s snores, Akira would go mad. 

...anyways. 

Surveying the room, everyone looked thoroughly asleep. If he listened close enough, he could hear Hachiko mutter something in his sleep, while Hunare happily snored on the couch. 

Akira shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to go to sleep for a while, not when his mind felt so awake. Shucking on his cropped jacked, he made his way over to the separate bedroom, rows furrowing when he saw the bed empty.

Looks like confinement got to him after all , Akira thought. It didn't require many skills to guess where Leandro had gone off to.

Quietly as he could, he snuck out into the corridor and opened the door.

Immediately Akira was greeted by the harsh dusk climate of the desert. A dry, heavy heat lingered in the air, weighing down on the layers upon layers of clothes that he wore. Not even a hand could shield his eyes from the harsh sun.  

Taking a step forward, thousands of tiny gransuals crumble under his feet -- a foreign sensation from someone who spent their lives on pavement and metal. If he thought hard enough, Akira could almost remember faint wisps of memories slipping through his fingers like sand.

Akira scanned the horizon, trying to ignore the miniscule ball of anxiety that grew with each passing second. Through the glare of the setting sun it was hard to see anything yet in the distance, on top of the tallest sand dune, a small figure sat hunched over in the sand. 

As he approached the figure, Akira could make out a familiar blue turtleneck, cargo pants; even though their back was turned to him, he could almost imagine their lopsided grin.

Only a couple feet away, he startled as they began to speak.

“I know you’re there, Kira,” Leandro said, not taking his eyes off of the horizon. 

Akira snorted. He could never sneak up on him. WIthout answering, he walked over to Leandro and kneeled  down next to him.

“It’s good to see you up and about.” Akira replied.  “Didn’t think you’d be walking so quickly.”

Leandro shrugged, waving one of his hands vaguely. “It takes more than a bullet to knock me down.”

Ha. That couldn’t have been more correct. Somehow he survived a motorcycle crash, numerous fights with trained Galran guards, another motorcycle crash and being shot almost fatally. Either luck was on Leandro’s side, or he was really resilient. 

The pair lapsed into silence yet the static tension that usually buzzed between the two of them fizzled out into something more… familial.

Turning away from Leandro’s face, Akira watched the sky with squinted eyes. Dazzling rays of brilliant golds and reds punctured the once-azure sky, surrounding him with a cacophony of warm hues. The sun hung lazily, setting below the sea of infinite sand at its own languid pace.

“It’s beautiful,” Akira whispered. Unlike in the Upper Sector, where sunsets were obstructed by looming high-rises and the Terran wall, the view was completely empty. It was just them, the desert, and the sky.

“Yeah.”

The way Leandro’s voice fell flat rubbed him the wrong way. It’s a cruel difference from the animated tone he was so used to.

“So, uh…”  Akira itched the back of his neck, an awkward tic he never grew out of. “where do you think you’ll go?”

Leandro’s brows scrunch up, accentuating the harsh slit that went through his left temple. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you can’t really go back to Terra, can you.”

“Oh.” 

Shit. He must have said something wrong, as Leandro’s face falls into a closed-up expression that Akira knew all too well. 

“Yeah…” 

There’s another beat of silence, then, “My family is still out there. Somewhere.” Leandro said. Whether he realised it or not, blood languidly trickled down his palm from how hard he was clenching his fists. “Now that we’re out of Terra, maybe I’ll have a shot of finding them.”

“That’s--” Akira started, only to be interrupted.

“And you? You need to find your mother, right?”

The question momentarily stumped him. A week ago Akira would've been able to answer it. But now?

Well, Leandro was right. He did need to find Krolia. It had been his goal for months now; he couldn’t abandon his only blood relative.

Though that didn’t mean he had to run away from everyone. Not now. Now again.  

“I think…” He took a deep breath. “I think I’ll do the same, y’know? Go find my mum. Apparently she helped a family leave Terra. Maybe I’ll find ‘em too.”

And when Akira looked back at Leandro, he was met with a smile. 

“What a coincidence. I knew a Galra helped my family escape but if it was your mum? Man, that’d be fuckin’ wild.” Grinning, Leandro stared at him with more hope than he had in days. 

A startled laugh left Akira. Quiznak, he’d have to keep Krolia away from Leandro if they ever did meet. There was no way the boy’s slurs would survive her wrath. 

“We’re so dumb, aren’t we?” 

He caught Leandro’s eye. Immediately they both dissolved into a small fit of laughter. ‘Dumb’ didn’t cover it. Perhaps obtuse. How Akira didn’t immediately connect Krolia’s disappearance to Leandro’s family was beyond anyone’s guess.

It was a shame it took a bullet wound to figure it out.

Trying to stifle his laughs, Akira turned to his companion with a waving expression of seriousness.

"Do you reckon it’s fate that we met?” He asked.

Leandro made a show of touching his fingers to his chin before snorting. 

“Nah. But it was some real good luck that we did.”

Yeah. Luck.

Akira was real fucking lucky to have met him. 

He had only known Leandro for less than a fortnight but somehow, the two had forged a bond in blood and metal; ethanol and gunfire. Shared pain, drunken histories -- it knitted something between them that Akira couldn’t unravel even if he tried. Their lucid kiss seemed to have finalised it like a seal against wax, molding and permanent. 

No matter what happened, Akira knew he’d have Leandro by his side. 

 He doesn’t realise Leandro’s fingers are intertwined within his own until a small squeeze jolted him out of his thoughts.

“I wonder what’s out there.” Leandro murmured, sapphire eyes transfixed onto the almost-night sky. Akira knew that the sight was beautiful but watching Leandro? No measly sunset could ever compare.

“Well,” Smirking, he said, “there’s only one way to find out.”

And hand in hand, Akira and Leandro staring into the sunset, watching the final sliver of glow dip below the horizon. 

There was a whole world and a new hoverbike waiting for them. 

the end.