Chapter Text
In retrospect, Nakano Ko was a simple man.
His favourite drink was the orange soda he bought every day at the convenience store on his way home from work and his favourite colour was green. He went grocery shopping every sunday and was a regular customer at the small bookstore that resided two blocks from his apartment complex- of which he lived on the seventh floor. He liked reading comics and manga in his spare time, even if his co-workers poked fun at him for it, he didn't care- it reminded him of the childhood he missed out on. And he worked in engineering and construction, preferring to work with his hands rather than his head.
A down-to-earth person that cared about the here and now. Rarely the past, rarely the future. He liked to keep life simple- as long as he had a roof over his head, food in his stomach and someone who needed him, he was content. He was happy.
But he couldn't help himself from wondering how he ended up in the situation before him. Standing outside some alleyway, a mixture of blood and sweat sticking his hair to forehead and his clothes making him look like an extra cast for a low-budget zombie movie. Being ordered to begin preparations for withdrawal, by some army big-shot that had a fancy uniform and a helmet that Nakano couldn't help but associate with the space helmets featured in post-apocalyptic sci- fi comics he read.
"Wh- What are you talking about?! Let's go find Sato! They even have fighter jets here- Can't we chase after him?!"
Nakano Ko was a simple man, he didn't understand a lot of things. He usually left all the thinking to Nagai, though he could come up with some pretty good ideas by himself. But when he was told that their only option was to abandon their objective, and to do everything they can given the situation - no matter how unsatisfying that may be - he couldn't help the irritation sinking in.
Nakano usually expressed himself through physical means. Throwing his hands in the air or jumping when something pleased him; yelling and clenching his fists when he got upset- kicking or punching something (usually not other people, of course) and voicing his thoughts clearly. He would scream, cry, laugh, throw his hands about and swing his arms, scrunch his face together into a tight knot. He was upset, and had every right to be.
But then, he did nothing. He stood there, staring at the cracked pathement, eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed into an expression that he couldn't quite describe. His shirt clinging to his skin, tears and blood stains littering its once plain, grey colour.
He couldn't speak, he choked on any words that tried to come out.
He couldn't clench his fists or kick the wall beside him, he had barely enough energy to stand.
He couldn't cry, his eyes felt dry and ached with fatigue.
And for the first time since he went to meet Nagai, he just wanted to go home and sleep.
"Is this really how it ends..?
What should I do, Nagai?"