Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“A generic plug… reckon… M32? …Slightly worn, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Well, as long as the wear is only external.”

The young man set the item into one of two slowly-growing heaps of metal.

“Looks like… a genuine shaft. M63. Busted. Into the scrap pile it goes.” He tossed the junk piece into the opposite heap.

To Shulk, the idea of finding a large scattering of Mechon parts ending up a walkable distance away from the colony would be almost like having a second birthday.

“Generic shaft. M64, if I recall. Lightly rusted, but I’d say… usable enough.”

Fortunately for him, he happened to find a large scattering of Mechon parts that ended up a walkable distance from the colony. To him, this was, as stated, like having a second birthday.

“Scrapped beyond recognition. Blast.”

Shulk paced around the wreckage that had suddenly and inexplicably appeared halfway up Tephra Hill. Sure, he had questions, as anyone would; and, truth be told, should. Shulk, however, was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

‘There’s something peaking out behind that rock. More parts? Hard to tell, but looks dark and long. A bit of red? No harm in checking it out, though.’

Fortunate or not, fate would answer those questions sooner than expected.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know who you’re talking about, but that’s not me!”

Tora had been planning to return to his abode after a productive day of Poppi-part window-shopping (well, he bought a spare wrench, but only since the salesperson was looking particularly annoyed today!) While walking back, however, he was captivated by the commotion he’d heard in the alleyway, of which he was currently hovering adjacent.

“Lass, you’re a rough match for the sketch. We’d be incompetent if we didn’t at least take you in for questioning.”

The Gormotti girl scoffed. “On what grounds?”

“Suspected terrorism,” the Ardainian soldier bluntly replied.

Noticing the woman become increasingly flustered—outraged, even—at the accusation, the soldier’s partner stepped in to attempt to defuse tensions. “Another thing we could do is sort this out with your Driver, if that would be preferable to you. Do you happen to know where they might be at the moment?”

The Blade stilled. A beat later, she slightly tilted her head.

“What’s a driver?”

If he hadn’t jolted upright from his slumber, his first thoughts may have regarded the lack of familiarity he’d had with the ceiling he’d been currently residing under. Unfortunately, when one’s last coherent thoughts could have very well been one’s last coherent thoughts, observation of one’s surroundings tends to come second to confirmation of one’s continuous being.

“Shulk! He’s awake!” the burly man sitting against the wall exclaimed. If he were to describe his appearance, they quite resembled Lanz, to a somewhat uncanny degree. “Sorting your haul can wait for, what, five minutes! Come on!”

The man turned to him. “Sorry about that, you know how Shulk gets.” He paused, considering his words. “Er, wait, you probably don’t. A bit used to firing off that one, ain't I?” he said, punctuating his riff with a light chuckle.

Still attempting to process everything new that was going on at once through the haze of awakening, a blonde man stumbled into the room, addressing his bedside companion.

“Sorry! Sorry, just had to finish up something." The newcomer turned to address him. "Hi! I’m Shulk, Colony 9. You are?”

'From… Colony 9? I don’t remember him. Looks like an 8th-termer as well… that's... huh.'

He realised the expectation of him answering the question in a somewhat delayed fashion, remembering suddenly that social decorum exists; and, in most situations, produces the most productive outcomes. “Oh, sorry. I’m, uh, Noah.”

“Reyn,” the auburnette exclaimed, with a lazy wave. “How'd you merc so many Mechon-“

Shulk swiftly drove his elbow into his unfortunate friend’s side, giving him a cryptically scolding look and cutting him off, leaving Noah to ponder precisely what he was being asked.

'Mechon? Mechan? Like, mechanical? ...They don’t mean the batch of those weird rogue Auto-Levs, do they?'

His head throbbed at the remembrance of it. A 10 versus 1 tends to be a rather unfair situation, even if you have a really potent sword. And given that, it should be safe to assume they took him in, he rationalized.

“Well, in any case, thanks for the help, Shulk, Reyn.” He placed his hand behind his head, embarrassed at putting others in that situation. “Don’t even want to think what would happen to me if I was left out there,” he sheepishly admitted.

“Nah, no credit here. Thank Shulk and Fiora for that,” Reyn said, dismissing the offered gratitude. 'Fiora, huh…' “Shulk found you, Fiora set up the room.” 'No, it’s a letter off, coincidence.' “I just kept watch half the time, when I’m off training, right?”

“Thanks, anyways,” Noah said, rejecting the previous rejection and attempting to segue the conversation. “I probably should’ve asked this earlier, a bit awkward now. Where are we?” he asked, quietly observing his surroundings.

“Oh! Right. We’re in Colony 9,” Shulk said. “Most people don't leave the colony very often, so I thought it was implied, sorry. Bionis’ calf, if that helps.”

…

'Huh?'

“Meh-meh, Tora really done it now…” The Nopon paced around his house, muttering to himself.

Indeed, Tora had really done it now, given it were to be replaced with incapacitating the Ardainian soldiers by throwing his wrench and newly/reluctantly-acquired spare wrench at their noggins from his point of cover, double-checking from behind the wall a few times to make sure they were without a doubt unconscious, then grabbing the nearby Blade and fleeing to his house.

“I don’t know if it’s any help, but thanks for that,” the blade interjected. “Tora, right? Who were those guys?” she pondered aloud.

“Blade-friend not know?” Tora asked, momentarily roused from his current mood. “Those Ardainian soldiers. Big meanies who run place! Tora really done it now.”

As Tora continued to spiral, she contemplated their situation, if only to quell the former. “There’s a good chance they didn’t see your face. I didn’t see your face until they were… as a friend would put it, tactically disposed of?” she posited.

“But Tora throw special-designed state-of-art wrench… Tora leave behind special-designed state-of-art wrench…” he sulked. "Tora surely get found by it."

“Oh, right, I picked those up,” she tossed out.

“Meh?” the Nopon exclaimed, caught somewhat off-guard.

“While you were still hiding behind the wall, a bit after you threw them. Here, let me give them back.” The Gormotti dug into her pockets, produced the two wrenches, and presented them to Tora. An empty silence filled the room.

“Why Blade-friend not say anything in first place?” he questioned.

“It’s, uh, Mio,” she stated, both unknowing of what a blade-friend was—nor being mentally prepared enough to ask.

“Why Mio not say anything in first place?” he repeated.

She shrugged. “Didn’t know it was important. I thought you’d like them back, but I didn’t think it was the right time, since, you know, you weren’t all there for a minute.”

Tora grumbled. “Tora still not get it, but sure. Better enough now!” He took the wrenches, placing his favorite back in his pocket. “Mio stay here, if Mio want. For help. Hide from meanie Ardainians.” Tora slightly fibbed, as if he wasn't going to put her up in the first place.

“Thanks, Tora.” She smiled.

Tora may have added more to his plate with the move he pulled, but, for now, he figured it was worth it.

Chapter Text

As the sun pierced downwards, almost directly into Noah’s eyes, he found himself lying supine across one of the many benches in Outlook Park. This was not the first time he’d engaged in this behavior, nor would it be the last.

Months passed since he’d been sheltered by this new world’s Colony 9. Ever since then, he’d been doing odd jobs around town: some gathering, some monster subjugation…

(No matter him casting it away; in the end, a summonable weapon is a summonable weapon. He couldn’t truly escape it, even if he tried.)

He’d even found himself helping Shulk with his research on occasion. The latter effort proved to be the most interesting, if less fruitful overall. Call it a parallel, call it Shulk’s enthusiasm rubbing off on him; he couldn’t help but share at least a little of the enthusiasm his new friend had for the Monado. It was, after all, an oddly fascinating sword. Something about it… he couldn’t say what, exactly.

This arrangement was all well and good. Yet still…

It couldn’t be helped. He knew it was the right choice, in the end. Endless stagnation, needless struggle, the old order had to go. He just couldn’t help that small part of him that hoped he was still friends with Lanz, Eunie and Joren before Aionios. He would settle for just knowing where they were, even. And even though he knew what would come to pass—and he tried his best to make his peace with it—he still missed Taion and Sena, and he missed Mio.

At times like this, he truly understood why N made the decision he did.

They’re still the same person, in the end.

He reached for the clouds, checking his time.

It’s fully grayed out.

He should be dead by now.

Yet, he was still alive. It drives it all home; how unnatural their shortened lives were, when one passes their tenth term; yet, unshackled from it all, he persisted.

A figure hovered over him. Though his raised hand blocked their face, he had a rough idea of who it was.

“Brooding again, Noah?” Fiora quipped.

Fiora tended to visit the park around this time of day. It was a coin flip, whether she could get Shulk out of the lab, but when she could, she’d take him here. To eat with him, and get the poor kid some sunlight. Judging by the fact that she was unaccompanied, it must have landed on tails this time.

“You know me. Too focused to hear you enter this time?” Noah replied.

“Fell asleep at the table,” she bemoaned. “I swear, he needs to at least start trying to regulate his sleep schedule. It’s not healthy, you know!”

“If he understood that, he wouldn’t be Shulk. His skull’s rather hard to breach,” he rebuked. Noah sat up, making space on the bench.

“Thanks.” She took a seat. “Sandwich?”

“If you’re offering.”

In the end, Noah’s new arrangement wasn’t bad. It was just different. He supposed he’d have to learn to get used to it.

“Wouldn’t that just make me stand out more? The whole point of that get-up is to draw the eye,” she rebuked.

He glanced back and forth between Mio and the presented apparel. “Meh-meh… Tora concede. Maid outfit too flashy for disguise,” he drawled, dejected.

Mio shuffled through her roommate’s… rather themed wardrobe, trying to find something more subdued. She didn’t share the Nopon’s fascination with that specific subculture, personally, but she held no ill will over it. While Mio thumbed through outfits, Tora racked his brain for another answer to their dilemma, if worse came to worst.

Mio needed some fresh air. She was getting a bit stir-crazy, stuck inside for weeks on end.

The only problem: she was a fugitive of the state.

They resolved to disguise Mio, in an attempt to make her blend in. However, Tora’s wardrobe was somewhat limited in its selection, to the point that Tora believed he had nothing but outfits on the flashier side.

Suddenly, Tora had an idea. “Maybe Mio cut hair short?” he pondered aloud.

At that, Mio cringed. “I… I’d rather not at this point. I’ve gotten used to it. Feels like I’m disrespecting my elders, you know?” she rationalized, shoving her own internal dilemma about its length back into the recesses of her brain.

Tora did not know, but chose not to push her on it, since it seemed to be a complicated topic. Mio returned to thumbing through outfits, ears drooped downwards.

“What if Tora finish Poppi and Poppi walk in front of Mi—“

“Found one!” Mio exclaimed, cutting him off. She pulled out an orange-brown hoodie, adorned with space for Gormotti ears. “Hidden between two really flashy ones. Covers my core and everything,” she said, slipping it on. “What do you think? Works well enough?”

“Tora forget about that one!” He checked to make sure. “All good! Cover everything important,” he assessed, giving a nod.

“Finally,” she mused. “Long overdue for some fresh air. Thank you so much.” She flashed a relieved smile towards the Nopon.

“Tora happy to help,” is all the Nopon said in return.

Chapter Text

“If you two aren’t back before sundown…” she said, glaring mainly at Shulk.

“It’ll be fine! Don’t worry about it,” the recipient of said glare reassured. “I haven’t died yet, so I must be doing something right. Right?”

Her face rapidly shifted through the emotional spectrum: bafflement, frustration, concern, awe, and, finally, resignation. She sighed, and turned her gaze to her almost as reckless but, hopefully, more socially aware friend.

‘Please make sure that my childhood friend doesn’t get himself killed over a particularly shiny object,’ she silently pleaded.

At that, Noah nodded, to which Fiora felt a tinge of relief. Just a tinge. Shulk was, after all, a force of nature when it came to finding trouble.

“5,000 each.”

“4,000?”

“4,800 G. Lowest I’m going.”

“Beg to reconsider?”

“Sorry kid. Can only skirt the margin so much. Profit doesn’t make itself.”

Mio observed the fruitless back-and-forth between the obstinate shopkeeper and the destitute Nopon.

“Meh… Tora have to take more debt…” the Nopon sulked.

“Why do you need those gold condensers again?” she asked. She wasn’t the most mechanically-minded person, but she’d also rather her roommate not put himself more in the hole than he already was, if possible.

“Gold condensers important for line artificial ether circuits. Gold very conducive, help route ether across frame,” Tora explained. “Three bare minimum. Tora want eight, but Tora in,” he sighed, “less than ideal financial position.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” she deadpanned. Mio turned her gaze to the shopkeep and took the reins. “Is there anything we could help you out with? Quid pro quo, yeah?”

The vendor almost instinctively shot the idea down, but hesitated for a moment. She considered the proposal.

After an internal struggle, she caved. “You lot any bit decent fighters?”

“Scrap. Scrap. Good. Scrap. Not the part I thought it was. Workable enough…” He rifled through the bag, which had quickly filled up; in part due to Shulk’s keen eye, the rest due to his almost comical lack of survival instincts.

“Remind me why we’re setting out an entire afternoon for this again?” Noah asked, watching for more territorial foes.

“Backlog, mostly,” the mechanic replied. “You’ve heard I take repair requests, right? Around the colony.” Noah nodded. “A lot of times, I’ll take one and realize I don’t have the parts for it. Refusing them after that feels bad, so I put it on my backlog. Cross them out when I’m done, helps me know what I need to get.” He dug into his pocket and passed a notebook to Noah. “Good. Scrap. Wrong part. Scrap…”

Noah skimmed the writings. “Don’t they ask about them? The requests, I mean,” he inquired, somewhat concerned at the log’s length.

“Usually just say something like ‘It’s taking longer than expected, but I’ll let you know when it’s done.’ Something like that,” he responded, eyes unremoved from his task.

Noah thumbed through the pages again; this time back to front.

“Shulk, there’s an open entry that’s dated back to two years ago.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Mio, there!” he pointed out. “Tora see target!”

Mio squinted, attempting to make out what exactly in the distance Tora was pointing to. “Yeah, that’s them,” she affirmed. “You know the plan, right?” He nodded in understanding.

They had come to an arrangement with the troubled vendor: neutralize the Feris pack that had situated itself on her supplier’s trade route, and they’d have as many condensers as they needed.

Apparently, a rather urgent shipment had been abandoned due to an incident related to the pack on the route, and, “if you could find a way to recuperate it, the shipment itself’ll make up for the losses on the condensers ten times over.”

Their plan: Mio draws their attention and fights them off. Tora provides ranged support when he can.

There was an evident reason Teach assigned Taion to their squad.

Mio returned the nod, signaling to execute what little they had strategized. She considered the most effective way to execute the tactic. After some internal debate, she cemented her approach.

“Oi! Over here, you sparkin’ bastards! Come on!”

“Well, that should be all of them!" Shulk exclaimed. “Well, all that I planned, at least. Enough to get a couple months work of repair supplied for.”

Noah took the opportunity to catch his breath. “I… How do… do you anger… so many Bunnits… at the same… time?” That sharp pain in his shoulder—becoming duller by the day—returned with a vengeance. With great effort, he bit back any utterance of it. He supposed he overexerted himself in the chaos, and only now had the adrenaline worn off.

Shulk shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I think they just don’t like me.”

Noah—knowing the likelihood of successfully obtaining the sought information from him—dropped the subject. He looked around, trying to gather an idea of where exactly they were, and, in doing so, noticed something in the distance. Something far more concerning than the hostile swarm of Bunnits they’d valorously fled from.

He tapped Shulk on the shoulder and pointed towards the distance, clueing him in on their current predicament. Shulk, after grasping the situation, reflected Noah’s worries.

“Fiora is going to kill us.”

“Say, Tora,” Mio prompted, carrying their newly-earned box of gold condensers back to their residence, “why’d you wanna build a Blade robot in the first place?”

“Tora not tell?” her companion replied, surprised. “Tora pretty sure tell Mio before. Grampypon of Tora, Soosoo-“

“Told me that bit already. Not really what I’m asking. Put it another way: why do you wanna become a Driver?” she rephrased.

“Tora not follow,” he said, confused. “Story of Grampypon and Dadapon not answer?”

“If you were just building the thing, then sure,” she reasoned, “but you talk about her as if you want to become her Driver as well, right?”

“That bad thing?” he asked.

“Dunno,” she responded. “Depends on the why.”

At the Nopon’s bafflement, she attempted to further clarify. “Being a Driver means you’re gonna be fighting, right? Putting your life on the line. You following?” He nodded. “Wanting to be a Driver is wanting to fight. Why do you want to fight?”

“Fighting bad thing?” he surmised.

“It’s complicated. Conceptually, fighting isn’t great. Realistically, fighting happens. People who fight tend to have reasons. Some fight to survive; some fight to protect; some fight to liberate; some fight to preserve; some fight to fight,” she explained. “I was just wondering what yours is. To fight, I mean.”

The Nopon considered the question as they walked. In his own head, he bumped into a nearby soldier. Mio defused any potential conflict with a quick apology, grabbed the Nopon, and briskly jogged away so the military personnel wouldn’t have the time to profile her.

By the time they arrived to their shared space, Tora had an answer.

“Tora fight for friends,” the Nopon stated, entering his domicile. “Not good reason, meh,” he preemptively braced.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she responded. “The only bad reason is no reason at all.”

The soldier sighed. They were perseverating. They knew that, of course. This failed to stop them from perseverating.

They found themself wondering why they hadn’t offered the slightest pushback against Her Grace on this operation. They knew exactly what they were getting into. They just hadn’t thought the mental toll would be this bad.

It wasn’t her. Even if she was here, it was statistically improbable. Gormott was a land of the Gormotti, after all, so it was likely he was mistaken. He had to be mistaken. He’d been mistaken all the other times. Why would this time be any different?

He’s going to have to make progress in this investigation soon, or he’s going to sparking snap.

Chapter Text

He floats through the formless void—unable to move, unable to act. Muted bouts of unparseable sensation. Peaceful, pitiful silence; until it ceases.

Trapped. Can’t move. She’s dying. He can’t stop it. She’s dying, and he should be able to stop it, but he can’t. Silence. She’s dead. Her killer is right in front of him. Won’t move. Trapped. Can’t move.

Nothing.

Void.

A figure.

“An interloper.”

“What?” He finds his voice.

“A meddler. You plan to interfere, but how?” the figure prompts.

“Inter…fere?” he questions.

“The tide of fate. It is not yours to grasp.” The figure pauses, squinting. “At least, not yet. Would you warp it, even so?”

“I… How would I- The snuff are you talking about?” he reproaches, bewildered.

“Consider. I do not expect an answer just yet.”

The figure walks off.

And he slips once more into the nothingness.

Noah awoke with a start.

Another one of those dreams.

He sighed. The mind was an obstinate thing. No matter the fact that it was a ruse, no matter the fact that she’d lived on, no matter the fact that he knew this; he’d see her fading, sometimes, in the deep of night.

He didn’t blame her. Of course he didn’t blame her. The con was the only way that she—that they—survived.

The nightmares have come more frequently, lately.

It was only after the trouble of preparing for the day that he took notice of the time. He’d awakened before dawn, and the sun had just risen.

This gave him more free time than he knew what to do with.

He started off with swing training, of course. Swing training, however, only stimulated the brain for so long.

He switched up his workout, but when the body became tired, one could only do so much.

By then, however, it was a reasonable waking time for the general populus.

Noah weighed his options. Hanging out with Reyn would probably morph into more physical exertion, and Shulk provided a workout in his own right for any of his unfortunate lab assistants…

She was midway through brushing her teeth when she heard a rhythmic knock.

“One minute!” she called out, stifling a yawn.

Whoever was at the door at six in the morning could at least have the courtesy to wait until she was fully decent.

Noah fidgeted idly, waiting at the entrance.

He heard a thumping noise, and the rustling of metal. The knob rotated, and the door opened inwards.

“Noah?” She answered the door, somewhat groggily.

“Hey.” He offered a stilted wave. “Early, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” she deadpanned. “Which begs me to ask what’s got you up, ready, and knocking on my door.”

“I, uh, couldn’t sleep,” he explained. “Bad dreams. We all have them, right? Anyways, if I’m being a bother, I can-“

“Sorry, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.” She rubbed her eyes thoroughly, attempting to wake herself further. “Came out wrong. Wanna, I dunno, help with… breakfast, or something?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Noah said, awkwardly grasping the presented tool, “I don’t know how to cook.”

“Seriously?” she guffawed. “Not even pancakes? Those are pretty easy.”

“Never learned.” He shrugged. “Someone else always took care of it.”

“Well, you can chop the lychees, then,” she offered.

“Noah! A rare sighting!” the bedridden swordsman boisterously exclaimed.

Noah scarcely found an opportunity to talk to Dunban, partly due to the latter’s circumstance. However, Dunban seemed happy for visitors in general.

“Hello, Dunban. How’s the arm?” he inquired.

“Better than ever.” He attempted to stretch it out in a show of grit, but ultimately failed, suppressing a wince for his company. “Should be good to rejoin the vanguard in the coming months, I’d say.”

The very slight other part was Dunban’s constant exhilaration at the prospect of rejoining a war.

“Are you that eager?” Noah questioned, hiding his discomfort.

“Why wouldn’t I be? With me in the fight, we may be able to take the fight to them,” he stated, as if the ‘them’ were so utterly fundamental it required no elaboration.

Noah didn’t mix that well with battle junkies. Ashera excluded, but only because Eunie might have killed him if he didn’t at least try to understand her circumstances.

“All I’m saying is, come home with another one of those,” he warned, circling the air towards the general area of Dunban’s injury with his pointer finger, “and I abdicate responsibility for what Fiora does.”

Well, Ethel too. And Cammuravi. Triton would probably fall in that category, as well.

“The horror.” Dunban shuddered. “You wound me. I’m already wounded, you know!”

Now that he thought about it, even Ghondor could be classified as one.

“I can tell,” Noah deadpanned. “I’d say use the left, but honestly, that might be worse for what you’re getting at. Easier to tell, and all.”

So maybe he did mix well with battle junkies, under the right circumstances. Condemn him for it.

It was more Dunban’s philosophy towards war that rubbed him the wrong way. And, to be fair, most of the colony shared it, but in a less pronounced manner. Self-destruction was one thing, but something about it all just…

“Never thought of it that way,” he playfully fibbed. “Once or twice, actually. The current plan is to spare the injury altogether. Healthier in the long run, right?”

It reminded him of Aionios. Before they became Ouroboros. At any point, he could have killed one of the people who became his close companions, purely because he was swept up in an ambient haze of hatred.

“And if you have to risk it?” he queried. “To win?”

Perhaps that’s what this really was about, then. Fear of the warped mirror.

A resigned, yet hopeful tinge peppered the out-of-commission soldier’s gaze. “Then so be it.”

Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to confront his own destructive potential reflected off another.

“The hope is that we don’t get to that point again,” Dunban continued. “No use perseverating on stuff like that. Self-fulfilling prophecies, I’ve been told.”

In the end, though, it wasn’t his place. He didn’t know how Mechonis operated. He barely understood how Bionis operated.

It wasn’t his war to fight.

He wasn’t hoping for another any time soon.

“I’ve also been told someone’s helping Shulk look after the big one.” Dunban said, taking the reins of the conversation. “How’s that been working out?”

“Honestly, it’s more Reyn that looks after Shulk, if I’m being-”

“I meant the sword.”

Chapter Text

“Oof—”

“Ow! Son of a—”

The two men collided head-first across the corner of a nearby house. 

Of the two, the burlier was the first to regain their bearings. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that, Noah,” he apologized. “A bit preoccupied up there. You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, all good.” He rubbed his head, attempting to soothe the pain. “Whatever you’re thinking about has some weight to it,” he hissed out.

“Ah, no, not much, just wondering where Shulk went,” Reyn corrected.

“Not in the lab?” Noah postulated.

“Pretty sure,” he negated. “Dickson’s loungin’ around. Hadn’t seen him. He just got back, though, so Shulk might have just left.”

Dickson was a once in a blue moon arrival. From the few times he was able to talk with him, he gathered quite little. Likely humility, given the way the rest of the colony talked him up.

From what he could gather, Dickson was Shulk’s mentor. Mostly in engineering, but his general role model as well. Somewhat like Riku, in that aspect, if he was to relate. Dickson liked to travel, and tended to be out and about, though occasionally would return to his home colony.

And that’s about it. That’s really all he knew about him. Partly because of the scarce little occasion he had interacted with the man, partly because of the scarce little time he had with his comrade-in-arms.

“How’s your morning been, Reyn?” he said, attempting to cut the awkward silence that had formed while he delved into his mind.

“Normal,” he answered, as he started walking. Noah took that as cue to follow. “Did some morning reps. Right now, I’m tryna dodge Square-tache’s early training. Technically optional, is what I’m banking on here. Figured I’d find Shulk while I’m at it.” He glanced sideways, towards Noah. “You?”

“Been good,” he replied. “Woke up early. Rough sleep, so I figured I’d make myself useful. Did some reps, helped Fiora make breakfast, talked to Dunban. He wasn’t hungry, though, and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t overexerting himself, so I went on my way. That’s it, really.” He rubbed his temples to maintain his wakefulness, then masked it as him nursing his new injury. 

“Dunno what’s plaguing you ‘bout it, but you can tell us, yeah?” Reyn bluntly stated. “Whatever happened before you came to Colony 9.” He turned his head towards Noah. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Noah winced. Leave it to Reyn for the occasional soul-read. “How’d you tell?”

“C’mon, man.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s the only thing you’re cagey on,” he rationalized. “Pretty sure Fiora’s tried to breach the issue for weeks now. Not gonna confront you like I would, but she’s trying. We’d’a heard about it if it was anything but, right?”

“It’s… a story. Long story. Hard to explain,” he preempted.

“Hey, not saying you gotta tell it now,” he disclaimed. “Just think on it, right? We’re not gonna judge you. Whenever you’re ready, yeah?”

They arrived at the perimeter of the colony. 

“Where do you think he’s headed?” Noah questioned.

“Overheard stuff about a new wreckage site popping up,” he replied. “If he’s anywhere, he’s there.”

“Shulk!”

They’d apparently arrived just in time to see their friend unwittingly mess with a resting animal.

“Reyn!“ he exclaimed. “Noah!”

“A Krabble, eh?” A hand on his blade, he examined the crustacean’s carapace. “That explains enough,” he muttered, wiping away the drowsiness of his eyes with his spare.

“Noah, focus on breaking, I’ll try and topple ‘em, then Shulk can finish it off!” the boisterous bruiser explained, engaging the enemy.

Noah noticed a slight hesitation in the bewildered blonde’s expression. Whether it was a lingering shock, an unpreparedness for battle, or something else entirely, there was scarce time to unpack it. “Let’s do this, Shulk,” he prompted calmly, offering a subtle nod to affirm the gunlancer’s plan and following suit himself.

The blonde returned the nod, regaining his bearings and unsheathing his sword. “Right behind you!”

“...we are picking that up, right?”

“Huh?”

“The shell? We were just talking about it. Don’t tell me we fought that thing and you’re just going to leave it here,” the swordsman scolded.

“Oh, right!” The mechanic scurried back to fetch his prize.

“I know I already said this, but—“

“Shulk, again, no need,” Reyn said.

The three trekked back to the colony, each sporting contrasting composures, comparatively.

The burliest of the bunch equipped himself with a rhythmic stride, which, alongside his larger figure, had him in the front of the group, occasionally stalling himself to make sure he didn’t outpace the pack. The trained posture and unshaken voice proved the exercise lacking in challenge for the man, the repeated dismissal of ceremonies after merely cementing it.

“Just doin’ my job, yeah?” he supplemented.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Noah said.

The veteran, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly at his prime. Sluggishly trailing behind, the swordsman suddenly found a new depth of appreciation for the weeks of more consistent sleep he’d had prior once they were discarded. He wasn’t quite running on empty, but the dull headache that he’d acquired could either be that, or the chance encounter he’d stumbled across earlier—who was currently leading them back to the colony.

“I just wish you’d be more aware of your surroundings. Happened far too many times for comfort. You’ve gotta plan for things like these next time,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I wasn’t going to say sorry. I was going to say ‘thank you’,” Shulk rebuked.

Compared to his friend, the mechanic’s arrhythmic gait was caused less by a lack of energy, more because of the Mechon hull piece hoisted on his back. His shoulders slouched from an unknown mixture of embarrassment at the incident and the physical weight on them. Of all things, he most seemed happy, likely regarding the haul they recovered.

“And Noah, I’m not exactly following, sorry,” he replied.

“You—Shulk, you’ve literally ran into packs of wild monsters for singular Mechon parts,” he pointed out. “This has happened more times than I have fingers. An old friend of mine would actually wring you alive for calling that a planned tactic.”

“Oh, you mean that?” he recalled. “No, I planned those out.”

“How do you mean?”

“I accounted for your presence.”

“Come again?”

“Oi, we’re here!” Reyn exclaimed, interrupting the ongoing banter. “Shulk, let me help haul that thing to the lab. You’re staggering.”

Relieved, he shuffled the shell off his back. “Thanks, Reyn.”

After they reached the perimeter of the lab, Reyn, unfortunately, had to abscond. 

He scratched the back of his neck. “I know I was making light of it, yeah, but I’m kinda worried I’ll get court-martialed if I can’t be found for drills.”

“No worries, Reyn,” Shulk replied. “You’ve helped enough.”

He turned to leave, but hesitated. “Oh, wait, Noah?” he quickly addressed. “Tell me ‘bout that old friend sometime. When you’re up to it.”

After Reyn ran off to training, Noah and Shulk carried the hull into the lab. Attempting to not look like they were listening to the colonel’s frustrated rant, they tried to pick up the pace. 

When they finally reached the lab, they shuffled the shell into a corner so Shulk could dismantle it later, and were then met with a promised visitor.

“Quite the haul you lot’ve brought.” He surveyed the loot. “M69? Workin’ on a shield, are you?”

“Dickson!” the apprentice exclaimed. “When did you get back to Colony 9?”

“You don’t seem to flaunt it,” the wanderer said, cutting the silence.

After Dickson saw Shulk, and then subsequently an arriving Fiora, off on the merry journey of maintaining socialization, that left him and Noah alone in the lab. 

Noah found himself staying behind. He’d already had time to hang out with Fiora today, and he’d rather Shulk have some alone time with his somewhat-neglected childhood friend.

Dickson, honestly, looked ready to leave after that. Something, however, seemed to make him linger.

“Flaunt what?” he tepidly responded. Dickson didn’t seem one for idle conversation, given the troubles Noah’d had trying to probe his past prior.

“That sword,” he clarified, eyes on the sheath. “To me, almost half as interesting as the Monado.”

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“You want me to list ‘em?” he answered rhetorically, counting off his fingers. “Ether reactivity.” He put out his index finger, resting its mirror digit on top of it. “I know the Monado’s ether frequency better than anyone here.” He paused. “Well, save for Dunban. That thing’s vibrating to it, subtle as it is. The handle.” He shifted his index finger to his now outstretched middle. “I may be a geezer, but my eyes are keen. There’s a gap in the blade, where the handle connects. It seems to be a hole, but for what? Another—”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he cut in.

“You do? So why?” he argued. “The Monado’s a myth, a legend upon Homs! And unto Dunban that status is placed, merely for wielding it.”

He waited for Noah to understand the implicit question, and subsequently, reply.

After some internal debate, Noah responded. 

“Would you believe me if I said, something like, ‘there is nothing more I want than to cast this thing into the endless sea’?”

The conversation paused once more, as the visitor considered his words.

“Don’t get it, really.” He shook his head, then chuckled, turning to leave. “Why not? Sounds interesting.” He waved back. “Say hello to your incoming pal for me.”

And so Noah waited, alone, reflecting.

“Oh, hey Noah. Shulk around?” Reyn said, entering the lab.

“He’s out.”

“Bugger. I’ll ask you too, but I kinda need a techie.”

“—you mad? Did you see what that thing did to Dunban?”

“I was there that day, man. Just wanted to touch it.”

Shulk didn’t exactly know what he’d walked in on. From a certain angle, it looked like a heated argument. From the other, it looked like lecturing a puppy.

He did know one thing for sure, however. “Reyn, stop, do not touch the Monado,” he hastily scolded.

“Er—sorry!” he whipped around, accidentally knocking the sword to the floor after noticing the company.

Said reprimanding, in turn, alerted his current companion to the state of affairs. 

Said companion, who was now walking at a heightened pace into the lab, had more personal reasons to intervene. 

“Reyn.”

“Oh, hey Fiora. What’s up?”

She continued her trajectory until she was in her friend's immediate vicinity. Purposefully making eye contact with him, she equipped a fierce glare. “Don’t you dare.”

“Wha—I already said I was sorry!” he stammered out.

After a beat to confirm his sincerity, she sighed, relinquishing his personal space back to him, only after he’d promised not to waste it.

“I should probably go put it back,” Shulk thought aloud. At that, his two safety-concerned friends immediately turned their gaze towards him. “I… think I know how not to activate it? Tripping hazard, otherwise.” He put his hands up, slightly assenting to said concerns. 

They slightly relinquished. And so he grabbed-

A bright flash. Scenes and sights, coming and going.

‘Look at you! Worthless without the Monado!’

“—ulk!”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his stupor. What… was that?

Surrounding him was the entire current population of the lab.

“You alright, man?” his childhood companion inquired. “Your eyes were blue. Glowy. You didn’t move for a bit.” He paused. “The Monado, it activated, right?”

“Probably. I uh, don’t know,” he offered in reply.

“It definitely activated. What were you thinking?” his other childhood friend scolded. “I can’t believe you’d tell Reyn off for thinking about it and then do it yourself, are you mad?!”

“I thought I could put it back without activating it!”

“You’re missing the point!”

“Everyone, stop,” the remaining member interjected, smothering the rising tension. “Shulk, you’re a reckless idiot. Are you okay?”

“I—I’m okay, yes,” he stammered out, flustered at both the attention and subsequent reprimanding. “Did anyone else… did you all see that?”

“See what, exactly?” Noah questioned.

He looked towards the others. Fiora shook her head. Reyn shrugged.

“…never mind.” He placed the Monado back on its pedestal, then awkwardly shuffled back to where he initially was.

A tense silence overtook the room as they collectively processed what had happened.

“Anyways,” Reyn said, seizing the silence, “I gotta ask a favor.”

Chapter Text

The three musketeers, scattered amongst the winds no more than an hour ago, finally reunited in their trek up Tephra Hill.

“Do you mind walking me through this again?” the roped-in tagalong said, stretching his arms as he walked. “Not everything’s clicking, sorry.”

“No problem,” the punished soldier offered. “What’s the issue?”

“So, since you were late for drills, you have to find a way to get to Mag Mell Ruins, where they keep the ether cylinders, before nightfall,” Noah outlined.

“Mhm,” Reyn uttered.

“Right. So first, why’d you say you needed to enlist Shulk earlier?” he inquired.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. This sounds interesting!” the lab-rat chimed in.

Reyn shrugged. “Well, he’s not complaining.” He paused. “Also, I don’t know how to navigate the ruins like he does.”

Noah took the hint there, deciding to press onwards. “Second, why was I enlisted?”

“Wouldn’t have you missing all the fun?” he reasoned.

Noah sighed. Of course, that was a very Reyn reason to put someone in potential combat situations. “So… following that: why didn’t you enlist Fiora as well?” he argued. “She’s really adept with a dagger, you know?”

“Honestly, I was gonna,” he said. “Don’t think she trusts me though. You saw that, right?”

Noah was of the opinion that she specifically meant something along the lines of ‘I don’t trust Reyn and Shulk together not to come up with the most reckless plan they can possibly think of for any given situation, left unchecked,’ but given who he’d spotted up the hill, he chose to hold his tongue for now.

“Are you talking about me?” she interjected, holding the transport cases. “You forgot these. I hope it wasn’t anything bad, right?”

“I don’t know about the others,” he said, taking the lead as they gradually approached the entrance to the cave. “All I was saying was: ‘Fiora is good with a dagger.’”

“That’s very kind of you.” She grinned. “Good thing I’m coming with then, yeah? Odds are you’d find trouble without ‘em.”

“Again, no complaints here.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. The more the merrier, as far as he was concerned. Four on field is nothing compared to seven.

At the caboose of the group, the red-haired man elbowed his blonde companion. “Knew she didn’t trust me.”

Noah, again, wisely held his tongue. It’d be remiss to put words in her mouth, after all.

As such, the three musketeers—now gang of four—marched on the maw of the cavern.

“Are these the Mag Mell Ruins?” she asked.

After hours of fighting, they’d finally made it.

Throughout Tephra Cave, he’d noticed the team fall into a stable rhythm. Shulk and Noah broke enemy stances, Reyn knocked them down, and Fiora stunned them.

Something was missing, of course, but he assumed tactics that took advantage of a daze state were more ether-centric, and of all people, Shulk was their designated ether user. As a sword-fighter himself, he preferred launch gambits, but he was familiar enough with daze gambits to make do.

“Haven’t you been here before?” Reyn asked.

“Nope,” she replied.

“The Defence Force comes here for training,” Shulk explained. “I come here for research. Other than that, it’s not exactly a place where people go.”

“I’m curious too,” he interjected. “This place seems much more… mechanical, I’d say, than the rest of the cave. What’s up with that? Mechon build these?”

“I don’t think so,” the mechanic said. “The architecture seems relatively Homs-oriented. I’d guess they were used for vehicles, way back when.”

“Kinda like the hover transports, right?” Reyn inferred.

“But… it’s so big,” Fiora marveled.

“It’s amazing technology. I wonder what kind of people made it.” Shulk questioned.

“We should probably move on ahead,” Noah said. “We’re on a schedule as is. Plenty of time to revisit.”

“Right,” Shulk affirmed. “Let’s head on. The ether cylinders are up ahead.”

They were making sure they could haul back as many cylinders as they could, after a slight security system intervention they’d quickly dispatched.

And then, they heard it.

“What’s going on?”

“Listen, what is that?”

“What’s that noise?” he exclaimed.

“That sound…” Shulk ran outside the hanger. The other three leapt after him. “In the sky!”

Noah looked up, following his friend’s cue.

A hovercraft whipped through the air above. Circling the colony, a fleet of ships followed suit.

“It’s a…”

“This can’t be!”

“No way!”

If he squinted, he could see what they were transporting.

“Mechon!” Shulk exclaimed.

He stared in shock. This wasn’t happening…

Yet, the Mechon bombarded the colony, all the same.

He grit his teeth.

Not again.

He didn’t want to.

But he had to.

He promised himself.

But, everyone in the colony!

He can’t do this again.

He can’t run away.

He wouldn’t fight another war.

…

His legs moved on their own, leaping off the vantage point. The cold splash of the lake under him only served to push his tired body just a bit further.

The scene up close was no better than the scene afar.

A colony on fire. The streets in chaos. Bipedal Mechon crushing frightened civilians to death.

“They’re eating people!” Shulk exclaimed in disgust.

“That’s… horrid!” he said.

“Is Dunban okay?” Shulk questioned.

“Fiora! Go and check on him!” Reyn directed.

“O-Okay!” she stammered out, running off.

“I’ll go too!” he said. “Two and two, just in case!” He hated to leave Shulk and Reyn alone, but he couldn’t leave Fiora without backup!

“Works for us!” Shulk replied.

Noah sprinted after Fiora, bolting to the door of her house.

“Dammit, he’s gone!” she exclaimed.

“No luck?” he shouted.

“No!” She ran down the stairs to meet Noah in the middle. “You don’t think he…” A look of horror graced her face.

Noah grasped the implication. “Oh spark, he’s gone for the lab,” he stated, eyes widened in realization.

She began to panic. “That… he’ll kill himself!”

“Then it’s our job to make sure he doesn’t,” he intervened. “Let’s regroup, yeah?”

She took a deep breath. “Right behind you.”

The two ran back to the other half of the group.

“Where’s Dunban?” Shulk called out.

“Gone!” Fiora responded.

“I think he’s gone for the lab!” Noah followed up.

“What?!” Reyn exclaimed, deeply worried. “He ain’t fit enough to face these things!”

“Reyn, let’s head to the lab!” Shulk offered.

“Got it!” he affirmed.

“You blasted Mechon! You think you can do what you want in our colony!”

As they approached the military district, they heard a voice booming from it. A line of Mechon, kept at bay by the colony soldiers. The troops were holding the line, but for how long?

“The colonel!” Reyn exclaimed, distressed. “The guys!”

The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Soldiers retreating, Mechon advancing.

A large Mechon landed behind the colonel. After a brief hesitation, the colonel fired a heavy blast at it.

It didn’t work.

If worse came to worst, it seems he’d have to use it.

The lab was blocked off. He truly hoped Dunban wasn’t in it.

“The colonel… the guys… I’m gonna destroy every last one of these damn Mechon!”

So much death. So much destruction.

“Shulk! The entrance!”

Why? Why were they doing this?

“No! We’ll never get in there now…”

Did they, too, feed off life? Was this just… a constant? Even beyond Aionios? Could he ever truly escape?

“Wait… let me think here…”

If it wasn’t that… then what else—

“Reyn! Fiora! Noah!” Shulk exclaimed, bringing him out of his head. “There’s still the mobile artillery!”

“The mobile artillery…” After what happened to the colonel, he doubted it would… but maybe… “We could clear the rubble with explosions, right?”

Shulk nodded, affirming that was the plan.

“It’s in the residential district!” Fiora informed.

“Great!” Shulk exclaimed. That meant it was a straight shot, if they were lucky.

“Alright, this is it!” Reyn said, hardening his resolve. “Time to avenge the colonel and the boys!”

With a slight change in plans, they booked it to the bridge.

Unfortunately, when they reached the Central Area, they were surrounded by enemy forces. Caught in a pincer with all exits blocked off.

“What the—”

Spark. He should have seen it coming.

“Shulk! More from behind!”

No way out, all exits covered. Unless he…

But then, he’d…

Ah, snuff it all.

“Shulk! Reyn! Fiora!” he exclaimed, blade already starting to reform against his arm. “Cover me! If you trust me, I can cut a path!” He held the unsheathed sword at the ready. “Once it’s open, we split into pairs!”

“Got it!” Reyn accepted.

“Alright,” Shulk said, recalculating his plans. “Fiora, Noah, head for the residential district! Reyn and I will hold them off for now!”

“Shulk!” Fiora exclaimed, in worry.

“We’ll be right behind you!” he responded.

“Fiora, we’ll have to fight our way there too!” Noah argued, hoping to convince as the Mechon closed in. “We just need to split! It’s the only way!”

“Please, Fiora!” Shulk asserted.

“But… Shulk and Reyn…” she responded, towards Noah.

“They’ll be fine! I promise you!” he exclaimed.

“Don't look so worried,” Reyn affirmed. “We'll just get rid of these ones. Shulk won't get a scratch!”

She hesitated for a moment. “Alright,” she muttered, conflicted. “I believe you. Noah?”

“Ready,” he responded.

“Take care too, Reyn,” she added.

“Of course!” he said.

Blade drawn and ready, he made a break for the residential district, Fiora on his tail.

The two took in the scene before them as they maintained their coverage of the back.

“He’s slicing through those Mechon like they’re nothing!” Reyn exclaimed, shoving off an approaching unit.

“That’s… a different sword!” Shulk observed, breaking the stance of an M31. “But with the same handle. Was it hiding this the whole time? It’s almost like…”

“The Monado,” Reyn finished for him, toppling over the airborne machine, “right? Where was he hiding that this whole time?”

Where was he hiding that, this whole time?

He heard the pillar fall behind him as the two entered the district.

“Damn it, there goes the path!” he exclaimed, distressed. He grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and sighed. “Shulk and Reyn,” he muttered, “you better pull through.”

“I… I trust them,” Fiora said, with a hesitant yet firm nod. “They’ll pull through. I promise,” she reassured.

He assessed the situation, gazing upon the inert vehicle before them. “We can meet them if we head towards the commercial district,” he outlined. “It’s a one-seater, so…” He weighed the options. “Fiora, you’ll man it.”

“Me?” she said. “But, what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.” His strained fingers gripped a white-knuckled fist around his sword.

As they gradually fought their way to the district’s outward exit, they happened upon their other half. Shulk (wielding the Monado?), Reyn, and Dunban incapacitated, facing a towering Mechon.

“Fiora!” he called out.

“Yeah?” she responded.

“I’ll engage first! I’ve got the best shot at denting it. If I’m down, back me up!” he directed.

“Be careful! That thing killed the colonel!” she warned.

“I‘ll try my best!”

He took off towards the scene. Legs aching, even through the adrenaline, he pressed past it. A problem for later, when later could be never.

He readied his sword, planning to use the running start. He only had one surprise, and he was going to make it count. He just had to execute it right.

Not yet…

Not yet…

Now! “Hey arsehole!” he mocked, equipping his best Eunie impression in this life-or-death play for attention. He leapt into the air, sword in hand, a practiced maneuver.

The machine slightly turned to assess the voice. Not enough, but there’s a chance! “Eat this!” He swung a full upward arc as he had times over with the flame clocks. He heard a… groan of pain? Best not to think about it, now, he reasoned.

As he continued on the trajectory he’d put himself on, he remembered he had forgotten to assess the landing. Catapulting towards the dirt, he curled up as best he could to soften the blow. Landing on his non-dominant arm, he’d successfully sheathed Lucky Seven before its recoil could present a danger to him. It hurt. It hurt a lot, in fact, but he scrambled to regain his bearings and continue the fight.

“Nice one, Noah!” he heard. He couldn’t figure out exactly who, but he’d wager a guess it was either Reyn or Shulk.

Gazing upon the enemy, he assessed the damage he wrought. A clean vertical gash, through the eye, up the head. Not enough to sever, not enough to decommission, but enough to leave a noticeable mark.

“You…” the Mechon growled.

It could… speak their language?

“It can talk?” he heard, unable to fully process from whom.

“What about me?” he taunted.

It whipped out its claws. “You’re a problem,” it accused.

The arc of the swing was easily predictable.

He could easily dodge it.

If his abused legs would listen to him, of course. In the end, a half-hearted attempt to tumble away failed to give him enough distance, as the claws struck him dead on.

He couldn’t move. Splayed prone across the dirt, his limbs failed to respond to him. All he could do was watch.

Immediately after the claw made impact, Fiora accelerated towards the towering Mechon. Firing off a high-powered blast, she hit the brute dead center.

“If you can run, get away!” she yelled, engaging the enemy head-on.

“Fiora!” someone yelled. He couldn’t see who. He didn’t know who.

Another voice, unintelligible muttering. Then a cry: “Fiora! Get back!”

And yet, she pressed onwards.

“I won't let you hurt any more people!” she exclaimed, firing another barrage of blasts. “We will save Colony 9!”

The blasts had no effect. The titan charged an energy weapon, hitting a cannon dead on, blowing it off the vehicle. She switches to the other cannon, engaging once more.

If this keeps up, she’ll get herself killed.

He couldn’t move. Trapped on the ground, his legs wouldn’t move. His arms wouldn’t move. His body wouldn’t move.

“Fiora! Get out of here! Run!” he heard, yet again unable to discern.

He reached for his sword. Nothing. He reached for one last fragment of energy. Nothing. He reached for his Interlink, perhaps out of desperation, perhaps out of pure instinct.

“You want more?” she taunted. Cannon met face, she fired at the exposed point. It blasted further in. Still not enough.

Feedback. Negative feedback, but it was something. A sharp ache pounded against his skull, but that meant there was a chance!

“How?” she exclaimed, her situation dawning on her as the giant advanced upon her. It grabbed the artillery, stared her down, then swung the vehicle against a nearby wall.

Just a little more… just a little… more!

“Fiora!” he heard, a desperate plea from a voice he had no energy to place.

Suddenly… a stabbing pain. His eyes watered at it. The rope pulled out from under him, connection terminated. He let out a cry of pain, unable to keep it down.

It didn’t work.

He couldn’t stop it.

There was nothing he could do.

She was going to…

The Mechon approached the vehicle once more.

“No!” a voice rang out.

Bladed claws dove into the immobile turret.

All that exited was coated crimson red.

Everything started to fall away. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

She’s dead. He gave the order, and she died for it. Fiora’s dead.

“—kill you!” he thought he heard. He couldn’t tell anymore. He didn’t have the strength left to.

His eyes shut themselves. His body, unresponsive. The pull of unconsciousness evaded long enough.

By the Queen… it’s happening… again…

And Noah slipped into the abyss once more.

She nursed her head. The active pressure had subsided, but it still throbbed. He hadn’t yet woken, and it was relatively early in the night, so she tiptoed to the bathroom herself, letting out the occasional hiss of pain.

Downing a glass from the tap, she looked in the mirror.

Ears drooped downwards. A disheveled mess of hair that she’d need to untangle in the morning. A familiar symbol in her left eye.

“Can’t be…” she muttered under her breath. “No way.”

A light sigh, she shelved her current train of thought. If anything, she could sleep on it, she supposed.

She sauntered back to bed, drifting into the darkness once more.

End of Act 0: Prologue

Chapter Text

“The Aegis has awoken.”

“Sorry?”

He heard a sigh over the line. “The Aegis. Surely you understand the ramifications here, no?”

“With all due respect, Special Inquisitor, my condition…” he explained. Though he felt somewhat bad about it, feigning amnesia had only helped him over the past few months.

“…Forgive me. I failed to recall it in the moment,” she apologized. “Five hundred years ago, during the Aegis War…”

“Aptly named,” he idly remarked.

“Quite so,” she affirmed. “After all, in the midst of it, she sunk three continents.”

“Excuse me?” He’d probably misheard.

“Three continents,” she repeated. “Three large, populated titans. All of them went under, due to the power of a single blade.”

“That’s…” He racked his brain for a parallel. Sure, there was the Annihilator, but even that could only raze a colony at most! “That’s unfathomable.”

“I wish it were as such,” she said. A grim demeanor flashed across her face, albeit quickly dismissed. “The reason I seek to inform you, outside of proper protocol, is that thanks to your efforts with Dughall, we have a general location on her.”

He thought on his past plays, but nothing stuck. “How exactly?”

“Tapping the line,” she clarified. “Along with some fascinating information regarding our driver shortage, a recent call proved Bana’s involvement with said incident.”

“Oh.” That made everything clearer. Of all people, it had to be that bastard, if anyone was to unearth a superweapon. “That unfortunately tracks.”

“Here’s the information we’ve gathered thus far, from the call and efforts following.” She rifled through her paperwork, until settling upon a sheet.

“The incident took place during a salvaging operation, facilitated by the Chairman,” she read off. “Eyewitnesses report two drivers, two blades, a swordsman, and a salvager descend into an unsunk vessel. All return as a group, except for the salvager, capsule in hand. Suddenly, a bright flame erupts from the capsule. Driver holding capsule discards it, and a pyre of flame erupts from it. Blade emerges from flames. Prominent features include green core crystal, red hair, and… information that is not relevant to, nor appropriate for military paperwork,” she sighed. “Thank you, Brighid,” she muttered, almost inaudibly.

She pressed on. “Second pyre erupts, and missing salvager emerges from it. Missing Salvager starts fight against Capsule Driver. Details of fight messy and inconsistent amongst eyewitnesses, but general consensus shows a possible defection of Second Driver to Missing Salvager’s side. Titan intercepts Missing Salvager, Aegis, Second Driver and their blade, and the estimated direction of said Titan is towards Gormott.” She put the paper off to the side, shelving it for later.

“They’re… headed here?” he inquired, still processing the sheer amount of information he had acquired.

“It seems so,” she responded. “Which is why, as of today, you are relieved of your current mission.”

“What will substitute it?” he asked, anticipating.

“Your current assignment is to search for the Aegis,” she debriefed. “This will be under the cover of you being one of my ceremonial bodyguards, as Brighid and I make way to Torigoth.”

His first instinct was to inquire into why they were heading here personally, but the more he thought about the current situation, the more he agreed with the move. “Understood,” he stated. “I’ll see you there.”

“I look forward to working with you in person, Lieutenant,” she replied. “That is all. I will contact you after I arrive.”

He nodded, and the line ended.

He was nervous, of course. This would be the first time he worked on a mission directly alongside the Special Inquisitor. Even so, he looked forward to it.

Chapter Text

His mourning routine was a well-rehearsed affair.

He stood over the precipice of Outlook Park. Bringing the woodwind in hand head-level, he took one last glimpse of the colony from above.

A vast sea of suffocated silence. The tide roared in the distance, none to quiet it.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. One, two. One, two. One…

He began to play. A score scarred into him, his calloused digits almost did the work for him. Rust was effectively nonexistent, the tune was seared muscle-deep.

For that brief moment in time, he thought that the next time he’d played, it’d be a work of his own.

He shouldn’t have expected anything better.

Why did he expect it to get better?

The melancholic melody reverberated throughout the else-silent settlement. Nothing but the tide stood to punctuate it, an arrhythmic percussion of water on land amplifying the emptiness of the piece.

It felt incomplete. He found himself grown used to the duets, longing for the interweaving melodies he’d taken for granted over those few months.

And yet, he’d too grown used to being unable to grasp that which was once so, so close to him.

He gave the order.

Why did he give that sparking order?

This didn’t have to happen.

He let himself get too comfortable.

Wrapped himself in false securities, his idealism blinded him.

And now, he faced the consequences.

(But she took the brunt of them.)

His own little ritual finished, he pocketed his method of choice. Best to stop now, he figured, before he kicked himself down the N route.

After his performance, he chose to rest on a nearby bench.

What else was there to do? There weren’t exactly people about, were there?

“Was that you?” an approaching Reyn asked. “The music?”

Maybe there were people about. “Yeah,” he said. “It was.”

Reyn propped himself next to Noah, taking what open space there was next to the supine swordsman. “Pretty tune,” he opined. “Sad, but pretty.” He paused in thought. “Sorry, I don’t know much about music.”

He forced his body upright, not wanting to inconvenience his friends further than he already had. “Don’t be,” he stated, his voice stilted. “It’s fine.”

They sat in silence, for a while. Neither of them willing to breach the armu in the room, but what else could they talk about without invoking it?

Eventually, he found himself desperate to talk. About something. About anything. Whatever would remove his mind from where it was at the moment. “His name was Taion.”

“Hm?” Reyn hummed, signaling to elaborate.

He adjusted his position to be more comfortable. “Old friend,” he clarified. “He’s the one I was talking about, yesterday morning. You asked about him.”

Reyn nodded. “Yeah, I did.” He mirrored Noah, attempting to find a semblance of comfort on the old wooden bench. “What was he like?”

“Well, he was our tactician,” he said. “One of the best, as far as I’m concerned.” Second only to Isurd himself. “Extremely thorough, very flexible. He got us out of situations we’d had no business surviving nine times out of ten.” The missing one, he’d rather not divulge. “Played it very safe, sometimes to our detriment, but it worked out well enough in the end. Even so, he could adapt his strategies in mere moments if the tempo flipped on us unexpectedly. That’s the level of flexibility I’m talking about here.”

“Smart guy,” Reyn commented.

“Very,” Noah affirmed. “Whenever one of us happened upon an idea, we’d usually toss it to Taion first. He was… blunt.” To put it lightly. “It helped a lot. It was also pretty funny to see his face every time one of my other friends teased him with an intentionally awful plan." After a while, Eunie’s creativity when it came to those train wrecks was… something else. “He fell for it almost every time. He is…” he paused, attempting to word his next phrase carefully, “…a deeply serious person.”

“Kinda sounds like Shulk,” Reyn said. “In a weird way, you know? Gets that way about mechanic stuff.” He paused, attempting to recall a comparison point. “One time, when we were like, thirteen, I wanna say, I asked him if he could make a gunlance with a laser instead of a gun.” He paused again, this time for effect. “He spent half an hour tryna tell me exactly why and how it was impractical.” He shrugged. “I just thought lasers were cool.”

“Sounds like him.” Noah let out a light chuckle, then sighed. He’d be giving him an unfair summary if he didn’t bother to explain why he was so uptight about it… right? He took his time, searching for the phrases he needed to talk about it. “Look. The thing about Taion is, he’s got his reasons for it.” And now that he thought about it, this veered dangerously close to the subject he’d previously considered off-the-table. “There was this one… incident, before I met him. He wasn’t the most popular in his Colony. Got bullied. Pushed around. Peer-pressured. The works.” Too late for it now, he supposed. “One time, he was pressed into changing his strategy by his fellow soldiers. Didn’t want to be meticulous about it, they said, too much effort when it usually led to no payoff. He… submitted their plan to the commander.” He paused. “In that operation, his mentor was killed.” He wasn’t going to explain the cycle right now, even though it did complicate the story more than what he was telling. “He blamed himself. He kept that with him for a while. I can’t help but sympathize with the feeling, you know?”

...Damnit. He'd said too much.

He sighed, cupping his face in his hands. After rubbing his well-worn eyes, he made an awkward attempt to naturally reset his arms. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m a bit all over the place at the moment. I didn’t mean—”

“Noah,” Reyn stated, sternly. “Look at me.”

He waited for Noah to make eye contact before continuing. “I don’t know what happened back there last night that has you like this,” he said, “but it wasn’t your fault.”

“But if I didn’t tell her to—”

“I wasn’t finished,” Reyn interjected, unwavering. “What I do know, is that that Mechon talked about you, during the battle.” He paused for effect. “It was angry at you, remember? That means it had thoughts, feelings, right? It went for Fiora. It was the one that decided that.” A beat. “The way I see it, it’s nobody’s fault but theirs.”

It was a nice, unburdening sentiment. It did little to soothe his internal struggle, but it was admittedly a weight off his chest to know that Reyn, at least for now, didn’t hate him for it. “Thanks, Reyn.” He flashed a weary smile.

“Any time,” he offered. He lifted himself off the bench. “I’d stick around, but I gotta regroup with the guys. Well, not everyone I had you meet earlier, I mean…” he hesitated, “I'm talking 'bout the ones that are left... yeah? After that, I’m gonna try to get Shulk out of his room.” He turned to leave, but suddenly stopped, something coming to mind. “Some day, I’d like to hear about the rest of your friends, if you're fine with that.” He waved, making his way back to the colony.

And so Noah laid back down, the a tempo pulse of the waves rinsing his mind of his worries, just for the moment.

Taion’s day started like any other day. At least, he supposed, since the partings.

He would eventually lift himself out of bed. The accommodations for soldiers were nicer than what he’d gotten used to. He would brush his teeth, fashion himself with his uniform (helmet in hand), and head to breakfast.

There, he’d eat a light Ardainian breakfast. Sure, the communal buffets had nothing on Manana’s cooking, but that was a strong ask of anyone, let alone the military cooks. After finding a table, he’d start making light conversation. Yeah, the Captain’s training yesterday was hell on Alrest. He didn’t hear about the rumors, tell him more. He’d heard about that seminar, he was hoping to attend some day. Did they hear about how much funding Dughall asked for? What does one even do with that kind of money?

Alright, look. He knew sowing distrust in the bureaucrat wasn’t technically part of his duties anymore, but it was genuinely hard to resist. He practically asked for it, given his recent moves. Call it extra credit, he figured.

After breakfast, he’d assemble with the other soldiers for daily briefing. Morning announcements were generally not much to talk about. Post shifts (he was exempt from them), daily activities (not much that intrigued him), and special assignments (he already had one). Occasionally, there’d be a rank change, which made for a good icebreaker if he wanted to talk to the person in question.

After their daily briefing, he would patrol. Before yesterday, his patrols were merely a cover for his actual job. Today, his patrol was more genuine, though not for the reasons his direct superiors assumed.

Today, he was patrolling for the Aegis.

He idled in the laboratory, waiting for Shulk to finish his current repair job. The mechanic had asked for him earlier, but he’d caught him at a bad time.

“Alright,” he muttered, finishing the last weld. “Looks good to me.” He flipped up his welding mask, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“So,” Noah prompted, seizing the opportunity. “What’s up?”

Shulk glanced over towards Noah. “Right.” He started to put his equipment away, discussing while he did it. “I don’t know where to start, really… nor, how to say it, if I’m being honest.”

Noah propped himself up against a nearby wall, sensing the length of time he’d be here for. “Take your time,” he said, dismissing Shulk’s worries.

After he’d finished cleaning up the lab, Shulk turned to address him.

“Reyn and I…” he trailed off, pausing to reconsider his phrasing, “we were thinking of leaving the Colony for a while.” At that, Noah’s brow quirked. Shulk hesitated, initially looking ready to play defense, but in the end he decided to press onwards. “We were wondering if you wanted to join us.” He fidgeted with his pockets, himself already conflicted about it.

“I don’t even need to ask, right?” Noah sighed, having expected it. “You’re pursuing the Faced Mechon.” A reckless, emotional, likely folly move. One he could sympathize with himself, given how he handled Mio’s 'homecoming'.

At the mere mention of it, Shulk’s visage hardened, his resolve only solidifying further. “Yeah.” He clenched his downward-hung fist, biting back the pain. Or rage. Noah couldn’t tell. At that moment, he just didn’t have the best read on the inner machinations of the boy’s mind.

“I’m not saying yes or no here,” he disclaimed, “but I want to hear your reason.” He readjusted his position, as his planted feet had gradually slid across the flooring, to a point of annoyance.

Shulk leveled his gaze, looking towards Noah with a quaint tilt of the head.

“To fight,” he clarified, holding an unwavering eye contact. “To risk it all in pursuit of something that might be unreachable.” He paused. “Worse, reachable, yet hollow.” He recalled the endless fighting, the tit-for-tat scrounging for the flames of life. “Or even, reachable, yet unexpectedly harmful. To you.” The agonizing grief on his shocked face. “To your loved ones.” The melancholic peace in her expression as she departed. “And everyone around you.” A city alight, massacred, and for what? “I need to know your reason why.” He paused, considering how to continue. “In my view, there’s no glory in battle. People die. Lives are taken, and they don’t come back.” Not here, at least. “Why participate? Theoretically, you could cut your losses. Appreciate what you have. Yet, you wish to risk even more. Why?”

He finished his spiel, giving the floor to Shulk to share his own conclusion.

After some moments, Shulk responded. “In my head, there are two paths I could take,” he explained. “Two voices, each advocating for their own fork in the road.” And wasn’t that just a familiar feeling. “One of them is telling me what Dunban told me: ‘Remember the gift of life that Fiora gave you, and treasure it.’” He paused, gaze darkening. “And logically, he’s right. But the other voice…” he trailed off, unsure how to describe it. “The other voice is so much louder. It’s telling me to take the fight to them. Not only to get even, but to make sure that nothing like this could ever happen again. That no one would have to experience what we did.” A beat. “It’s more petty than it sounds, if I’m being honest. I’m angry. I’m miserable. And I need to do something about it.” He unclenched his fist, nails marked into his skin. “I can’t stew in it any longer. I’ll go mad.” A weak laugh escaped him. To what exactly, Noah was unaware.

Noah examined Shulk’s expression. Steely eyes, a downcast tilt of the head. Clenched teeth, a worn face. It was clear he’d thought about it, and wasn’t looking to change his mind. He stood up straight, answer ready. “Well, it’s not like I’d have let you two go unsupervised for that long anyways,” he quipped, withholding the more complicated feelings he’d had about the whole thing. “Someone’s gotta keep you two in check. If I leave you both alone together like that, I’d give it a month or two before you’d find a way to accidentally collapse the Bionis itself.”

“So, you’ll come with?” Shulk asked, anxiously waiting for a clear confirmation.

“Not like I’d be doing anything important otherwise,” he answered.

At that, Shulk flashed a relieved grin.

He’d only barely heard the initial commotion that had led him to his current predicament.

While passing the Driver recruitment station (they reeled one in today—good for them), he’d caught wind of faint shouting in the back alley. With no justification to ignore it, he sauntered towards the scene.

“Afternoon, Captain,” he greeted. Sure, initially, it may have been hard to tell who’s who under the full-body uniform. Eventually, you began to look for stature, which worked well enough. Plus, he recognized the voice as he’d approached. “What seems to be the problem here?”

“Sergeant Alexander!” he theatrically exclaimed, as if he was about to tell the greatest joke mankind had wrought. “This lot has been walking around with a wanted terrorist!” He dramatically gestured towards the antagonized group, then towards the wanted poster in his hand. “In broad daylight, at that!”

Taion squinted through the uniform. It wasn’t built for glasses, and he was rather contact-averse, so he made do. Comparing the wanted poster to the detained Driver and their Blade, he couldn’t lie, he saw a resemblance. The Gormotti seemed oddly familiar, though he couldn’t exactly place them, having spent so long in Torigoth. He turned his gaze to the other half of the group.

A Blade with a green core crystal.

That was the Aegis.

“Mhm. I see it,” he affirmed. “What about you two? Registration number?” He started off slow. If possible, he’d like to reach non-violent cooperation, as unlikely as that would be.

“5…3…9?” the boy stammered out.

Taion sighed. The boy had a look on his face that one would get if you asked Sena to plan the next battle. Lost and confused, that is. He genuinely didn’t seem to know about it. He almost felt bad.

“If you don’t have one, you can come with us,” he offered. “We can get you registered, give you the rundown on Driver law. First-time offenses can be struck from the record if you didn’t know you’ve committed them.” Technically true, but it was conditional. He could leave that for later.

“And then what?” the wanted Driver spoke. “You’ll rope him in on the fine print, right? Fancy a new weapon, don’t ya military man?”

His breath hitched.

No, this wasn’t any Gormotti Driver. He recognized that voice. How could he not?

She looked… younger? And didn’t recognize his voice. The mask didn’t muffle the voice that much. Sure, he wasn’t as close to her as Mio was, but she didn’t seem like the forgetful type.

This added a whole new layer to his current situation that he’d need to unpack.

“What’s wrong?” she taunted, seizing the lack of response. “Can’t handle the heat? Guess I hit the mark. How’s it feel, going around an’ enlisting child soldiers?”

He couldn’t think of a response to that. He was still reeling. Technically, it was true, but the Aegis…!

Padraig put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, kid. A word of advice, yeah?" He looked towards the group, then back at him. "These types don’t listen to reason. Sometimes you gotta just arrest ‘em and be done with it.” He turned to the group, arming himself. “All of you are coming with me! The consul is gonna have words for you!” He changed his stance, readying for combat.

The group, in turn, readied themselves. Muttering amongst themselves, until the boy exclaimed: “I'm pretty sure they’re arresting all of us. So this is my problem, too!” Then back to muttering.

So much for the peaceful option. Exponential Edge in hand, he readied himself for the coming battle.

He was able to hold his own well enough. Dodging a telegraphed upward slash from the boy, he used the overcompensation in his swing to hit back with a sidewinder of his own. He stuck to a more defensive strategy, only choosing to strike when there were evident misplays.

The boy wielded his sword as if it were an axe. Heavy, directional swings and stabs, with all his might put into each attempt. However, this came with the drawback of predictability, and more so, an inability to react properly.

Captain Padraig, on the other hand, wasn’t faring too well. Nia was adept, even at her seemingly younger age, and the Captain was having trouble keeping up.

A spinning swing to the right, he ducked under, feinting left. An overhead smash, he jumped back. A bash through the center, left once more.

A small glance was shared between the boy and his Blade, and no sooner did they unleash their next move. “BLAZING—“ she announced, tossing her sword forwards, “—END!”

A vertical wheel of flame. Something so easily sidestepped—

“Agh!”

He whipped his head back. Padraig was on the ground. Unconscious, given the spasms, likely having been domed just hard enough in just the right spot by the projectile that his standard issue helmet couldn’t cushion the blow.

He’d told them that model was defunct, that they should issue a station-wide recall. He remembers passing that information on. Why wasn't it...

“Rex! Now!” the walking paradox in front of him exclaimed.

He was in the midst of recalculating for a two-verse-one, when an infamous streak of purple-blue whipped across the battlefield. “Am I interrupting anything, Lieutenant Lambda?” she said, slowly entering the scene. “Sounds like you have a party on your hands. I could hear it from the base.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, “and thank you for this.” If anything, there was a chance he’d be back before lunch now. After today, he’d need a hearty one.

“Is she a Blade?” the boy exclaimed. “Where’s her Driver?” He gazed upon the surrounding flame with a visage of awe.

“My Driver is otherwise engaged at present,” she stated. “I am here alone.” Special Inquisitor Mòrag was probably dealing with Dughall, if she wasn’t here. He didn't exactly envy her in that.

“Mondo are impractical here,” he stated, knowing that only a single person on the battlefield had a semblance of a clue regarding what he meant. “I was thinking Strategos?”

Brighid gave a light shrug, as the rest tried to parse his statement for information they simply wouldn’t find. “Whatever works for you,” she stated.

Nodding, he tapped the side of his head, switching his class. Since he was wearing his uniform over it, there was no visible change, weapon aside. A good tactic for confusion, he'd found.

The two, confident in their skills, engaged the now-cornered group.

For a good while, they traded blows. The boy would go for heavy attacks, Brighid would push him back with her flames, Nia would slightly mitigate the damage, and he’d target Nia, to which the boy would go on the offensive against him.

A vicious cycle, one that theoretically should have been theirs to win, and yet there was always something that kept their foes in the running.

He didn’t know what they were missing.

He considered the options.

He could go on the offensive as well, but that ran the risk of getting caught by a lucky hit from the boy.

He could target the boy, but that would leave Nia unchecked, and Nia was a formidable fighter herself, he’d gathered.

What else?

He could ask for some cover to switch classes, but to what? Medic Gunner? More of the same. Incursor? Seraph? Full Metal Jacket? They’d be too attack-heavy. Tactician? The Mondo would burn up. Lone Exile? Lost Vanguard? The problem was an offensive one. He wasn’t nearly proficient enough to justify a swap to anything else.

What else?

He began to examine his surroundings, trying to find the out. The pipe would be a death sentence for them. The walls weren’t much help anyways, the confined space helping their foes more than not.

He glanced back, and saw it. He thought he did, at least. Not having his glasses didn’t exactly help here.

The perfect play. A two-birds, one-stone solution.

“Brighid!” he exclaimed. “I need an exit! Our side!”

The Blade nodded, the flames ever-so-slightly dispersing in a specific spot so he could safely leave.

He dashed to Padraig’s unconscious body (still twitching, how hard did she hit him?) and looted it.

Ether nets. He was right. Enough to capture two.

He ran back into the field, firing off a couple shots to let Brighid know he was back in, the exit closing behind him.

All he had to do was aim it at the Aegis. Two shots, for good measure. The boy wouldn’t be an issue if he was separated from his super-weapon.

He readied the cannon. Aimed it in the direction of the Blade. Finger on the trigger.

And shot twice.

“Nia! Dromarch!”

…curse his snuffing nearsightedness.

A late morning after a rough sleep, Mio assumed it was around noon when she’d finally gotten herself out of bed.

She’d heard a slight commotion outside, followed by a slight commotion inside. She was too dazed to acknowledge it, so she just went on with her morning routine.

She was in the midst of detangling her hair when she heard a familiar voice, coming from the recently-opened door.

“Mio! Tora did it again!” the Nopon exclaimed.

Poking her head out, she saw the Nopon with two new companions. The redhead waved to her with a polite smile. The boy mirrored the wave, with a toothy grin.

“New friends Rex-Rex and Pyra! Save from soldiers!” he announced. A wide grin, ears on his hips, and an admission to another crime.

Mio sighed, waved back, and disengaged, returning to her task.

She could unpack that all later, when she was awake enough to do so.

Chapter Text

Hair kempt, teeth brushed, eyes fully open, Mio stepped out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen.

Tora didn’t seem to be in at the moment. Probably gone window-shopping again. While he was out, the two guests made themselves at home.

‘Rex-Rex’ had leaned his chair back, balancing it on the back two legs. He had hooked his legs under the table for support, but given how far he was pushing it, his odds weren’t too good there.

‘Pyra’ was keeping herself busy by preparing lunch, using her own ether flames to cook instead of the gas stove. Mio didn’t know what she was making, but it smelled damn good.

She took a seat at the table, the boy’s eyes shifting from the ceiling to her as she did. “I don’t think I got a chance to introduce myself.” Discounting Tora announcing her name up to Cloudkeep itself. “Properly, I mean. I’m Mio. Tora’s roommate.”

“Rex,” he responded. “I’m a salvager. Recently became a Driver.” He turned towards the redhead. “Pyra?”

“One second!” she said, focusing on the meal. After a bit, she stopped pouring flame into the pot, pivoting towards the group. “Sorry about that.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m Pyra. Rex’s Blade. Sorry for the trouble, we don’t mean to impose, we’re just—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she interjected, “don’t apologize for it.” It’s not like her circumstances were much different. “I meant it when I said I didn’t get a proper introduction,” she added. “You just caught me at a bad time, is all.” She didn’t know if the apology was on ceremony or a preventative measure, but she chose to quash it all the same.

A weary voice resonated from behind Rex. “Don’t forget about me!” A tiny fuzzy flying creature popped out of his diving helmet. Crossing its small arms, it gave the boy a stern look, whilst hovering next to his head.

A look of surprise flashed across the boy’s face, quickly shifting to embarrassment. “Right, Gramps!” He scratched the back of his neck, a light red tinge to his cheeks. “I still gotta get used to you being back there. You doing alright?” he asked.

‘Gramps’ gave a light shrug. “Could be better. Could be worse.” The creature gazed upwards in recall. “Though I must say, it’d do you well to avoid sharp turns, unless you must.” A slight wince passed across their face, merely at the memory.

“Gramps?” she inquired, perplexed.

“Indeed,” the airborne being affirmed. “You’re welcome to call me Azurda, if you wish. I am partial to both.”

She tilted her head, brow quirked. “But…” she trailed off, considering her words. Sure, she wasn’t the most knowledgeable about the ‘sex’ or ‘family’ thing, she’d only learned just mere months ago, but wasn’t there a whole… ‘species compatibility’ thing? It might have been insensitive to ask, but she had to know. “How does that… you know…”

The two returned the offered look of confusion, until Rex recoiled, mortified. “Not in that way!” he sputtered out. Azurda, at that, gave her a look of incredulity. “No, definitely not. I’m adopted. He pretty much helped raise me, next to Auntie, you know? He’s my gramps in spirit,” he clarified, attempting to shut down that line of thought before it festered, face flushed at the unexpected vulnerability he’d had to equip.

“I’m touched, Rex,” Azurda replied. A soft grin spread across the creature’s face, before morphing into one of confidence. “Even if I already knew it. Go ahead and praise me some more, if you wish.” He put his arms on his waist, eyes closed, a slight uptilt to his head; a pose of pride.

Rex blindly swatted in the general direction of his paternal figure, as Azurda flew slightly backwards. “Stop it, Gramps,” he whined. “You’re embarrassing me.” After obtaining the space he’d grasped for, the boy tried to regain his composure, a slight pout forming on his face.

“So, what’s the deal?” she inquired, choosing to spare the boy by changing the subject.

“Sorry?” the salvager asked.

“What’re you in for?” she clarified.

“The meatballs are done!” the Blade interjected, walking towards the table. “Mio, would you like some?” She passed platefuls of the dish to Rex and Azurda.

She assessed the dish in front of the boy. An assortment of browned vegetables bedded the seared meats, mainly carrots and potatoes, some rogue onions peeking from below the pile. “I’d love to, if you don’t mind,” she replied. “It looks really good.”

“Thanks, Pyra,” Rex offered, imbibing himself with little hesitation.

“Don’t mention it,” she dismissed, walking back to the stove to prepare more servings.

“So,” he said, skewering a meatball. “If I’m getting you right, you wanna hear our story, yeah?” He hovered the food around his mouth, not yet taking a bite. A conversational courtesy, she figured.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “If you don’t mind, of course.” She glanced over to Pyra, who was almost finished with the extra plates.

“Not particularly,” he said, mouth full. “It’ll take a bit, though. That alright?”

“Here you go, Mio,” Pyra said, setting the plate in front of her, fork as well. She pulled a chair out, shifting it ever-so-slightly closer to her Driver, before taking a seat as well.

“Thank you.” She offered a slight smile to Pyra, before turning back to Rex. “It’s fine, I’ve got time.”

“Cool.” He skewered a second piece. “You guys mind… you know?” He glanced towards Pyra, then towards Azurda.

Pyra was perplexed. Azurda took the initiative. “We’re fine, Rex,” he offered. “Feel free.”

He nodded. “Right. So it all started when I got a job from the Chairman…”

He’d been well desensitized to the bodies.

At a certain point, he’d trained himself to spot them, motes or not. If they weren’t seen off, he made it his duty to send them.

He’d had a nagging feeling, with no way to confirm, that they were the first to discover these people.

He sighed, reaching into his pocket. He’d still have to get used to it again, even if he hadn’t recoiled at the sight. “Shulk,” he said, “two o’clock.”

“Hm?” Shulk hummed, unsure what exactly he was referring to. He traced Noah’s vision to the scene before him. “What the…”

Reyn paced to catch up to where they’d gathered. Once he had, he frowned at the sight, brow furrowing. “Look at the emblem,” he pointed out. “They're traders from Colony 6. No wonder it's been so long since the last delivery.”

Shulk leaned closer over the husks, though still maintaining an instinctive distance. “Their injuries…” he commented.

Reyn followed suit, as Noah fished his flute out of his pocket. “They weren't made by no Mechon,” he assessed. “It was probably the monsters that live here.” A visible shudder in the spine of the soldier, possibly imagining himself in the situation. “Man, that's grim. I don't wanna go like this. Not even killed by Mechon, just some monsters in a cave.”

Shulk’s horrified stare grew sadder at the thought. “They probably had families…” he lamented, “children…”

“They all do,” he said, moving up towards the two. “If it’s not families or children, it’s friends. Loved ones. Even parents. At the very least, someone will remember them fondly, no matter how fleetingly they knew them.” A consolation, or a cold hard truth, he still didn’t know. “All of us affect those around us. When one of us is gone, that hollow feeling reverberates. It’s an ambient emptiness that we must learn to live with, and overcome.”

“Noah…” Shulk trailed off, a pitiful gaze creeping onto his face, “…you seem to have a lot of experience with this, don’t you?”

He gave a sad, worn smile at that. Shulk offered a solemn nod in return.

“Reyn,” Shulk continued, “shouldn’t we return them to the Bionis?”

“Return to the Bionis?” Noah remarked.

“You don’t know?” Reyn asked, perplexed at the lack of the basics he’d just displayed. “What’s born from the Bionis returns to the Bionis. That’s the way of the Homs.”

A deep unsettlement crept up Noah’s spine. An instinctual response, but to what? Something about it… he couldn’t solidify the feeling, but there was something. “Before we do that, there’s a tradition from my former colony I’d like to partake in, if you don’t mind.”

“Which colony are you from, anyways?” Reyn asked.

Noah attempted to come up with a reasonable fib. “A microcolony,” he lied. “It was unnumbered, and it’s… gone now.” Good enough, he supposed. “When one of us died, we had a couple melodies we’d alternate between. Circumstantial. It was our way of sending them off. Do you mind?” he requested. He held his flute shoulder-level, showing it to the group.

“Go ahead,” Shulk nodded.

Perhaps he’d go for the Agnian melody, this time.

She hastily downed the glass of water Pyra had presented to her, dislodging the food in her throat. She coughed a few times, taking a few deep breaths to recover.

The Blade trained their eyes on her, concerned for her well-being. Azurda, now perched in the salvager’s helmet, silently waited for confirmation. “You, uh, good now, Mio?” Rex asked, unsure how to react to the scene in front of her.

“Did you just say Nia?” she exclaimed, disregarding the previous inquiry for one of much greater importance to her.

“Yeah?” he affirmed, visibly bewildered. “Why? You know her?” A concerned look lingered in his gaze, though it slightly subsided, assessing that she was fine enough to speak.

How to navigate this? She didn’t know if anyone else she knew had intact memories. She didn’t know if anyone else she knew was here, up until now. “I know of her,” she eventually settled on. “Sparkin’ hell, she‘s a terrorist?”

“Look,” he said, equipping a stern, defensive tone. “I don’t know what her past is like, but she has to have her circumstances. She saved us from Malos!” he argued. “I can’t just leave her there.” His tone modulated, ending on a melancholic whimper.

Mio waved her hands around frantically in front of her face, in an attempt to physically clear the air. “No, wait, no, wasn’t saying that! Not at all. I’m just… surprised, is all.” She paused, considering the ramifications of the new information. “Is that why I got stopped? In that alleyway? That poster was supposed to be her?” she realized.

“Hold on, you got stopped too?” he exclaimed. “I mean, the resemblance is there, you and Nia, but not like…” He drifted off, unable to express exactly what he wanted to say. “…That’s messed up.”

They heard the creak of the door as the MIA Nopon had finally returned. “Tora back!” He observed the somewhat awkward atmosphere permeating the table. “What Tora miss?”

“What on Bionis are those?” Reyn exclaimed, half-disgusted, half-fascinated. He sauntered up to the jittering repositories.

Shulk examined the biomechanical hybrid pods. “Monsters' egg sacs…” he observed. “I think… But it looks like there are Mechon parts inside as well.”

Noah stepped forward to get a closer look. Webbed, bulbous pods, coagulating around a center of mechanical scrap, peeping out of the wrap. “Do you think they’re used for reinforcement?” he offered.

Shulk thought on it, then shrugged. “Could be,” he replied. “Who’s to say?” He supposed the monsters that constructed these weren’t exactly able to tell them, one way or another.

Reyn shivered, imagining the possibilities otherwise. “Man…” he said. “What kind of monsters are they?” He leaned in closer, a morbid fascination with the thing.

Shulk began to speculate. “Probably some type of…” he trailed off.

Noah, concerned, glanced towards his silent friend.

Staring forwards, his eyes had clouded over. Face tensed, yet somehow relaxed all the same. Either a dazed state, or he was in his own head. “…Shulk?” he prompted.

“Reyn!” he suddenly exclaimed, snapping out of it. “Get back!” He reached out towards the soldier, too far away to get to him.

Suddenly, a web shot down from the ceiling, entrapping Reyn. He struggled to break free, as Noah dashed towards the captive man. He screamed in frustration. Noah equipped his sword.

But it was too late. He was hoisted up through the hole above him before Noah could get to him. “Damnit!” the swordsman exclaimed. “Reyn!” He let out a frustrated sigh, then turned to Shulk.

Upon Shulk’s face, a horrified visage rested. “If that vision comes true…” he speculated. Teeth clenched, he gazed downwards.

“Vision?” Noah inquired. “What do you mean?” He didn’t follow.

Shulk’s expression gained a baffled tinge to it. “You…” He stared at Noah, eyes wide. “How have I not told you yet?” he sputtered out.

“…until Tora here shot a water pipe, which let me, Gramps and Pyra escape,” he concluded. “Now, we’re here.”

Processing the story of Rex’s hectic few days, she didn’t know exactly how to react. On the one hand, it was an absurd change of pace to go through in the span of three days. On the other, she was one to talk; her life was all but upended after a single, fortunate night. Did she express pity? Sympathy? A mix of the two?

In the end, she chose a fourth option. “Look at you!” she quipped at the Nopon. “Moving up in the world of military sabotage. First a wrench, now a cannon. Who knows what kind of carnage you’ll cause after you finally finish Poppi.”

Tora’s ears rubbed the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “Meh-meh,” he replied, flustered. “It nothing, really!”

“Who’s Poppi?” the boy inquired. “Someone you know?”

“Tora doesn’t have the potential to be a Driver,” she explained. She looked towards the Nopon, who nodded for her to continue. She shifted her glance back towards the three. “He comes from a long line of engineers.” She chose to withhold the status of said long line of engineers. That was something for Tora to divulge himself. “None of them had the potential, either. They’ve been working towards the invention of Artificial Blades. Tora’s the one who’s gotten closest to realizing that dream,” she concluded. “Hence, Poppi. She’s under the curtain.” She pointed in the direction of the control panel. The Nopon presented a wide grin, posing in triumph.

As Rex got up to check the yet-unfinished chassis out, she put her palm up, signaling him to stop. “I’d wait, honestly,” she said. “Tora’s doing some maintenance on the face panel. Not the prettiest sight.”

The Nopon shook his head. “Tora not,” he interjected. “All done. Finished yesterday.”

“Really?” she exclaimed. That was fast. He must have gotten into a good flow, she supposed. “Fast worker,” she complimented. She set her gaze back towards Rex, addressing him once more. “Either way, I’d reconsider. She’s vulnerable, in that state. It’s too intimate. I don’t know her yet, but if I were her, I’d rather people see me when I’m done and functioning.”

“Right,” Rex said. He sighed, then nodded. “I get it. Still though, an artificial Blade…” He stared at the Nopon with a mix of awe and incomprehension.

“Tora almost done!” he bragged, proud of his efforts. “Just need a few more parts.” He sighed, considering the monetary barriers.

“Maybe we can help,” the salvager offered. “Works out for us both, right? If you could finish building her, we could use the help in turn with finding Nia and Dromarch, is what I’m thinking.”

“Really?” Tora exclaimed, in delight. He got up close to the boy, staring upwards. “Rex-Rex help with Poppi?”

“Why not?” Rex affirmed. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Tora looked ready to bolt out the door, probably to rush to the shop he’d been scoping out. “Hooray!” He practically bounced on his legs. “Come on, friends! Leave soon as can!” The Nopon started making his way to the door.

“Wait a second, Tora,” Pyra interrupted. The Nopon, halfway to the exit, pivoted to face her. “They’re after us, you know? We can’t exactly go out in public.”

Tora, realizing their perils, drudged back to the group, dejected. “Tora forget,” he said. “Sorry.” His face was downcast, frustrated at the sudden wall he’d hit.

“Right,” Rex stated. “I’ve got this nagging feeling that that ‘Xander’ guy, whoever he is, was after Pyra,” he assessed. “Not Nia.” His face tensed, frustrated at the thought.

“Even if he wasn’t, we’re practically all wanted criminals by now.” Azurda reasoned. “Pyra sticks out like a sore thumb.”

“I’m so sorry,” the Blade apologized self-consciously.

At the rapidly declining atmosphere, Mio chimed in. “If they’ve already gotten Nia, I don’t need to wear that, right?” she suggested, addressing her roommate.

Tora’s face practically lit up at the idea. Collecting himself, he stopped to consider, an open smile forming on his face as he thought about it. “Mio right! Soldiers look for Mio because poster!” he exclaimed. “Poster not there anymore. No need for disguise!”

She returned the Nopon’s grin, though more subdued. “Good thing I washed it last night, yeah?” She turned towards the group, who looked lost, confused, and out-of-the-loop. “Pyra, I have the perfect thing for you.”

The two hastily heaved themselves up the hanging foliage. Hoisting themselves up onto solid ground, they hurdled through the twisting grassy tunnel.

If Shulk wasn’t playing a bit, and Noah doubted he would when it came to this, they were running out of time.

After an effort and a half, they had made it to the scene.

“Guys! Where are you?!” In front of them, there was Reyn.

“Reyn!” Shulk exclaimed in worry. Noah had no breath to follow him up, partly due to him outpacing his contemporary. “REYN!”

“There’s too many of them!” He called for help, as he was surrounded on all sides by swiftly skittering Arachnos. “I kill one, and ten more pop up!” He panted, exhausted at the extended effort, twisting and turning to cover every side of him.

An Arachno attempted to web him, which he fortunately blocked, making a break towards an assumed exit, covered in webs. Noah brandished his sword outwards, slashing at the arachnids behind him, though a good length away from the man.

“Reyn!” the blonde warned, attempting to catch up to his comrades. “Not that way!” Yet, it was in vain. The man was out of earshot, unable to hear. Noah, however, did, pushing his body to its near-limits if he was to intervene in time. “REYN!” he repeated, as loud as he could muster.

This time, he caught it. “Shulk!” he exclaimed, turning around. First, he saw Noah, in a full sprint towards him. Then he saw Shulk, paces behind, his hand outstretched, attempting to reach him. Finally, he saw the converging mob of eight-legged foes crawling towards him.

He didn’t notice the Queen Arachno behind him until it was far too late to run. He pivoted, in awe of the size of the creature, as it moved to strike.

If Shulk was right, it would be a death blow.

He couldn’t let it happen again. But he was too far away to stop it. What could he do?

What could he even do?

He heard a scream from Shulk. A bright light in the corner of his eye.

And suddenly, they were engulfed in the warm, protective grasp of their own personal ether shields.

The blow recoiled.

Reyn survived.

He assumed it was the Monado. What else could it be?

Was this its true power? To deny destiny?

No point in speculating, he supposed. Not now.

There was a bug they needed to exterminate.

The Blade had finished situating herself in the hoodie, after slight trouble with one of the arms.

“How do I look?” she asked, slightly flustered at the change of style.

Mio gave a thumbs up. “You pull it off well,” she said. “Better than I could. The ear holes are too small for me, really.” It was, admittedly, quite uncomfortable, but she’d rather have that than an effective house arrest.

Pyra smiled, appreciating the effort. “Are you sure it’s alright?” Her eyes shifted ever-so-slightly downwards, most likely towards the core crystal.

She waved it off. “If it wasn’t fine, I wouldn’ta suggested it,” she said. “It covers all the important bits, yeah?”

She looked downwards, examining herself. “Yes, it does.” She reset her gaze. “Thank you, Mio,” she offered.

“No problem,” she reassured.

They finally made it out of the cave system.

Their foe felled, they were free to cut the webbing, securing an exit from their position. All of them exhausted, they stepped into the light.

They could see the sky. They could see the clouds.

They could see the whole Bionis from here. Mechonis, as well, if they moved a little.

According to the stories, the thing was once alive. A moving being.

And yet, it towered over them. No amount of description prepared Noah for the sheer scale of the thing.

“Wow!” Shulk exclaimed, in awe of the sight. He gazed upwards, marveling at the titans above.

“No matter how many times I see this, I never get used to it.” Reyn offered, appreciating the view.

They turned towards the Mechonis. Noah, seeing this, followed suit. “On the other side of those clouds…” Shulk trailed off.

“Yep.” Reyn nodded in an implicit understanding. “It's our enemy. Mechonis.”

Shulk’s brow furrowed. Features tensing, he clenched his fist, a steeled visage. “Our enemy…” he repeated.

Putting aside his heightened concern for Shulk’s current state of mind, something about the Mechonis seemed so…

He squinted, shifting his gaze ever-so-slightly.

…

Was that Swordmarch?

Chapter Text

“Afternoon, Kassa,” she waved to the vendor.

The shopkeep, who was doing an inventory check, pivoted. Making a mental note of their current progress, she greeted her customers. “Oh! Mio!” she acknowledged. “I almost didn’t recognize you, without the hoodie.” She assessed her less-covered form. “Nice hair,” she commented.

They had maintained a steady relationship with her ever since the job they did for her, months back. It was always nice to have a contact with a read on the market, and plus, it was just nice to chat with her sometimes.

“Thanks,” she replied, brushing it back with her hands. “Hell to maintain, but I’ve grown attached to it.”

They’d resolved to split up, for now. Rex, Pyra, and Azurda would seek out information about Nia, while Tora and her would scout out the market for reconnaissance purposes.

“Where’s Tora?” Kassa asked, commenting on the lack of the Nopon that was supposed to be with her at the moment.

Tora was a bit anxious, having spent the day window shopping, he felt it would be awkward to engage with the shopkeepers after. “Out and about,” she said. “Say, you have any Bion Connectors? Perfect Range Sensors?” So, at the last second, he decided to switch groups, leaving her by her lonesome. And by ‘switch groups,’ he probably meant ‘wander aimlessly until he spotted Rex.’ She held no grudge, it was just a stark contrast to how confident he was when talking about Poppi herself.

“Not sure,” the trader replied, shrugging. “Was in the middle of an inventory check when you caught me. I’m pretty sure I got Bion Connectors. I don’t think I have any Perfect Range Sensors. You hurtin’ for ‘em?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Tora is, specifically. How much you offering for?” She didn’t intend to pay, just yet, but it’d be nice to know for when they reconvened.

“I’ll have to finish checking my stock, but Bion Connectors are usually 4,000G a piece,” Kassa explained. “For you two, 3,200. Regular’s discount!” She winked at her, a clandestine smile on her face.

Normally, she would refuse the courtesy. Today, however, they might have to rely on it.

“Thanks, Kassa,” she said, smiling back. “I’ll be back with Tora in a bit. Need to clear it with him, first.” And regroup with the others, too.

She continued to sit in silence, as she had done for hours, now.

Figures that she’d get captured. 

It wasn’t even a ploy for her and Dromarch, they were using her to get to Pyra! She couldn’t tell whether to be outraged or insulted. The two slotted together well enough, she supposed.

She sighed, lying back on the mattress they’d provided. 

Architect, it was uncomfortable. Thin, yet stiff, like lying on a wooden plank. Don’t even have the decency to accommodate, she mentally begrudged.

She continued to shift between embarrassment and anger for a while. Not much else to do in solitary, she supposed.

“Are…” she heard a hushed, yet projected voice on the other side of the door. “How are you holding up, back there?” 

She recognized the voice. It helped that it wasn’t muffled this time, in that.

It was her captor. That ‘Lieutenant Lambda’ guy, or whatever he was called. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she hissed. “I bet you sods record this. Save it for later, put the tape on your headphones, listen to the terrorist cry,” she angrily speculated, a snarl forming on her lips. “That what this is? This how you get off at night?” She stared at the door, perched on her bed, her fury growing colder the further she shifted it outwards.

“What? No!” A flustered sputtering emanated from the door, likely taking offense to the thought itself. “No. I specifically requested that Special Inquisitor Mòrag order the disabling of audio logging in and around the cells.” A cough. “It’s an inhumane invasion of privacy.”

“Why should I believe you?” she countered. “In case you’re unaware, you captured me! I’m not exactly free to move around! Can’t exactly go and check for myself, can I?!” She clenched her fist, biting back the harsher insults she’d had for the man, lest he chose not to feed her today. She hated this. She hated this so much.

“…Sorry.” The voice softened, in an attempt to convey guilt. He paused for a while. Minutes passed without a spoken word. “If it helps, I wasn’t aiming for you. I was aiming for the Aegis. I left my glasses at the base that morning. They’re incompatible with the helmet. I’ve asked them to create a model that works with the things, or at least one with integrated lenses. It’s stalled out. Bureaucracy,” he stammered out, slightly drifting off topic.

“…the hell did Pyra ever do to you?” she questioned.

“You’ve heard the stories, right?” the voice replied. “In the Aegis War, 500 years ago, she—”

“Course I’ve heard the damn stories!” she furiously interjected. “Straight from the source! But bloody hell, I’ve also talked to her! You haven’t spoken a single word with her, yet you’ve already got opinions, no wonder you’re talking about her like she’s a bomb!” She walked up to the door, attempting the closest thing to direct confrontation with her captor that she could muster. “She’s a person! A living, breathing person! Why can’t you lot get that through your sodding heads!” She crouched down, leaning into the door’s bottom crevice. “Do you all treat your Blades this way? Tools, for use? I pity them. It’s inhumane,” she repeated, accusatory. 

Silence, once more. “…I’ll leave you be,” he weakly whispered. “For now, I mean.” The slot on the bottom of the door flipped open, and if she looked at just the right angle from her current position, she could catch a glimpse of his unmasked face. Dark-skinned, messy-hair. Glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, framing a gloomy visage. 

He slipped a plate through the opening, a tepid sigh escaping his lips. “Dinner,” he stated. “I’ll go now.”

The slot shut once more, footsteps echoing quieter and quieter, leaving her to her thoughts and her food.

After a short climb, they continued to trek forward through the canyon, as the passage opened unto the vast plains.

Herds of Armus (Armuidae, if you were Taion) galloped across the greenery, a particular lot frantically fleeing from a Volff pack. A skulk of Hoxes, sneaking up on a herd of Bunnits. A Ponio, standing guard, as its foals grazed on the grass.

He made a mental note to avoid the orange behemoth, stomping across the plain.

“Look over there!” Reyn exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. Noah followed his gaze, attempting to make out what he was referring to.

A cloud of smoke arose from afar, a nearby arch framing it. A stark contrast to the open air around it. “Smoke…” Shulk commented.

“A distress signal?” Noah speculated aloud. He recalled something to the tune of it used in Colony Tau.

“Maybe,” Reyn said. “I was hoping it’s a cooking fire. Might be whipping up something good, if we’re lucky.”

“Cooking flames don’t tend to produce smoke at that level,” he replied. Maybe Manana just went through meticulous measures to ensure that the heat was controlled, but even so, a pillar of smoke wouldn’t exactly be indicative of the best meal out there. 

“Not exactly the best spot for a barbecue, either,” Shulk chimed in. “We should take a look, either way. Either we get lucky, or someone else does.”

“Executed?!”

While she had returned with relatively positive news, her contemporaries had no such luck in that regard.

And while she was happy to see that, yes, Tora had eventually found Rex’s group, what she’d returned to hear from said group was not exactly something she’d hoped to.

“Yeah,” Rex said, his stare downcast. “Publicly.” A subtle quiver in his voice, just barely noticeable in his tapered sentences. “Within the week.”

“Nia and Dromarch…” Pyra trailed off, a shaking tone in her voice. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Getting aboard that warship will be no mean feat,” Azurda commented. He crossed his arms as he stood on the table. “We’re going to need an ironclad path.”

“Army port is under heavy guard…” Tora informed the group.

Rex lifted his gaze, facing Pyra with a resolute steel in his eyes. “Then I guess we’ll have to mount a full-on attack!” he exclaimed.

“No, Rex!” she rebuked, scolding her reckless Driver.  She met his eyes, equally resolved. “We can’t put everyone in danger.”

Rex shirked back, his idea thoroughly rejected. “Right,” he bashfully ceded, “sorry.” He returned his eyes downwards, unsure of what exactly they could do.

As Pyra leaned into the table, gazing over the map, Mio’s breath audibly hitched, ears darting upwards. Admittedly, she’d been somewhat checked out of the conversation since the revelation, but she couldn’t help it. It was almost involuntary. It clicked.

“…Mio?” Pyra inquired, concerned, yet curious.

“She’s bait,” she stated, eyes straight ahead. “It’s a trap.” 

“How do you reckon?” Azurda questioned, prompting her to continue.

“I know this play,” she explained. She was a victim of it. “Hook your enemy with an irreversible ultimatum. Something on a timer, and something important to them, so they get swept up in it without pushback.” She shifted her gaze to Pyra. “When they do this, it’s a lure. They’re trying to force an overextension on your part. They’ve judged something your side has to be of greater value to them.” The Blade met her eyes, and she made it a point to maintain the connection. “It’s you, Pyra. They’re after you.”

“I knew it!” Rex asserted, clenching his fist. He picked his head up, looking towards his Blade. “I knew they were after us. That guy, he was going for us the whole time! But, they still…” He groaned, trailing off, the slight emotional kick already receding. “What difference does it make?” he bemoaned, turning to Mio. “She’ll die if we don’t go for it. Right?” 

“It’s not an empty threat,” she affirmed. Rex’s visage fell, the worst confirmed. “Though I expect they’ll try and drag it out to the last second, to see if we budge.” She let her words stew for a moment, leaving the implication hanging, then interjected once more. “What we need here is active caution. Assume the worst and prepare as if it’s sure to happen.” She was no Taion, but she could at least come up with rudimentary strategy.

After the Driver nodded in affirmation, she sought to rerail the meeting. She turned towards Pyra. “You were gonna point something out, on the map, right? Before I interrupted.” The Blade nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. The group reconvened around the schematic, discussing what was to come.

“Someone‘s left a buggy out here,” Reyn said, stating the obvious.

They coagulated around the smoking vehicle. Either a crash, or an unfortunate short-circuit, Noah reckoned. Reyn was probably still miffed it wasn’t lunch, Noah reckoned.

“That's strange. Who would just abandon a buggy in this place?” Shulk questioned. He looked closer, assessing the state of the vehicle. “And it’s pretty new.”

“Think they crashed it?” Noah idly speculated.

“No outer damage,” Shulk stated, smothering the claim.

“Is it brand new?” Reyn asked.

“Not brand new,” Shulk said. “But it's in very good condition.” He shook his head. “You wouldn't just abandon it. So what happened to the driver?” 

He reached out towards the buggy, almost instinctively. Suddenly, his gaze clouded over once more.

Another vision?

“There’s a boy!” Shulk warned with urgency. His eyes had refocused, widening at what was to come. “He’s being attacked by monsters!”

“You saw it happening?” Reyn asked. “Where?”

Shulk’s expression slightly fell. “I don’t know!” he said. “But it was near some water.” The visions, apparently, were imprecise when it came to location.

“You think it happened ‘cause you touched the buggy?” Noah speculated, still unsure of the mechanics behind the phenomenon.

“Maybe,” Shulk replied. “I don’t know, but I think so.”

“We’d better find him.” Reyn resolved. “Let's search everywhere round here where there's water!” He gazed towards them, seeking affirmation.

Noah returned a nod. “OK!” Shulk exclaimed, as the three of them set off to find the boy in peril.

“Hey.” The voice outside the door resonated once more. “I’m back.”

For the rest of the night before, she heard nothing. Either they cycled the guards, or he’d returned and chose to keep silent. Or, they were idiots, leaving her unguarded. Wishful thinking, that was. “Stuck with the morning shift?” she taunted, attempting to glean some information. “I’d go mad, honestly. Never been a morning person.”

“It’s fine,” he stated. “I’ve grown used to covering mornings.” So she was being guarded by multiple people. Good to know, but she wasn’t in position to take advantage of it, exactly. “I thought about what you said, you know.”

Yeah, right. Trying to ingratiate himself to her? She knew better. “Oh, really?” she mocked, unbelieving. “Had a come-to-Architect moment? Flipped your values on a dime? All viva la revolución now, are ya?”

“I just said I’d thought about it,” he replied, taking offense to the idea that he’d switch sides so easily. “You know Urayan Franque?” he commented, an aside. “Obscure tongue. Practically dead, after the dissolution of the Rebellion.”

She stilled. “None of your damn business,” she said, voice firm. Recollection of her circumstances of education already dampening her mood, she had no reason whatsoever to share it with her warden, nor did she feel particularly inclined.

“Sorry,” he replied. “Forget I asked. So, I thought about it, right?” Attempting to rerail, he continued. “I see your point. It wasn’t right of me to talk about her like that. It’s dehumanizing. I’m sorry.”

She caught the implication. “You say that, but you’ll keep pursuing her,” she accused. “You’re not ceding anything. You’re just being polite.”

The air changed, as she cut to the point. “That’s not my decision to make,” he tepidly responded. He’d hesitated, an unsure air to his tone, yet still clung to orders.

“Coward,” she stated.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Maintained for minutes on end, neither engaging with the other. 

Eventually, the slot opened once more, delivering her breakfast. 

She didn’t hear footsteps, this time. 

Figures. She was still being guarded, after all.

“6,200... 6,300... 6,400G.” The vendor counted off. “Two Bion Connectors?” she asked, seeking a final confirmation.

“Yeah,” Rex said. “That’ll be all. I can salvage the rest.”

“Salvager, are ya?” She said, stepping back to unlock a storage cabinet. “Couldn’t tell, you know, with the outfit and all.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled self-consciously, fiddling with his helmet. “Can’t help it, it’s my job.”

She handed him the goods, which he in turn passed to Tora. Tora swiped them from Rex’s hands, now ahold of his haul.

“That’s the Bion Connectors accounted for, as long as you make good on that,” she stated, mentally marking it off. “How are we getting a Perfect Range Sensor?”

“Could we not salvage that, as well?” Pyra offered.

“Don’t think I’ve heard of any likely spots for those lately…” Rex replied. “They’re almost impossible to find, except when the Titans and the Cloud Sea align in exactly the right way. And even if we did find a spot where they might show up, we’d need a lot of luck to actually bag one.”

“We don’t exactly have time to waste,” Azurda reminded. “Perhaps salvaging isn’t the answer.”

Just as they felt they’d hit a wall they couldn’t surpass, a man approached the loitering bunch. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

The group searched far and wide for the nearest source of water.

Reyn was the first to point the ongoing commotion out. “Over there!” he exclaimed.

They heard a scream resonating near the oasis. A young boy was being ganged up on by two aggressive Ardun, shouting for mercy. 

They hauled themselves towards the scene. “You alright, kid?” Reyn asked.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, taken off-guard.

“That can wait.” he replied. “Go! Get outta here! Leave these guys to us.”

“OK!” the boy affirmed, turning tail.

With the target out of the way, the three of them engaged the rampaging Ardun, hoping to neutralize it before it set it sights on the fleeing child once more.

Shulk tightly gripped the pliers, aiming to set the spare wiring clenched in it into the buggy. Since it was out of power, there wasn’t a shock risk, he’d said, but it still looked rather precise. 

Once he had found the spot he’d wanted, he used his other hand to solder it in. “Not the most elegant solution, but there’s not much to work with,” he muttered. Sighing, he closed the panel on the buggy, putting the tool back into the bag. “OK. It should work now,” he said, addressing the boy.

“Great. You saved my skin!” the boy exclaimed, relieved. “My buggy short-circuited, and then there were those monsters, and...” He paused, seemingly unsure of how to express it. “Well, thanks!”

“I fixed the circuit, but it's out of ether.” Shulk explained, hiding his bashfulness at the awe radiating from the kid through work technicalities. “Change the cylinder and it'll be as good as new.”

“I think it's time for the introductions,” Reyn interjected. “I'm Reyn.” He pointed to himself. “He's Shulk.” He pointed to the blonde. “That’s Noah.” He pointed towards him.

“Pleased to meet you,” Shulk commented.

“You did good, alerting us,” Noah followed. “Might’ve been too late, otherwise.”

“Oh… thanks!” the boy stammered out, believing himself unworthy of the praise. “I’m Juju.” He hesitated, something on his mind, but conflicted whether to offer it. “Where are you three heading?” he asked. “If you've got time, you should come back to our camp!”

“Your camp?” Shulk inquired.

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responded.

“How about it?” Reyn asked. He looked to Shulk, then to Noah.

“Let's take him up on the offer,” Shulk suggested. “I'm surprised there's a Homs camp here, but they might have some information.”

“It’s not like we’ve been going on a set path so far,” Noah affirmed. “Sometimes, a little detour goes a long way.” Every stop at a colony, even on as tight a timer as they were, was worth it and then some. Even in hindsight, separated from every person he’d gotten to know over those few months, he wouldn’t have gone about it in any other way.

“Suppose that’s true enough,” Reyn conceded. Noah was unsure if he was playing the part or legitimately felt outvoted, but for a change of pace this minute, he didn’t think it would be an issue in the end.

“Juju, can you tell us how to get there?” Shulk prompted.

“Sure!” the boy nodded. He gave a list of landmarks to keep an eye out for, and where to turn when they saw them. After the three of them had a decent idea of the detour they were going to make, Juju boarded his buggy, and the group trailed behind him towards their next destination.

“Are you positive?”

“Tora sure! Everything in order! Tora check this morning.”

She eyed the panel. If she wasn’t misremembering, anything to the right on the personality dial wasn’t default, according to the currently obstinate Nopon a couple months ago.

“If you insist,” she sighed. She wasn’t going to fiddle with it herself, in case she were to truly break something. Even so, she felt bad for the girl, who’d be making a scene of herself outside of her wits. She hoped the others wouldn’t blame her.

“What’s this about?” the arriving salvager commented, questioning the impasse before him.

“Not big!” Tora replied, dismissing his concern. “All finished!” 

The group had stepped away, given the assurance that Mio would watch over Tora as he worked. They’d taken her opinion to heart, it seemed, waiting for just before her moment of awakening to set eyes on the dormant girl. 

“She’s really complete?” he said, marveling at the mechanical figure before him.

“Very complete!” the Nopon exclaimed. “Just need to apply energy charge to activate!”

“I would advise we make haste,” Azurda impatiently commented. “There's no time to lose.”

“I know, I know!” Tora waved off. “Okay, Poppi. Time for wakey-wakey!”

Tora set himself behind the panel, as everyone else gathered a distance behind him. The raindrops audibly pelted the wooden roof, muting the Nopon’s muttering.

She nudged the woman standing next to her, who promptly glanced aside. “Please don’t judge her for this,” she pleadingly whispered. “Alright?”

A tinge of curiosity, as well as worry, manifested in the Blade’s eyes. After hesitating, she nodded, likely smothering her many questions at that.

A flash of light. A resounding boom. The lever pulled by the Nopon mere seconds after. Gears and circuits, whirring to life.

She opened her eyes.

“How may I serve you, Masterpon!~” She posed, making a heart with her pointers and thumbs, one leg in the air, winking. A wide grin on her face, in an absurdly flashy display.

The Nopon frantically gesticulated, flailing around his ears in a futile attempt to cover the reality before him. “W-w-w-wait a minute!” he stammered, alternating his gaze between the panel and the group. “Ooh! Forget you see that! Tora must change the settings!” He coughed, starting to fiddle with the panel.

“The settings?” Rex prompted. The Nopon had shut her off, but the damage was done.

Mio groaned. “I told you to double-check, Tora.” She assessed the flabbergasted looks of their recently-accommodated companions, her own face snug in palm. “You’re embarrassing her. Ask her before you have her put on a show like this, especially in public.”

The Blade, exiting her stunned stupor, sputtered out an awkward cough. “M-Mio?!” She quickly glanced to her partner, who was slightly flushed at the prospect himself, eyes steeled towards the floor. “Isn’t that stuff best kept… you know…”

She was confused at the inquiry. “All I’m saying is, you’d never catch me doing something that attention-grabbing in front of people.” She shrugged. “She’s making a fool out of herself, without even meaning to.”

“Th-this time should be OK.” the Nopon reassured, attempting to recollect himself. “Second time go best!” He grabbed the lever, pulling once more. “Powerrrr...on!”

Poppi’s eyes opened anew, a more neutral visage summing her face. “Greetings, Masterpon,” she said, an all-too-apparent neutrality in her voice when contrasted against hers prior.

Tora stepped back, awe seeping into his upward gaze. “I...I did it!” he exclaimed, elated at the sight before him. “Tora's masterpiece! World's first artificial Blade...Poppi!”

The crowd offered their own exclamations of awe in turn, which the engineering genius lapped up. “Tora did good, huh? You impressed? Tora is a very big success?!” He stood tall for his stature, aiming to receive further praise for his feats.

“Absolutely! You're amazing, Tora!” The boy glanced at the now-lucid girl, a slight quirk in his expression, unable to fully discard his first impression. “Though I was pretty surprised before, when she was all…you know…”

He began to sweat. “Forget about it! That not Tora's fault! Th-that was, um...” He searched for an excuse, someone or something to blame. “Grampypon!” he blurted out. “Grampypon Soosoo made settings! Yes, definitely Grampypon's fault!”

“Thought you adapted them from his,” she muttered aloud. Glancing at the nervous Nopon, she sought to disclaim herself. “Sorry, just something I remembered.”

“Personality settings delicate!” he justified. “Tora not mess with those!” His eyes pleaded for mercy, of which he would not yet be granted.

“Are you sure about that, Tora?” Pyra made a show of glancing aside. Mio followed the obvious motion. In the back, the closet had propped open, revealing his wardrobe.

“Y-yes, Grampypon…yes…” he stammered out, following her eyes. “Mehmeh!” he exclaimed, distraught. 

Pyra sighed, then equipped a knowing smile. Of what, Mio was unaware. She was still reeling from the second-hand embarrassment she had for Poppi, though, so she held her tongue. “Well, let's not dwell on that,” she concluded. She turned to her partner. “Rex, let’s go rescue Nia and Dromarch!” 

“No time to lose!” he exclaimed, meeting her gaze.

“Don’t forget about us, yeah?” she cut in.

The Nopon simply sighed, grateful that he was off the hot seat.

“Anyway, my name Poppi,” the awakened Blade interjected, introducing herself. She’d assumed the Noponic dialect, a quirk stemming from her inventors. “Poppi try hard to make Masterpon proud.” 

She gave a bow, turning towards the crowd, the slowly-refocusing group teeming with questions for her.

“I’m exempt,” the voice stated, cutting into the silent air once more. “As of today, that is.”

“What’re ya on about?” she questioned, cautiously. She took a bite out of the apple she’d been given, an appetizer for her lunch, she supposed. After all, not like she was going to starve herself just to stick it to them.

“I,” he stated, letting the syllable hang for a moment, “as of today, will no longer be partaking in searches for the Aegis, for as long as the Aegis remains here.” He paused, giving his declaration air. “I found a loophole, yeah? I technically serve under Dughall, but usually report directly to the Inquisitor,” he explained. “Lately, she’s been busy, and since I’ve taken a backseat after helping formulate the current plan, she’s having me report to Dughall, pending further notice.” 

“That arsehole’s still in charge?” she commented. “Thought I recognized the bastard. I don’t know about you, but I thought he’d find himself floatin’ on up the Lyta after a while, brazen pig.” Da once told her that even the Ardainian higher-ups couldn’t stand the man, capable as he was. Why he got sent over to Torigoth, he said. She hoped that was true, else she may have slipped up.

“You know, you have a point there.” He sighed. “Dughall will say anything if it makes him look like he’s got a handle on things. He generally does, but he’ll embellish, especially when he thinks it’ll get him more funding. Therefore, I simply don’t have to report to Dughall.”

“Why’s that?” she rhetorically asked, time enough passed for her to recognize him practically begging for the prompt.

“Because Dughall will say whatever ingratiates him to Her Grace, and therefore will cover for me, even if I commit blatant insubordination.” He paused. “I’m not doing blatant, you know, insubordination, uh, that’s not what I—”

“Get on with it,” she stated, cutting him off. She didn’t care if it was blatant or subtle or whatever, she was simply listening for the catch. She was humoring him enough already, really.

“It’s more like work-to-rule, really. Though, work-to-lack-of-rule, is more apt,” he clarified. “Basically, as long as I’m here, Dughall will definitely not make it an issue with me, and even if I wasn’t, he wouldn’t make it an issue with Her Grace. So that means I’ll clock in, wait here on my hours, and clock out.” He paused once more, attempting to bask in the light of the simplicity of his solution. “There you have it. I will not be personally searching for the Aegis, as long as Her Grace sees fit to busy herself searching for the Aegis here, which will be as long as she believes the Aegis to be here. I can’t stop the search, but I don’t have to abet it, not until they make me,” he concluded. “Is that… something, at least?” His tone wavered, as if he was seeking approval from a parent, yet, for a reason she simply could not ascertain, he directed it towards his ward.

She paused, examining his words. An anticipatory tension slowly filled the air, as she mentally dissected what she’d heard.

“If you’re not lying,” she stated, disclaiming her answer, “it… isn’t nothing, I guess.” She sighed, hating to concede the point, yet recognizing it’d probably be better for Rex and Pyra if the Ardainians were technically down an on-site military higher-up. A gap in their plans, if nothing else. “Don’t get it, but if you’ve convinced yourself, I won’t complain.”

“Good,” he haltingly said. “That’s… good.” He let out the breath he’d rather not admit he was holding. 

She paused for a moment, face contorting at the breadth of assumption she’d been lulled into giving her captor. “I don’t trust you, so don’t even think for a second this is me letting my guard down, military-man. I’ll bash you up proper the second I’m out, I swear.”

She heard a light chuckle from the other side of the door. “You know what? I think I’d like the spar.”

She sighed, turning back to her lunch. So far, it wasn’t the worst thing she had eaten, she’d give it that.

“Juju, where have you been?”

They’d entered the camp, and he’d noticed that already had Shulk’s eyes gone unfocused. Noah made a mental note to ask him, given relative privacy, since the expression seemed to go hand-in-hand with his future sight. 

Currently, however, they were focused on the scene before them. Their new friend had caught ire from a resident, likely for disobeying some kind of order.

“Don’t tell me you were…” She gave him a look as she trailed off. He looked ready to sink into the ground, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “I've told you a thousand times,” she continued, voice firm. “We're not ready to leave the camp yet.”

He attempted to justify himself, seeking a release valve for the pressure he was under. “But I thought…”

“Juju!” she interjected, uncompromising. Her gaze slightly softened, revealing hints of underlying worry behind her lecture. Likely fearing what had happened to the boy, he assumed.

“Sorry, Sharla,” he conceded, dejected. 

Noah glanced towards his companions. They were probably feeling as awkward as he was, given the less-than-ceremonious introduction they’d had to the encampment.

If anything, he might be the most used to this sort of thing, he’d reckon.

After all, it’s just another colony. What hadn’t he seen, at this point?