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It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the Hawaiian sun high above them, hovering in the endless blue. Yet here the ATF was, preparing for an operation instead.
Isami Ao sat back in his seat, adjusting his gloves before settling his hands back on the Titanostrider's joysticks.
"Systems check... all systems green." The TS's operating system voice chirped, giving them the go-ahead to commence take-off procedures.
"Let's show them what we're made of, Isami." Second Lieutenant Lewis Smith's handsome face flashed up on the intercom, even though he was sitting just a few feet behind him. He beamed as he gave a thumbs up.
Isami returned it with a small smile. "You've got it, Smith."
They'd been going on sorties together for almost half a year now, ever since an extraterrestrial threat reared its head. The strange, disc-shaped robotic creatures literally appeared out of thin air, pouring into the sky. No one knew how to refer to them, but calling them "the aliens" or simply "them" got the point across and quickly stuck. The TSs that mobilised that day were barely able to hold their positions against them. In desperation, the allied military forces activated the prototype XM3 Rising Orthos unit, which had been secretly transferred from the Yokota base and kept heavily under wraps until then. Thankfully, it proved to be a decent match for the airborne aliens, despite being created mostly for ground combat.
After its victory, the Rising Orthos was deemed the newly-formed Allied Task Force's best means of defense. Second Lieutenant Lewis Smith and Second Lieutenant Isami Ao, who had piloted it during its maiden battle (out of coincidence more than anything else), continued to be pushed to the front lines. The ATF subjected them both to aptitude and compatibility tests, the results of which indicated that they were indeed the prime candidates to continue piloting it together. Much to everyone's relief, their pairing was working well so far and they were hailed as heroes. Alien ambushes were getting fewer and further between, meaning the ATF could be more proactive about launching attacks of their own. They had even been able to take the opportunity upgrade their TS units with better armour and weaponry.
Yet despite their combined strength and camaraderie, Smith could still sense a distance in Isami. With each day that passed, that distance never really seemed to shrink. He wondered if he was just keeping up appearances for the sake of their role in keeping the enemy at bay. He knew some people preferred to keep their professional and private lives separate. But since they were supposed to be partners, Smith would have liked him to open up a little more.
Perhaps in more way than one. He'd accepted a long time ago that he liked Isami very much. He was often on his mind, ever since that day they met during the training exercise. Sometimes he thought that the other man might have liked him too, having noticed Isami sneaking glances at him numerous times. But given how he treated him otherwise, Smith wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Lieutenant Smith, Lieutenant Ao. Something's come up on the radar." Honaka announced.
At her voice, Smith refocused on the situation at hand. Today's mission was supposed to be a little more covert, an attempt at gaining the upper hand against the aliens. Intelligence suggested that there was a nest of them just off the coast and the ATF wanted to take them out before the aliens could strike. It was a kill-or-be-killed approach. Sure enough, a cluster of red dots appeared in the corner of their screens as they veered towards the coastline. They didn't move, meaning they hadn't been noticed yet.
"Looks like the intel was right. That's one of their nests, right?" Isami asked.
"I'd say so, given how they're bunched up."
"Roger. We'll get in closer. Hey, Smith..." He said, once they closed communications with Honoka. "Why do you think they're attacking Earth?"
It was something Smith had wondered about as well. The best conclusion he could draw thus far was: "Maybe because we're civilised? So in a sense, there's more to take from us."
"You'd think they'd have realised we can best them."
"Maybe it's a test."
"A test, huh..." There was something sinister about that theory, but they both put it behind them.
"They've spotted you!" Honoka chirped suddenly. Sure enough, the dots on the radar began to scramble, beelining towards them.
"Shit. Get ready, Isami!"
"Yeah. Let's take them out as quickly as possible."
Perfectly in sync, the pair flicked a switch and pulled back on their joysticks, causing each arm to pull out a rifle loaded with shield-piercing bullets. They skidded to a halt, kicking up sand, then began firing into the mass of disc-shaped creatures. Several dozen exploded in mid-air, taking out more in the process. Soon, none of the beings that opted to attack them at close range remained. A few more hovered cautiously in the distance, firing beams of energy from far away.
"Smith! I'll dodge, you shoot."
"You've got it." Smith tapped a few buttons on his control panel and the Orthos's hull opened to reveal a scope. Discarding one of their rifles, he attached it to the remaining weapon. Isami ducked and weaved the Orthos through the storm of bullets while Smith fired up at the aliens, sending them plummeting into the water. The battle only lasted a few minutes.
"Amazing work, lieutenants!" Honoka cried. "Return to base. We'll check on you and the Orthos and you'll be good to go."
"Roger. We're on our way back." Isami turned back to Smith, grinning. "That wasn't so -"
But something flashed out of the corner of the Orthos's view. Before either of them knew it, there was a crunching sound so loud it sounded like it came from somewhere inside their bodies. Whatever it was, it flung the Orthos like a ragdoll, sending it crashing into the sand several feet away.
Isami's vision blurred. As he closed his eyes, the last thing he remembered was something warm soaking the sleeve of his jumpsuit.
" - tenant? Lt. Ao?"
When Isami opened his eyes next, he found them adjusting to the harsh, cold lights on an unfamiliar ceiling. There was a flash of orange that came into view as well, which he recognised as the hair belonging to Dr. Nina Kowalski.
"Doctor... ? What happened?"
"It's ok, Lt. Ao. Don't move around too much. You're in safe hands." She smiled gently at him, but he could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "It seems there was one last alien that wasn't quite dead. It attacked your TS while you and Smith were distracted."
"What?" His head suddenly ached as the memory of the battle came flooding back. He sat up, his pulse pounding. "Smith. What about Smith? Did he make it?"
"Calm down. Smith is absolutely fine. The alien perished almost immediately afterwards."
"Thank god." He sat back, relieved. Yet something felt off.
"Lt. Ao..." Kowalski's face was now twisted in an odd expression. "Smith got out with no issues, but it wasn't so straightforward for you. The rescue team managed to cut you free from the Orthos, but... they couldn't save your arm."
Her words suddenly made him realise that the right part of his body felt lighter, although he still couldn't quite fathom why. What she was saying didn't make any sense, so he looked over at himself to confirm her words.
He saw a bandaged stump where his right arm should have been.
"... What?"
"I'm sorry, Lt. Ao."
"This... has to be a mistake." Isami was still staring at the stump. He blinked, twice, three times. Whenever he opened his eyes, the stump remained. "What do you mean, they couldn't save my arm?"
"I know it must be difficult to comprehend, but you have options." She was about to continue, when there was a knock at the door.
Smith and Hibiki peered in. "Doctor? Can we come in?"
"Well -" She looked over at her patient, who still looked confused.
"... Smith? Hibiki?"
"Isami!" Smith rushed over without waiting for Kowalski's approval. "Thank goodness you're alright."
Smith's words triggered something in Isami. This was it. The thing any soldier dreaded the most. In just a few moments, his career and everything else he had known and grown comfortable with had vanished. He was no longer a whole human being but instead, something to be pitied or perhaps even ignored, mocked or reviled. He was something that could no longer be useful to the cause of the ATF.
"Alright? You call this alright?" He thrust his stump at them, hot liquid prickling at the corners of his eyes. "They couldn't save my arm. So I'm left with this. How am I going to pilot? How the hell am I going to do anything?"
Smith clenched his jaw. He was well aware of Isami's situation, having stayed with him at the scene of the incident for as long as possible before the medics took him away. But seeing him like this, a man with his hopes and dreams crushed, was something he wasn't prepared for. "Isami, I... if only I'd reacted a moment sooner..."
"Isami..." Hibiki was tearing up. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this."
"I wanted to save the world. And now I'm useless."
Smith laid a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him as well as himself. He gave him a shaky grin, trying to put on a brave face. "No one thinks you're useless, Isami. I'm sure we can find a way to -"
"I don't need these empty words right now!" Isami shouted, knocking his hand away. Everyone froze, even Kowalski. "You don't understand, Smith." He said coldly, glaring at him through his tears. "What this is going to mean for me... how could you possibly understand?"
There was a steely silence. Isami let the question linger in the air as he turned away from the group.
"Isami -" Smith started, reaching for him again before stopping himself. "... I get it. It's ok if you want to be alone. I'll come visit you later." Smith left, followed by Hibiki, who wasn't quite sure what to say. In the end, she decided to say nothing.
Once they were outside the medical block, Smith slammed his fist against a wall. "Goddammit!"
"Smith!" Hibiki grabbed his arm.
"I just..." It was his turn to feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered Isami's look of despair and helplessness. "I wish I could turn back time so none of this happened to him. Or if I could trade places with him -"
"You can't blame yourself for what happened." She said fiercely, although Smith knew her well enough to read the kindness in her words.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right." He wiped his tears away, sighing deeply as he composed himself. "Sorry, Hibiki. I haven't even asked if you're ok."
"I'm still in shock, to be honest. It's horrible, isn't it? I wonder if Dr. Kowalski has told him about what they can do about it."
Smith's mind drifted back to Isami's harsh words. They still stung. He smiled sadly. "Some partner I am, huh? I should've known he'd want to be alone to begin with."
"Try not to worry about it too much. All we can do is support him moving forward. It'll be tough but... if he's got you on his side, I think Isami will be just fine."
Back at Isami's hospital room, Kowalski cleared her throat in an attempt to stir him from his stupor. "I understand this is difficult, Lt. Ao. But I'm here to keep you moving forward. If you're feeling up to it now, we can have a conversation about what to do about your situation."
Isami calmed down a little when he heard how business-like Kowalski was. She must have had this sort of conversation with soldiers dozens of times. He wiped his face quickly and turned back towards her. "Yes, let's do that. I can't just lie here feeling sorry for myself."
She wasted no time. "Alright. You have a few options. Firstly, we can do nothing except patch you up. That's the most 'natural' option, of course."
Straight off the bat, he knew it wasn't an ideal option. "Ok. What next?"
"Secondly, we could fit you with a basic prosthetic." She placed an plastic arm on the table. Its hand was awkwardly shaped and the joints stiffly moulded. "As you can probably tell, the mobility isn't great, but it can help with the... psychological aspects of missing an arm. It simply straps on and off."
"So effectively, it's useless as an actual limb."
She nodded. "More or less. But for some people, it's enough. And even if you were to go down either of these routes, you could still serve under the JSDF as a trainer or a tactician. You could potentially still pilot a TS, but that would be via voice inputs. But... others want something that gives them more control."
She cleared her throat and put another arm on the table, this time one that looked like a piece of intricate machinery. Wires, cogs and other delicate metal parts covered every inch of it.
"This is state-of-the-art technology. It integrates directly into your nervous system so over time, it'll feel like it's really your arm. There's very little chance of phantom limb syndrome and you can even get artificial flesh to cover it. But I won't sugarcoat it: the operation is brutal and the rehab process is long. Then you need to ensure your body doesn't reject it. You'll likely be on immunosuppressants for the rest of your life. Of course, the JSDF will cover the entire operation, your rehab and the medication. We'll have an excellent surgeon performing the procedure. It's just a matter of -"
"Whether I can handle it." Isami stared at the two prosthetics. "Sorry, doctor. Can I have some time to think about it?"
"Of course, Lieutenant. Take all the time you need. It's not an easy decision to make." She rose to leave. "Thank you for your service. Without you and Lt. Smith, who knows where we'd be."
"... Yeah." Isami muttered to himself when she left. Kowalski's parting words reminded him of everything that had happened in the last few months. He'd always felt a little distant from his peers, but when he was in battle - real battle - everything he learned came to fruition. The elation from knowing that he could apply what he learned, and apply it well, was addictive. And over time, he'd come to realise that he could use his strength and talents to change things for the better. He could protect everyone around him, both his comrades and humanity itself. He'd known then that this was his true calling.
And then there was him. He knew that Rising Orthos didn't just work for any old pair of soldiers, no matter how proficient they were at piloting a TS alone. So it went without saying that it was rare that two people could be as in sync as they were, especially in moments of danger. But it was also the moments afterwards that were incomparable, when they climbed out of the cockpit and took their helmets off, looking at each other with fresh joy in their hearts with the knowledge they'd made it through unscathed.
"Way to go, partner!" Smith said after their first mission together. Although he was a little reluctant at the time, he got swept up in Smith's enthusiasm and the two of them bumped fists. Since then, it had become a ritual between them, a sort of good luck charm that they hoped would get them through the next battle as well.
Except this time, the good luck charm had failed him. He was alive, sure, but what good was he while he was in this state? He wondered if Smith resented him. After all, how could the ATF rely on them now? He hoped dearly that the remaining TSs would be able to hold the invaders off for as long as possible, at least until he was able to join Smith again.
If he could join Smith again. A fresh wave of depression flooded through him and he held back the urge to scream or shed more tears. It wouldn't do anything to change his situation.
He clenched his remaining fist, determined to focus on the options at hand. The primitive prosthetic was out of the question. Even if he combined that with some kind of voice control mechanism, there would be latency to take into account. It wasn't a satisfactory solution.
That left the other prosthetic, equal parts beautiful and sinister in both its appearance and the possibilities it held. Isami remembered a low-budget horror movie he saw on TV when he was younger, in which a man slowly mutated into a half-human, half-mechanical nightmare. The arm reminded him of the imagery in that film, especially as it glinted in the cold light of the hospital room. Now that Kowalski gave him a brief indication of how it would work with delicate human flesh, the sight of the numerous wires and the memory of the film sent a wave of nausea through him.
He grit his teeth. Once again, he remembered his comrades' smiling faces. But I don't want to let them down.
Smith's face flashed before him as well. I don't want to let him down.
He rang the assistance bell and Kowalski reappeared a few minutes later.
"Lt. Ao?"
He took a deep breath. "I've made up my mind. I want the advanced prosthetic. When can we do the operation?"
"You're allowed to take more time to think about it -"
"I want to do it."
Kowalski nodded somberly, recognising a man with unwavering conviction. "I understand. We'll prep for it right away. It'll give you the best chance of integrating without complications."
She left once again to organise the procedure. Isami lay back and stared at his bandaged stump.
This was going to be tough. He could only hope that it would all be worth it.
A few hours later, Smith found himself standing before Admiral King. Naturally, the Admiral already had a deep understanding of the situation, having reviewed the footage and logs of the battle extensively. Smith was merely being summoned to receive revised orders.
"Lt. Smith... I imagine this can't be easy for you, but in light of Lt. Ao's situation, we'll need to make some changes to our formation. The M3 is being repaired as we speak. The mechanical team estimates this will take at least a week. Once repairs are complete, you'll be piloting it with Captain Arakai. We'll need you both to do a formal compatibility test first, but given your history, we thought this made the most sense. If anything happens before then, prepare to be deployed in the M2."
"Yes, sir." Smith saluted. He agreed that Ryoma was a good backup choice, but he was a little concerned that King didn't mention anything about Isami's return. That made sense; no one could possibly have any idea about when Isami would return to the front lines. Or if he would at all.
As though he could read his mind, King added, "By the way, I heard from Dr. Kowalski just before this meeting. It seems that Lt. Ao has chosen to receive a prosthetic arm."
Smith smiled in relief. "That's wonderful news. When will he receive it?"
"He is in the operating theatre now."
"What, already?"
"You want to make sure he's fine, don't you? Go on, lieutenant. You're dismissed."
"Sir!"
Smith made his way as quickly as possible to the medical facility. He found Kowalski sitting near the entrance, as though she was waiting for him. "I thought you'd come, Smith."
"You're not the one performing the surgery?"
"I'm far from qualified to perform such an intricate procedure. No, we have access to a wonderful surgeon who's done dozens of these operations in the past. His name's Dr. Lang. He's the inventor of the prosthetic technology itself, so needless to say, Lt. Ao's in the best hands he could possibly be in."
They stopped outside a door that read 'Operation Theatre'. "I have to warn you, the procedure that Lt. Ao is going through isn't pretty. Are you sure you want to see this? I don't want to upset you."
Smith hesitated, then nodded. Kowalski pushed open the theatre door.
He knew he was going to see something grisly, but he still wasn't ready for the scene before him. There was the blood, of which there was far more than he expected, covering the surgeon's gown and splattered across the floor. Isami's bicep was flayed open, a mechanical object lying inches from it, already grafted to the muscle with a few wires. Sparks and little peals of smoke flew through the air as the surgeon welded the wires directly into the flesh.
But what shocked him the most was Isami's face. Although the glass was soundproof, Isami was clearly vocalising his pain. Yet his eyelids were heavy, like he was drugged.
When Smith managed to speak, he asked, "Does he really have to stay conscious for this?"
"For most of it. His neural synapses need to keep firing, even if their signals are quite faint, so Dr. Lang knows which nerves they need to fuse. So unfortunately, we can't just knock him out. If it's any consolation, he's probably feeling a quarter of the pain he normally would."
"That's not zero." Smith muttered to himself. Kowalski's warning was warranted; this wasn't easy to watch. "You warned him about this, didn't you?"
"Listen, Lt. Smith... Lt. Ao knows the risks of this procedure and now difficult the aftermath is going to be. But he's going to need support. As a doctor, I can only do so much. So if you can, please consider doing that for him."
"Of course I was going to." Smith said. How could he abandon him now, when he was braving this path?
Kowalski smiled. "I had a feeling you would."
Isami's operation was deemed a success a few days later. Dr. Lang's immediate observations were promising, chief among them that Isami's body hadn't started rejecting his new arm. But he still wasn't quite out of the woods. Kowalski still kept a bed free for him at the ward so she continue monitoring for complications. It was also still too early for him to start taking oral painkillers, so his close proximity meant that it was also more convenient for him to receive his daily injection of localised steroids and anaesthesia to reduce the inflammation and numb the pain.
More than anything, Isami still hadn't gotten used to the idea that the piece of metal that hovered just out of his view was now a part of his body. At least he would be able to take things into his own hands soon, so to speak; Dr. Lang was due to begin rehabilitation with him very soon, if not tomorrow.
For now though, Isami found himself surrounded by his closest friends from the ATF. Hibiki had organised a small private room at one of the bars in the area, knowing that Isami wouldn't want to attract too much attention given his sensitive state.
Smith was there too, of course, but he hadn't approached him yet, being involved in a deep conversation with Miyu.
"Hey Isami. How are you holding up?" Satake greeted him by holding his beer bottle out, which they tapped together. Isami was drinking lemonade; he'd been instructed to avoid alcohol for the time being.
"I've been better."
"Well, that's understandable. Nothing's wrong though, right?"
"Yeah, it's all looking promising so far."
"That's good. It's all we can hope for. But, uh, you ought to know, since you and Smith apparently aren't talking -"
Isami opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn't find the words as Satake continued: "Admiral King's assigned a new partner for him in the Orthos. It's Captain Arakai."
This set off an odd and uncomfortable feeling in his belly. He tried his best to tamper it down and come across as nonchalant. "I see. Well, I guess that was inevitable. It's good it's someone Smith gets along with, though."
"Things have to keep moving." Satake said cryptically, then smiled reassuringly. "Don't stress yourself out though. Take what time you need to get better. We're all rooting for you."
A small ping emanated from somewhere on his person and he checked his phone. "Ah, shit." He frowned. "Sorry. I've got to go. We'll catch up again soon. Take care of yourself in the meantime."
"Later." Despite Satake's supportive words, what he said about Smith with another pilot still bothered him. He didn't have anything against Arakai, so why did he find himself less than pleased with the news? He was mulling this over when he heard a familiar voice. "Isami?"
It was Smith, who looked unsure of how to continue the conversation. They hadn't spoken since before the operation. Took you long enough, Isami wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He supposed things were still awkward between them.
"Uh... it's good to see you." Smith finally said. His eyes darted towards the prosthetic, then back up at his face, like he was unsure if it was polite to look at it. "The operation seems to have gone well."
"Yeah. It seems fine so far. I can't do anything with it yet, but at least there's something there to look at." He twisted the arm, holding its form up to Smith.
Smith seemed to relax a little at this, taking his time as he looked over the arm. "Wow. Does it hurt?"
"It's uncomfortable, but tolerable. They're still injecting local anaesthetic into my arm. My real arm, I mean. Kowalski still has me staying at the ward as well, just to keep an eye on how I adjust to it."
"I see. So I can't walk you back to your room back at the base, huh?" Smith's attempt at playful banter resulted in a sheepish smile from Isami. Just like that, the tension between them dissipated slightly. "When do you start rehab?"
"As soon as possible, I suppose. I have another consultation with Dr. Lang tomorrow."
"Ok, I'll come and find you tomorrow evening. You should be done with him by then, right?"
"I guess so. Well, it's not like I'm going anywhere."
"Hey, Smith!" Ryoma suddenly called. He was hovering at the exit. "Our training starts at 0430 tomorrow. Let's get going."
Smith waved at him before turning back to Isami. Once again, he lay a hand on his shoulder. This time, Isami didn't knock it away. "I'll be there. Count on it."
As they left, gloomy thoughts descended on Isami once more. Was Smith really going to bother helping him? Especially since he still had the responsibility of being a first responder to any threats. He didn't want him to help out of guilt or any obligation. But at the same time, the thought of facing his trials alone terrified him.
"Isami! Come back here and join the party!" Hibiki called, waving him over. He obliged, although he did so a little reluctantly.
The following day, Isami finished his consultation with Dr. Lang and Dr. Kowalski, who gave him the go-ahead to begin rehabilitation. Isami stayed rapt and alert during their first session. After a quick dinner in the mess hall, he returned to his room, determined to begin his self-directed exercises. It crossed his mind to wait for Smith, but pressed on.
Just as he was reviewing the instructions, he was interrupted by a knock at the door and Smith's face, peering inside.
"Smith?"
"Hey, Isami. You sound surprised."
"What? No, I don't."
Smith laughed. "You do. Don't tell me you didn't expect me to turn up."
Isami fidgeted, suddenly feeling guilty. He was so sure that Smith, despite his affirmations, wasn't going to get involved. But seeing him here of his own free will, he wondered why he doubted him.
"I asked Kowalski to send me your rehab plan as well."
"You did?" Hearing he was keeping in touch with Kowalski about his condition shocked him even more. He really had been wrong about him.
Smith suddenly looked at him. "Sorry, I know I've overstepped. If you'd rather do it alone, I understand as well - "
"No... I appreciate the offer." Isami mumbled, still embarrassed.
Smith smiled, relieved. "I'm glad. So..." He squinted down at his phone. "The first exercise in this plan is to concentrate on gripping a ball."
"Yeah." Isami placed a small ball into the palm of the prosthetic. "I did a few of these with Dr. Lang. He said to think of scrunching up a sheet of paper."
After a few false starts, Isami managed to get the hand to close slowly over the ball.
"Hey, you got it!"
But he looked dejected. "It's not enough, though."
"No one's expecting you to get it right straight away, Isami. It's ok if you need to take time to -"
"Like hell. We need more people on the front lines as soon as possible. Otherwise, who knows what's going to happen. Even if we can rely on you and Ryoma to pilot Orthos, I need to get better soon so I can do my part. Even if I can't pilot with you again." He said quietly to himself. He caught the way Smith was looking at him, with a mix of confusion and sadness.
"I'm sorry." Smith said quietly.
Isami suddenly realised how his words must have come across: harsher than they needed to be. "Don't be stupid. It's not your fault." He muttered. "It was a sneak attack. You couldn't have done anything."
"But I -"
"Seriously." He glared at him. "If you keep talking like that, I won't forgive you for blaming yourself."
Smith sniffed and laughed quietly. "What the hell is this? I should be the one helping you."
"Yeah, well, you'll get plenty of chances." He grinned, the spark back in his eyes. "Let's get back to it."
In the end, Isami was able to get his new hand to close into a fist more often than he wasn't, even though he took a couple of minutes to get that to happen reliably. They said their good nights and a few hours later, Smith lay awake, their exchange echoing in his mind.
It was inspiring to see Isami fighting this hard, refusing to become a liability. Yet he was still worried about him. Isami had always struck him as the kind of man who would take action, no matter the kind of situation he was in. But as a result of that approach, he wasn't slowing down and taking the time he needed for his mind to heal. No matter how anyone thought about it, what Isami had experienced was trauma.
Smith wondered how much of Isami's behaviour was him refusing to reflect on what it could mean for his future. Perhaps to him, it seemed like there were only two paths: recover quickly and regain his ability to defend the earth, or be left by the wayside.
His heart hurt to think about proud, beautiful Isami doing everything he could to prevent himself from being forgotten.
The days passed, gradually turning into weeks. During that time, Isami made gains with his rehabilitation. He was now able to reliably make slow and steady movements with a joystick, although his reaction speed was still nowhere near what it once was.
All this meant that he still wasn't where he wanted to be. Smith was acutely aware of that, but true to his word, he continued to visit Isami every evening, regardless of how busy he was during the day.
Thankfully, the aliens hadn't attacked. It was a massive relief for everyone, most of all Smith. If he was to be honest, he was getting less sleep than he would have liked due to his regular duties and Isami's self-guided rehab sessions.
Isami had noticed Smith's gradual lethargy but chose to say nothing, figuring he was an adult who could make his own decisions. But the evening when Smith almost fell asleep on front of him changed that. His elbow slipped from the table he was leaning on. In an effort to catch himself, he managed to sock himself in the jaw.
"Smith! What the hell -"
"Oh... that was embarrassing. Sorry you had to see that, Isami." Smith grinned sheepishly, wide awake now, blood trickling from his lip.
Isami shook his head. "You don't have to be here every night, you know. You can take time out for yourself."
"But I want to do this."
"Don't be stupid. You need to take care of yourself too." He glanced at the clock. It was already 2230 hours. Tomorrow was Wednesday, which meant Smith had to be up at 0400 for training. "Get going. I'm going to wrap up here anyway."
Smith opened his mouth to retaliate, but thought better of it. "You're right. Thanks, Isami. See you tomorrow. Um..." He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something more, but eventually settled on: "Good night."
"Night."
As he packed up and settled in to sleep, Isami's mind continued to linger on the other man. He had to admit that he enjoyed spending time with him like this. It was a different experience to when they were training, fighting or celebrating their wins. This was quieter and for lack of a better term, much more intimate. In this situation, he could understand that Smith's concern and kindness was genuine. And it forced him to reflect on other feelings that were coming to the surface.
He hadn't really thought about it too hard in the past, but whenever Smith made physical contact with him now, he felt something like a spark. He first noticed it a few weeks ago, when Smith lifted his mechanical arm to check if it was functioning properly. He assumed that it was something like phantom limb syndrome, even though Kowalski said he shouldn't be affected by that. Besides, phantom limb syndrome couldn't explain why that spark crawled all the way into his stomach and heart. Nor did it explain why just looking at or thinking about him made him feel that way.
Most of all, being with Smith made him feel safe. Like he could come out the other side of whatever he was going through now. As adamant as he was that he didn't want to rely on anyone, he couldn't deny in his heart of hearts that Smith was doing plenty to help him, and that he liked it.
Did he always feel this way about him? He wasn't sure. But he couldn't act on whatever this was now. Smith had bigger things to worry about, like saving the world. And he was going to make sure he could catch up to him as quickly as possible.
Just like with the previous attacks, the aliens gave no warning of their latest assault.
When the alarms began blaring, Isami instinctively leapt out of bed and moved to zip up his jumpsuit, only to feel the cold steel of his metal hand grasping at nothing. His heart sank when he remembered that this was no longer his fight. But he ran outside nevertheless, joining the troops who were not directly involved in defending against the assault.
He was just in time to see the Rising Orthos make its way out of its hangar. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, shrouding the TS in an air of mystery. The tension in the crowd was thick; Isami wasn't the only one waiting with bated breath to see what the newly-paired pilots of the Orthos could do. Humanity had their hopes and lives pinned on them.
They needn't have worried. The Orthos roared to life, unleashing turrets of bullets into the swarms of aliens as it dodged them with little effort. Isami watched in awe, wondering if that was what he and Smith looked like when they were piloting together. If this was the sort of amazement that they inspired, it was no wonder people thought so highly of them.
In the end, they successfully held off the attack without leaving a single assailant alive. The other TS squads that were called in for standby barely needed to lift their weapons. The combination of Smith and Ryoma was an astounding success.
The troops around Isami erupted into cheers and whistles. He himself sighed in relief. His heart was in his throat the whole time while watching them, but he was glad they managed to fight them off easily.
Maybe too easily. Perhaps Ryoma and Smith were always meant to pilot together after all. Then the ATF would have no more need for him. It was a ridiculous, unhelpful thought, wasn't it? But why did it hurt so much?
Although he tried to dismiss it, the fear still remained, growing relentlessly until he began to feel physically ill. Maybe no matter what happened, this was always bound to be the outcome for him. To be tossed aside and forgotten. After having the time to reflect on it, he could understand it from the ATF and the JSDF's perspective. You were only as useful as your commanding officer thought you could be.
But what about Smith? There was no question that the ATF needed new pilots for the Orthos, their greatest hope against the aliens. He'd known for ages that Smith and Ryoma would be the team operating it as well. It was good that they could work together effectively. And most importantly, it was good that they could keep defending the Earth.
But then, why would Smith continue to waste time and effort on a cripple like him?
His chest felt like it was about to burst. The thought of Smith distancing himself was awful. But if that was the way it was going to be, he had to harden his heart now.
Smith gasped for air as he removed his helmet. He'd felt as though he'd been holding his breath for the last half an hour, ever since he and Ryoma were summoned to defend against another attack. He couldn't deny he felt anxious about piloting with someone other than Isami, even though he and Ryoma had known each other for years and had been through a few training sessions in the Orthos together. The real thing was always different.
Ryoma, meanwhile, seemed much more confident about the outcome. "We did great, huh? It was just like the good old days, except this time, we're in the same TS."
Smith grinned. Ryoma's infectious energy never failed to rub off on him. "It sure was."
But something felt off. Their performance in battle was technically flawless, of course. Their prior training experience together and habits that Smith had picked up from Ryoma made sure of that.
But there was a sense of fulfillment that was missing from when he piloted with Isami. Ryoma was a good friend, even one of his best, but their fight confirmed that he didn't feel the same spark that he felt with the Japanese lieutenant. He missed Isami, much more than he ever expected to. But this was war. Choosing who you wanted to pilot with was a luxury few could afford. And he knew that he and Isami certainly weren't in any position to afford that right now.
His concern must have shown on his face because he caught Ryoma staring at him. "Thinking about Lt. Ao? I get it. You guys have spent so much time together, it'd be hard to get used to piloting with someone else."
"I'm sorry. I promise it's not a knock on your skills. You're a great pilot, but with him it's just... like we're one, I guess." He found himself blushing as he said this out loud. It was a sentiment he never had the words for, but when he described it that way, it all suddenly made sense.
Ryoma laid a hand kindly on his shoulder. "I get it. Ever since that training exercise, you've liked him. And it's not just because of his piloting ability, huh? "
"Shit. Am I really that transparent?" He grinned bashfully. "But I don't even know if he feels the same way, plus he's got enough on his plate with his recovery."
Ryoma shrugged. "Fair enough. But if you want to do something about it, don’t wait too long to tell him. People like Lt. Ao need it spelled out for them."
Twelve hours later, Smith showed up at Isami's bunker, ready for another rehab session. He greeted him enthusiastically, as usual. "Yo, Isami! I haven't seen you all day."
Isami nodded coolly. "Congrats on the piloting. You two did well."
Without another word, he began setting up his next rehab exercise, involving a simple platforming video game. Smith could immediately tell something was wrong, but decided not to pry further.
They sat together in steely silence as Isami tried and failed several times to clear the level of the video game. Frustrated, he slammed the controller down.
"Isami! Hey, it's ok."
"I hate this." He muttered, not just talking about the simulation in front of him.
"... Is something the matter?" Smith frowned, concerned.
"Of course not."
"Come on. I'm not stupid."
Isami whipped around, glaring at him, but Smith's sad, open expression softened his resolve to take his anger out on him. "... You and Ryoma. You were amazing out there." He swallowed, hopelessness replacing his anxiety as his eyes turned back to the Game Over screen flashing before him. "It made me realise that the rate I'm going... I don't know whether I'll be able to help you. Maybe I really am replaceable."
"I had a feeling something like this would happen." Smith said softly. "Isami... you've been charging ahead, trying to get better as fast as possible. But you need to take time for yourself. You need to heal at your own pace."
He reached out for him, but Isami turned away.
"What good is that going to do? If I do that, I'm just going to be left alone. No one's going to want me dragging them down."
Smith grabbed him by the shoulders, exasperated. "If that's true, what the hell do you think I've been doing all this time? Listen to me, Isami, and you'd better listen good." Isami gaped at him, shocked by his sudden aggression. But Smith only wore a gentle, tired smile.
"Isami... no matter what happens with your arm... it's ok. Because I can see you're doing your best. And before you say anything, yes - your best is good enough. You're inspiring, you know. I saw your operation. I know you endured so much pain so you could keep going. I really admire your strength and your courage. You'll never drag anyone down. But you need to understand that about yourself, too." He cleared his throat. "And as for Ryoma... he's a good friend and I'll keep piloting with him, of course. But... he'll never be a match for you."
"He's... not?" Isami was still staring at him, noticing that Smith's cheeks had turned red and he was looking down at the floor.
"Sorry. You want to be alone, don't you? I'll go now." Before Isami could respond, the American let go of his shoulders, then sprang to his feet and left the room.
It left him more confused than anything. So much for hardening his heart. He'd expected a confrontation, but not one where Smith folded immediately. Once again, he felt terrible for assuming the worst about him. But he had no idea what to say next either. Would he even come back?
More exhausted than he'd felt in a while, Isami turned the simulation off and collapsed into bed.
The following day, Isami was mostly occupied with a check up with Dr. Lang and Dr. Kowalski once more. Both doctors were impressed with the speed at which Isami seemed to be recovering and adapting. "It's because I have a great supporter," He muttered, although he wondered if that was still true after the events of the night before.
Once the doctors let him go, he wandered outside, breathing in the late afternoon air. The sun was setting and everyone was finishing up for the day. He wondered how Smith's day was going. He was probably wrapping up now too. He perched himself on a crate, watching as the last few jet fighters landed after a day of training exercises. Days like this almost made him forget that anything was wrong with the world, but it only took one glance down at his arm to remember this wasn't the case.
"Hey, Lt. Ao." He looked over and saw Satake approaching. "Fancy seeing you out and about."
"I just finished my check up. I thought I'd get some fresh air."
"How's it going?"
"It's going well. Apparently I'm tracking far beyond their expectations."
"That's fantastic news." Satake grinned. Isami grinned back, but it was half-hearted.
"Something's bothering you. And I'm guessing it's not just the arm."
"Nothing's bothering me."
"I've known you for ages. Something's definitely bothering you."
Isami sighed. Indeed, they had known each other for a while now, and he knew that once Satake latched onto something, he didn't stop. "I had a weird conversation with Smith yesterday."
"Oh?"
"I guess there's a lot of stuff I'm worried about. But he said that whatever happens with my arm is all ok."
"And he's right." Satake said sternly. "As long as I'm your commanding officer, there's always going to be a TS seat warm for you, lieutenant. You can take all the time you need. Besides, your skills and experience are too valuable for the JSDF to throw away. You could always become a tactician or a trainer." His tone softened. "I know you're the kind of guy who beats himself up about things like duty and responsibility. But we're all here for you. Especially Smith. His dedication to you is something most people won't ever come close to experiencing in their lifetime."
"His dedication to me?" Isami looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "Thanks, Satake. But me and Smith... it's not like that."
"Isn't it?" Satake laughed, although he wasn't being unkind. "I'm not blind. He obviously likes you. Although that might be putting it a bit too simply... but anyway, why not have a little more faith in him?"
Have faith in Smith. Wasn't that what he did every time they jumped into the Orthos together? When Satake put it that way, the situation they found themselves in was the same. So why did he keep assuming the worst about him?
"I've really messed this up, huh?" Isami mumbled. "I'll talk to him... if he comes back."
"Trust me, Lt. Ao. He will."
Satake was right. Smith turned up at his door, right on time, although he was more subdued than usual. "Hey Isami. Can I come in?"
Isami nodded. Once he was inside and they were away from prying eyes, Isami took the initiative and bowed his head, arms straight and at his sides. "I, um... I overreacted. I'm sorry."
"Come on. Why so formal?" Smith laughed, attempting to lighten the mood. But when he saw how serious the other man was, a nervousness crawled up into his stomach. The formality made it feel like any closeness that had formed between them had been shattered.
"You're doing a lot for me, Smith. I'm grateful for that. But I need to know why you're bothering."
"What do you mean?" Smith was genuinely confused. "Why wouldn't I bother?"
"I can't expect you to keep helping me like this. It's been months since this all started and you have to move on with your life. I should be happy you've found a partner in Ryoma." Isami clenched his real fist, afraid of what he was going to admit next and how Smith would react. "But I'm also... scared. Even if I can't pilot any more, there are other things I can do in the JSDF. I've come to terms with that. But it's made me realise that what I'm really scared of losing is... you." He looked up at him, his heart in his mouth. "I think... I need you, Smith. I was trying so hard not to be a burden on anyone, but I think you're the one thing I can't do this without. But I don't want to hold you back, either. It's not fair on you."
There was a moment of silence as both men tried to find their next words.
"Listen, I -" Smith began. "I've been doing a lot of thinking and... well, maybe this will help it make more sense." He knelt before him, taking his good hand in his. Although he was blushing fiercely, he kept eye contact with him. "Is it ok if I do this?"
Isami nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew his face was red too.
Smith took a deep breath. "Isami... I don't want you to feel like you have to be alone, or that you've been abandoned. I don't want you to feel like being trapped or angry or upset is your only way forward. I know there will be days when it's really hard. But I want you to know that I'm here for you. Not because I pity you, but because you're special to me. And I need you to know that you've never held me back. You never have and you never will, so don't worry about that anymore. So... no matter what, I want to be with you, every step of the way. You'll always be..." Smith began, then cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say is... oh, shit." He gave up. "Isami, I love you."
All the pieces fell into place. Smith going out of his way to talk to him, even before they began piloting the Orthos together. The way Smith gazed at him when he thought he wasn't looking. The reason why he never stopped believing in him and helping him. And the fact that Isami wanted him to keep doing all of this, and couldn't bear the thought of Smith feeling this way about anyone else.
"And I meant what I said the other day. Ryoma's no match for you."
With this change in subject, Isami finally regained the ability to speak. "Really? Even though you've been training together for years?"
"Isami... haven't you always thought it was strange how we just... seem to know how to pilot with each other? Like we can -"
"Read each other's minds?"
"Exactly. That's the kind of thing I mean. I don't have that with Ryoma. When he and I were out there the other day, that was just by-the-books stuff. Lots of call signs. Stuff that works, but... well, you and I... it just feels so natural. It's like we're one."
"Smith... you can say that sort of thing with a straight face, huh?" Isami stifled a grin, but his face was flushed.
"Hey, I'm trying my best." Smith laughed, but he was blushing again now too.
"But you know... I don't want you to settle for me." Isami said quietly, serious again as he ran his fingers over Smith's.
"I'm not settling at all. If anything, I should be worried you're settling for me."
"Of course not. You're the most amazing person I know. You're kind and patient and wonderful and handsome and..." Isami trailed off, suddenly embarrassed again, but then smiled up at him. Smith thought it was the happiest he'd seen him in a long time. "I guess what I'm trying to say is: thank you, Smith. I'll take you up on your offer."
"We'll take it all on together, partner." Smith gripped his hand and raised it to his lips. To his surprise, Isami folded forward into his arms, capturing him in a tight hug.
He buried his face into his neck, but Smith could still hear him say, "I won't let you down."
Smith smiled. "I never thought for a second that you would."
Twenty years later...
Isami wiped the sweat from his brow, examining his handiwork. After months of hard work, his green thumb was finally starting to pay off. The yard looked good, filled with thick green shrubs, flowers and even a little vegetable patch.
Lost in thought as he contemplated what he was going to work on next, he almost didn't have time to react when he felt someone wrap their arms around him from behind.
He caught the assailant in a judo hold and flung them over his shoulder with little effort. When he turned to see who it was, a handsome blonde man grinned sheepishly up at him, wincing in pain.
"Smith?!"
"I'm home, partner."
"What the hell... I wasn't expecting you to be back so early today."
"Well, I wanted to surprise you."
"Yeah, you did! I could've seriously hurt you." Isami frowned, pulling him up. "Are you ok?"
"I'm fine." Smith dusted his uniform off and stretched out his arms to show he was unharmed.
"Good." Isami finally grinned back, swooping in to give Smith a kiss, the small beard on his chin tickling his face.
"The recruits missed you. They wanted to see the ATF's ace in action."
"What, Colonel Smith isn't good enough for them?"
"Colonel Smith doesn't have a cool story about a prosthetic arm. They'd rather hear from Lieutenant Colonel Ao."
"Well, they'll have to wait until I'm back on duty. These plants won't tend to themselves."
"Mmhmm." Smith looked around the yard, nodding approvingly. "Well, I think they're looking pretty good already. Why don't you come inside and tell me about your day instead?"
"Yeah, ok." Isami removed his gardening gloves and took Smith's hand in his. Together, they walked back into the house, the ring on Isami's mechanical finger glinting in the sunlight.