Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

White rooms. Bright lights. Sterile smells. 

“Playing sample nine, 24,000 hertz.” 

The noises from nowhere that always made him clamp his hands over his ears, only for the person holding him to pull them back away. It would go on like this for hours. 

“Confirmed.” The sound stopped. They let go of his arms. 

“Playing sample ten, 25,000 hertz.” 

Each ring hurt more than the last. Each pierced his skull like a bullet. He covered his ears. They pulled his hands away. 

“Stop, please,” he whimpered. He knew they wouldn’t. Even back then, he knew the routine. They did this every month. 

“Playing sample eleven, 26,000 hertz.” 

“Stop,” he said. 

They pulled his hands away. 

“Playing sample twelve, 27,000 hertz.” 

“Playing sample thirteen, 28,000 hertz.” 

“Sample fifteen, 30,000 hertz.” 

“35,000 hertz.” 

“50,000 hertz.” 

“60,000.” 

When they finally reached sample sixty, all he could hear was the AC and the breathing and the heartbeats of himself and the person holding him. 

Tears had fallen and dried on his face. All he wanted was to go back to his room, where it was quiet and he could sleep. Where the kind older girl would sing in soft, soothing tones for him and the rest in his group. Where the pain would finally stop. 

“Okay, that’s subject U-2-2; age, three years and ten months; upper limit, 74,000 hertz. Let’s move on to the lower limit test.”

Ukyo whined. 

Being petrified was the first time Ukyo experienced true silence. 

Not quiet. Not static. 

Just. 

Nothing.

It was almost blissful. 

It was completely terrifying. 

And then, just like that…

It was gone. 

The world came blinding in with bright light and cracking rock. Shards clattered to the stone ground like thunder rolling over sky. Around him, at least five people breathing, hearts beating as the wind raced through unseen trees. Birdsong, gnat-buzz, something burrowing underneath. It was loud. But not nearly as loud as the busy city street where he’d just been kneeling down to retie his shoe. 

Behind him, a familiar-looking young man—seventeen, maybe eighteen—with long, matting hair and a muscular frame. They’d never met, and Ukyo had never taken interest in fighting-type sports, but—

“Aren’t you… Shishio Tsukasa?” 

He’d had a crewmate who did. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Yeah.” 

And behind him, a blonde woman about Ukyo’s age who he wasn’t sure he had met but who may have taken his photo about a year back. Maybe an eternity back, based on the landscape, but maybe in his time it would still be right to say a year. After all, he remembered it like he had just left. He was still—

“The former submarine sonar operator, Saionji Ukyo! You’ve made quite a name for yourself.” She tilted her head and smiled “Known for ‘exceptional hearing and rational decision making!’”

He did not say anything in response to her praise. He did not cringe at being known for his hearing. He’d read it all before. He only accepted the clothes handed to him and made himself decent, grateful for the hat and high collar to hide himself between. 

Tsukasa led him through a camp only ten people strong, and explained he had been awake for a little over a month. In charge for just about half of that. He told Ukyo he wanted his help to build a better world out of this stone-age sanctuary, and that they would need to be careful about how they did it. They could not revive too many all at once, when the miracle fluid only dripped so fast. Necessity would force them to pick and choose. 

“I want to give that privilege to the young.” Tsukasa’s lion skin cape billowed out behind him as they both looked out at a sunset over forests that hadn’t been there thousands of years ago. “It was the old and corrupt who cast the old world in strife. Even those who did not actively perpetuate it became jaded and apathetic, and allowed the horrors of the world to go on unchallenged.” He turned his head towards Ukyo and caught his eye. “Tell me. Would you allow future generations to grow up in the same world we did, burdened with struggles those before us left you and I to bear?”

Though Ukyo felt certain the struggles Tsukasa spoke of were far removed from what Ukyo himself had been through, there was only one right answer in his heart, and only one answer he knew Tsukasa would want to hear. “Of course not.” 

Tsukasa, approving of this, turned his head back out towards the burning sky. “Suppose we revived individuals from the privileged class,” he said, “And they acquired access to weapons of science. What do you think would happen?” 

Images of tasers and tranquilizers found Ukyo from far in his past, and nearer, the unvindicated paranoia of hostile vessels sneaking into their waters. “If someone with harmful intentions got ahold of something like that while everyone else only had stone and wooden weapons,” Ukyo answered, understanding his fear, “It would be extremely difficult for anyone to stand against them.” 

Those words hung in the air for several seconds as the last streaks of sunlight faded over the horizon, leaving behind only purpling gradients and orange-dusted clouds.

“The world of the past must stay in the past,” Tsukasa concluded when the whispers of wind and distant insects nearly became unbearable. “Together, we will create a new world in harmony with nature.” 

It was a pair of phrases Ukyo would overhear no small number of times in the coming months. Tsukasa’s script shifted with each new induction, but always, he would repeat that. A nice image. A common wish. For most, it seemed an easy thing to hear that and trust Tsukasa was doing what was best for them all. 

For Ukyo, it had become chilling ever since he first watched him shatter a statue. 

It took little to guide Tsukasa into admitting his exact intentions. For him to glance across the camp at a pair of teenagers with dark brown hair—a girl with a modest headband and a boy with the loudest voice in camp—and quietly tell the story of a young scientist whose life had been cut short by his own hands. He believed wholeheartedly that it was the only right choice.

It was then Ukyo knew for certain that dissent would not be an option. 

Ukyo was made a knight under a self-supposed emperor who he stood no chance against in a fight, with either weapons or words. So he stayed silent. He did not voice his disdain for Tsukasa playing god in a world where every law had been erased. He did not defend the still-petrified statues outright. He did, occasionally, pose a gentle question to their head advisor. 

“Minami, I’ve been wondering,” he brought up to her during dinner by a fire that crackled in his ears, even as they stood some meters away from it and the surrounding crowd. “It seems like Tsukasa has been predominantly reviving strong, able-bodied people. Explain to me again what exactly the plan is?”

“Of course!” Minami said with open cheer and lowered her meal of skewered meat away from her face. “We’re doing everything we can to maximize our odds of survival, so we’re prioritizing people we believe will move us closer to that goal.” 

As he picked at his own roasted something, Ukyo kept his frown hidden in the shadow of his collar. “And in a world without farms, that means hunters?” 

“Who better?” 

He bit the inside of his lip. Finally, he asked, “For how long?”

“Hm?” 

“What I mean is, not everyone from the old world was physically gifted in the way most of us here are.” Ukyo knew that much was obvious. He was talking to one of the only people in their little empire that wasn’t practically an Olympian. But with the look she was giving him, he wanted to start from something he knew she would find as obvious as him. “When do we start reviving more people who aren’t famous for being strong or gifted survivalists? Or people who aren’t physically fit in that way at all?”

Minami turned to look at the group of young men and women and teenagers chatting around the fire. One of them was telling some story from the old world about a teacher who he swore was trying to get him held back. They all laughed over how it didn’t matter now, and would never matter again. Minami, who could only hear them laughing, smiled gently. 

“We do already have a few people like that,” she said about herself and the girl who’d been friends with the young scientist Tsukasa had killed. “And we plan to revive more along the way as it becomes safe and beneficial to do so. I’ve been telling Tsukasa that we need more foragers for a while anyway. It seems like some of these people just hate to do anything but hunt.” 

Ukyo hummed. She hadn’t exactly answered what he wanted answered. He wanted to ask about the people who might struggle to contribute in ways like that, people who would need more help themselves in a world without inhalers or mobility aids or medicine. Even people who only needed glasses, but needed them badly. What would happen to them? 

(More than that, he wanted to question the whole premise of “the young,” “the pure.” There were good older people in the old world. Adults who were just living their lives, raising families, and trying to make the most of their time on earth without hurting anyone. He knew what a tragedy it could be to lose someone so suddenly in a way outside of anyone’s control. He’d seen it while working disaster relief in the SDF. It was something nobody deserved to go through. And besides, didn’t everyone deserve a chance to live on? to learn and change and maybe even become better?)

“Do you think we’ll ever revive them all?” he asked instead. “At least, everyone who isn’t a, ah, ‘greedy, corrupt’ adult?”

Minami patted him on the shoulder, something sombre and regretful in her eyes. “You have a big heart. I’m sure we’ll do everything we can.” 

The fire crackled, and Minami joined the crowd as someone began to tell a new story. Ukyo listened for a while, as he finished his meal, to someone’s tale about their sister and a cat and a broken arm. Then he turned and left for the trees. 

It was a lucky thing the moon was full that night. He could do his evening patrol without a torch, and no one would wonder at the pinch in his brow. 

Chapter Text

Her name had been Umi. She was only older by two years—the same as Ukyo was two years older than the last batch—but so much smarter. At the time, it amazed him, the sorts of things she knew. The songs, the little tricks to sleep easier, what she had figured out about that other language the adults liked to use when they didn’t want to be understood. Everything she had learned her nine years of life.

It was the songs that still baffled him even as he grew up. The variety. Maybe she’d learned them from her “parents,” but he doubted that; all she ever told him about them was how cold they were. Maybe before he could remember, they’d had someone else, a nurse or a better one of the doctors who’d been kind to them. Someone who once sang songs each night and braided their hair away from their eyes the way Umi and the colder girl her age had known how to do. Someone who cared. 

As an older child, and later a teenager, it was a fantasy he indulged on dark nights when he longed for a way out. That this mystery song-teacher might reappear from whatever mist they had vanished into; might save them all from being poked, prodded, tried and tested, hooked up to machines and overwhelmed with every horrible cacophony imaginable. All in the name of progress. Just one ally in that horrid place, and he might stand a chance at being free. 

But there wasn’t anyone. It was just him, the boy and the girl his age, the younger two boys and girls, the quiet older girl and Umi. Umi, who sang them all to sleep at night and braided their hair when it grew long. Umi, who had even better ears than him and used that to learn as much English as she could make out. Umi, who grew, and grew sick in ways that he did not understand, but that made her ears ring loud and her lungs struggle for breath and her skin grow as pale as her hair. 

Ukyo didn’t know who it was that taught Umi those songs, but he resented their lack of action all the same. 

What a hypocrite he’d grown up to be. 

They were having a meeting with ten of their denizens in a shallow cave they’d dubbed a “throne room.” Named for an odd rock formation at the center-back that somewhat resembled a chair. Ukyo didn’t participate much. His presence was mostly for the sake of appearances as Tsukasa explained a new protocol for reporting areas with large numbers of statues. So he and Ukyo and Minami could review them, Tsukasa said, since they only had so much revival fluid to go around. So Tsukasa could go through and destroy the ones he thought looked too old, Ukyo knew, to avoid someone reviving their parents in secret. 

It was laughable, really: here he was, for once the man on the outside, the person who should have some sort of power to stop the atrocities being committed before his very eyes. And yet, he didn’t. He just stood, not even out of the way, but at the left arm of a man—a teenager—who preached in favor of the suffering of people who had no way to defend themselves. What a terrible cowardice he had allowed to possess him. Worse yet, what selfishness. 

It would be a lie to say the thought had never crossed his mind. The fact that if this continued, and Tsukasa had his way with not waking any older folks from their petrification, then Ukyo wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Those people would never be revived, he would not have to go through any more tests, and he could finally walk around without always knowing in the back of his head that he didn’t technically own his own genome. Because there was no ownership in Tsukasa’s world. There would be no labs in Tsukasa’s world. There were no scientists in Tsukasa’s world. It gave him some twisted sort of hope, and that fact made him feel so viscerally disgusted with himself that he wanted to throw up. 

There were enough other bodies in the room that Ukyo could almost force their unsteady breathing and shifting and whispering to become distraction enough for his own mind. He found himself tuning further and further out of the speech. Tsukasa was loud, and the hard stone walls of the cave trapped his voice until he was all-consuming, but after twice of this and tens of speeches before that, it had become mind numbing. Each policy, he insisted on announcing personally to everyone, across as many sessions as it took. And he’d requested that Ukyo attend them all. 

Every time, he thought about what he should say. 

Every time, he stood in the back and stayed silent. 

Ukyo didn’t want to believe such an idealistic eighteen-year-old was as capable of blood-and-guts murder as he’d claimed, but that was not a risk he was willing to take. 

Because if not Tsukasa, the empire’s citizens might label Ukyo as weak. And maybe he was, compared to them. But he dreaded what they might do if they thought as much. He did not enjoy making himself an object of fear by notching an arrow at the barest whisper of a fight about to start, but it was that or watch them kill each other. That or let them torment him like some had tried to when they first met. That or render himself helpless to save anyone at all. 

Because.

Because.

Because. 

It was like playing chess against five different opponents with only one set of moves, and all he could see to do was continue this desperate bid to protect himself and wait for an impossible opening. Doomed to the watch pieces fall around him in the meantime. It was a coward’s move, but Ukyo was beginning to accept that he was a coward. Incapable of saving the petrified when they could not speak for themselves. Incapable of saving himself when he could. 

A new beat broke through the stale air. When he realized they were footsteps, running footsteps, Ukyo finally did what he should have done long ago with a different goal in mind. He stepped forward, caught Tsukasa’s eye, and hushed the room. 

Tsukasa quieted, because he trusted Ukyo, which would later be another thought that made Ukyo feel sick. The rest shut up out of fear, which he was still getting used to. Ukyo closed his eyes, turned his head, covered the ear not facing the exit, and listened. 

Tsukasa had warned them about already-living people. Claimed he had faced some girl in the forest who attacked him with the ferocity of a lion. Ukyo hadn’t noticed any such people in the area yet, but for all he knew, this was one of them. 

Whoever it might be was either panicked or rushing in for a fight. Based on how little the direction of the noise deviated, they were making a B-line for this main cave. But as they approached, he became sure their cadence was unfamiliar. Too light for most of their people, and too heavy with determination to be someone like Yuzuriha or Minami. Most of all, he was quite certain that if they were wearing any shoes at all, they weren’t anything like the ones they had managed to make here. 

Ukyo pulled out his bow and notched an arrow. The crowd promptly split down the middle, turning wildly as they finally heard the footsteps, too.  When he heard the runner’s gasping breaths, he lifted his bow and fired. Aimed at a place just beside where their next footstep should have landed in hopes that a warning might stop a possible fight. That they would turn around, or better, open a conversation by declaring why they were here. 

Instead, there came a voice that felt like one he must have heard a number of times before. “Wait, Tsukasa, it’s me!”

Ukyo lifted his head to see a man backlit by the sunlight flowing into the cave, wearing a purple coat and no shoes. His hair was half-white now instead of all black, but even Ukyo had seen posters and caught the edges of his show enough to recognize him anyway. There stood Asagiri Gen, bent half-over and panting, voice rough with exhaustion. 

Ukyo felt himself flush as he put up his bow, embarrassed by his own hastiness. Saving face, he dipped his head and stepped aside to lean against the wall coolly. Better add it to the list of things to berate himself for later and let them believe he stood by his actions out of caution for now. 

Gen’s report was brief, and carried an amount of drama in its delivery that seemed fitting for a performer. The village, his escape, the fact that Senku was most certainly dead. From what Ukyo could hear, Gen’s heart was still racing from his however-long sprint. Along with the fact that Ukyo had never met the man in person, this meant he, like everyone else, would for now take Gen’s word at face value, and what a bruised and scratched up face it was. 

When he finished, the first question Tsukasa asked was, “Are you certain, there was no trace at all?” 

“I looked high and low,” Gen made a gesture as if to shade his eyes for emphasis as he spoke, having finally managed to straighten up to his full height. He was still so dwarfed by the muscle-bound people around him, it was almost comical. Not that Ukyo would be one to talk. “But the only living humans I saw out there were in that village. They had nothing better than stone spears and tiny huts, and not one of them looked the way you described.” 

Ukyo saw the problem at the same time Tsukasa did, but never would have reached the same decision.

“Gen,” Tsukasa said, unmoving, his temple rested on his right fist. “You haven’t actually seen Senku’s body. If he’s out there somewhere alive, he’ll likely discover the village and use it to build his kingdom of science. And that would be the worst conceivable scenario.” Tsukasa did not so much look up as he did level his head and raise his eyes so that even sitting down, he was staring at Gen even-keel. “As soon as we’ve assembled an army, we will take the village by force.”

Whispers sprang up among the gathered people, repeating pieces of the statement in disbelief. A bolder individual muttered to herself, “We’re starting a war?” where Ukyo hoped few others overheard. Whether Gen’s heart skipped a beat alongside his own or not, Ukyo couldn’t be sure, so for now he elected to erase from his mind that he might have heard it at all.

For once, Ukyo found himself needing to speak more than he feared losing his place. “Tsukasa,” he called his attention, but did not move from the wall where he had a good few feet of space for protection. “We should discuss this in private before we settle on a plan of action. You know how our people like to gossip.”

Even Tsukasa must realize that people might not be as inclined to wholeheartedly trust a leader who went to war at the drop of a hat. At the very least, they should attempt some sort of negotiation. If the villagers were too outwardly hostile, as Gen implied they might be, it wouldn’t matter much, but if there was a way to resolve this without bloodshed, Ukyo would do whatever he could give it a fair shot. 

Whatever he could that wouldn’t get him killed first.

Tsukasa, after a moment of thought, nodded. “I’ll mark this as the official end of our meeting. If anyone has questions about our new protocol, you can ask a friend who attended a previous meeting or you can come find me, Minami, or Ukyo at a later time. Tamaki,” Tsukasa addressed one of the younger men—seventeen, at most—who had been filing out. The young man startled, turned, and saluted as if a crewman to his captain, which Ukyo supposed wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “If you see Minami, send her here, please. Gen, you should stay with me and Ukyo for now.” 

The cave emptied quickly, leaving it feeling vast and empty with only the three of them. Tsukasa’s stony throne finally went back to looking a bit more like a normal pile of rocks. 

“I have to say,” Gen’s voice echoed off of the cave walls in a way that made Ukyo miss all those sound-absorbing bodies, “I knew you would be busy reviving people while I was gone, but I am truly impressed by how fast you’ve worked. For that to be only half of them?” 

“Closer to a third,” Tsukasa corrected him, finally standing to approach Gen. He offered him his waterskin. “I suppose you must be thirsty.” 

The makeshift bottle was in Gen’s hands so quickly, Ukyo briefly wondered if he’d teleported it there. He drank greedily at first, until he remembered himself and lowered it from his lips with the perfect polite expression of gratitude. He’d managed to wipe the trails of water from his chin without Ukyo noticing, but a spot he’d missed on his cheek still gleamed in the afternoon light. “Thank you. I very much needed this.” 

He did not offer to hand the waterskin back, and Tsukasa did not ask him to. 

“So,” Gen tucked his hands into his sleeves, the waterskin disappearing with them. His dark, fox-like eyes landed on Ukyo. “I suppose introductions are in order~?” 

Tsukasa followed Gen’s gaze behind him and nodded, saying, “Of course.” He held out an arm in a gesture for Ukyo to join them. He stepped forward, and did not react when Tsukasa’s hand landed on his back once he was at his side. It was a practiced gesture, symbolic of the camaraderie they were supposed to possess. “Ukyo has become one of my most trusted advisors. He is in charge of ensuring we are kept safe from dangers both outside of and within our borders.” 

“I manage the scouts and keep people from arguing over food,” Ukyo clarified, holding out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Asagiri. I’m sorry about the arrow.” 

“Please, dear, call me Gen.” He clasped Ukyo’s hand in both of his—gently, as though capturing a butterfly and holding it for just a moment before letting it go. …Where did the waterskin go? “And I understand, really. One can’t be too areful-cay~!” 

“Of course. For all we knew, it could have been a rogue agent planning to attack us. I admire your quick judgment, Ukyo.” Tsukasa praised him easily, in the same tone he used to praise any other citizen of their empire. It may have been genuine, but Ukyo struggled to take it without a grain of salt. Especially as he continued, “It is that same quick judgment we must act with now, knowing such a dangerous possibility exists.” 

“While I do see your point, dear Tsukasa,” Gen said, tilting his head in Tsukasa’s direction, “I wonder if this sudden call for a hostile takeover is truly warranted. They may have overwhelmed me, but they are a few and frightened people. I’m sure they would fight back if you attacked, but that’s a one-sided fight at best. If Senku is indeed still dead, it might make any losses all for naught. Would it be so bad to wait a while before making that decision?” 

“I don’t think we can completely leave it be, but it would be better to avoid making enemies.” While certainly the most peaceful option, Ukyo knew Gen’s idea wouldn’t fly. Instead, he suggested,  “We could post a watch on the village. If there’s ever any sign of Senku or his science, they could report back and we can take care of it from there. Better yet, we could go ourselves and forge an agreement with the villagers—” 

“You misunderstand. The meeting has ended,” Tsukasa placated them both, letting his cloak fall so it hid most of his torso. “I already have someone in mind to create the plan for this mission. It will be handled properly. We can discuss the details later. For now, Gen.” Tsukasa fixed Gen with the force of his undivided attention, and Ukyo felt his skin chill with sympathy. “How much fighting power would you say the village possesses?” 

Gen uttered the barest noise of hesitation before answering, “Perhaps four, five capable fighters at most?” 

“Good,” Tsukasa said, and Ukyo heard the distant but recognizable pattern of Minami’s approaching footsteps. “That’s all I need to know. Ukyo,” and the full power of that intimidating gaze fell on him, “I’d like for you to take Gen on a tour of our settlement. See if you can find anything we can use as bandages and a place to rest until he recovers.” 

The option to refuse to end the conversation ran rampant in his mind. It was right there. He could take action. He could refuse. 

He could get his neck snapped for acting out. 

“Will do,” Ukyo said, nudging his hat down over his eyes as he dutifully turned to the mouth of the cave. He offered Gen a polite nod as a gesture for him to follow. 

They passed Minami on the way out, and soon enough Gen’s footsteps were the only ones behind him. 

Ukyo’s mounting guilt was calling for him to brood over his own cowardice once more, but Gen’s voice was louder. “So then,” he said, parting his sleeves to reveal the waterskin had reappeared, and apparently would not be returning to Tsukasa anytime soon. “Second in command, and a little peacekeeper at that?” He took a sip of water, much more politely than before. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or jealous, I was sure that position would be all mine~” 

“I don’t know about ‘second in command,’” Ukyo brushed the comment off, “I don’t have any real power. Tsukasa has this fancy word he likes to use for it, but I’m more like a councilor or something.”

“You keep these kids from getting themselves killed?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” 

Gen laughed in a way that reminded him of a violin, practiced and elegant. “Well, I’m glad to give you a hand with keeping the campers in line, head councilor Ukyo, dear! Why don’t you show me to my cabin?” 

“We don’t really have cabins yet, and everyone’s sort of been figuring out their own sleeping arrangements,” Ukyo explained as he began leading them in the direction of the main camp grounds—ah, and now he couldn’t unsee the summer-campiness of it all, not that he’d ever had the chance to go—all the way eyeing Gen’s injuries and trying to think what all they could do about it. He could borrow some of the more cloth-like hides for bandages, and boil some water clean for his cuts, but they didn’t have any sort of disinfectant or bruise salve or pain killers. He dreaded the day one of them got anything more serious than a few shallow cuts and some bruises. “How badly are you hurt?” 

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is.” Gen took one more sip from the waterskin before disappearing it into his sleeve dimension again. “I did run most of the way here, and that’s no meager distance. All of my cuts have scabbed over, and while they hit hard, I had prepared myself for a situation like that. I cushioned the impact with faux-blood bags and played dead before they could do any real harm. 

“That’s clever,” said Ukyo, momentarily taken aback and impressed. Then, he side-eyed Gen. “You look surprisingly clean for having been covered in fake blood.” 

“I stopped in a river on the way here,” Gen explained without missing a beat. “To cover my tracks, you know, like they do in movies? I washed off as much as I could, but I heard a sound that spooked me and sent me running again. I wasn’t ready to be killed a second time.” 

Looking now, Gen’s injuries did appear a few days old. And oddly well taken care of, at that. But his explanation made enough sense, and it wasn’t like he had any real reason to suspect an alternative story yet, so Ukyo filed it away with the stuttered heartbeat and set it aside. 

The main camp grounds, if they could really call it that, was an area near the middle of their territory tucked between two slopes of the mountain. Caves both natural and brute-forced into being lined the stone faces on either side until it became that odd cross-hatched pattern, as if the rock had been woven together instead of broken apart. At the lowermost point of the valley was an array of campfire sites. Some sets of makeshift bedding were scattered about in the form of animal hides wrapped over soft leaves or loose strips of other hides or scraps of fur. Most people had claimed a cave as their quarters, but a few liked to sleep under the stars and simply move their bedding out of the way each morning and to shelter when it rained. 

Ukyo himself didn’t sleep here. The walls echoed badly, and so many of their people snored—he would never be able to catch a wink. He’d claim the night shift as a scout and find a tree or a solitary natural pillar distant enough from the others that their orchestra of sleeping sounds became soft and far away. He’d be woken up by the slightest murmur out of the ordinary, so he was never really lying about keeping watch. It was starting to become killer on his back and shoulders, though. Not that anyone needed to know that. 

When Ukyo explained to Gen how most everyone had been sleeping, he caught the subtlest pained twitch of his brow. The lone indicator of the dread that seemed to flit across his face. “Hm. How quaint,” Gen said, turning his head so the long, white bangs created a wall between his face and Ukyo. “I don’t suppose anyone would be willing to spare some bedding and privacy for an injured man?”

“I’m sure someone will,” Ukyo reassured him, already with a few of the kinder denizens in mind. If no one else, he was sure Tsukasa would be willing to lend his cape, and then even a few of the more sycophantic folks would rush to offer up their meager luxuries instead. “For now, if you don’t need to lie down too badly, there is one place we need to visit, and a few other locations you should know.”

Gen hesitated this time. His breathing sounded a bit strained. It wasn’t so bad that his ribs might be fractured or broken, but Ukyo wasn’t eager to make him keep walking around if he might collapse. “I suppose I can last a little longer,” Gen decided. “Is one of those locations a clean water source, by any chance?” The water skin, loosely jostling somewhere under his sleeves, already sounded less than half full.

Ukyo considered him. Considered that the main spring was no short distance up the mountain. “We can go there later. Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up first.”  

He led Gen around the base of one side until they came to an area bordering a piece of forest. One of the sections they’d decided to reserve for storage and craft-work, from skinning animals to weaving baskets. Already, he could hear the voice he was hoping for; if anyone knew whether they had anything they could work into bandages, it would be Yuzuriha. 

Besides, she deserved to hear Gen’s update. Even if it was incomplete. 

“By the way,” Gen said as they walked, “Do you have any idea who Tsukasa meant earlier, about having someone in mind? I suppose it’s not someone who’s been revived yet, if he didn’t just call them in there and then.” 

“I do.” It had to be Hyoga. Tsukasa had spoken highly of him, some other famous fighter he’d sparred with in the past, supposedly one of the few who was nearly on Tsukasa’ level. Someone he had admired for his cunning. If they weren’t careful, he might take both Gen and Ukyo’s place at Tsukasa’s ear. “But we haven’t found his statue yet. That’s probably what he wanted to talk to Minami about. She’s in charge of the search and recovery efforts.”

“I see. Maybe I’ll join in the revival party when they finally find him. I have to make a good impression if I ever want my spot back~” 

“If you say so.” Ukyo heard the distant but loud sound of Taiju’s voice heading towards the same place they were and hid a wince. He didn’t dislike the guy, but he’d like to not be in an enclosed space with him for very long. “Come on, we’re almost there,” he hurried Gen along. 

The cave Yuzuriha and their few other crafters used during the day was one of the better lit, the interior so tall that the latticework diamonds became windows rather than entrances. They flooded the cave with sunlight during the afternoon and evening—they had to use a different area in the morning, when the sun was too far to the east. At the moment, Yuzuriha was the sole occupant—the person she’d been talking to had only been dropping off materials—and sat by one of the walls, organizing and taking stock of what they had. 

“Hey, Yuzuriha,” Ukyo called her attention, “Could you help us for a moment, if that’s alright?” 

Yuzuriha sat up, surprised. “Ukyo,” she greeted when she turned. Then her eyes quickly darted to his side. “Ah! Gen!” Her heartrate picked up noticeably. Even aside from that, she suddenly looked nervous. Despite this, she nodded as she stood and brushed herself off. “Of course, what did you need?” 

Ukyo led Gen into the cave and gestured for them all to sit down while he explained. As he did, he wondered if it may have been better to have someone else help them, even though it would have brought him guilt to hide from her that Gen had returned from his mission. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what the situation was with her and Taiju and Gen. He knew that they had met, back before Gen set out on his mission proper. Tsukasa hadn’t been particularly specific, after all Ukyo didn’t need the details, but the rough idea was that he’d revived Gen, sent him after all three of them, and Gen had followed Taiju and Yuzuriha until they returned to Tsukasa. Gen then pretended not to have done this to them while he staged his own coincidental return to restock on supplies, then left for another few weeks (over a month now) during which Ukyo had been revived. 

Taiju and Yuzuriha had been lied to about the purpose of Gen’s mission—they were told it was something more similar to Minami’s job, just farther reaching—but Ukyo got the sense that at least Yuzuriha had figured out the truth early on. And at some point along the way the truth had slipped such that even Taiju found out; Ukyo had overheard him yelling about it before Yuzuriha managed to hush him. So there was no point in pretending otherwise. She knew Gen being back meant news about Senku. And from the panic in her body’s natural tempos and at the edge of her voice when she spoke, she was afraid of what that news might be. Gen seemed to pick up on this, too; he was behaving extra politely now that she was here. 

Ukyo didn’t know how Senku had survived Tsukasa’s attempted murder, but thanks to Taiju and Yuzuriha, he knew he must have. The only question was whether he was still alive now. 

Yuzuriha looked apprehensively over at Gen. “You’re not still bleeding too badly, are you?” 

“I don’t think so.” Gen rubbed at a spot on his side absentmindedly. He frowned. “Well, the scabs might have torn a bit. But it’s really just the bruising, I could probably get away without bandages at all if it’s too much trouble.” 

“It’s not just to catch the bleeding,” Ukyo told him, “It’s to avoid anything more getting into the wounds so you don’t get an infection. We can’t risk that.” He turned back to Yuzuriha. “Also, I’m not sure if you know anything about medicinal plants—honestly, I don’t know much myself—but if you do, have you seen anything around that could help with bruising?” 

“Well,” Yuzuriha went back to her materials, beginning to rifle through what she had. “I’m not really an expert on herbal remedies or anything. But I think—oh, this should work,” she turned back around with a length of some softer, cleaner-looking fur, a rough-edged stone knife in hand, and returned to sit with them. “You could use this as a bandage, I think. I’d like to boil wash it, though…” She sighed. “Anyway, I think I’ve seen something that at least looks like aloe vera growing around here? On the side of the mountain away from the springs, where it’s dry and sunny.” 

Ukyo nodded and considered his options. He could hear Taiju’s heavy strides drawing near. On one hand, it would be the most respectful thing to leave them in some degree of privacy while Gen told them the news. He could get a clay pot of water to boil and see if he could find any of that aloe plant while he was at it. On the other hand… Gen’s insistence on leaving the village completely alone even after being attacked, the way his heart had skipped a beat, the suspiciously clean nature of his clothes, the fact that his bruises looked just a bit older than they should; he was far from sure, but he wondered if something was up. 

He could leave them alone anyway and just listen in, see if Gen would show his hand when he thought he was alone with Senku’s friends. But then what? Would he tell Tsukasa? Would he confront Gen? Would he keep their secret for them? 

This wouldn’t be as much of a problem if Senku wasn’t an x-factor. Ukyo only knew what Tsukasa had told him; he was a man of science who sought to revive everyone, who had made gunpowder to fight Tsukasa as soon as he realized Tsukasa’s goals, and who had allowed himself to be killed in order to save his friend. Who might not be dead, but whose friends were here anyway. 

If he was alive, then there was a plan, and Taiju and Yuzuriha were spies. But what was the plan? What were the ends? Taiju and Yuzuriha may seem like good people, but so did Tsukasa. Being kind didn’t make them right. If Senku had jumped to gunpowder so quickly before, who was to say he didn’t intend to play into Tsukasa’s worst fears and become some kind of science dictator, ruling over everyone? How far was he willing to go to achieve his goals? Did he want to revive everyone in order to make them do his bidding, or did he, like Ukyo, simply believe everyone deserved a chance to live? 

“Taiju,” Ukyo called as soon as he heard the footsteps meet the mouth of the cave. “Could you please get a pot of water and some materials for a fire and bring them back here?” He looked over to see Taiju looking at the three of them, a bit surprised but listening dutifully. “We need to wash some things. And if you see any aloe plants on the way, bring some.” 

“Got it!” Taiju’s voice boomed through the cave. Lucky for Ukyo, he’d given up on covering his ears to all but alarms and roaring engines years ago, so he didn’t flinch as badly as he might have. “I’ll get that water and be back real quick!” 

And he was off. No need to tell him twice. 

“Wow,” said Gen, catching Ukyo off guard. “I didn’t even notice him coming. How’d you know it was him?” 

Ah. Ukyo hadn’t been thinking—he should have looked first, at least. “He has a, um, recognizable walking style,” he said, shifting his eyes to the ground and adjusting his hat. “And he’s one of the most frequent visitors here anyway. So I thought it was probably him.” 

“I’ve heard that you have a pretty crazy sense of hearing,” Yuzuriha commented, “I guess it’s true.” 

Gen looked intrigued at that. “Eally-ray?” 

“I guess. It’s part of what they revived me for.” 

That seemed to surprise Gen even more. “Not the archery? I was sure I’d find out you were an aspiring Olympian or something.”

Ukyo laughed politely. “Nothing like that. I was a sonar operator for the SDF.”

“Well, that explains the scout leader position.” 

This time, Yuzuriha giggled. She still looked a bit on edge, a little more drawn into herself than she needed to be, but the combination of the conversation and carefully cutting the hide into one long strip seemed to be relaxing her. “Sorry, it’s just, you make it sound like he’s the head of a junior scout troop or something.” 

Gen hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno~ the archery, splitting up petty fights, the duck-billed cap, are we sure dear Ukyo wasn’t a troop leader in a past life~?” 

A grin tugged at Ukyo’s lips, though he kept it hidden. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” A sting of bitterness hit him even as he said it. In another life, he was sure it would have been something he loved. Too bad it had never been and now would never be an option in this one. 

“Aw~ Is our dear Ukyo embarrassed? I’m sure you made a wonderful boy scout, once upon a time~” 

“Gen.” Ukyo said, “Stop.” His voice came out a bit harsher than he meant. But he supposed it was better that way. He was supposed to be strict, here. And it must be working, because Gen did shut up. As did Yuzuriha. For several uncomfortable minutes. 

Ukyo remembered the fear in everyone’s eyes the moment he’d drawn his bow. The way voices quieted and people drew away now whenever he showed up by a rowdy group. He was trying to seem tough, but could he really be that scary? 

Eventually, a conversation started back up, mostly Gen asking Yuzuriha about how things had been here. It drifted, but to nothing more important than resources. Ukyo participated sometimes, was silent and listened mostly, until Taiju returned. They boiled water, washed the bandages, and finally properly assessed Gen’s wounds. 

Ukyo took the lead at this point—he was probably their leading first aid specialist, thanks to his time working disaster relief. What a scary thought that was; he barely knew more than the basics.

It wasn’t pretty. But it wasn’t as bad as it should be, either. Ukyo didn’t say anything, but quietly noted that he’d been right: these injuries looked at least half a week old, and had definitely seen more care than a quick covering, a two-day sprint, and a brief wash in a river. The worst cuts had hardly any dirt in them at all, and the scratches and scrapes around his feet and hands were noticeably fresher by comparison. 

It could still be nothing. He could be looking for suspicious behavior where there was none. But he wondered. 

Cleaning and dressing the wounds was done largely in silence. The light in the cave drifted as evening approached, until when they were about ready to leave, Yuzuriha spoke up. “Gen,” she said, “I’ve… been meaning to ask—” 

“Ah,” Gen interrupted, tilting his head a tad, expression unmoving. “So you were.” His eyes flickered over to Taiju, then Ukyo. 

Ukyo saw the question forming before it was spoken, and stood with a nod. “I’ll be outside,” he told them, “Just call when you need me.” 

He figured it was a good compromise: he would listen, and they would know he was likely listening. There was no need to make things more complicated than they had to be. Yuzuriha and Taiju did not protest. 

The conversation was short, and much like a somber version of the same report Gen delivered to Tsukasa. No extra details. No flashy act. Just the village, the attack, and the lack of any trace. Though he was too far now to hear her heartbeat, Ukyo heard Yuzuriha’s small sigh, be it grief or some disguised form of relief. By a miracle of self restraint, Taiju said nothing at all. 

The last thing Gen did was ask for some material he could use for bedding, to which Taiju readily offered his own and Yuzuriha promised to have something else ready by nightfall, so Taiju wouldn’t be sleeping on stone. Gen thanked them, stood, and rejoined Ukyo outside. “You said there was a spring?” 

For a while, they walked in silence. Evening had lulled them away from conversation. 

Gen asked, “Did you want them to know?”

Ukyo answered, “He was their friend.” 

They made it to the spring. Gen refilled a waterskin that was decidedly not his, but might as well be now. He took a sip of the fresh water and grimaced. 

“If it’s okay,” he said, all evidence tucked away in his sleeves, “I’d like to find a moment to myself. As much as I appreciate your guidance, after so long on my own, this is quite a lot to take in.” 

Ukyo nodded. He would hear if something went wrong anyway. “Take your time.” 

And they parted ways. Ukyo found the section of their perimeter some over-time scouts had left unguarded, and made himself at home in a tree. 

As he settled, he heard Gen’s footsteps some ways off. Walking quite a while before he finally found a place to stop.

Ukyo hadn’t intended to listen in, really. But the main camp was further off, and the hustle and bustle was hushed with rumored whispers, so unlike the loud bragging and gossip they usually adored. In its novelty, Gen’s voice rang clearest in Ukyo’s ever-hearing ears. 

“Man,” Gen muttered, “this isn’t worth all the trouble… for just one bottle of cola?” 

Ukyo felt his blood freeze. 

“... I hope it’s ice cold. That’s the very least he could do.” 

A deep, gasping breath filled Ukyo’s lungs, and a long sigh escaped. 

Well, he figured. At least he knew his suspicions weren’t unfounded, now. And, he supposed, Tsukasa’s weren’t either. 

Gen’s report was far from the full story. Ishigami Senku was most certainly still alive.

And Ukyo, as he so often did, said nothing. 

Chapter Text

At first, it was every day. Eventually, it became one week each month that he and the other kids would stay at that place the adults called a hospital. Where they slept in white rooms with simple beds, were led through hallways that echoed with each step, and ate simple, nutritional meals around a long table. 

At some point, there must have been three tables, seating twenty kids each. Mostly, he remembered everyone being able to fit at one. Even more so, he remembered how they all looked alike. 

Not identical, exactly; the kids he shared a room with at night all had bigger, brighter eyes and somewhat larger ears. Others, even before they were ten, had more prominent muscles and larger builds. Another set were taller in a lanky sort of way long before what should have been their first growth spurt. Those groups had the least members, though, and that was when they were around at all. And besides that, they all had similar small noses and round chins and dark eyebrows. And all of them had the same white-blond hair. 

It was like they were one big family, brothers and sisters who looked at each other and saw mirrors. Except that usually, with all the kids together, there were no parents in sight. Just doctors who were suddenly nice outside of those sterile rooms, who talked about the kids as if they were exceptional. The gateway to a brighter future. The start of something brilliant. 

Mostly, they weren’t. And it could be said those who at first appeared the least exceptional were lucky. Group U was wholly uninteresting compared to most of the others, and half of their target had been a complete failure; their wide eyes hardly saw better than anyone else. It was also group U that had the most kids still alive. 

Round faces, white-blond hair. 

Ukyo was now the one who sang the others to sleep at night. 

They hadn’t met before, but Ukyo would recognize a face like Hyoga’s anywhere, even with that mask covering half of it. It set him off-kilter, as if the ground had shifted sideways. But that was nothing compared to the effect of the long, thoughtful look that had passed over his dark, narrow eyes when he’d first assessed Ukyo. 

He hadn’t said anything. They were far from alone when they met: Tsukasa and Gen were in his company, and not far behind them, the whole rest of a civilization that was looking more and more like a barbarian army by the day. Ukyo had watched them approach from his perch in a tree at the edge of the forest, close enough to listen for trouble on the homefront but far enough to give his ears a rest. They were a hard group to miss, between Tsukasa’s dramatic cape and Gen’s lavender coat. But Hyoga’s hair was what caught his eye. While not quite as rare as it might be in another world, white was far from a common color. It might not have meant anything at all, but still it was what made him look closer than he normally would. 

“Hyoga, I want you to meet our conciliator,” Tsukasa was saying as he waved Ukyo down from his post. Ukyo found his way to the ground in only a few jumps and looked up to meet a gaze that made him want to shiver. 

What struck him first was the way Hyoga already appeared to be inspecting him, head to toe, in a manner that felt all too much like being put under a microscope. The way it made him want to shrink away. Made him want to flee.

Second was the eyes, sharp and cutting, and so much like so many he had seen before. Not round and bright like Ukyo’s own, but familiar all the same. 

He tried to convince himself it was nothing. Terrible as it felt either way, the intrigued contemplation that passed over Hyoga’s face could have been coincidental, more to do with how out-of-place Ukyo must look among so many larger people (even Gen had a couple centimeters on him) than with his past. 

“Saionji Ukyo,” Tsukasa continued his introduction, holding out a hand as if to welcome or present him. “He has an exceptional sense of judgment and a talent for addressing conflict among our people before it has a chance to escalate. If someone is in need of direction and cannot find me, they turn to him.” 

Suppressing the nervous smile that tried to tempt itself onto his lips at such blatant compliments, Ukyo dipped his chin beneath the high collar of his coat. “You give me too much credit, Tsukasa.” 

“I give credit only where it is due.” 

Ukyo hummed, and from the cover of his hat, stole a glance at Gen. He stood with the same relaxed poise as he always seemed to have over the course of their acquaintanceship. His hands were hidden away in his sleeves, his back was straight, and his face as unreadable as ever. But his breathing sounded measured, and his heart was beating like a rabbit’s. Even to him, Hyoga’s presence must already bode poorly. 

Ukyo adjusted his hat and turned his attention back to introductions. “So, you must be Hyoga?” 

“Yes. Akatsuki Hyoga,” he said and held out a hand. Ukyo took it and tried to ignore the feeling that his new world was once again turning upside down. 

Akatsuki. He’d heard the surname before, albeit only a couple times and never when it was uttered to him directly. Only in passing, the odd “Do we have the results for the Akatsuki kids?” or “That’s not saying much compared to the Akatsukis.” Enough that he understood who they were and that they were people he never wanted to meet. Still, he could not stop himself from coming up with a few choice words for two of the family’s members. Though he wasn’t one of that pair, Ukyo couldn’t shake the feeling Hyoga would be the death of him. 

Ukyo smiled politely as they exchanged a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he made himself say. 

For longer than he liked, Hyoga just stared at him. There was a moment that felt like eternity where Ukyo was sure if an acorn fell from the branches above, any one of them would have been able to hear it. “I’m sure,” Hyoga said when he finally released Ukyo’s hand. Briefly, he glanced up at the tree that had been Ukyo’s post. “I suppose you’re the one Gen mentioned? The lookout with the impressive sense of hearing?” 

The coffin lid swung closed. 

“What wonderful intuition, Hyoga.” Tsukasa didn’t seem to notice a single thing odd about the exchange. That may have been his weakness; good as he was at strategizing and talking people onto his side, he wasn’t the best at reading others when it came to the unexpected. “Yes. Although we have several scouts, Ukyo’s keen attention to sound makes him our best.” 

“Ah, hah,” Ukyo did his best to play off the rising dread in his throat as humility, “It’s not that impressive, really. I just know what to listen for. I’m sure the others will get better with time.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest.” Gen sidled up to him like he was trying to make himself amicable. “Our dear Ukyo here could probably shoot a fly off of a tree blindfolded. Nothing slips past him!” 

“Is that so?” 

Ukyo hid his wince by brushing hair away from his eyes. Probably, he could, but Gen saying as much erased the thinnest thread of hope Ukyo had for misdirecting Hyoga. It wouldn’t have worked anyway, but now Gen was pouring cement over his grave. 

Unlike Tsukasa, Gen excelled at both swaying and reading people, so Ukyo had no idea what he thought he was doing. For all he knew, Gen was playing a wild card in a bid for more information. Ukyo prayed whatever his assumptions were weren’t anything more troublesome than the truth. 

“That’s definitely an exaggeration.” Ukyo held up placating hands. “But I did manage to get a boar once while it was hiding in a thicket of bushes.”

“Hmm.” 

“He made his shot about a hundred meters away from where we found it with an arrow through its heart,” Tsukasa clarified, to which Hyoga exchanged his skeptical hum for an appreciative one. 

“Well, then. I’m glad to know we have a proper sentry in our ranks.” He placed a hand on Ukyo’s shoulder, and far from the gentle comfort Minami had once tried to offer him, it felt like a shackle. It pressed a weight onto him that did not lift when Hyoga removed his hand, but sank deeper, through his skin, his muscles, his blood until it seized his lungs. 

His feet found their way backwards up onto the roots of the tree he’d dropped down from before he knew he was moving. Something primal in him screamed for higher ground, for the sanctuary of its branches. He had to stop himself from bowing to such impuissant instincts there and then. “Speaking of that,” he tried to cover his tracks, “I should probably get back to it. I think that lion pride Tsukasa told us about has been lurking around lately, and Yuta isn’t back from hunting yet to fill the gap.” Two facts that were both true and which he hoped were unrelated. “So, if there’s nothing else for now?” 

“Actually,” Tsukasa gestured for him to stay, “Perhaps we could have some others cover this border for now. We were hoping to discuss some…” he turned his head somewhat towards Gen. “... Important matters, now that Hyoga is here. And I value your input on the situation, Ukyo.” 

All he needed was a few minutes to process this sudden change to his situation. 

“Doesn’t he need some time to settle in before we jump into all that?” Ukyo suggested. 

“I’m quite acclimated,” Hyoga said, to which Tsukasa nodded in approval. 

For longer than he liked, Ukyo couldn’t seem to make his feet move or his throat loosen enough to form words. If he could have avoided this by simply becoming part of the tree behind him, he would. But alas: his skin remained flesh and his bones, marrow. And every second he spent frozen was another chance for someone to see right through him. 

Gen was already giving him a curious look. A veiled one, one that was ostensibly asking “Are you okay?” instead of the thousands of questions Ukyo was sure he had about why he was reacting to Hyoga like he was a fox and Ukyo a squirrel. On both levels, Ukyo brushed him off. 

“If you’re sure,” he said, hiding his reluctance in the shadow of his cap. He had a harder time with moving his legs, only uprooting himself by slipping a foot sideways enough to lose his balance and let momentum carry him forwards. “I suppose we should get this out of the way.” 

Tsukasa led the way back through camp, Hyoga at his side with Ukyo and Gen behind them. Ukyo could feel Gen’s eyes on him, trying to penetrate his put-on stoicism, but he did not indulge him with so much as a glance. Frankly, he wasn’t in the mood to focus on much external to himself but for the simple actions of putting one foot in front of the other, and keeping his face hidden from the world. 

He told himself it was fine. 

For all he knew, Hyoga might have had it almost as bad as Ukyo himself. Going through those same tests, all to get a baseline against which to judge Ukyo and the other subjects. No experiment was complete without a control group, and who else but Hyoga and whatever siblings he had? His parents weren’t even the ones running the project. 

No. It hadn’t been their idea. They were just the primary contributors, was all. Without them, Ukyo wouldn’t exist. Without them, none of those kids would have had to die. 

Hyoga spared a glance back at Ukyo. Pondering. Where Ukyo was trying to convince himself that maybe he should be feeling sympathy rather than fear, all Hyoga seemed to hold for him was curiosity. Like a cat presented with a new toy. 

It was possible Hyoga had been part of the experiment at some point in his life, but he had not been born into the same world as Ukyo. Knowing as he may be, he was an outsider. Raised by the same deluded people who thought what they were doing to all those kids was for the greater good. In all likelihood, Hyoga was a problem he’d have to deal with. 

A problem for later.

The cave Tsukasa brought them to was further up the mountain from the one they used like a throne room. It was smaller, too—almost entirely artificially made—with only two openings, the entrance and a small skylight. It didn’t echo as much as the larger caves did, and the floor was intentionally softened by a layer of loose dirt. But it was still a cave.

Minami was already there when they arrived, drawing something in the soil with a long stick. A collection of rocks and twigs lay by her feet. She looked up when they arrived. “Perfect timing! We should have just enough sunlight left to get a solid plan in place.” 

“Good,” said Tsukasa, stepping into the cave to stand beside her. “Shall we get started?” 

The five of them formed a circle around the rough-hewn map in the center of the cave. At the moment, it was only a representation of their mountain base off to one side, marked “east” by a simple compass rose. As Tsukasa explained the situation, Minami handed her drawing stick to Gen in a silent request for him to finish the map. Gen took a moment to think before drawing a simple hut to the west of the mountain, labeling it “village.” A very innocent way of depicting the folks Tsukasa was assuming to be their enemy, in Ukyo’s opinion. 

“I see,” Hyoga mused as Tsukasa finished his explanation. “So, in short, our goal is to promptly secure this village by any means necessary.”

“Essentially, yes.” Tsukasa had his arms crossed and his eyes closed, head tilted slightly down. “Our discussion comes down to what means are in fact necessary.” 

“We may not even need to fight,” Gen chimed in, expression as smooth as his voice, “If we could simply convince them to surrender.” 

Whatever happened to ‘let’s just wait a while’? Ukyo suppressed a sigh, but couldn’t bring himself to be upset with Gen for basically taking his idea. Senku’s involvement aside, it was still the route that was most likely to avoid any casualties. 

“You’re recommending diplomacy?” Hyoga tilted his head slowly, skeptically, towards Gen. “With a primitive village whose people tried to kill you?” 

Gen was unphased. “Believe it or not, they do still speak the same Japanese as we do. Besides, what better ill omen than a ghost to make them give up before we so much as lift a finger?”

Ah. Then again, Ukyo did know so little about what Senku had in store for them. 

“You’re suggesting yourself for this mission?” 

With a shrug, Gen explained, “I’ll be going ahead as a guide anyway, right? I’m the only one who knows the route, after all. Who better to lay the groundwork for a quick and easy resolution?”

Hyoga scoffed. “Even assuming they didn’t kill you on sight, what makes you think that would work in our favor? It could merely allow them to prepare for any direct attack we attempted thereafter.” 

“If we want to avoid anyone getting hurt, it might be better to overwhelm them before they get a chance to counter us,” Minami considered aloud, one hand up by her mouth in a thinking gesture. “Then we could force them to make a deal with us.” 

“That might work in the short term, of course,” Gen agreed, “But it would set a bad precedent for our future relations. Do we eally-ray want to place ourselves in the role of ruthless colonizers?” 

“That’s not what I—” Minami looked stricken. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, no, I agree; it’s certainly practical,” Gen soothed, eyes closed, the pinnacle of confidence. “I’m sure that’s why Tsukasa suggested it in the first place. But we have to think about this in the long-term. The more willingly they surrender, the better, so we should at least give them the illusion of grace.” 

“Would there be a problem with combining those ideas?” Hyoga asked him. “Why shouldn’t we have you lay the groundwork and then overwhelm them with numbers?” 

Gen shrugged. “Well, for one thing, even with my going ahead and setting them up to surrender, overkill is overkill. It may seem counterintuitive, but the more you actively try to make them feel helpless, the more likely they’ll be to fight back. On the other hand, if we make it seem like they had a chance, and still force them to take the peaceful approach to avoid bloodshed, then we can avoid coming off as cruel. And once any of them see the numbers we could have brought, they might even see us in a sympathetic light. Besides.” He drew a squiggly line to the west of the village. “The village is on the water. They have boats, and we do not. We couldn’t surround them anyway.” 

It was just now striking Ukyo that this must be how it felt to have watched Gen on stage. It was like magic, how he managed to guide them into exactly the position he wanted them to be, all while being completely right about how it would be the most strategic move for them. That is, if the situation had been as he’d led them to believe it was. Since when was sending him ahead for negotiations not an if, but an in what context? 

“So we settle things by using a small, elite force,” Tsukasa gathered. “You said they had around five capable fighters, correct?” 

“No more than five,” Gen was perhaps a little too quick to correct him. “It’s a small village, mostly elders and children. There may be other people with able bodies, but not many appeared to have any training.” 

“Six soldiers, then.” Hyoga took the gesturing stick from Gen and shuffled six rocks towards the village marker. 

“Should we send more to stay nearby in case of an emergency?” Minami wondered. 

“That wouldn’t be necessary,” Gen argued. “Six is already more than enough to deal with the village’s battle force. 

Tsukasa hummed. “While I have the utmost faith in our fighters, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing to play it safe and have a second troop on standby.” 

Gen hesitated, finally looking uncertain. 

“You’ve been quiet so far, Ukyo,” Hyoga’s voice jolted Ukyo out of his attentive trance. Hyoga’s gaze had become fixed on him, almost expectant. His stare felt again like a search, waiting to judge his every move, though from here in the shadows Ukyo couldn’t make out the details of his eyes. “What do you think?” 

Briefly, Ukyo bit the inside of his lip, crossing his arms and looking down at the map. “That… might not be such a good idea,” he explained softly. “According to Gen, it’s over a day’s trip to the village, even running. The more individual groups we send, the greater the chances are of something going wrong. Someone could get lost along the way, or be discovered before they’re in position, and we’d have no easy way of communicating between groups since we don’t know where exactly each squad will be able to set up camp in that area. If we send Gen ahead, we should only have one group following him. In the worst case scenario, they should prioritize retreating before anyone can get too badly hurt and return here so we can regroup and rethink our strategy from the ground up.” He glanced up and around at everyone, gauging their reactions. His eyes mostly caught on Hyoga, still staring straight through him. He dropped his gaze to the ground once more. “Does that make sense?” 

“An excellent point,” Gen praised, demeanor once more perfectly composed. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.” 

 Tsukasa nodded along. “One squad, then. We will ensure we only send skilled fighters, and equip them with the best weapons we have been able to create.”

“How much of a lead will I be getting?” Gen tilted his head innocently. “I need to know how fast I’ll have to work.” 

“The sooner you leave, the more time you’ll have,” Hyoga promised him, voice cold. “We shouldn’t wait around too long before getting this over with.” 

“It’s true,” Tsukasa agreed. “Mother nature is an unpredictable mistress at this time of year. We should take advantage of the clear skies while we have them.”

“I’d like to have the attack team leave within a fortnight. If you’ve not left before then, we may as well abandon your ‘groundwork’ plan. In fact, perhaps it would be best for you to start preparing now,” Hyoga suggested. Ukyo felt a shiver spread down his spine as he realized where this was going. “It’s never too early to begin, after all.”

Gen seemed taken aback as well. Clearly, he also had not been expecting himself to be sent away so suddenly. “I understand that we don’t have unlimited time,” Gen said, “But why the rush now?” 

“The only thing left is to discuss who we will be sending,” Hyoga stated as if it were the most obvious reason in the world to be casting Gen out of the meeting. “As I understand it, you’ve hardly been here longer than me. You have offered your advice. There is little else we require you for.” 

Ukyo figured Gen must have understood the reason for Hyoga’s change in behavior based on the way he hesitated, but nodded without putting up a fight. To Ukyo, he was still unsure. 

Part of him wanted to defend Gen’s right to be there (a voice he quieted so as not to jump the ship to treason too quickly, especially when there were so many unknowns). Part of him didn’t want to say another word so long as Hyoga was in the room.  

But then, he thought, maybe that was the point. Despite not even being among those with a real leadership role, Gen had decidedly led the conversation down the path he most desired. Ukyo had a heads up that this might happen, knowing already that Gen was a traitor, but maybe Hyoga had somehow sensed it, too. 

Tsukasa was, of course, none the wiser. 

Minami seemed a bit confused, but did not protest Gen’s leaving. Once he was gone, she turned to Hyoga and Tsukasa, and asked, “Do you already have anyone in mind?” 

Hyoga turned his head towards Tsukasa. “Those men who accompanied you to my revival. What were their names again?” 

It didn’t take long to settle on who would make up the unit, with Hyoga leading the charge to ensure their victory. There was a bit of debate on which of the seven or so to leave behind, not that Ukyo could contribute much. He might know these people better than Gen, but as less of a personality and more of a keeper among their leadership, he didn’t have anything to say that Tsukasa and Minami didn’t already cover. He wanted to leave, almost made an excuse to. But it seemed like each time he had just about worked up the courage to do so, Hyoga caught something about the way his feet shifted or his eyes darted towards the cave’s exit, and instead asked him some arbitrary question that either of the others would have been more suited to answer just to keep him there a little while longer. 

The one strange request Hyoga made was for a specific revival—a gymnast of some sort—which was probably the sole reason he was giving them a couple weeks instead of days. Whatever his plan with her was, he didn’t say, but Tsukasa apparently trusted Hyoga too much to need an explanation and Ukyo was too afraid of drawing this out to ask. 

There was a moment where Ukyo thought the conversation might be winding down. Hyoga seemed satisfied, anyway, but then Tsukasa started to say something about supplies and Ukyo was about ready to submit himself to the horrible reality that they would be talking logistics until the sun went down. His salvation came in the form of Uei Yo, of all people, who appeared in a rush and quickly took on a pose he must have thought looked cool, leaning faux-casually against the entry wall. 

He’d run here. Even if Ukyo were too distracted by his own nerves to notice his footsteps, he’d be able to tell. Yo’s heart was still racing. 

“Yo. I—uh—heard you guys were having a super important meeting about strategy and stuff. Must have forgotten to invite me.” His swagger may have been fake, but the arrogance in his voice was real as could be. “But I’m sure it’s not too late for me to offer my wisdom. As a former cop, you know.” 

There was a moment where they all just stared at him, too baffled by his presumption to respond. 

Hyoga turned to Tsukasa. “Who is this boy?”

Ukyo could practically hear the off-key base cord behind Yo’s flummoxed reaction. That was understandable; despite all appearances, Yo was one of the oldest revivees so far. Right in his early twenties along with Ukyo, Minami, and now Hyoga. He did need to stop forcing himself into leadership meetings, though. 

Tsukasa introduced Yo as their “patrol leader,” a title Ukyo and Minami had both quickly regretted agreeing to. Yo liked to take the term “leader” more literally than it was intended; he usually led the patrol parties, true, and he was often the one left in charge of containing fights or dealing with instigators if Ukyo and Tsukasa were unavailable, but he was not fit to assist them in larger decision making. By all means, his work in patrols fell directly under Ukyo’s job of managing the scouts. Yo was supposed to report to Ukyo directly before making changes to his schedules. He never did, but that was the least of his issues. 

“I see,” said Hyoga, unimpressed. “Well, if there’s nothing else pressing, I’m sure we can finish discussing technicalities tomorrow.” 

“What?” Yo was taken aback, still occupying the entryway. Ukyo might have started edging towards it if he weren’t. “You’re finished already?” 

Another hum from Tsukasa. “Actually, Yo, while you’re here, we wanted to request some of your men for a mission.” 

“WHAT?” 

“I’ll leave that to the two of you.” Hyoga did not look at anyone in particular when he said this, but must have been addressing Tsukasa and Minami, as he continued, “Ukyo,” this time looking him in the eye. Probably. It was a little hard to tell in the shadows, actually. “Would you mind showing me where I might be able to set up a sleeping area for tonight?” The way he turned to the exit suggested less that he intended to follow Ukyo and more that he wanted Ukyo to follow him. “Somewhere private. I don’t do well with snoring.”

If anyone was confused by this sudden request, they didn’t show it, and did not interrupt to save Ukyo as he faltered. Without an excuse and in the presence of three people he very much did not want to think he already hated Hyoga for no discernible reason, Ukyo forced himself to say, “Sure thing,” and followed Hyoga out of the cave. 

They walked for a while, side-by-side in a manner that made it unclear who was leading who. When they came to a pass where Ukyo knew turning right would take them to one of the quieter sleeping areas, he tried to guide them that way. Held onto the slightest hope that Hyoga’s request had been literal. 

That hope was dashed as Hyoga grabbed his sleeve and led him in a different direction, further away from the main camp or anywhere people were likely to be. He did not let go for the better part of five minutes. A thick wad of anxiety grew in Ukyo’s throat.

They kept walking until the sparse, rocky terrain gave way to forest, and then some. The sun was low in the sky, low enough that they only had a couple hours before nightfall, and Ukyo knew they were in for a dark night—maybe a new moon, though he wasn’t an expert on the lunar cycle. He just knew that waning crescent had looked rather dim last night. 

At some couple hundred meters or so away from anything resembling an active camping area, Hyoga finally spoke. “What a coincidence this is.” 

Ukyo opened his mouth to say something, probably some loose agreement like “Yeah, I guess so,” but found that his vocal cords had decided not to work. Instead, he just nodded. 

“I used to wonder if I would ever be able to meet one of you.” Still walking, Hyoga did not look at him, even as Ukyo stared cautiously back. Was it too late to book it? “With all the complications, I’d thought I’d lose the chance. And yet...” 

The only response Ukyo could offer was silence. 

With the way his cloak fell over his torso and practically to his feet, Hyoga almost appeared to be gliding over the terrain. The stillness with which he held his upper body as they moved only exaggerated this image. It was as if he were a ghost. 

Hyoga brought them to a halt and turned to face him. “You’re afraid of me,” he stated.

Ukyo hesitated. Carefully removed his hand from where he had at some point begun gripping his bow. Seeing no purpose in lying, he answered, “Yes.” 

Hyoga didn’t react to this. He must have known for a while, perhaps even noticed his nerves the very moment they met.

“You don’t need to be,” Hyoga told him. 

Ukyo was sure his doubt showed on his face. How can I be sure of that? 

“We aren’t so different just because my conception was more natural than yours. I was a sort of subject too. All those annoying tests every half a year—” 

“Month,” Ukyo interrupted before he could think better of it.

Hyoga’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “What was that?”

Fighting every instinct to stay silent, Ukyo explained, “For us, it was every month. Once every three after we turned fifteen.” Not even half his life ago, ignoring the time he spent petrified. 

For several seconds, Hyoga just stared. “I see,” he said, looking away. “Clearly you had it much worse than me. I’m sorry.” 

Already regretting his choice to speak, Ukyo shook his head. Shoved down the cruel wad of envy in his throat. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your idea or anything.” He bowed slightly in lieu of an apology. “You were a victim like us. I shouldn’t diminish that.” 

“But you’re afraid of me anyway?” 

For this, Ukyo had no explanation. No rational one, anyway. He only kept his head down so the brim of his hat hid his face. When Hyoga’s hand appeared in his vision, reaching towards his face, he could not stop himself from jumping away. 

“Three years away,” Hyoga whispered as if to himself, “And you’re still this eager to run? Surely it isn’t just my appearance.” 

 Three years away, and he’d almost been able to pretend he was his own person. “You look like them,” was all he said. 

“Hm? Impossible. You’ve never met them. Our parents weren’t even directly involved in the experiments. How could you—” 

“Not them, ” Ukyo’s resentment boiled over and his expression hardened. He would beg to differ, and besides, those people were not his parents. “I haven’t met your parents. I mean the others.” 

He could feel his hands shaking and clenched them, forcing himself to get a grip before his voice could waver any louder. A couple misunderstandings were nothing to lose his temper over, even if he had been on edge all afternoon. 

“Ah,” said Hyoga, “So that’s what this tantrum is about.” And before Ukyo could decide whether he should be insulted by that, he was wrapped in Hyoga’s arms. 

It was an awkward embrace. Ukyo stood stiffly with his arms down by his sides, and while Hyoga was certainly taller than him, he still had to push Ukyo’s head down a bit with his own in order to rest his chin on his hat. Not to mention, Ukyo was very much not expecting to be pulled against what he was just now processing to be the very bare chest of someone he barely knew.

Yet here they were. Hyoga holding onto him tightly enough that Ukyo wouldn’t have been able to move, let alone escape, even if he had the mental capacity to try. Ukyo’s mind struggling to play catch up with all of the horrible feelings Hyoga had dredged to the surface. 

“I’m truly sorry for those you’ve lost,” Hyoga said in what almost resembled a soothing voice. “All those helpless children. Probably like siblings to you. It must have been terrible, watching them pass on one after the other. Not one of them deserved it. And all the while, you were left wondering if you would be next.”

Ukyo felt each sentence find its mark far too close to home. He only realized he’d already started crying when the first sob tore through his throat. 

“It’s alright,” Hyoga shushed him, “I understand. Even I was afraid for a time. We didn’t know for sure whether it was the alterations or if the base genes themselves held a recipe for some ailment they missed. To hold on to not only that existential fear, but grief? All for so long, from such a young age… I can’t begin to imagine it.”

Any attempt to school himself into measuring his breathing was doomed from the start. All Ukyo could do as he felt himself crack open with all the stress of the day, his life, forever was hide his face in the fur collar of Hyoga’s cloak, in the crook of Hyoga’s neck. Guided there by a chin on his head.

Hyoga rubbed circles into his back. “And yet, here you are. The only one still alive and well when all of you should have been here together.” The other hand found its way into his hair at the nape of his neck and held him there. Grounding. Firm. “You are one of a very rare breed, little rabbit. A survivor among the damned. A proper miracle.” 

For some time, Ukyo cried. Possessed by the strength to move, he balled his hands in the smooth hide of the cloak. Hyoga held him as he struggled, then as his sobs died down. Finally, when he was calm enough to regain the slightest bit of control, Ukyo tried to let himself appreciate the comfort of having another hold him so freely. But no sooner had he reached this point than did Hyoga pull away, leaving him cold and hiccuping in the evening breeze. A hand on either shoulder, holding him there, were the only points of contact that remained.

“Look at me,” Hyoga ordered. Ukyo looked up at his masked face, still so close his heartbeat was an even drum in Ukyo’s ears. “You won’t be alone any longer. I have you.” He squeezed his shoulders for emphasis, then let him go and stepped away. “Now, get a hold of yourself. We should be getting back to camp soon, after all I still haven’t set up proper sleeping arrangements.” He spared a glance back over his shoulder. “But before that, we should find somewhere for you to clean up. You look awful.” 

Maybe a bit rude, but he had dealt with worse. Besides, he probably did look terrible, and Ukyo didn’t want anymore than Hyoga for someone to see them coming back while Ukyo still had tears stains on his face and snot leaking from his nose. He wiped his cheeks with his palms and nodded. “Right,” he said, finding his voice more rough and muted than he expected it to be. “Right. Um, there’s a river this way.” 

“Lead the way.” 

Despite his words, they ended up walking side-by-side in a manner that made it unclear who was leading who.