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Being picked apart was far more familiar than a gentle caress or cheerful congratulations he saw exchanged from time to time. 'Affections' and 'Kuga' were not words commonly placed in the same category by the boy's account. Perhaps, despite his father's dying love, those two concepts had never intersected properly. All to say that when he was confronted in Headquarters, over a year after his initial enlistment, he was scant surprised.
Disappointed perhaps that the dissenters of his current existence took the form of poorly positioned C-ranks looking to vent rather than well-armed A ranks who hated him on account of his birth. The attacks felt less personal when he knew anyone branded a neighbor would be treated equally poorly in their eyes. Not to mention, with the presence of a blade bared he had the right to defend himself from the physical assaults. While he was quick to parse a situation and act accordingly, he always found a falter within himself when it came to attacks of a more convoluted variety. What weapons were he to use against words? Especially in this space of sanctity?
Yuma was attempting to meet up with Ko and Kage for a few matches before heading over to the Kageura family restaurant. The three agreed to have dinner, and even invited their respective teams, in celebration of their current ranks all being in the upper division for three weeks in a row this season. He got the request to come to HQ for some matches a bit late and already knew that Kageura would be throwing a fit. No doubt he and Ko had already gone a few matches themselves. He hated making people wait almost as much as he hated missing out on time spent with people who actually meant it when they desired to spend time with him too. Of course, such meetings were almost exclusively to train for fighting but the constant treats after and ventures into civilian centers with him in tow was thoroughly mind-altering.
He was near frantic to soak up ever second he could; selfishly seeking solace. Even if the time they spent together was silent or somewhat strained by the consistent, consensual, assaults within the sparring ring. There was no ring when he stopped to see if some of the strangers he sighted could help sort his frazzled mind. If he could get to the elevators again then maybe-
"Excuse me, do you know how to get to the solo rank war booths from here?"
"Huh?"
"Who the hell's this guy?"
"Do you know where the elevators? If you could point-"
"You supposed to be here kid, ya know this is a military base, don't ya?"
"Doesn't seem too bright to me."
"Yeah, what kind of parents let their kid dye his hair? White of all things..."
"Like a clump of toilet paper."
"Where do you get off thinking you can just waltz over and talk to us anyway?"
"If you are unsure-" Yuma attempted to retreat, slightly surprised by the sudden hostility and regretting the decision he made earlier to keep his Border trigger off until he met with the others. Since this sparring session was a surprise, he had drained a decent amount of trion sparring Konami earlier and was hoping to recover a bit before going toe to toe with more top attackers.
Cutting words were all but expected when he sought people out on the other side, especially in the absence of his father. Yuma had, however, grown accustomed to people practicing a bit more decorum this side of the gate. He couldn't help the budding remorse that rolled round his rib-cage's remnants.
"Unsure? I could walk this base blind-folded freak!"
"You're the one whose lost."
"Bothering strangers. Bumbling around. Seems to me the rumors of you being a good for nothing outside of battle are true."
"I'd be embarrassed if I made it all the way to upper B rank without knowing one hall to the next. Guess you're only good in combat after all."
"You know who this is?"
"Yeah, he's an attacker for Tamakoma-2."
"The super small guy that gets rag-dolled around when Tamakoma's ace Hyuse isn't around to cover him with viper."
"Oh... That guy, I remember now. You're right, he's the little white shadow they have clean up for Hyuse and the cannon."
"We've all seen the logs."
"Yeah, the one's from a year ago where he looks the same? Pretty creepy if ya ask me."
"Kind of weird he looks the same then as he does now, yeah..."
"Word gets around. People talk."
"You think some freak like you is gonna get away with strutting around base?"
"We've all heard. Even took the time to got through old match logs ourselves, just to see if the rumors were true. Seems to be the case. You're just as short as the day you enrolled shrimp; same shitty hairstyle too."
"I knew border accepted young agents but damn. Got anything to say about your not growing up, freak?"
"My name is-" Yuma tried to interject.
"Yeah, I don't care. How bout you let us see that trigger of yours for a minute?"
"Fighting outside of rank war-" Tightness coiled deeper round and round the guts he didn't have, neither to process food or offer dissent against them. Their thoughts ran too close to reality for comfort; brought forth reminders of the whispers he'd heard off the lips of B and A rank agents. People he respected as colleagues and warriors alike. Whispers of his weirdness and wildly foreign looks; as though the truth of his situation weren't odd enough.
"-Battles is strictly prohibited. Wah, wah wah. We know, dumbass."
"Who said anything about fighting? All I wanna know is if you were serious enough about trying to pull off this bed sheet look you got going on that you actually programmed your trion body to have white hair too?"
"Isn't that embarrassing for ya, huh? You can change the settings on that you know. The dye might be harder to get out."
"I do not use dye-"
"What? You expect us to believe your hair just looks like that?"
"Short freak like you?"
"Maybe he got in an accident."
"Stunted his growth turned his hair white-"
"That what made his eyes so creepy too?"
"You know, you remind me of dolls my sister had." Hands latched onto his arms. He was yanked back by the hair arms outstretched; the familiar pull of someone who saw a target for their anger within himself. In the past, this was the point where Replica would reaffirm: that he had just as much right to be here as them, that Kido tolerated his presence enough to stop sending assassins, that whether or not to fight was his decision. There was no voice in his corner now. Static rung low as similar circumstances bounced back from the other side, unwelcome and vengefully painful, rattled round whatever remained within his skull.
"You know what we used to do to those dolls? We'd tear their limbs apart and see if we could burn their eyes out on the stove. Usually all we got is a pile of rubber. Wouldn't it be interesting to find out if white hair burns as well as black?"
There were at least five ways to evade this hold despite being out-numbered. His father drilled every last one into his head by the time he was nine. Better deterrent for kidnappings than nothing. 'Take care of your own problems by yourself; I won't always be here to bail you out; better get used to it.' His father said before leaving him at the mercy of the three older kids that ganged up on him. Those bloodied blows did not hurt nearly so much as the remorse ringing throughout him now.
The C ranks still seemed to be saying something, he could hear warbled words as though water-bound; more a blurred expression of moving sneers at plumes of smoke than sayings he could understand. He barely felt the blows that battered him while smoke streamed about and memories smashed him like a shipwreck into an meteor belt: volatile, inevitable, shrapnel everywhere lingering devastation.
Yuma Kuga was spoken of as strong. Not the strongest by any means. Others were far stronger, more experienced, better armed, prepared or blessed with allies in a way he could never hope to be. He was bred and bled to be strong. The bare minimum to survive. He knew, despite Osamu's insistent altruism, that certain enemies persisted. Knew not all problems preached had solutions. Some people simply reveled in the infliction of suffering upon others, usually as a means to alleviate their own, though sometimes simply to see the side effect of their own supposed strength.
His heart always had a hard time when it came to confrontation; a hypocritical irritation that writhed beneath his trion flesh and goaded him to lash out. He cradled distant memories of Tsuchugami waddling from ruin to freshly forged ruin re-shaping the landscape into a habitable space after yet another attack stained home shaped holes in the neighborhood of his memories. He was told then that he took after his mother, who reached for a hand to help the wounded in the aftermath, as opposed to his father who reached for his blade before the blows had bounced away.
Every world, every place and time, all harbored people who would strive to inflict harm for one reason or another. He was proud to say he was the son of such a man, who used his violent tendencies to protect those weaker than himself. Like Yuma at the time. In the same manner Osamu did now.
Neither Osamu nor his father stood by him while the circle of C ranks jeered. Sure he could shake this off, walk away, but would they target Tamakoma? His branch, his team, the people who allowed him to practice being a person in their presence, would they be affected by his lack of control? Better then to perform pacifism, as Osamu preached, as his mother practiced. Yet deep down he knew. In the twisted, rotted, claustrophobic columns of his mind he knew that people of such sadistic nature, who preached strength while flaying the weak, would persist unless deterred. His father firmly believed in the fight of fire against fire. Yet Osamu stayed insistent that violence solved nothing: barbaric, beneath them, better saved for situations of utter emergency or controlled training rather than targeted inconvenience. Strength stood when spotlit for the weak not against them. He was forbidden from using as much as a solution. No means to an end bound by broken bones. 'You're sinking to their level when you just respond back with blood.'
While Yuma lost the right to suffer and bleed some time ago, he sat with said conviction of his friends. Having seen the relative peace that was possible in Mikado City, he had no desire to perpetuate actions that would undermine such a state. Especially where Border was involved. He would defend himself, just as his father taught him to, but beyond that? Was the conflict not wasted when the only person who needed defending was himself? Previously, he refused to take anything laying down. These days he felt more and more deserving of such treatment. Besides, were he to talk back, would there not be consequences for his team? Were he to retaliate, would Kido consider such dis-obedience? For creating conflict, could he be made to carry his black trigger back to the Border executives? Would he reduce himself to all but a weapon if he bared a blade here? Who would offer dissent against firm truths anyway?
"C'mon monster, just tell us why you look so weird!"
"The shortness, the hair, the beady eyes, you may as well be a skeleton!"
"Or an albino rat!"
"I'm feeling like an exterminator so how about-"
"What's all this? Bad enough that you're late but you're letting these morons get away with that?!"
"I-it's Kageura"
"And Murakami! But why are they-"
"We can explain! He started it- attacked us- we were just defending ourselves!"
"If that were true your trion bodies would be in ribbons already." Kageura all but growled. He had one hand in his pocket, head angled down. His stance seemed all but lazy to an untrained eye and unnaturally lethal to those who knew him or his battle prowess; like a tiger pretending to lounge before lunging at it's prey.
"Release Kuga now; he's a fellow agent." Murakami's voice, surprisingly to Kuga, sounded similarly stressed. There was a tautness to his shoulders and a stiffness to his stance that was rarely seen. In contrast to the familiarity of his counterpart's casualness, Murakami looked like a live-wire just waiting for someone foolish enough to latch onto the bait.
"We deserve to know why this guy doesn't age! It's creepy! He some kind of secret trion experiment or what?!"
"Oi-"
"Hey-"
"Or maybe just a failed-" Kage's scorpion soundly silenced any resolution to the C-rank's sentence. Kuga stood stock still as two whirlwinds whipped by, immediately after the mantis strike decapitated the one clutching his arms, to slice through the forms of the two other agents. Smoke scattered thinly as the three C ranks were ripped from their trion forms near instantly. One took off immediately while the others backed up a bit, at least un-clamping their hands from his body. The memories assaulting Yuma slid back slightly with the retreat of their forms.
"I suggest you get lost. Pretty embarrassing to throw out your trion body by tripping over your feet like that."
"We didn't do anything wrong! We just want to know-"
"Who says you deserve to? Everyone has the right to privacy and assaulting fellow agents is no acceptable way to ask questions."
"Last warning for you to scram."
"This is crazy; why are you ganging up on us?!"
"If you don't get out of our sight now, we will be reporting this incident. Not just to agents Kazama, Azuma, and Arashiyama who over see C-rank training and evaluations, but Directors Shinoda and Kido who decide whether you have a future at Border or not."
"Something like him isn't worth black-mailing over!" Kageura lunged forward; a false charged with the desired result. One of the C ranks squeaked as he pulled back his overly antagonistic companion a pace or two further down the hall.
"Th-then we'll report an incident too! He attacked us! It's three against one."
"Yeah, you guys ganging up on him was a three on one. Now it's a two on three."
"Who do you think the directors will believe; three seasoned agents, all considered A class and highly decorated, or three freshly minted C ranks with a penchant for running their mouths?"
"Let's just get out of here, they don't know our names yet, they're still bluffing."
"Whatever, takes a freak to know a freak!" The two spat and withdrew completely, sneakers screeching towards the elevators. A cold quiet quickly flooded the space.
Yuma swallowed. Part of him wanted to tackle his seeming saviors in a hug and never let go. Realistically however, he wavered between wariness that the strangers' suspicions had sunken in and serious trepidation that two of the other attackers he respected and trained with most had just born witness to a shortcoming of such immense proportion right before them.
Absent of someone to direct his frustrations at Kageura whirled around to assess the young agent he and Murakami had sought out after failing to arrive on time or answer his phone. The other nineteen year old, meanwhile, rushed to Kuga's side in steps both hurried and weary. He wanted to kneel down and fuss almost as much as he wanted to reassert their tentative 'normal' as a group. The teasing, the ruffling of hair, the easy smiles. All such sentiments felt disingenuous in the face of their younger friend. Kuga still seemed dazed; eyes unfocused and attention scattered.
"Did they hurt you at all? Are you okay?" Kuga shook his head but, with the degree his head was angled, whether the half-hearted motion was meant to indicate affirmation or dissent could have been anyone's guess. Ko cast his eyes to Kage; uncharacteristic uncertainty given the strangeness of the situation. His friend had no qualms taking the lead as he stomped over, steps slow and deliberate while he scanned the youngest for signs of injury.
"Why didn't you tear them to shreds idiot?!"
In the past he had no such reservations standing his ground, establishing he was not to be messed with. However the weeks turned to months without Replica had worn away at him. As impossible as living without his father was, living without a friendly reminder that he was the one to make his own decision, that he was someone beyond any title or false claim laid at his feet, was somehow even more of a struggle than Yuma imagined.
"They were not serious in their threats." Kuga started in defense of absolute strangers. Kage scoffed and internally Ko couldn't help but agree. For as absurd as Kuga often claimed his captain was about priorities, his own seemed awfully skewed himself.
"Obviously."
"Anyone whose smelt hair burning before would not be eager to ignite more."
"Do you have experience with that...?"
"For real? What's it smell like?"
"Kage!"
"It reeks. Similar to burning flesh but... Sharper. Less rotten and more... I do not know enough words in Japanese to describe..." He tensed and gestured vaguely with his hand but was only able to clearly communicate his own frustrations rather than the nuances of his aversion. This wasn't a weakness, or an excuse, just-
"Hey, you don't have to force yourself."
"What'd those bastards want with you anyway?"
"Nothing. Nothing I- Just stopped to ask directions. You know how incompetent I am outside of battle so-" Kuga's eyes had long since left the hallway, downcast somewhere by the living agents' ankles while his awareness wandered unwillingly to worlds unseen by others earth-bound. His companions kept yanking him back with insistent calls. Sharp yet open; honest in their eyes. The air was clear.
"Oi! Who the hell said that?!"
"That's not true."
"It is the truth. Had I not gotten lost, if I was only on time then neither of you would have had to get in an altercation."
"Don't worry about that-"
"But mister Kageura already lost points for fighting outside of rank battles; the last thing I want is for him to fall further. You may not care about your points, but it matters to me if I was the reason you are not at your full potential. I will talk with Shinoda and Kido at once."
"Kuga-"
"This was my fault-"
"Yuma please! Just sit down with us and let's take a few minutes..." Ko caught the tremors that tumbled throughout the younger agent. Short of wearing a hole through the floor with his pacing, little could be done in the open to assuage the near violent tremors which rattled his system. The byproduct of repression no doubt. Worse than the words themselves was the sincerity with which Kuga spoke them. Ko knelt down before Kuga's path, just shy of grabbing his shoulder but aborting to just keeping to keep his hands visible. Kuga hadn't flinched but Ko recognized this particular brand of fear from personal experience.
"Have those guys bothered you before?"
"No."
"Do you know them?" Kage stepped up behind Ko, staring their friend down as his shaking stilled and his tone slipped dangerously toward an even drawl. Responsive but dissociative? He wasn't a therapist, how were they supposed to deal with this? Luckily, the other scorpion user carried on undeterred, calm and confident.
"Ever seen them around before?"
"No, today was the first time we saw each other, to my knowledge."
The older agents shared a look mapping out their own investigations.
"Look, I am telling you the truth. This sort of thing simply happens, please-"
"No it doesn't Yuma. These things don't just happen and your dismissal of an incident like this, your insistence that it's fine or you're somehow okay with this, while admirable, is really concerning. Forgive me for asking but... Were you bullied a lot as a kid?"
He shrugged though a tightness had taken over him too.
"No one can get along with everybody, no matter how easy-going you try to be. And at a certain point running and distractions are ineffective. I try to avoid conflict as best I can, but usually taking care of things like this is the quickest way to make them stop."
"Is that a yes then...?"
"I do not know- I-" Kuga kept casting his gaze about the empty hall. With a sigh, Ko rose and walked towards the Kageura squad-room. Of the three, Kage was the only one with a designated operations room at HQ. Hopefully, Zoe would be there to ask anyone who may be lingering at the moment to provide them privacy for awhile. Luckily the walk was short.
Both of the older agents were quick to usher Yuma onto the sofa and take up position on other side of him as pillars with enough distance between to feel supported rather than caged in. He still reviewed exit strategies in his head while attempting to pacify the others' wasted worries and wound his fingers a little too tightly around his upper arms. Crossed though they were a slight shake still ailed Yuma. He drove his fingernails down deeper.
"We moved around a lot when I was younger. There were not specific people that made living challenging, life was simply hard and the faces that made it so changed. It is normal."
"No. Trust me, I've been bullied too. Switched schools once, and it didn't change much. And I'm way less tolerant of that kinda crap than you are! But cause I've had to deal with nonsense like that I know. It's not normal." Kage insisted.
"Well it is for me. This is just something that happens, or that I attract. It is simply something I live with. Sorry again that you had to get involved. Next time, please allow me to take care of my problems myself."
"No."
"Not happening."
"But-"
"You think I'll just stand around and watch my friend get insulted? Berated? Harassed for absolutely no reason by a couple of nobodies? I thought you knew me, Kuga. You think I'd let something like that slide? Are you serious?"
"Not for your friends, of course not."
"Then why are you sitting around acting like this is something you need to handle alone?" Ko caught him off-guard.
"I- Well because we are just..."
"We're just what?" Kage growled.
"What? Don't you think of us as friends Kuga? With the amount of times we've bought you dinner?"
"I did not think... I thought you were just being nice. You are both very compassionate people so even though I hoped..." In the first few days of coming to Japan, he was quite eager to find friends for himself; had bent over backwards to keep them while uncertainly stating to the wind that he was connected to said people. Replica always encouraged him to connect with others. His fingers dug deeper into the fake flesh of his arms; pressured even through his hoodie's fabric. A desperate bid to remain focused. To seem calm.
"You're kidding right?"
His eyes were uncertain. Kuga was confident, precise, efficient. He never wavered, faltered, hesitated. One of the traits both nineteen year olds admired most in the combat style of the youngest attacker. Yet here he stood. Mouth slightly agape, eyes wide, shoulders stiff. Kuga looked two steps away from jumping from his seat or crying. Possibly both.
"You really think we are friends...?"
"Do you not?!"
"I was unsure if that was allowed-"
"What're you saying?"
"Obviously!" Kage couldn't quite contain himself any longer. Quite transparently, with visible self restraint, he latched an arm around Yuma's shoulders and shimmied further into his space. Yuma went rigid half hug. Ko took the time to scoot closer himself. He sat with the pair as Kuga's shoulders strained in their attempts at staying still. Shivers snuck through unbidden and the boy all but bowed his head. Despite the seeming fragility his form had fallen to, his voice remained remarkably steady; despite the words he chose to convey with it.
"Are we really friends?"
"Of course we are!"
"I didn't think it needed to be said, dummy!"
His small body shook from the force of silenced sobs. There were no tears despite the sadness Ko felt echoed across his own quivering breaths. He felt a few warm streaks slip slowly as he reached out to stroke circles round Yuma's spine; more to soothe himself than anything.
"I do not want to hurt you. Or overly complicate things. I am sorry."
For the first time Kage felt fragments of emotions prickle through his side effect, from Kuga's distress no less, straight to the back of his neck. A blindingly cold sort of sensation; more shocking than painful. This emotion was something akin to relief. The first few deep breaths after waking from a nightmare. A warm drink after an evening in the cold. Yet still he sensed doubt clinging on like cobwebs.
"Why would you even think that?"
"...Because I am not real." Kuga croaked out. While his voice was growing steadier again, his shoulders stayed with their steady shake.
"Not in the same way as either of you, flesh and blood, breathing properly I am just- I am a corpse. A dis-obedient remnant. I should have died completely a long time ago."
"Of course you're real!"
"Stop speaking crazy for a second, okay; what's this about your body?"
"Mine is dying." Spoken with utter indifference. Disinterested. Distant. Dust in the wind.
CRACK.
A few seconds later Yuma was no longer the only one able to see black smoke drifting upwards.
Thin plumes crept up from the hole in his hood. Whispers past his ears of irredeemable confirmation of his falsity as 'someone'.
Kage was caught completely off-guard by the sheer sincerity of his statement. With a wobbly voice Ko trudged on. He found it hard to fetter his fingers from clinging to Kuga; to disprove his claim if only to reassure himself.
"Are you okay?" Kuga nodded affirmatively.
"Does this have anything to do with what you were being harassed about earlier? Your hair and height...?"
"The answer won't make a difference you know; or even if you don't tell us we'll still be your friends, alright? Hell you could dye your hair hot pink and not only pull it off but still be one of the strongest attackers in Border. Those low lives are just jealous."
"I bet you wondered about mt appearance though. If I stick around long enough people always ask questions."
"...I would be lying if I said I never wondered. But have we ever asked you about it before?" This time Kage glowered over at Ko for this lack of specificity. However he wanted their friend to fill in the details himself.
Yuma slowly shook his head no. His fingers had loosened their vice grip on his sleeves considerably. A few seconds later the smoke ceased it's stream. A trickle to nothing. He swallowed once. Flexed the fingers of his left hand faintly then carried on with a downcast gaze.
"Thank you for never being nosy about it but if you ask, I will tell you." The older agents shared yet another look over their friend's head.
His shoulders shifted slightly as he took a breath, greedily claimed another and began to ponder an answer for the question they both kept unasked. The same question the pair had hypothesized answers for since the weeks following their respective initial clashes with Kuga. Only a month or two after being around the attacker was enough to pick up on it really. Cruel as the strangers before were, as they all but sawed the boy apart with crude inquiry, the oddities they pointed out were secretly discussed more than Ko or Kage cared to admit. Not that they participated in the gossip and pointed stares that would roll Kuga's way at Headquarters whenever the rumor-mill ran low on something fresh. But a few late nights, after Kuga had been returned to his own base, their friend group, consisting of Ko, Kage, Toma, Kitazoe and Suwa asked questions about their newest edition.
Where was he really from? Some remote island? Military kid? A small country across the globe? The middle of a jungle perhaps? Where was he born? Where all had he traveled? The Philippines? Canada? Cuba? Columbia? Antarctica? Why did he seem to suppress sheer amazement at floating balloons or bonito flakes while poorly hiding flinches into a fighting stance from fireworks and cars backfiring? Why was he virtually illiterate upon moving to Japan? How had he moved to Japan if he was only fifteen? By then, each and every one of them had mentioned something about their family. Shared a story, sited their members, spoke thanks into the void that the ones who held them close and the place they called home was safe. Kuga never told anyone anything about his personal life, only letting through chips and crevices here in the things he could not keep hidden rather than what he shared. A fact that Kage found infuriating since they are genuinely open and honest. Or so he seemed. After pitching a bit of a fit Ko calmed him with the counterpoint that none present had been brave enough to ask their friend directly. They all figured out, after their own initial bite back from him calling out a falsity with sharply accusatory certainty, how much Kuga loathed lies. Some days more than others, even joking half truths would make him grumble, always humorous in nature but sometimes they sensed a tenseness both attackers could catch from their own rough days. That is to say if they asked, he was certain they would receive a truthful response.
Any theories from aforementioned gatherings were rendered largely irrelevant post away mission. Toma was chastised quite heavily upon their return for being tight-lipped about Kuga's neighbor secret. They bore resentment no longer than a few minutes however; they understood the necessity and gag-order alike. Everyone who went on the mission was let into the fact that Hyuse and Kuga were actually neighbors and that Kuga himself was in possession of a black trigger. None had seen him fight, but apparently he had been ordered to use that trigger specifically for three classified missions in Aftokrator. Beyond that, Kuga conducted himself in the same manner as most of the other Border agents on the ship. Except for his relative lack of awe considering what had excited him on Earth. Kuga was far more curious about the wiring of street lights in Mikado City than how torches were ignited across towns in the Neighborhood. After seeing him try to re-assimilate to living in Japan, after their return, any doubts were cast aside. Kage had to yank him out of an intersection for ignoring traffic lights twice after all.
A few seconds later, of steadying himself, Yuma spoke up.
"I dis-obeyed a direct order when I was eleven and my body... Was unlikely to survive so- Dad made this trion body for me instead. My real body is sealed away in a black trigger; slowly dying. I do not know which day will be my last but... Not that it matters much."
"Of course it matters. You matter, Yuma."
"Please stop." He turned away from the affectations.
"Listen to Ko! Yuma, you are our friend and you matter to us!" Kage felt the cracks fracturing their friend's stoic appearance. One of the traits he valued most in Kuga was his willingness to be honest. Rudeness was hardly a thought when the forefront of his communication seemed to be unloading the most accurate information in the most efficient amount of time. He fought and spoke in a similar fashion. Yet the frayed feelings that started to smear from the youngest as he quite literally shook, fingers visibly digging down into his arms again as he hunched inwards. Doubt. Disbelief. Anger. Hope. Fear. A familiar form of fear. As seconds stretched the intensity and speed with which despairing waves of emotion rolled from the agent crumbling into himself was enough to steal Kage's breath. He loosened his grip on Kuga's shoulders and the younger wrenched his body farther from reach, narrowly and unknowingly avoiding a collision with Ko in his desperation to create space.
Ko called out before he caught Yuma in a gentle embrace. He stayed tense but didn't wriggle free again.
"You don't have to believe us. But I will repeat myself as many times as it takes for you to-"
"Stop! You cannot- It is impossible for us to- You do not even know me! You know nothing about- Any of it... I-" Kuga's breaths stumbled over each other as they fought off words from within. He never lashed out. Even when provoked Kuga was calm, collected; no action taken without reason. Until a few minutes ago, if asked, Kageura would have insisted Kuga was unburdened by emotion. Now the truth ensnared the trio like quicksand. Yuma was as weighed down by feelings as his other friends but was able to cinch down tight enough so as to bring them to heel with his ravaged mind. He did not throw emotions or perceptions of others around. Each emotion must be relegated, weighed down, the only one who ever came so close to being a mystery to him was Azuma who easily had almost ten years on the brat. While Kage struggled to parse the heavy truth that Kuga typically kept his feelings tucked so tightly to his chest that not even his stupidly hyper-sensitive side effect could detect as much, Ko stayed his ground and softly spoke into the static that sat with them.
"We will be here to listen to whatever you want to share. Nothing you say leaves this room. Please don't force yourself though. We can just sit in silence or-"
"Quiet would be a drag. We can watch some old rank logs if you don't want to share more. But I'd much rather beat into you the fact that we're friends. We're gonna care about you no matter what, so cut out the self-doubt and silly insistence you don't matter! 'Cause if you don't mean anything, what does that say about Ko and I, huh?"
"That is not- No, you guys are..." Ko fought off a smile while Kage glared down the boy with white hair; wide eyes. Kuga steadied himself with a series of slow sighs. The warmth of another and his own deep breaths soothed a frantic forgotten part of himself. He wanted to repay their persistent patience. The only retribution he could think to offer at the moment was words. The truths he coveted could be clarified. He already cracked away the lies of his normalcy with the frenzied grip on his own arm a few minutes ago. Yuma pulled away from Ko''s kind arms to carried out his resolve alone.
"Well, after my Dad died, saving me, I didn't care about much. I knew the military leaders in the nation where he died just wanted to use my trigger, so they could continue to fend off the enemy attack. I knew they were lying to me about my Dad wanting me to avenge his death; it was my fault after all so there was no one to go after. I knew they were lying about being glad I survived... After the war was over there was nothing for me to do. My friend suggested I return to Border and try to find a way to return to my body-"
"Your friend thought Border could help?"
"Do you think they can?"
"I do not know; never asked."
"Yuma!"
"What? You're just sitting around dying?!"
"I caused enough trouble when I got here, I wouldn't even know who to ask. Besides, that's not why I came to Border."
"If you didn't want to return to your body then why come here at all?" Kage all but spat at him, a snarl carved across his features. Yuma met his stare head on. Neutral, not a feeling to set off his side effect. Like always. Indifferent.
"I wanted to revive my Dad."
"Huh?"
"...He should have survived, everyone thought so, it was so obvious that the world would be better-"
"Please stop speaking like that Yuma, you're really scaring me."
"Speaking like what...?"
"As though you don't care about yourself. You're hearing us when we say you matter, right?"
"Sure. And I know you believe what you're saying is true."
"So why would you try to revive him? That's not even possible-"
"A black trigger holds all the trion of the person who made it, everything that they were, so I figured there might be a way... Especially if I were to use all my own trion as an energy source or something- I had to try! And I did! After the war ended I traveled the neighborhood: went to every nation with advanced trion programs, medical programs, non-hostile black trigger users, any lead we could find... A year of searching and nothing. I couldn't find a way to bring him back... I came to Border as a last resort. Dad used to talk about how amazing it was, in Meeden and I thought maybe they had a way to... Instead, Jin showed me Mogami Soichi. That was the only contact name my Dad provided. He didn't talk about Border very often; when he did it was never anything close to how the agency is now. Everything changed. And the one person my father trusted enough to tell me the name of, the man he told me to seek out should he die... He is dead too. Six months before Dad. We never would have met. So yeah, Border doesn't have the technology to bring him back either. A year of searching for nothing. I've been trapped in this body for almost five years now. My real one is sealed away, dying. I don't care about getting it back, I wouldn't last more than a few minutes anyway."
"That was in an active war-zone, without proper medical aid. If you were in a hospital, with surgeons on stand by and- and blood bags for a transfusion or something, then maybe-"
"There's a hole in my side Murakami."
"Yeah, well chain-smokers and cancer patients get their organs hacked out all the time, sure quality of life sucks but you can survive with a few pin-pricks in you. Just ask your captain."
"These ones are a little bigger than the injuries Osamu received. Not to in any way diminish his wounds, that was-"
"How much bigger?"
He drew a circle across his torso. Almost 1/5 of it was gone. Ko went completely rigid in his shock; jaw nearly slack. Kageura kept his gaze fixed on their shorter friend as he prattled off a regimented list of horror as though reciting a meeting log.
"I am also missing my right arm above the elbow, my left leg above the knee and my left eye was plucked out too; he attacker took of the socket with them than I would care to admit, not that it matters much."
"Hold up- you said their was no one to go after, to avenge his death, but there was an attacker... Did you get payback on the guy that did this to you?!"
"...Our paths never crossed again."
"And you didn't think to go out and get revenge?!"
"Kage..."
"This guy killed your father, right?!"
"No, I did."
"Kuga..."
Ko was caught between two men who sounded calm but were irrationally fixated on re-directing their anger.
"Pointing fingers won't solve anything; we're just happy that you've survived until now." Kage finally caved and cut his staring contest short to cast a glowering eye his way. His lips twitched slightly at his friend's disgruntled face but fell into focus again as Yuma twisted back around to stare somewhat suspiciously. Kage forged on.
"So what're you gonna do about it?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, 'what do you mean?'"
"Am I supposed to say it back again?"
"No, I think he was asking about what your plan is to get your real body back."
"Oh... Well I was not really planning on-"
"What? What do you mean you weren't really planning-"
"Let's settle down, I'm sure he has an explanation."
"No I never really had interest in-"
"Kage! Calm down. Yuma, please explain yourself quickly."
"As I said before, I would not even know who in Border to approach with such a query and the last thing I want to do is be a bother."
"Searching for solutions to a life or death problem is anything but bothersome."
"Yeah, everybody would be way more pissed if you dropped off the grid one day and we never heard from you again. The only thing selfish is you thinking you can run off and die on your own!"
"Kage, that's a bit-"
But the bear-hug Kageura loosely smothered Kuga in stirred up waves of warmth within himself. Yuma flinched away at first but slowly leaned into Kage's sturdy presence. He was reminded of the surprising softness of the civilian blankets he had been supplied in Japan as he reached around the older agent's back to awkwardly press his hands against the other. His uncertainty spoke volumes as near instantly he started to slink away. A fleetingly foolish attempt to retreat, from his efforts to return the hug, was aborted as Ko caught him and lightly latched onto both other attackers, enclosing them in yet another layer of warmth. The three stayed slotted together, sunken into one another despite the relatively broad expanse of the couch. Despite his quivers earlier Kuga stayed still and quiet. A softness settled across his shoulders; one neither of his friends could quite recall having felt before. His breaths were slower now too. While unsure whether such was indicative of how worked up Yuma was earlier or how soothed he was now was anyone's guess.
After a few minutes Kage shifted slightly to sneak a peak at Ko. His friend mimicked the motion as soon as he felt weighted eyes upon him. He shook his head ever so slightly. There would be time for the two of them to debrief later. They could spend as much time as necessary coming to terms with the contents and implications of all Yuma had been willing, and brave enough, to share with them later. They would carve out hours from their schedules if needed. For now, he wanted to stay present with Kuga, to make sure their own sentiments were communicated just as clearly. Yuma had never made so much sense to Ko before. Nor had he ever felt so afraid that the fall of a fellow agent may not come in the shape of an enemy. At least not an external one. He tightened his grip around his friends slightly as he spoke again.
"Thank you both for being my friends. And for listening I... Know it is not what you hoped to hear but..."
His determined breaths billowed lightly against bangs drained of color. His own decisions. He wanted to decide on a different one now. He looked them both in the eye as he continued. First Kage with a golden gaze steady and warming as the sun, then Ko whose dark eyes reminded him of the comforting space between spaces of the stars; a void reminiscent of the familiar Neighborhood.
"If I get the chance I want to tell you both more, if you want to listen, from my real body."
"Thank you for telling us Yuma. Thank you for sticking around. Thank you for being our friend."
"Stop stressing us out so much; just call the next time you need help. Not whether you want it or not. I want to hear your whining when you think I'd get mad at you for not calling, you hear?"
"He's right you know. Doesn't matter what time it is or what you need help with. We'll be here for you and we know you will do the same." Ko cast a hand through snow white locks. For what felt like the first time since they found him earlier, Yuma was back to relaxing into the familiar touch again. Neither could stop their smile as Kage loudly joined in. He similarly, though a bit rougher, tousled Yuma's hair about.
"I meant what I said, Yuma! You better start calling me an annoying amount. I'd rather have to tell you to call less then hear about something like this happening again, understand?"
"Yes." Yuma was able to slip a smile through the face drawn out to stay sullen.
"Thank you both..." For a second, Kage swore he felt another feeling crack through. One of the reasons he coveted Kuga's presence was his seemingly innate nature not to trigger his side effect. He wanted to think that he would start to cut the other out if episodes like this picked up in frequency, but in truth he knew they would only make him want to spend more time with the kid. He need not even bother playing pretend with the thought however. The feeling he felt fall through Yuma's walls was unique; a sunbeam against his sensitive skin. Gratitude. Resignation. Wonder. Nothingness stole the sensations all too soon; Yuma continued to keep his mind a maze. But he would follow his friend around as many corners as it took to sit with him, to protect him from strangers and his fragmented thoughts alike.
"Always."
"Don't mention it."
They three only huddled around the squad-room for a few more minutes before Yuma insisted they return to their initial goal of sparring. Apparently, Ko's double whirlwind move from the hall had inspired a few new ideas of his own. Neither of the older agents objected, with Kage cackled and starting to rough house as they shifted to walking back to the booths. By all means, Yuma appeared completely himself, inconspicuously un-phased. Ko new better than to take the slight smile he saw now for granted. Kage caught his gaze one last time, a warning to save their worried yelling for a more private moment. While they had been rattled by the language and animosity Yuma displayed in regard to himself, they both were also similarly reassured knowing that their younger friend understood he could ask for help, was cared for, and would be protected. All boons they had started to doubt he had consistent access too as a kid.
A smirk quirked the lips of the oldest scorpion-user skywards.
"Last to score ten points has to buy dinner."
"Deal. Are we going one versus one or free for all?" Of course Yuma agreed to the fight before deciding on the terms.
"Let's stick with the free for all; I'm feeling confident."
"Mister straight-laced Murakami? You really opting for the chaos option?"
"I am looking forward to the free meal." Yuma called as he darted into the first vacant booth.
With a laugh and a snarl respectively his friends followed.
~