Work Text:
It started with a promise.
Hyuse hadn’t been part of it, hadn’t agreed to anything, and frankly didn’t care—but that had never stopped his captain before.
After their last joint operation debrief, Osamu had finally cornered Ninomiya at HQ with the quiet persistence of someone collecting an overdue debt.
“You said you’d tell me more about Hatohara-senpai when things settled down,” Osamu said. “Is now okay?”
Ninomiya had sighed, long and put-upon. “Fine. Squad room. Bring your people if you must.”
So Tamakoma Second came. Osamu, Yuuma, Shiori, Chika.
Hyuse followed in last, arms crossed, gaze sweeping the Ninomiya Squad room with mild, practiced disinterest.
Ninomiya squad’s operator, Hyami, guided them towards the operator desk.
“Come look at these pictures when Hatohara-senpai disappeared,” she said as Tamakoma members huddled around Hyami’s screen, Hyuse excluded.
Nothing concerned Hyuse.
Until something did.
A shelf.
Small. Tucked beside a cabinet. Clearly meant for personal knickknacks rather than tactical relevance.
Hyuse stepped closer.
A vintage plane miniature sat neatly—likely Inukai’s, based on the unnecessary level of polish. And right next to it—
“…Is this a dog?” Hyuse asked.
The room froze.
He held up a small figurine between his fingers: tan-green, sturdy, upright tail, mouth full of far too many teeth for comfort.
“No, right?” he continued, turning it slightly. “Dogs don’t have this many teeth. Or tails like that. Is this a deformed dog? Or some kind of predator?”
It wasn’t an actual crash—but it felt like one.
Tsuji, who had been perfectly silent until now, suddenly snapped to attention and spoke—clearly. Too clearly.
“It’s an allosaurus. Late Jurassic period. Bipedal carnivore. That’s a limited edition from a vending machine set in Ochanomizu Station. They only sold them for three months.”
Hyuse looked over, mildly impressed.
Shiori and Chika blinked.
Yuuma grinned.
Even Ninomiya paused mid-thought.
Osamu tilted his head. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say, Tsuji-senpai.”
Tsuji seemed to realize what he’d done.
Out loud.
In front of people.
Including girls. Who weren't from his squad.
“I—I mean—s-sorry,” he stammered, ears flushing red. “I was just—ah—I like dinosaurs. That one—” He shrank back into his seat like he wished the floor would swallow him.
Hyuse glanced back at the figurine. “So it’s not a dog.”
“No,” Tsuji muttered, face burning. “Definitely not.”
“I see.” Hyuse placed the dinosaur back exactly where he’d found it. “That’s unfortunate.”
Hyuse didn’t care about dinosaurs.
Let’s make that extremely clear.
He’d never seen one.
He’d never fought one.
They didn’t bark or drool or knock over soup bowls with their tails. So why should he care?
But one day, Youtarou had handed him a small, wobbly red figurine shaped like a lizard with armor.
“This one looks like a dog, right?” the kid had grinned. “Here, it’s called a spinosaurus. It’s super strong!”
Hyuse had squinted at it.
“…It’s that thing in Ninomiya Squad. It's a reptile.”
“Yeah, but pretend it’s like… a dinosaur dog!”
“Dogs don’t have tail clubs.”
Youtarou shrugged, already climbing Raijinmaru like a jungle gym.
“Still strong. And it protects its masters and friends. Like you!”
Hyuse blinked, holding the little trinket.
It did kind of look like a squat, armored terrier.
If you squinted. Or maybe if you were Youtarou.
He didn’t have the heart to correct the kid.
So the spinosaurus stayed.
Attached to his keyring. Quiet. Plastic. Unbothered.
And then months later—on a completely normal day when Osamu got pulled into another dense conversation with Ninomiya—Hyuse noticed someone staring at it like it was made of solid gold.
Shinnosuke Tsuji.
Frozen. Silently panicking. Mouth slightly open. Eyes locked not on him—but the keychain.
Hyuse raised an eyebrow.
Tsuji flinched.
And then looked away like he’d just been caught peeking through someone’s window.
Huh.
Weird.
Tsuji didn’t mean to stop.
He was only supposed to be tailing behind Ninomiya—like always—while the captain discussed serious-sounding squad business with Mikumo-kun. Something about unauthorized gates, trigger security support systems, things Tsuji didn’t need to weigh in on.
He hadn’t even noticed the blond kid until he caught a glint of plastic swaying near the hem of the boy’s jacket.
A keychain.
No—not just any keychain.
A red-plated spinosaurus.
It was scuffed at the edges. Probably from being swung against tables, bags, walls. But it was unmistakable: the exact same model he used to stare at in a capsule machine near his elementary school. It had been his favorite—sleek, upright, those cool crocodile jaws.
And this kid had it. Casually. Like it wasn’t the best dinosaur ever made.
Tsuji realized he was staring too long.
He also realized, far too late, that the kid had noticed.
The blond (Hyuse? Wasn’t that the name?) turned his head slightly, one eyebrow twitching up.
“…What.”
Tsuji froze.
Words? What were those again? His mouth opened, a breath came out, but it sounded more like a hiss than a greeting.
Hyuse blinked. “Are you okay?”
“N–No—I m-mean yes—I mean, th-the keychain—”
His voice cracked.
Kill me now.
Hyuse looked down, following Tsuji’s gaze. He plucked the keychain up lazily, turning it with a blank expression.
“This?” he said. “It’s from Youtarou. He made me get it. I was gonna throw it out, but he looked... threatening.”
Tsuji’s eyes widened in horror. “D–Don’t! It’s—! I mean, y-you shouldn’t. I—it’s a s-spinosaurus.”
Hyuse stared at him.
Tsuji nearly died on the spot.
“…Do you like dinosaurs?”
Tsuji nodded too fast.
“…You’re weird,” Hyuse said flatly, but something in his tone wasn’t quite cruel.
Tsuji looked down, cheeks on fire. “S–Sorry.”
A pause.
“…You can have it if you want,” Hyuse said, shrugging.
Tsuji snapped his head up. “R-Really?!”
Another pause.
“No,” Hyuse added, turning back toward his captain and walking off.
Tsuji stood there, stunned.
His heart was racing.
His palms were sweating.
He had just talked to a stranger.
Who wasn’t scary.
And had his dream keychain.
He might never recover.
Border patrol rewards were running slim.
This, Hyuse had learned, was what happened when you lived in a place where combat experience paid in “exposure” and cafeteria coupons.
Youtarou had already eaten his share of the taiyaki, the fish pastry he didn't seem to hate. All of it. Very confidently. With crumbs. And zero remorse.
“It’s fine!” Youtarou had said cheerfully, licking red bean paste off his fingers. “Hyuse can just pay! You’re rich!”
Hyuse was not rich.
Still, he’d gone to the convenience store anyway. Taiyaki in hand. Wallet out. Reiji had given him one of those small, tacky wallets that children hooked around their necks. Konami laughed at it, but Hyuse held it in. As long as he could get the fish pastries. He was reasonably certain he had the correct amount of yen. Reasonably.
That was when Jin appeared out of nowhere, like a disaster prevention PSA given human form.
“Whoa, hold it right there,” Jin said, already reaching over the counter.
Hyuse blinked. “What.”
Jin smoothly took the taiyaki from his hand. “Future just showed me you paying the wrong amount, clerk thinking you’re shorting them, security getting involved, paperwork, detention, international incident—real messy Canadian stuff.”
“…You stole my food,” Hyuse said flatly.
“I prevented your arrest,” Jin corrected, already backing away. “You’re welcome.”
“Then give me money.”
“Oh, can’t,” Jin said, glancing at his phone. “Got another future to nudge. Try not to commit crimes in the next ten minutes, okay?”
And then he was gone.
No money.
No taiyaki.
No dignity.
Hyuse stared at the empty space where his snack—and his legal safety—had been.
So he did what any rational person would do.
He went to HQ with his team operator Shiori and the Tamakoma-1 gang to look for Yuuma, who at least owed him snacks and was currently in Rank Wars. Which meant waiting. Which meant killing time.
Which meant the cafeteria.
That was how he ended up here.
Tsuji was not following Hyuse.
Definitely not.
He was just... walking nearby. Coincidentally. With his squad. And now they were all stopping by the HQ cafeteria. And—oh no.
Usami.
She had just walked past, chattering with Konami and a sleepy-looking Karasuma, her usual energy trailing behind like glitter in a hurricane.
Tsuji’s eyes weren’t even on her face.
They were locked on her bag.
Because dangling from the zipper was a tiny, translucent green ankylosaurus.
He recognized it instantly. It was the cereal prize from the limited dinosaur promotion three years ago. He had begged his mom to switch brands just for a shot at that set.
But the ankylosaurus had always escaped him.
And now it was real.
Hanging casually from Usami’s tote like it wasn’t a sacred relic of childhood.
He stood there, frozen, as the cafeteria buzzed around him.
Then, from his side: “You’re doing that thing again.”
Tsuji jolted.
Hyuse stood next to him with a tray, frowning as if Tsuji had personally offended him by breathing too loudly.
“W-What t-thing?”
“The weird staring. You look like you’re trying to shoot lasers with your eyeballs.”
Tsuji’s eyes dropped to his feet. “S-Sorry. I—I j-just, the ankylosaur—”
Hyuse followed his gaze.
And blinked.
“Oh. Another dinosaur?”
Tsuji nodded mutely.
“You gonna talk to her for it?” Hyuse asked, deadpan.
Tsuji let out a sound like a dying animal.
“…Thought so,” Hyuse sighed, already chewing on a plain roll. “You’re hopeless.”
But he didn’t walk away.
Instead, he said, mouth full, “I’ll get it for you.”
Tsuji blinked. “W-What?”
“You want the keychain. You can’t talk to girls. I can. Simple math.”
“B-But—!”
Hyuse walked off without waiting for permission. Cool and casual like this was his normal Tuesday. Tsuji stood there, gripping his tray so hard the milk threatened to spill.
He watched, heart pounding, as Hyuse casually approached Usami’s table.
She greeted him with a grin.
He pointed at the keychain.
She laughed.
He said something else.
Konami snorted.
Usami unhooked the ankylosaurus from her bag and handed it to him.
Tsuji nearly blacked out.
Thirty seconds later, Hyuse returned and dropped the keychain onto Tsuji’s tray with the grace of someone discarding a napkin.
“Here. You owe me fish pastry.”
Tsuji gawked. “Y-You asked??”
“No, I offered to trade,” Hyuse said. “Told her I’d play with the trion soldiers she programmed. She said deal.”
Tsuji clutched the ankylosaurus in both hands, reverent. “…Th-Thank you.”
“Don’t make it weird.” Hyuse shrugged. “Now, you and me, to the convenience store. Let's go.”
And that’s the story of how Tsuji fell in love a little bit. Probably.