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The briefing room was fuller than usual, chairs dragged in from the hallway to fit everyone. The Away Team filled most of the rows in a loose clump of nervous energy, while Border's executives lined up at the front like a panel of judges trying not to look like one.
Shinoda clicked through the final slide.
"Departure is scheduled for three days after the send-off ceremony. Until then, continue regular training and complete any remaining preparations."
A murmur rolled through the rows.
"Additionally, there will be a farewell gathering two nights before departure. Family and close associates are invited."
That landed better. Konami's hand shot up before Shinoda had even finished the sentence.
"Will there be food?"
Shinoda sighed, the exact sigh of a man who'd budgeted extra time specifically for this question. "Yes, there will be food." A beat. "And no." His eyes slid to the cluster of adults near the back — Tachikawa, Kazama, Kizaki, Raizo — looking more like a weary school principal than a paramilitary commander. "There will be no alcohol, and bringing your own will not be tolerated. We are not repeating last year's punch bowl incident."
Kazama grinned at absolutely nothing. Raizo huffed under his breath with a smile.
Tachikawa shrugged, the picture of innocence. "It was just Red Bull."
"It was thirty cans of Red Bull in a punch bowl, Tachikawa."
"With juice! Juice and so much ice that it might as well all be wat—"
Kido cut in, flat and final. "No. No alcohol, or no party."
Tachikawa's mouth snapped shut.
A ripple of laughter went down the rows, the particular kind that comes from teenagers who've just been reminded there will be a party and free food, and are already mentally spending the evening. Even Kido's mouth twitched.
Shinoda let himself enjoy it for a second — all these faces, relaxed, looking forward to something — before closing the file. "That concludes the briefing. Any final questions?"
A hand went up.
"Yes. Kuga."
Yuma sat with one arm slung over the back of his chair, entirely unbothered by the attention.
"Where do I get my record taken?"
The room blinked, collectively.
"...Record?"
"Umu." Yuma frowned slightly, the first sign that something in his own sentence wasn't sitting right with him either. He tapped two fingers against his chin, searching. "My record…my hmm, Meeden has a strange word for it. Something like... grit. Or resolve."
"Huh, resolve? Record…resolve…" Osamu, sitting beside him, muttered under his breath as he automatically took on the task of translating Yuma-speak.
Hyuse, who sat on Osamu's other side, engaged for the first time all meeting. "Ah, yes. It wasn't covered in your slides." His brow furrowed, the look of a man spotting an oversight in someone else's paperwork.
"On Aft—" a cough from Shinoda, "...In the Canadian Border branch, the mission commander usually oversaw such matters personally. Records of personal effects and personal holograms were all part of the process."
Those in the room not aware of Hyuse's true origins, such as Kageura Squad and Katagiri Squad, gave very confused looks.
"Wow, Canada is so hardcore…" Yumikaru concluded, even though he had no idea what either Yuma or Hyuse was talking about.
Jin coughed to stop a laugh. Kizaki elbowed him.
Yuma nodded along. "Well, where I'm from, we didn't have enough resources to afford holograms for everyone." He said it the way you'd mention your hometown didn't have a good bakery. "So most of us just got photographs instead."
Shinoda's frown deepened into something like a headache. "What exactly are you two talking about?"
"The records," Yuma said, as though that clarified anything.
"The personal effects instructions," Hyuse added, clarifying rather than explaining.
A short silence.
"What records? What instructions?" Shinoda pressed, trying to shake the feeling that he should have ended the meeting thirty seconds earlier.
Yuma and Hyuse turned to look at each other, then back at Shinoda — looking so baffled that they couldn't believe Shinoda of all people would not know.
"The record you file before deployment," Yuma said slowly, like he was repeating himself for the hard of hearing. "You list where your things should go. Then they take your picture," he paused briefly before smiling. "Y'know, in case you die."
Konami, who sat behind Yuma, shot up. "Wait, Shrimpy. A-Are you talking about a will?"
The word dropped into the room like a boulder into still water.
Yuma's face lit up. "Oh yeah — that's it. A will!" He said it twice more, testing the shape of it in his mouth like he was filing it away for later use. "Will. Umu. Good word."
Kodera, on the other side of the room, went still. A few rows behind him, Midorikawa's eyes had gone wide as he sharply sucked a breath in shock.
Konami rallied, the way she rallied for everything, chin up, hands on hips. "Well! You don't have to worry about any of that." She jabbed a thumb at her own chest. "You've got very dependable senpais looking out for you. Muahaha!"
A ripple of relieved smiles went through the room. Jin's mouth curved, and even Kazama smirked. Shinoda, pleased with Konami's quick thinking, nodded in silent affirmation.
Yuma tilted his head like he was staring at a math problem he couldn't figure out. "Not saying you're not strong and reliable in a fight, Konami-senpai, but I've never been on a mission where nobody died."
The relief popped like an over-inflated balloon.
Konami's hands slid slowly off her hips, sinking slowly back into her seat. Behind her, Arashiyama coughed suddenly.
"Yes, there's usually one or two at the very least," Hyuse added, like he was talking about weather.
Kikuchihara, who sat in front, turned around and gave Hyuse and Yuma the most scathing look that screamed what the hell?
Jin recovered first, leaning back and trying to look relaxed. "Ha — well, statistically, that's not actually the worst track record for—"
"I don't think that's helping, Jin," Kizaki said.
"No, yeah, hearing it out loud, I agree." Jin raised both hands, already retreating. "Sounded better in my head."
Hyuse, unbothered by the sudden tension, kept going. "In Canada, personnel recorded farewell holovideos and met privately with their commander beforehand to discuss final wishes." A short pause. "I take it Mee— the Japan branch does none of this."
"We do not," Shinoda replied curtly, because what else could he say?
"That seems needlessly cold," Hyuse said, plainly. Not cruel — an observation, the way he might note a tactical weakness in a formation.
Yuma, who had turned to face Hyuse like they were just having a casual conversation, added on, "Yeah. I've never been in a country where there were no such procedures at all. In most neighborhood nations I visited, holovids were the default. But the last nation I was at — Calvaria — was so poor that you had to be a really decorated soldier to get one."
A beat, and something almost fond crossed his face. "Either that or you had a good face, ha. Bit of an inside joke, that one."
Across the room, those who had rarely interacted with Yuma prior to the briefing looked at him in silent horror. Midorikawa, who at least knew Yuma, stared at him like he was looking at a stranger.
Yuma turned back to Shinoda. "So you guys don't do that here? Take a commemorative video or photo for funeral preparations, list where your belongings should go in case you get offed?"
Behind him, someone — probably Kitora — choked. "Offed?"
Yuma lifted his arms and stretched, before he crossed his fingers behind his head and rested it there. "Well, I don't have much so I guess it makes no difference to me. But I still need to pass along instructions to destroy my Black Trigger."
Osamu finally found his voice, though it came out a full octave higher than usual. "Why would you need to destroy it?!"
"So nobody digs it up out of my grave," Yuma replied innocently, like it was obvious. Which nothing had been since he first raised his hand.
Osamu's voice climbed further. "That's — grave robbing isn't really common — nobody's going to— it's unethical—"
"Of course they would," Hyuse said, flat, with the faint impatience of a man explaining something elementary to a slow child. "Nations would attempt nearly anything to obtain a Black Trigger. Ethics be damned."
Osamu slowly sank back into his seat, "...Ah. I— I see," his voice breaking a bit at the last word.
"Umu," Yuma agreed, pleased the point had landed.
In the rows in front of them, Kuroe looked close to tears while Kako was stunned speechless, and some operators like Yuitsuka and Kobayakawa looked a bit green.
Yuma glanced around the room — pale faces, someone's knuckles white around a water bottle, even the more experienced agents not being able to meet his eyes — and arrived, with total sincerity, at entirely the wrong read.
"Hmm...I don't want to impose foreign culture if it makes you guys uncomfortable. If Meeden doesn't really do reco- I mean, wills, then let's just go ahead without that."
Chika spoke up for the first time. "Ano… I'm sorry Yuma-kun, we don't mean to seem intolerant of uh… different customs. It's just that well…" She turned to Shiori, clearly pleading for help with her eyes.
"Ah, what Chika-chan is trying to say," Shiori began, "is that we're just shocked that your home countries are so...thorough. It's a bit much."
Kikuchihara muttered, "Oh, just a bit?"
"Much?" Hyuse repeated, shaking his head before sharing a look with Yuma. "Based on everyone's reactions, am I right to say then that all of your away missions have had zero fatalities?"
A few people winced. Netsuki, ever concerned about Border's reputation, sputtered.
Jin, who had Fujin strapped to his waist, suddenly felt like its weight tripled. He forced out an airy laugh. "Well — we've got our own Black Triggers, so make of that what you will. But I can say this much for certain: since Fujin, we've run at least three more Away Missions, and everybody came back. In one piece. All limbs accounted for."
It was, apparently, exactly the right thing to say. A dozen quiet exhales went around the room at once, like a held chord finally resolving.
Hyuse raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but willing to let it go. Yuma rubbed his chin and nodded, satisfied. "Mmm, Meeden really has come a long way."
At the podium, Shinoda closed his eyes before giving out a deep sigh. Then his eyes opened and he straightened his back, bracing himself like he was facing a firing squad.
"Everyone, I want to be very clear about something."
He paused, taking a sweeping look before continuing.
"Border has spent years building support systems for this exact mission. Backup teams. Extraction protocols. Emergency Trigger recovery." He met eyes, row by row. "Every one of you has trained for this. Every one of you has people back here working to make sure you come home."
With each word, the cold, despondent air within the room slowly started to dissipate.
"I am not going to pretend this mission carries no risk." Shinoda's voice held steady. "But I need every person in this room to understand that coming back alive is not just a hope. It is the plan. It is the only acceptable outcome, and everything Border has built exists to make that a reality for every. single. mission."
For one genuine moment, it worked. Midorikawa's hands came down from his face. Kodera exhaled like he'd been holding it since the roster went up. Kuroe's tears were held at bay. Even the more experienced agents — who felt more incredulity than fear toward Yuma and Hyuse's questions — felt their shoulders ease up.
Then, Yuma started clapping — slow, sincere, entirely alone. "Sasuga, as expected of the commander. What a nice speech, very uplifting." He said with a smiling doraemon face
Hyuse nodded along, arms still crossed. "Your leadership is more inspiring and motivating than most. I'll give you that, at least."
"And caring," Yuma added. "Genuinely caring."
"Yes, genuinely," Hyuse agreed with a small rare smile, like he was confirming a rare exception to a general rule.
Shinoda's left eye twitched at genuinely, and for some reason felt immense hatred for the word at that moment.
Konami's hand shot out and grabbed for a fistful of Yuma's hair, more instinct than plan. "Oi." Her whisper carried about as well as a normal speaking voice. "Oi. What's caring in a fake way, then?"
"Konami, let it go," Kizaki hissed at the same time as Karasuma replied, "Well, Konami-senpai, it's like when I tell you things that can't possibly be true but you still—"
"Kyosuke, not helping. And don't rile her up even further." Kizaki buried his face in his hands, not unlike an overwhelmed father failing to wrangle his rowdy children.
A few snickered, and at that people started to believe that the nightmare they suddenly found themselves in was finally ending.
Yuma, oblivious to everyone's hopes, spoke up again. "Everything aside, I'd still recommend considering Black Trigger disposal procedures though. Many Neighbor nations have been destroyed by their own stolen Black Triggers, you know."
"Mmm. Entirely avoidable," Hyuse said with finality.
Shinoda stared at the pair of them for a long moment. "...We'll discuss Trigger contingency protocols separately." Those in the front row heard him mutter additionally, "After I take a drink. Or a few."
To everyone's relief, Kuga and Hyuse nodded without saying anything further, seemingly satisfied for the moment.
Kido, sensing everyone's desperation for this to finally end, raised his voice. "We'll conclude today's briefing. Dismissed."
The room emptied fast — not a frantic bolt, but the scattered, over-loud shuffle of people trying to look normal while leaving as quickly as physically possible.
As he made his way to the door, Kikuchihara paused and turned back. Kuga and Hyuse were still seated, talking animatedly, still discussing memorial arrangements as though everyone else hadn't left like their lives depended on it. Curious about what could possibly follow that conversation, he flicked on his side-effect.
"Kuga, when you said 'good face' earlier," Hyuse was asking, genuine curiosity coloring his voice, "what was the criteria?"
Kikuchihara caught Yuma's laugh mid-syllable. "Well, y'see, on Calvaria, green eyes were considered the prettiest, so—"
Kikuchihara switched the side-effect off, face scrunched up in disbelief and distaste.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out to where Kazama and Utagawa were waiting.
"Ugh, two months in a tin can with those two weirdos."
Kazama and Utagawa, as if in sync, raised their eyebrows in amusement.
"If you guys ever leave me alone with the two of them," Kikuchihara began heatedly as the three of them walked off, "I will never forgive either of you."
Kazama and Utagawa gave each other a look before bursting into laughter.
A beat. Then Kazama smirked. "Hey Kikuchihara, want me to take your picture?"
"Captain, can you NOT—!"