Welcome Back, Mr McDonald!
AU Fic: Merboys (5/5)
Pairings: Sho/Aiba, Nino/Aiba
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,553 / 8,346 (I write in Pages though, and it seems to count a lot of unnecessary things)
Aiba is a curious merboy. And yes, he strikes a faustian bargain to meet a human prince on land.
The final part, for joyeuxnoel and ph-otometry who both donated generously to the arashi_on fundraiser. I still owe both of you more fic! I hope this will tide you over for now and thank you so much again. You made writing this possible for me. ♥
There might be more from this AU in the future. I would also love to talk to you about this fic for various reasons so if you read and would like to tell me something, anything, I welcome everything. If you'd like to prompt me for something in this verse, please do!
No warnings for spoilers' sake.
Previous parts:
1.
2.
3+4.
5.
Nino has always been able to find Aiba, unerringly. Aiba holds that thought in his mind as he goes straight down, plunging below the shattering cold of the surface of the sea to its crepuscular depths, his body on autopilot. He’s using his legs for propulsion in much the same way he’d have used his tail, each powerful stroke undulating into the next. Down here it’s blue on blue on blue, all shades and tints of blended blue as the shifting incandescent silver overhead slid off much too rapidly to deep turquoise and then indigo. He’s too far into his descent when he tries to strike out from his streamlining, piking for a different direction. He floats on the bottom for a few brief moments before starting the rise through the shallow layers above.
It’s getting brighter and brighter as Aiba approaches the surface, so near, when he blacks out suddenly.
He regains consciousness lying on his back coughing up water. He’s blinking uncontrollably and breathing rapidly when Nino’s familiar visage comes into clarity.
“Nino.” Aiba’s lips part noiselessly. “I knew you’d find me.”
They’re on pack ice, drifting in the middle of nowhere, balanced on the raw edge of adrenaline.
“How many people have we found dead in the water? Even if they get rescued some of them can’t return to the ocean because it’s only a matter of time when they die if they do. I had to bring you up slowly even though you were already drowning. You’re selfish, Masaki.”
Aiba loves Sho. Aiba is selfish.
Nino had once, long ago, raged at Aiba for wanting to share everything he had with Nino. It wasn’t that Nino didn’t like it, as Aiba had pointed out, confused; it was that Nino accused Aiba of not having a proper conception of boundaries. And, Nino had added, a trace of bitterness limning his words, Nino wasn’t a possession to be shared so freely as well.
“I miss home,” Aiba says.
Nino hardens himself visibly.
“Your father is beside himself with sorrow: the new moon is approaching swiftly. He has ordered Oh-chan to find a way to save you without Sakurai. You must take this coral dagger and plunge it into Sakurai’s heart tonight because his wedding morning will mean your loss to us, forever. When his blood spills upon your feet your legs will grow together again and you will once more be a mer and return to us. Masaki. You will not survive as a human. Do this.”
Aiba shakes his head frantically as Nino presses the familiar coral knife into his hands.
“Nino, no, no! I can’t!”
The sharp blade slips in the flurry of movements and slices into Nino’s palm. Aiba gasps at the bright red.
“I’m sorry!”
Nino closes his hand into a fist but Aiba has already seen.
Beside the fresh, shallow wound, there is a precise scab, its rough edges dull in the ice reflection.
“What did you give up for me, Kazu!” Funny how Nino can hear Aiba’s silent voice, clear as snapping shrimp, sounding horrified in his head.
Nino jerks his hand away from Aiba but the latter places his own wet hand on Nino’s face, smoothing back Nino’s hair gently, habitually winding a few strands around his finger. Aiba has always been the one who looks at Nino.
The twist of Nino’s smile is wintry.
“Touch is a useless sensation anyway.”
Around them, pale snowflakes dance. All his life, Aiba has been the cosseted princeling, cherished by his grandfather, father, brothers, the entire kingdom. All his life he has never known despair.
He lies on the ice, eyes wide open. The snowflakes falling into his eyes are like the gelid tears he cries under the sea. They melt and run off; he tastes the salt in the back of his throat. Beside him, Nino’s tail dips into the water slightly as he lies down as well and takes hold of Aiba’s right hand, interlacing his fingers with Aiba’s. He squeezes reassuringly, like he always does when Aiba is sad. It has never been about how Nino feels, it has always been about what Aiba feels. Even now.
Aiba hates himself with a virulence that he has never felt before.
Time touches the ice like an indistinct dream. When finally Aiba drops into the water, Nino is right behind him.
The trenchant coral blade is tight inside Aiba’s waistband as he climbs up the yacht’s sea ladder.
Sho holds Aiba like he is made of dreams, distilled of moonlight.
The wedding begins before the sunset and ends before the moon rises; it is only the first ceremony after all, though still opulent as befits a royal wedding, and for the sake of the crown prince Sakurai, who lives out more of the year on water than on land. Tomomi-san looks resplendent in a ceremonial kimono before changing into a modern ivory design that though not as ritualised, is equally breathtaking. There is thunder in Aiba’s heart as he looks upon the glowing couple, only diminished when Sho stops ever so often to seek his gaze out across the guests. Sho looks unbearably handsome. For the first time, Aiba truly recognises that Sho is the heir apparent to the Chrysanthemum Throne.
There is a lot of cake, an impressive multi-tiered white confection with cherry blossoms climbing up the sides. Aiba likes cake very much but this one goes down dry and tasteless in his throat. Sake is free flowing and Aiba feels hot all over, and weird moving through the air, a little like how he first felt when he first got his legs. He doesn’t even notice Sho coming to him until he’s obediently stumbling after him to his own room where Sho loosens the thing around his neck and takes off his shoes and bulkier items of clothing for him before urging him into bed and drawing the covers up around him. He lingers, laying his palm flat on Aiba’s cheek and sweeping back his bangs from his forehead before leaving, turning off the light as he does and closing the door gently behind him. Aiba sleeps.
Aiba opens his eyes to absolute black. The fear that grips him is flaying but it is still night, unbroken by day. In the adjoining bathroom he splashes cool water onto his face, ignoring his wild-eyed reflection. He closes his eyes when he places his head into the sink, opening his mouth directly under the continuous stream of water, letting it flow out. Nothing up here is like what it is down there.
One of the bodyguards stationed outside Sho’s door had paused when he saw Aiba but another had leaned in to say something quickly into the other’s ear and they released the door for him smoothly. Aiba keeps his eyes lowered as he enters the room. She isn’t in Sho’s arms but she’s beside him. There is a languor that Aiba can’t quite make out permeating the cool bedroom. They are both clearly bare underneath the cover.
Sho always looks the most peaceful in sleep, his extraordinary intellect coiled beneath a relaxed visage. Despair pulls Aiba’s own face into bleak lines.
He is dizzy and sweating. His hands are slippery on the hilt of the coral dagger. It is his own failing. He was unable to make Sho truly love him. He had foolishly thought that because he loved Sho, Sho would love him in return easily. He had been too sure of himself and now Nino and his family suffer for his desire to experience being human.
Sho didn’t give Aiba his heart but Aiba cannot sink a treacherous blade into it. Aiba loves and has lost Sho, even if Sho was never his to begin with, but he cannot bear to lose Nino. Who will touch Nino now that Nino cannot feel it? Walk a sea hare up his arm to ink it. Nino would not allow others to touch him easily. Aiba has to return to the water; Nino feels his touch, Aiba knows, just as how Nino doesn’t need Aiba’s voice to understand him. They have been yoked together their whole lives.
Weak light pools and slides over Sho and his bride, haunted by shadows and possibilities of what could have been.
If he does it, deliberately missing the heart, will Sho live through it? The blood, Sho’s blood that flows from a non-fatal wound: would it suffice?
Sweat drips into Aiba’s eyes like salty tears born from his wild grief. His arms tremble from holding the dagger overhead for so long. He can’t do it but he must. There is no way for Aiba to claw his way out of the trap that he had neatly sprung up around all of them. He’d saved Sho, been drawn to him, loved him... this final act is beyond him.
Incandescent lightning skids over the sea outside the expansive glass window, and bleaches the interior of the bedroom, only broken up by moments of darkness. Tomomi shifts, the crack of thunder piercing her sleepy consciousness. Aiba doesn’t even realise that she’s opened her eyes, so intent upon Sho he is, until thunder whips the sky again and her shriek of terror counterpoints the eerie light that flashes against the sharp blade held aloft. An instant later, the door opens with a small crack of thunder itself and Sho is coming alert, outlined by forked lightning, waking up in a single rush.
Aiba doesn’t manage to turn around as Sho shouts, his eyes focused on something beyond Aiba.
Artificial thunder sounds.
And then the world explodes in pain. Aiba hears Sho’s voice, harsh with fury, at a great distance. The dagger slips from his unfeeling fingers, clattering on the floor. He is on the floor. Sho is pressing down on the giant shard of ice in his chest, his face as white as his hands are red.
Aiba moans. He tries feebly to move away. He needs to get to Nino. He needs to explain, he needs.
Ocean swells cream with leashed violence around the edges of the large yacht.
When Aiba next opens his eyes, wind is blowing around him. He’s confused. They are on the deck. Sho has his arms across Aiba’s back and under his legs - Sho is carrying him. Aiba is freezing, he can’t stop the violent shivers that rack his body. His head is lolling against Sho’s arm.
Sho’s mouth is drawn thin and bracketed by tension but his voice is a comforting murmur, so familiar to Aiba.
“You’ve been shot, Taiyou. You’re hurt. Don’t move. You’ll be okay. I’ll help you.”
And Sho jumps into the ocean with Aiba in his arms.
Icy water engulfs them and Aiba is immediately pulled from Sho’s arms into another’s.
“Nino,” Aiba breathes. “I didn’t-”
“Shhh.” Nino’s eyes are hammered silver with tears. Aiba hasn’t seen Nino cry in years. “Don’t speak, Masaki. You need to conserve your strength.”
“Masaki,” the human prince says, wonderingly.
Aiba moves his head in negation. “I’m sorry,” he says audibly.
He has to fall in love with you or you’ll lose your voice forever.
“Not... his fault, Nino.”
Red swirls into the water around them rapidly. There is so much blood, an entire person’s worth, the wrong prince’s blood.
Aiba’s eyes keep slipping shut. Nino’s hand, Nino’s hand.
“Can you - you can feel me right, Kazu,” he whispers achingly.
Nino nods fiercely. “Of course I can. I will always be able to.”
A smile faintly touches the edges of Aiba’s colourless lips. His hair fans out in the roiling crimson water like a golden halo framing his head.
Nino bends his own head further as Aiba’s lips part again.
“I want... go home.”
Nino’s throat seems to close on the words as he gets his reply out.
“You don’t have your tail, Masaki. You’ll drown if I take you under the water.”
The water is a living thing. The agitated cacophony onboard reaches them.
“Kazu, don’t let...”
But Aiba’s blood has been spilt. The ocean is a devouring age-old beast intent on prey. Vengeance for the seventh, their youngest prince.
Nino glimpses a flash of dark purple scales from the corner of his eye and smiles savagely. Jun. The royal guards have arrived.
Jun, their playmate until they turned 7 and he was taken into training. Jun’s cool discipline and ambition had propelled him through the elite ranks rapidly until he’d been made the youngest ever commander of the royal guards at the age of fifteen and personal guard to the king himself.
Jun rides at the head of the guards, his delineated features revealing such naked anguish that darkly promises to transcend into a clarity of viciousness. In his hand he wields the king’s own power, his trident.
The black water is like a living fist closing in on the yacht being tossed far too easily and brutally about on the boiling currents, a storm-lashed ship with no way to go but down.
A wall of water slams towards Sho but Nino raises his hand to it and it shimmers into nothingness.
“Because he loved you,” Nino speaks, not even looking up at Sho, “I owe it to you to see that your life is spared. Take this and swim until you hit shore. You won’t come to harm whilst you have it but the next time you return to the sea, the water will take you.”
Lying on his outstretched palm is Aiba’s diadem, finely wrought and tipped with amber and pearls, being misted by the ocean surf.
“Take it!’
Aiba is almost unearthly still.
“I won’t let you be alone, Masaki. I will never leave you again. I will always be with you,” Nino murmurs hoarsely.
“Taiyou!” Sho screams, reaching out for him but too late. The water has already closed over Nino and his precious cargo. Sho threshes his arms wildly through the water and submerges under to search for them but there is nothing save for the water swallowing the ship behind him whole with the deafening crash of water on polished fibreglass that reverberates throughout the ocean. Only the empty inflatable Zodiac boat emerges from the deadly cyclone, bouncing on the water harmlessly.
Cutaway 1
Cutaway 2
Pairings: Sho/Aiba, Nino/Aiba
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,553 / 8,346 (I write in Pages though, and it seems to count a lot of unnecessary things)
Aiba is a curious merboy. And yes, he strikes a faustian bargain to meet a human prince on land.
The final part, for joyeuxnoel and ph-otometry who both donated generously to the arashi_on fundraiser. I still owe both of you more fic! I hope this will tide you over for now and thank you so much again. You made writing this possible for me. ♥
There might be more from this AU in the future. I would also love to talk to you about this fic for various reasons so if you read and would like to tell me something, anything, I welcome everything. If you'd like to prompt me for something in this verse, please do!
No warnings for spoilers' sake.
Previous parts:
1.
2.
3+4.
5.
Nino has always been able to find Aiba, unerringly. Aiba holds that thought in his mind as he goes straight down, plunging below the shattering cold of the surface of the sea to its crepuscular depths, his body on autopilot. He’s using his legs for propulsion in much the same way he’d have used his tail, each powerful stroke undulating into the next. Down here it’s blue on blue on blue, all shades and tints of blended blue as the shifting incandescent silver overhead slid off much too rapidly to deep turquoise and then indigo. He’s too far into his descent when he tries to strike out from his streamlining, piking for a different direction. He floats on the bottom for a few brief moments before starting the rise through the shallow layers above.
It’s getting brighter and brighter as Aiba approaches the surface, so near, when he blacks out suddenly.
He regains consciousness lying on his back coughing up water. He’s blinking uncontrollably and breathing rapidly when Nino’s familiar visage comes into clarity.
“Nino.” Aiba’s lips part noiselessly. “I knew you’d find me.”
They’re on pack ice, drifting in the middle of nowhere, balanced on the raw edge of adrenaline.
“How many people have we found dead in the water? Even if they get rescued some of them can’t return to the ocean because it’s only a matter of time when they die if they do. I had to bring you up slowly even though you were already drowning. You’re selfish, Masaki.”
Aiba loves Sho. Aiba is selfish.
Nino had once, long ago, raged at Aiba for wanting to share everything he had with Nino. It wasn’t that Nino didn’t like it, as Aiba had pointed out, confused; it was that Nino accused Aiba of not having a proper conception of boundaries. And, Nino had added, a trace of bitterness limning his words, Nino wasn’t a possession to be shared so freely as well.
“I miss home,” Aiba says.
Nino hardens himself visibly.
“Your father is beside himself with sorrow: the new moon is approaching swiftly. He has ordered Oh-chan to find a way to save you without Sakurai. You must take this coral dagger and plunge it into Sakurai’s heart tonight because his wedding morning will mean your loss to us, forever. When his blood spills upon your feet your legs will grow together again and you will once more be a mer and return to us. Masaki. You will not survive as a human. Do this.”
Aiba shakes his head frantically as Nino presses the familiar coral knife into his hands.
“Nino, no, no! I can’t!”
The sharp blade slips in the flurry of movements and slices into Nino’s palm. Aiba gasps at the bright red.
“I’m sorry!”
Nino closes his hand into a fist but Aiba has already seen.
Beside the fresh, shallow wound, there is a precise scab, its rough edges dull in the ice reflection.
“What did you give up for me, Kazu!” Funny how Nino can hear Aiba’s silent voice, clear as snapping shrimp, sounding horrified in his head.
Nino jerks his hand away from Aiba but the latter places his own wet hand on Nino’s face, smoothing back Nino’s hair gently, habitually winding a few strands around his finger. Aiba has always been the one who looks at Nino.
The twist of Nino’s smile is wintry.
“Touch is a useless sensation anyway.”
Around them, pale snowflakes dance. All his life, Aiba has been the cosseted princeling, cherished by his grandfather, father, brothers, the entire kingdom. All his life he has never known despair.
He lies on the ice, eyes wide open. The snowflakes falling into his eyes are like the gelid tears he cries under the sea. They melt and run off; he tastes the salt in the back of his throat. Beside him, Nino’s tail dips into the water slightly as he lies down as well and takes hold of Aiba’s right hand, interlacing his fingers with Aiba’s. He squeezes reassuringly, like he always does when Aiba is sad. It has never been about how Nino feels, it has always been about what Aiba feels. Even now.
Aiba hates himself with a virulence that he has never felt before.
Time touches the ice like an indistinct dream. When finally Aiba drops into the water, Nino is right behind him.
The trenchant coral blade is tight inside Aiba’s waistband as he climbs up the yacht’s sea ladder.
Sho holds Aiba like he is made of dreams, distilled of moonlight.
The wedding begins before the sunset and ends before the moon rises; it is only the first ceremony after all, though still opulent as befits a royal wedding, and for the sake of the crown prince Sakurai, who lives out more of the year on water than on land. Tomomi-san looks resplendent in a ceremonial kimono before changing into a modern ivory design that though not as ritualised, is equally breathtaking. There is thunder in Aiba’s heart as he looks upon the glowing couple, only diminished when Sho stops ever so often to seek his gaze out across the guests. Sho looks unbearably handsome. For the first time, Aiba truly recognises that Sho is the heir apparent to the Chrysanthemum Throne.
There is a lot of cake, an impressive multi-tiered white confection with cherry blossoms climbing up the sides. Aiba likes cake very much but this one goes down dry and tasteless in his throat. Sake is free flowing and Aiba feels hot all over, and weird moving through the air, a little like how he first felt when he first got his legs. He doesn’t even notice Sho coming to him until he’s obediently stumbling after him to his own room where Sho loosens the thing around his neck and takes off his shoes and bulkier items of clothing for him before urging him into bed and drawing the covers up around him. He lingers, laying his palm flat on Aiba’s cheek and sweeping back his bangs from his forehead before leaving, turning off the light as he does and closing the door gently behind him. Aiba sleeps.
Aiba opens his eyes to absolute black. The fear that grips him is flaying but it is still night, unbroken by day. In the adjoining bathroom he splashes cool water onto his face, ignoring his wild-eyed reflection. He closes his eyes when he places his head into the sink, opening his mouth directly under the continuous stream of water, letting it flow out. Nothing up here is like what it is down there.
One of the bodyguards stationed outside Sho’s door had paused when he saw Aiba but another had leaned in to say something quickly into the other’s ear and they released the door for him smoothly. Aiba keeps his eyes lowered as he enters the room. She isn’t in Sho’s arms but she’s beside him. There is a languor that Aiba can’t quite make out permeating the cool bedroom. They are both clearly bare underneath the cover.
Sho always looks the most peaceful in sleep, his extraordinary intellect coiled beneath a relaxed visage. Despair pulls Aiba’s own face into bleak lines.
He is dizzy and sweating. His hands are slippery on the hilt of the coral dagger. It is his own failing. He was unable to make Sho truly love him. He had foolishly thought that because he loved Sho, Sho would love him in return easily. He had been too sure of himself and now Nino and his family suffer for his desire to experience being human.
Sho didn’t give Aiba his heart but Aiba cannot sink a treacherous blade into it. Aiba loves and has lost Sho, even if Sho was never his to begin with, but he cannot bear to lose Nino. Who will touch Nino now that Nino cannot feel it? Walk a sea hare up his arm to ink it. Nino would not allow others to touch him easily. Aiba has to return to the water; Nino feels his touch, Aiba knows, just as how Nino doesn’t need Aiba’s voice to understand him. They have been yoked together their whole lives.
Weak light pools and slides over Sho and his bride, haunted by shadows and possibilities of what could have been.
If he does it, deliberately missing the heart, will Sho live through it? The blood, Sho’s blood that flows from a non-fatal wound: would it suffice?
Sweat drips into Aiba’s eyes like salty tears born from his wild grief. His arms tremble from holding the dagger overhead for so long. He can’t do it but he must. There is no way for Aiba to claw his way out of the trap that he had neatly sprung up around all of them. He’d saved Sho, been drawn to him, loved him... this final act is beyond him.
Incandescent lightning skids over the sea outside the expansive glass window, and bleaches the interior of the bedroom, only broken up by moments of darkness. Tomomi shifts, the crack of thunder piercing her sleepy consciousness. Aiba doesn’t even realise that she’s opened her eyes, so intent upon Sho he is, until thunder whips the sky again and her shriek of terror counterpoints the eerie light that flashes against the sharp blade held aloft. An instant later, the door opens with a small crack of thunder itself and Sho is coming alert, outlined by forked lightning, waking up in a single rush.
Aiba doesn’t manage to turn around as Sho shouts, his eyes focused on something beyond Aiba.
Artificial thunder sounds.
And then the world explodes in pain. Aiba hears Sho’s voice, harsh with fury, at a great distance. The dagger slips from his unfeeling fingers, clattering on the floor. He is on the floor. Sho is pressing down on the giant shard of ice in his chest, his face as white as his hands are red.
Aiba moans. He tries feebly to move away. He needs to get to Nino. He needs to explain, he needs.
Ocean swells cream with leashed violence around the edges of the large yacht.
When Aiba next opens his eyes, wind is blowing around him. He’s confused. They are on the deck. Sho has his arms across Aiba’s back and under his legs - Sho is carrying him. Aiba is freezing, he can’t stop the violent shivers that rack his body. His head is lolling against Sho’s arm.
Sho’s mouth is drawn thin and bracketed by tension but his voice is a comforting murmur, so familiar to Aiba.
“You’ve been shot, Taiyou. You’re hurt. Don’t move. You’ll be okay. I’ll help you.”
And Sho jumps into the ocean with Aiba in his arms.
Icy water engulfs them and Aiba is immediately pulled from Sho’s arms into another’s.
“Nino,” Aiba breathes. “I didn’t-”
“Shhh.” Nino’s eyes are hammered silver with tears. Aiba hasn’t seen Nino cry in years. “Don’t speak, Masaki. You need to conserve your strength.”
“Masaki,” the human prince says, wonderingly.
Aiba moves his head in negation. “I’m sorry,” he says audibly.
He has to fall in love with you or you’ll lose your voice forever.
“Not... his fault, Nino.”
Red swirls into the water around them rapidly. There is so much blood, an entire person’s worth, the wrong prince’s blood.
Aiba’s eyes keep slipping shut. Nino’s hand, Nino’s hand.
“Can you - you can feel me right, Kazu,” he whispers achingly.
Nino nods fiercely. “Of course I can. I will always be able to.”
A smile faintly touches the edges of Aiba’s colourless lips. His hair fans out in the roiling crimson water like a golden halo framing his head.
Nino bends his own head further as Aiba’s lips part again.
“I want... go home.”
Nino’s throat seems to close on the words as he gets his reply out.
“You don’t have your tail, Masaki. You’ll drown if I take you under the water.”
The water is a living thing. The agitated cacophony onboard reaches them.
“Kazu, don’t let...”
But Aiba’s blood has been spilt. The ocean is a devouring age-old beast intent on prey. Vengeance for the seventh, their youngest prince.
Nino glimpses a flash of dark purple scales from the corner of his eye and smiles savagely. Jun. The royal guards have arrived.
Jun, their playmate until they turned 7 and he was taken into training. Jun’s cool discipline and ambition had propelled him through the elite ranks rapidly until he’d been made the youngest ever commander of the royal guards at the age of fifteen and personal guard to the king himself.
Jun rides at the head of the guards, his delineated features revealing such naked anguish that darkly promises to transcend into a clarity of viciousness. In his hand he wields the king’s own power, his trident.
The black water is like a living fist closing in on the yacht being tossed far too easily and brutally about on the boiling currents, a storm-lashed ship with no way to go but down.
A wall of water slams towards Sho but Nino raises his hand to it and it shimmers into nothingness.
“Because he loved you,” Nino speaks, not even looking up at Sho, “I owe it to you to see that your life is spared. Take this and swim until you hit shore. You won’t come to harm whilst you have it but the next time you return to the sea, the water will take you.”
Lying on his outstretched palm is Aiba’s diadem, finely wrought and tipped with amber and pearls, being misted by the ocean surf.
“Take it!’
Aiba is almost unearthly still.
“I won’t let you be alone, Masaki. I will never leave you again. I will always be with you,” Nino murmurs hoarsely.
“Taiyou!” Sho screams, reaching out for him but too late. The water has already closed over Nino and his precious cargo. Sho threshes his arms wildly through the water and submerges under to search for them but there is nothing save for the water swallowing the ship behind him whole with the deafening crash of water on polished fibreglass that reverberates throughout the ocean. Only the empty inflatable Zodiac boat emerges from the deadly cyclone, bouncing on the water harmlessly.
Cutaway 1
Cutaway 2