we become light, chapter twelve
Ten pages into my first exam paper! Gotta finish it by Friday... so I can start the next one @-@
Title: We Become Light
Pairings: Nakai/Tsuyoshi, Kimura/Shingo/Goro
Rating: R for violence and swearing
Notes: Five men meet in a dystopian cyberpunk future to free their city from the Tower, with the help of motorcycle rebels, mysterious memories, and love.
Shingo took first watch, then Kimura; by the time Tsuyoshi and Nakai climbed up the stairs again it was well past dawn and Shingo was already pulling on his jacket.
"You're heading out?" Tsuyoshi yawned, rubbing his eyes. There was a plate of sandwiches on the table.
"We're heading out," Kimura corrected, lacing his boots. "If the rebels wanna talk, they're gonna have to find us." He glanced over at Goro. "And we don't need them finding out about some of the guests here."
"I have some patients to check on, as well," Shingo added, patting his pockets. "How's the arm? Still hurt?"
Tsuyoshi ran his hand over the sling. "Yeah. But I slept okay, thanks to Nakai." They'd gone to sleep side-by-side, but by morning Nakai had been a warm shield of comfort wrapped around him again. It helped a lot with the pain, even if Nakai seemed awfully embarrassed about it when he woke up.
Nakai blushed, and sat down on the couch quickly, peering at the sandwiches. "So, it'll just be us here?"
"You and the spy." Kimura stood. "Don't untie him. Don't even talk to him, if you can help it."
Tsuyoshi frowned, but Shingo just laughed. "Cheerful, isn't he?" He turned to Goro. "We do have to leave you tied up, though. I, uh, don't suppose you have to pee or anything?"
"Actually, my body is modified to be able to recycle waste back into the system in an emergency situation--"
"Right, I'm sorry I asked." Shingo pulled his goggles over his head, leaving them hanging loose around his neck. "Just sit tight, then, and we'll be back in no time." He patted Tsuyoshi's shoulder with a smile, and headed out the door, following by a considerably less smiley Kimura.
"Well," Tsuyoshi said, plopping down next to Nakai and taking a sandwich. "That leaves us in charge, then." Nakai reached over to lift a corner of the bread curiously; it was egg salad, but Tsuyoshi was willing to bet Nakai had never even seen an egg before. Come to think of it, Goro probably hadn't either.
He glanced over, still irritated by Kimura's pessimistic warnings. If he couldn't untie the man, he was at least going to show him a little hospitality. "Think your body can handle some real food?"
Shingo bid his first patient farewell, stepping back out into the street. It was a tiny, one-room hovel, with barely enough room for the mother and her three children, but it was enough for them to survive, and survive they would now, a little longer.
Kimura was crouched on the top step like a cat. "Next?"
"A few blocks over." Shingo led the way, pulling his goggles on as the rain began to pick up. The buildings only got more rundown as they walked, seemingly fragile exteriors hiding lives struggling with all their might to keep living. The Tower ignored them, probably seeing only the weakness; but they were stronger than it knew, joining hands however possible to help each other survive. He stopped at a curtain doorway, knocking lightly on the wall to one side.
There was no response. He knocked again, calling out his patient's name.
Again, no response. He glanced back at Kimura, and they both stepped through the curtain.
There were three people waiting inside. Kimura tensed, glancing behind them, but the one standing closest raised a hand, palm-inward, revealing a triangle of three dots painted on one of his nails. "We're not here to fight, only to talk."
Shingo frowned; he hadn't been expecting to meet the rebels here. "I came to visit a patient. Where is she?"
"She passed away." The rebel sitting on the floor spoke up, a young woman in a battered leather jacket. More dotted triangles peeked out from the cutoff gloves she wore, covering the nails of one hand completely. "Her neighbors have taken care of her remains properly."
"I see." Shingo bowed his head. She'd been quite old, much older than Madame. It wasn't unexpected, but it still hurt. "I sorry I wasn't able to help."
"It's not our business," the first rebel said, a short, stocky man. "Our business is the message you were sent yesterday."
"Five stars." The third was tall and willowy, undefinable even in voice. He--she--they folded their arms, showing triangles painted on every nail of both hands. It was sign of how loyal the rebel was, Shingo supposed, but it still made the hair rise on the back of his neck.
"The children's story?"
The first rebel waved his hand. "Nothing so trivial. The name refers to a project the Tower is conducting in secret. It involves, as far as we know, tracking down certain 'candidates' and eliminating them."
Kimura shifted uneasily. "Just killing them? That's all?"
"They might be people who pose too much threat to the Tower." The rebel folded his arms. "We can't see why they would limit themselves to five, though, nor why certain candidates would be such a priority."
"What, is your leader jealous?" Kimura snorted. "If I knew what they were afraid of, I'd broadcast it across the channel so everyone could be doing it."
The first rebel scowled, but the second waved her hand placatingly. "Your designation we can respect. The one we don't get is the doctor's."
Shingo blinked. "Me?" Inagaki hadn't mentioned that. "I've never even made their criminal list."
"It could just be by association," the first rebel mused. "But they usually don't go straight for the throat like that."
"It would take something more dangerous," the third added softly, giving Shingo a decidedly meaningful look. "Perhaps a project even we wouldn't know about."
Shingo folded his arms. "I'm well aware of how you guys feel about the underground. You'd think I was from the Tower for all the welcome I've received." Once word had spread that he'd come up from the underground, the rebels had watched him suspiciously for weeks, avoiding him and refusing any offers of help. He looked at each of them sharply. "If the underground has something they're planning, I wouldn't know. I'm just trying to help people survive."
The second rebel smiled. "That may be the most threatening thing to them of all." She stood, dusting off her jacket. "Let's go. It's time to report back."
The other two looked unsatisfied. "We should bring them with us. They might still be hiding something."
Kimura edged closer to Shingo, muscles tensing--
"Leave them," the girl commanded. "My team's already been ordered to watch them. If the Commander wants to bring them in, she will."
"They are very... good," Inagaki said, looking rather overwhelmed at the situation he found himself in. Tsuyoshi was perched on the arm of the couch across from him, bits of sandwich that he'd been feeding the man balanced on his lap. "I can honestly say I have never tasted any of those flavors before."
"Yeah, the peanut butter and mayo one was kind of a surprise," Tsuyoshi agreed, inspecting his leftovers for any more of the offending sandwich. "They all had mayo in them, come to think of it. Maybe he's got a secret mayo fetish."
Nakai hadn't found the peanut-butter-mayo that bad, but then he didn't really have much for comparison. He'd also been distracted by the sight of Tsuyoshi hand-feeding Inagaki, wondering if he could get Tsuyoshi to do the same for him. He flushed, and quickly pushed the thought away again.
"Instant ramen and mayo sandwiches," Tsuyoshi mused to himself. "For being a doctor, he doesn't pay much attention to food. I guess he doesn't really have time to, don't you think?" Nakai blinked as Tsuyoshi turned to him, depositing the sandwich leftovers back onto the plate.
"Huh? No, I guess not." Shingo seemed to have been constantly doing things from the moment Nakai had woken up on his couch. Nakai wished there was something he could do, other than take care of Tsuyoshi and not go outside. "He seems like he's trying to help everyone."
"And that Kimura doesn't seem like he'd be much at cooking," Tsuyoshi added thoughtfully. He put his hand on his hip. "Right, then. Let's go see what we can do." He strode off toward the kitchen; Nakai quickly trotted after, Inagaki watching them in bemusement.
"Aha! I knew I saw some in here yesterday!" Tsuyoshi was holding up a package with a picture of some kind of brown stew on the front. "And there's a carrot and potatoes in the fridge, too. Perfect!"
"What is?" Nakai peered at the package over Tsuyoshi's shoulder.
"Just you wait," Tsuyoshi said, grinning at him. "We're going to make curry."
"We should go back." Kimura glanced over at Shingo as they hurried through the rain. "They're trying to kill you."
"They're trying to kill you, too, but that didn't stop you before." Shingo plowed forward, puddles splashing under feet. "This is the last patient."
The man was grateful to see Shingo, carrying his daughter on one hip even as he coughed into a handkerchief with his free hand. "She won't catch it, will she?"
Shingo listened to their breathing with his stethoscope. Some improvement on the man's part, no problems with the girl. Nothing acute, then, thankfully. "She may develop a cough if she picks it up from you, but she's old enough to fight it. Just keep eating and get lots of sleep, and it should go away in a week or so."
The man tried to pay him extra. Shingo refused it, telling him to spend it on the food he'd need to keep his daughter healthy.
Kimura looked up at him as he stepped outside. The rain was dripping off the tips of his hair where they stuck out from under the hood. "Shoulda taken it."
Shingo stalked past him. "We're going home."
"Damn right." Kimura stood in a cascade of droplets. "And we're giving that spy to the rebels. They'll know what to do with him."
"We are not." Shingo kept walking, not looking back. "They'll kill him whether he's telling the truth or not, and you know it."
"Does it matter?"
Shingo stopped, taking a deep breath. It was how Kimura thought, it was how Kimura lived. He was not going to let it piss him off right now, not when they were both still in danger. "Yes," he said, letting his breath out slowly. "It matters to me."
Title: We Become Light
Pairings: Nakai/Tsuyoshi, Kimura/Shingo/Goro
Rating: R for violence and swearing
Notes: Five men meet in a dystopian cyberpunk future to free their city from the Tower, with the help of motorcycle rebels, mysterious memories, and love.
Shingo took first watch, then Kimura; by the time Tsuyoshi and Nakai climbed up the stairs again it was well past dawn and Shingo was already pulling on his jacket.
"You're heading out?" Tsuyoshi yawned, rubbing his eyes. There was a plate of sandwiches on the table.
"We're heading out," Kimura corrected, lacing his boots. "If the rebels wanna talk, they're gonna have to find us." He glanced over at Goro. "And we don't need them finding out about some of the guests here."
"I have some patients to check on, as well," Shingo added, patting his pockets. "How's the arm? Still hurt?"
Tsuyoshi ran his hand over the sling. "Yeah. But I slept okay, thanks to Nakai." They'd gone to sleep side-by-side, but by morning Nakai had been a warm shield of comfort wrapped around him again. It helped a lot with the pain, even if Nakai seemed awfully embarrassed about it when he woke up.
Nakai blushed, and sat down on the couch quickly, peering at the sandwiches. "So, it'll just be us here?"
"You and the spy." Kimura stood. "Don't untie him. Don't even talk to him, if you can help it."
Tsuyoshi frowned, but Shingo just laughed. "Cheerful, isn't he?" He turned to Goro. "We do have to leave you tied up, though. I, uh, don't suppose you have to pee or anything?"
"Actually, my body is modified to be able to recycle waste back into the system in an emergency situation--"
"Right, I'm sorry I asked." Shingo pulled his goggles over his head, leaving them hanging loose around his neck. "Just sit tight, then, and we'll be back in no time." He patted Tsuyoshi's shoulder with a smile, and headed out the door, following by a considerably less smiley Kimura.
"Well," Tsuyoshi said, plopping down next to Nakai and taking a sandwich. "That leaves us in charge, then." Nakai reached over to lift a corner of the bread curiously; it was egg salad, but Tsuyoshi was willing to bet Nakai had never even seen an egg before. Come to think of it, Goro probably hadn't either.
He glanced over, still irritated by Kimura's pessimistic warnings. If he couldn't untie the man, he was at least going to show him a little hospitality. "Think your body can handle some real food?"
Shingo bid his first patient farewell, stepping back out into the street. It was a tiny, one-room hovel, with barely enough room for the mother and her three children, but it was enough for them to survive, and survive they would now, a little longer.
Kimura was crouched on the top step like a cat. "Next?"
"A few blocks over." Shingo led the way, pulling his goggles on as the rain began to pick up. The buildings only got more rundown as they walked, seemingly fragile exteriors hiding lives struggling with all their might to keep living. The Tower ignored them, probably seeing only the weakness; but they were stronger than it knew, joining hands however possible to help each other survive. He stopped at a curtain doorway, knocking lightly on the wall to one side.
There was no response. He knocked again, calling out his patient's name.
Again, no response. He glanced back at Kimura, and they both stepped through the curtain.
There were three people waiting inside. Kimura tensed, glancing behind them, but the one standing closest raised a hand, palm-inward, revealing a triangle of three dots painted on one of his nails. "We're not here to fight, only to talk."
Shingo frowned; he hadn't been expecting to meet the rebels here. "I came to visit a patient. Where is she?"
"She passed away." The rebel sitting on the floor spoke up, a young woman in a battered leather jacket. More dotted triangles peeked out from the cutoff gloves she wore, covering the nails of one hand completely. "Her neighbors have taken care of her remains properly."
"I see." Shingo bowed his head. She'd been quite old, much older than Madame. It wasn't unexpected, but it still hurt. "I sorry I wasn't able to help."
"It's not our business," the first rebel said, a short, stocky man. "Our business is the message you were sent yesterday."
"Five stars." The third was tall and willowy, undefinable even in voice. He--she--they folded their arms, showing triangles painted on every nail of both hands. It was sign of how loyal the rebel was, Shingo supposed, but it still made the hair rise on the back of his neck.
"The children's story?"
The first rebel waved his hand. "Nothing so trivial. The name refers to a project the Tower is conducting in secret. It involves, as far as we know, tracking down certain 'candidates' and eliminating them."
Kimura shifted uneasily. "Just killing them? That's all?"
"They might be people who pose too much threat to the Tower." The rebel folded his arms. "We can't see why they would limit themselves to five, though, nor why certain candidates would be such a priority."
"What, is your leader jealous?" Kimura snorted. "If I knew what they were afraid of, I'd broadcast it across the channel so everyone could be doing it."
The first rebel scowled, but the second waved her hand placatingly. "Your designation we can respect. The one we don't get is the doctor's."
Shingo blinked. "Me?" Inagaki hadn't mentioned that. "I've never even made their criminal list."
"It could just be by association," the first rebel mused. "But they usually don't go straight for the throat like that."
"It would take something more dangerous," the third added softly, giving Shingo a decidedly meaningful look. "Perhaps a project even we wouldn't know about."
Shingo folded his arms. "I'm well aware of how you guys feel about the underground. You'd think I was from the Tower for all the welcome I've received." Once word had spread that he'd come up from the underground, the rebels had watched him suspiciously for weeks, avoiding him and refusing any offers of help. He looked at each of them sharply. "If the underground has something they're planning, I wouldn't know. I'm just trying to help people survive."
The second rebel smiled. "That may be the most threatening thing to them of all." She stood, dusting off her jacket. "Let's go. It's time to report back."
The other two looked unsatisfied. "We should bring them with us. They might still be hiding something."
Kimura edged closer to Shingo, muscles tensing--
"Leave them," the girl commanded. "My team's already been ordered to watch them. If the Commander wants to bring them in, she will."
"They are very... good," Inagaki said, looking rather overwhelmed at the situation he found himself in. Tsuyoshi was perched on the arm of the couch across from him, bits of sandwich that he'd been feeding the man balanced on his lap. "I can honestly say I have never tasted any of those flavors before."
"Yeah, the peanut butter and mayo one was kind of a surprise," Tsuyoshi agreed, inspecting his leftovers for any more of the offending sandwich. "They all had mayo in them, come to think of it. Maybe he's got a secret mayo fetish."
Nakai hadn't found the peanut-butter-mayo that bad, but then he didn't really have much for comparison. He'd also been distracted by the sight of Tsuyoshi hand-feeding Inagaki, wondering if he could get Tsuyoshi to do the same for him. He flushed, and quickly pushed the thought away again.
"Instant ramen and mayo sandwiches," Tsuyoshi mused to himself. "For being a doctor, he doesn't pay much attention to food. I guess he doesn't really have time to, don't you think?" Nakai blinked as Tsuyoshi turned to him, depositing the sandwich leftovers back onto the plate.
"Huh? No, I guess not." Shingo seemed to have been constantly doing things from the moment Nakai had woken up on his couch. Nakai wished there was something he could do, other than take care of Tsuyoshi and not go outside. "He seems like he's trying to help everyone."
"And that Kimura doesn't seem like he'd be much at cooking," Tsuyoshi added thoughtfully. He put his hand on his hip. "Right, then. Let's go see what we can do." He strode off toward the kitchen; Nakai quickly trotted after, Inagaki watching them in bemusement.
"Aha! I knew I saw some in here yesterday!" Tsuyoshi was holding up a package with a picture of some kind of brown stew on the front. "And there's a carrot and potatoes in the fridge, too. Perfect!"
"What is?" Nakai peered at the package over Tsuyoshi's shoulder.
"Just you wait," Tsuyoshi said, grinning at him. "We're going to make curry."
"We should go back." Kimura glanced over at Shingo as they hurried through the rain. "They're trying to kill you."
"They're trying to kill you, too, but that didn't stop you before." Shingo plowed forward, puddles splashing under feet. "This is the last patient."
The man was grateful to see Shingo, carrying his daughter on one hip even as he coughed into a handkerchief with his free hand. "She won't catch it, will she?"
Shingo listened to their breathing with his stethoscope. Some improvement on the man's part, no problems with the girl. Nothing acute, then, thankfully. "She may develop a cough if she picks it up from you, but she's old enough to fight it. Just keep eating and get lots of sleep, and it should go away in a week or so."
The man tried to pay him extra. Shingo refused it, telling him to spend it on the food he'd need to keep his daughter healthy.
Kimura looked up at him as he stepped outside. The rain was dripping off the tips of his hair where they stuck out from under the hood. "Shoulda taken it."
Shingo stalked past him. "We're going home."
"Damn right." Kimura stood in a cascade of droplets. "And we're giving that spy to the rebels. They'll know what to do with him."
"We are not." Shingo kept walking, not looking back. "They'll kill him whether he's telling the truth or not, and you know it."
"Does it matter?"
Shingo stopped, taking a deep breath. It was how Kimura thought, it was how Kimura lived. He was not going to let it piss him off right now, not when they were both still in danger. "Yes," he said, letting his breath out slowly. "It matters to me."