Winter Hell-land
TITLE: Winter WonderHell-land
GROUP: News (6! and 4!)
RATING/GENRE: G. Gen, or perhaps some extraordinarily vague pairings if you read into it.
SUMMARY: How News starts, is, gets broken, and begins anew.
NOTES: For my oh-so-lovely, sanjihan ♥ &hearts Merry Christmas, Happy New Year's, Season's Greetings, etc~ I took basically all a significant portion of my inspiration from (a) "man doing stupid things and screwing himself," (b) how much I know you like post-apocalyptic and 'punk stuff, and (c) this picture. Also, just as an FYI, the story is not told in chronological order.
(Also, I realized I posted this early, but I am also several hours ahead of you all, I think. And, I will be traveling from December 23rd without my laptop. So. It's either now or sometime after January 6.)
The System was supposed to help.
It was supposed to alleviate flooding and drought, extreme heat and extreme cold, control winds from stirring up dirt and sand into the air that man breaths.
It was supposed to usher in a new age of Man where the concerns of weather were nothing, and people could focus on jobs and careers and families and everything else that is more important than, "Should I wear a heavy coat today?" or "Will I need an umbrella?"
Everyone was told that the world would be better off with The System. Scientists said so. Politicans said so. Business leaders said so. Doctors said so. Everyone important said it was the way of the future.
They were all lies.
---
The Livelihood and Survival offices are never well heated. The digital environment readers would always say the hallways and conference rooms and offices were a tolerable 55 degrees Fahrenheit.
Shige doesn't even need to pull off his gloves to know it's a lie. His cheek twitches.
It's 43 degrees in this hallway, and he knows it. He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck.
Next to him, Massu sits wearing his ever-present shorts. But, he must be at least a little cold to have pulled the sleeves of his fleece jacket from his elbows down to his wrists. On Massu's other side, Tegoshi's naps, his goggles tight over his eyes.
Shige wonders how much longer Koyama's meeting is going to take.
---
"These people won't make it through autumn, much less winter," Tegoshi says before they've even finished striking camp on the outskirts of the little village. "They're doomed."
He says it with such finality and nonchalance. Koyama frowns and tries not to say anything mean; he knows Tegoshi can't help it.
Yamashita -- their leader -- looks up from building a fire. "I'm impressed that you manage to keep that in all day."
Tegoshi shrugs.
"It's true, though," Ryo mumbles, getting their food rations ready. "These mountain villages are always hanging on by just a threat, but this one...."
The conversation dies out, the especially depressing day of work they'd had takes the energy from them. They eat dinner quietly. Shige gives his mushrooms to Ryo, knowing that mountains are never good for Ryo's health. Massu and Yamashita leave dinner early to go the tent that the six share. They shuck off most of their clothes, and sit quietly together, steadying raising their body temperature.
When the other four join them to sleep, they keep more clothes on that usual.
"35," Shige mutters, smushed between Yamashita and Tegoshi.
It's a terrifying thought -- that the combined warmth of Massu and Yamashita can barely win out over these mountains.
---
"Koyama is not an ideal leader for this sort of team," Tegoshi says at the end of their first surveying mission as a team of four.
No one contradicts him.
Not Koyama, who is always so quick to justify why he is the most ideal leader for the now smaller team.
Not Shige, who is always so quick to defend his best friend.
Not Massu, who is always so quick to remind Tegoshi that his remarks are often unnecessarily blunt.
---
Central Government offices, Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare, Post-System Failure Bureau, Livelihood and Survival Department, Ration Surveying Section.
If any of them received a paycheck, that's what it would say. But, they don't receive a paycheck.
Honestly, in this day and age, no one cares much for cash money anymore.
The best kind of payment one can hope for is food, and that's what the Bureau pays them in. Their jobs aren't especially fun, but they are necessary, and the team is paid well in rice and bread, pork and chicken, spinach and burdock root, persimmon and apples.
And, they're given the tools to do their jobs -- clothing, measuring equipment, gear.
They get more than that too, but no one really likes to talk about it. The physio-tech. The things that are supposed to make their lives easier and make them more efficient at their jobs.
Shige's Epidermal Sensors mean he always knows exactly how cold it is, how humid it is, what the air pressure is doing, what's the barometric pressure doing. He can read the air like book, but it's always a depressing one, and he can't help but think it's left him in a constant state of pessimism. And, when the sensors start to go haywire -- in need of a tune-up or an upgrade or something -- even the slightest touch is unbearably painful, and Shige grits his teeth at the pain of wearing clothes.
Massu's Internal Autonomic Temperature Control, giving him a constantly increased body temperature and control over raising it even further, might seem like a godsend in their eternal winter, but they all know it's really not. 104 degrees Fahrenheit is a delirium fever in a regular person, and the physio-tech doesn't make Massu special in any other way. He lives constantly -- even when he's at his coolest -- in a border-line state of delirium, always trying to control himself. Tegoshi says that's why he always dresses in such "interesting" ways.
Ah, and Tegoshi. The blunt, cold-hearted baby of the group, whose Prefrontal Cortex was cut up to make way for his Optical Sensors, leaving him with nearly no sympathy or empathy towards others, and computer eyes that see everything (infrared, night, electromagnetic traces). He acts like he doesn't care about the Prefrontal Cortex thing (the doctors conveniently forgot to mention it in the pre-op meetings), but the others think that it must wear on him, to know that he's being crass and uncaring to the people who beg them for greater rations, but is utterly unable to control his comments.
Koyama, since having become the new leader, had his physio-tech upgraded. He still bears the Silver Tongue, implants in his tongue and lower jaw that emit a radio frequency that prevents people from lying to him and, under the right circumstances, to follow his orders. Certainly helpful when questioning villagers about ration use and levels, but not so much when his friends and teammates always find themselves answering his meaningless little questions with things like, "I am miserable," or "I wish I hadn't survived that first winter when I was little," or "I don't remember a time when it wasn't cold." And, on top of the Silver Tongue, he now has the standard issue internal radio that leader's always have. It's all well-and-good being in constant contact with the Bureau, but Koyama doesn't understand why the radio has to be in his head. He gets woken up at all hours of the night for status reports, interrupted while questioning villagers and calming tensions in their newly down-sized and stressed group.
The government talks like physio-tech is the most wonderful thing ever. Science's greatest gift to the people of the world.
It seems like quite a lot of people have forgotten when those same words were said The System.
Or, maybe all people who remember the days before The System are long since dead.
---
The first time the six of them meet, it is only a few short hours before their physio-tech surgeries, at a mandatory group pre-op session.
They are all familiar with the others thanks to dossiers, physical and psychological profiles, and short run-ins in the hallway between individually specific meetings and appointments. Introductions are unnecessary, but the psychiatrist present makes them go through it anyways.
"I'm Yamashita Tomohisa," the one they all know to be the leader says first. "Obviously, I will be carrying the radio, but I will also be the secondary oven."
The psychiatrist scribbles a note; Yamashita persists in the use of colloquial terms for psychio-tech. May be at higher risk of rejection.
"I'm the primary. Masuda Takahisa. 'Massu' is fine." He rubs his hands together. "IATC, I mean. I-I'll do my best to keep you all warm."
A faulty or confidence-lacking IATC can spell quick doom -- and death -- for a far-reaching team like theirs. The psychiatrist writes, Follow-up closely with Masuda.
A slight and young-eyed man speaks next. "I'm Tegoshi Yuuya. I'll have the optics."
The psychiatrist nods slowly. Reminder: Apology, Dr. Fujioka, concerning PreF Cor.
"Koyama Keiichirou, Silver Tongue," a tall, fidgety man says next. He smiles broadly and his eyes are bright.
Compliment Dr. Hada for a well-matched ST.
".... Kato Shigeaki. Epidermals."
Someone mumbles something that sounds like, "Sucks to be you." Everyone knows the reputation of Epidermals, of their finicky behavior and programming, and the stress is puts on the people who carry them.
Kato's eyes turn dark, and he slumps down in his seat.
Likewise -- high rejection chance. May require extended counseling post-op.
There is only one left -- man with sharp eyes and thick, dark hair: Nishikido Ryo, the former pencil pusher who, for some odd reason, asked for a transfer to a Ration Surveying Section squad.
"Nishikido. Neurological REM Inhibitor."
Yamashita and Massu both jerk and bite their lips, looking almost embarrassed.
New REMs -- prohibited from anything other than slight nap, meant to keep watch through the night, so that in case the IATCs fail, steps can be taken to save the team from freezing. His physio-tech assignment means that the doctors and psychiatrists are not entirely convinced that Massu has what it takes to keep his team warm, and that Yamashita can't do it on his own as a secondary.
"Well, now that the introductions are done, I'd like to begin with the first exercise," the psychiatrist says. The team members nod and wearily look amongst themselves.
---
"We are from the Livelihood Bureau. I'm Koyama, this is Kato, Tegoshi, and Masuda. We're here for your town's bi-annual ration assessment."
The mayor, a gaunt-looking man in his 40s or 50, frowns at them from across his desk. His knit hat is pulled low over his forehead and his lips are just short of being blue. He looks at them all with an intense look, measuring them up.
"Well, don't you all look well-fed."
It's not an uncommon comment. It's not like the government hordes the best, or even majority, of the food for its workers, but surveying teams have to be strong, healthy, able to travel all over the islands of Japan that have been in an ever-present state of deep, cold winter for 20 years.
"Getting piss--"
"Tegoshi, shut it!" Koyama snaps, and he does.
Massu spares at glance; Shige looks distinctly uncomfortable, but whether it's from the atmosphere or his epidermals, Massu can't tell. Tegoshi's temples are twitching, which means he's taking in the office, looking at the heat signatures and magnetic traces and all the other sciencey things that Massu doesn't entirely understand.
"To begin with, we'd like to see your cellars and stores."
The mayor stands, but he still looks unhappy, like he wants to make a crude comment about fat government dogs and their physio-tech, putting them so high above the starving, struggling peons that are everyone else.
---
If Koyama thinks really hard, really tries to remember, he can just barely recall what warmth is. What it feels like to run in the warm sun, to not be wearing layers upon layers upon layers of clothing, to go to sleep with the window open and wearing nothing but underwear.
He's the oldest of the group at 27, but that means he was only 7 when The System failed, and memories of warmth and summer and watermelons and water fights fade a little bit more with every passing year.
Massu, Tegoshi, and Shige were all so much younger when it happened. Koyama doesn't dare ask -- if they remember what warm weather is -- because with this Silver Tongue, they'd answer, and he worries about how they might answer him.
---
"What do you mean you're leaving?"
Yamashita bites his lip. "There are some... issues. With the last report. Section Chief Takizawa has been ordered to remove me from the team for the time being."
Koyama frowns, and asks what they're all thinking. "For how long?"
"Not fair," Yamashita whines. None of them like it when Koyama abuses his Silver Tongue like that. "I don't know. He wouldn't say."
"What are supposed to do without our Leader?" Massu asks, sounding miserable and forlorn. "And, teams of more than four are required to have two IATCs. I can't keep everyone warm on my own."
Ryo coughs, sounding awkward. "I'll be gone for a little as well."
"You guys are dicks," Tegoshi says, sipping coffee.
"He's right, and for once, I'm not going to tell him to be more diplomatic about his statements," Shige adds. "There are rules about surveying teams like ours. We're not allowed out as a four-man team. What the hell are we supposed to do without you guys? Are temps getting brought in?"
Yamashita and Ryo share a look.
"You're all going to be on desk duty until this blows over," Yamashita finally says, unable to look any of them in the face.
Tegoshi throws his coffee at Yamashita and storms out of the conference room.
---
January 17th is System Failure Remembrance Day.
It's probably worst national holiday to ever exist.
People gather together and reminisce about what it was like before The System, wonder if the scientists are actually close to shutting it down, or if they just keep saying that to keep people's spirits up.
They can't even have a feast, because the rationing doesn't allow for it. They don't even have New Year's feasts anymore.
All in all, it's a terrible day of nothing but pessimism and depression. More people kill themselves in the week of January 17th than any other week in the year.
---
It's their first, group post-op meeting.
Koyama is shy to talk. Partially because his jaw still hurts from the surgery, and also because he's not entirely comfortable with being able to get people to tell him nearly anything.
Nishikido is pale and has to walk with the help of a nurse. He looks doped up, and he probably is a little. Will continue to be, until the doctors can get him properly accustomed to his new non-sleep schedule.
Tegoshi has goggles over his eyes, blocking out the harsh, florescent light. There is a long line of stitches along his scalp.
Masuda and Yamashita are wearing nothing but the standard issue, thin hospital gown, and looking quite comfortable. Their cheeks are flushed, and they have a slight sheen of sweat along their brow. Masuda has a little chemical cool-pack that he periodically presses against his neck or chest. Every so often, Yamashita will randomly start talking, answering what must be benign questions like, "What is your name," or "how old are you," or "what is your favorite food." It would be creepy, if they all didn't know it was just his radio being tested.
Shige is covered in bandages, all along his arms and feet. He barely moves, and when he does, he hisses at the feel of it.
"I'm so glad you could all manage to be here today," the psychiatrist says. "You're all looking quite well, I must say."
Shige makes an irritated noise, and Tegoshi says, "We look like shit, are you fucking blind?"
The room is silent for a very long, and uncomfortable, moment.
"I supposed it would be best to first address the incident with Tegoshi. Would you like to tell them or--"
"The surgeon fucked the hell up and nicked something important in the bit of the brain up here." He points to his forehead. "So, apparently, now I'm unsympathetic and say things others consider rude without being able to control it."
Yamashita's jaw drops, and Koyama just looks sad for him.
"In somewhat more eloquent terms, the Prefrontal Cortex was... damaged during the installation of the Optic Sensors. Tegoshi is otherwise completely fine and fit for his work. You'll all just have to be patient with him."
"Did you fuck up on any of the rest of us?" Nishikido asks, mumbling his words and looking ready to fall asleep at any moment.
"No. The rest of the surgeries all went as they should have."
---
"You aren't following the directions that the Bureau has very clearly laid out," Shige says, checking a box on his form and scribbling down notes on his tablet.
"Excuse me?" A short, crass-looking woman says. "This cellar is perfectly cooled."
The directions for proper cooling of vegetables and fruits is on a poster, pasted on the wall of the cellar. Shige points to it.
"The maximum recommended temperature for these items is 52 degrees. This cellar is 58. You are allowing these foodstuffs to rot quicker than they otherwise could, and are wasting extremely valuable resources that the government is providing to you."
The woman straightens up in height. "This cellar is 50 degrees. It is always 50 degrees."
Shige knows it's not. His cheek twitches. It's 58.
Tegoshi walks up behind him and whispers in his ear, "The vents have a hint of color. They don't ever properly cool this cellar. They're trying to cover their tracks. Totally fucking with us, Shige. Probably going to gorge on it, then claim rodents or something, and get emergencies goods from the Bureau."
It's not a new story.
Shige knows it's 58 in here, and if Tegoshi says it used to be warmer, then it was.
Shige doesn't need to take off his gloves and have more skin in contact with the air to know that. And Tegoshi could see those lingering heat signatures even without the goggles that block out unnecessary distractions in his vision.
They look at each other, and Tegoshi smirks. He pulls up his goggles, the physio-tech in his eyes swirling and shifting into new shapes to take in everything in the cellar. Shige pulls off his gloves, the sensors in his skin reflecting silver and blue.
The woman gasps and stumbles over her words. She knows she's been found out. There is no lying to physio-tech.
That night, the six of them sit around their little fire, and Tegoshi smiles. He looks at the air above the fire and watches how the colors and heats dance.
"Sometimes, it's a little fun to be over-dramatic showy with the tech," he whispers. "There are so few things to derive enjoyment from nowadays."
"Tegoshi, finish your tomatoes," Koyama says.
He doesn't want to. He knows that if he leaves them for much longer, Shige or Massu will eat them. But, Tegoshi watches his hands move towards the bowl, pick up his fork, and stab the soft, red fruit.
"You and your fucking tongue," Tegoshi mutters, right before he bites the boiled tomato off the fork.
---
"This town is no different from any of the others that struggle to survive," Ryo hisses to Yamashita, the two of them walking quite further behind the other four.
"It is."
"Wha- No. No, it's not. You can't be so fucking sensitive."
Yamashita stops. "32% of the population is below the age of majority."
"And?"
"None of them are well."
Ryo bites his lip.
Every town has a couple kids that are constantly ill with something that, if there was enough food for them to have a proper diet, would quickly be cured. But, this place...
"If you cheat and get this place a couple hundred more calories per kid -- it won't mean anything. They might not get better. Those rations will have to come from someone else."
"This place will not survive."
Ryo turns back to watch the other four continuing up ahead. "I know," he says quietly.
---
Desk duty does not go well.
Yamashita and Ryo are in a constant state of MIA, and when the other four inquire as to their whereabouts, the answer is always a sharp, "Get back to work!" Even Koyama's Silver Tongue is useless, what with the little cancellers that the rest of the office staff have taken up wearing.
The office environment is uncomfortable for them all.
Massu, even with his status as an IATC, has to wear the standard issue office uniform, which is thick and heavy, meant to trap warmth close to the body. But, it overheats Massu every day. At least once, he slumps against his desk, or falls out of his chair, passed out from heat and dehydration. His delirium gets worse and takes up spouting out random trivia, annoying the others who sit in their little area.
The uniform irritates Shige as well. The strange wool blend is itchy, and it rubs uncomfortably against his sensors.
Tegoshi complains loudly, wanting to get back on the road and doing a real job. He's like a bored little dog, ripping apart everything he can get his teeth into, all in a desperate attempt at attention and freedom.
And Koyama is distraught. He's the oldest, and while never the leader, has always taken a certain amount of pride in caring for his team. They're two men down and falling apart at the seams. They aren't suited to an office environment, and he works hard at trying to find a way out for them.
---
The blizzard outside is harsh and strong, and the winds pound against the fabric of the tent. The six are huddled tightly together, teeth chattering, focused on surviving. Massu and Yamashita both have their IATCs as high as possible, but everything still feels cold, and Tegoshi won't stop whining.
None of them want to say what they're all thinking -- Massu looks ill. He's pushing the limits of his system, far higher than what Yamashita can ever hope to match. It's not safe, but all he's thinking about is his team, and his job to safely see them through his cold storm.
They're all too scared to mention the fact that if he runs at his maximum temperature for too long, the IATC systems will crash, he'll fall unconscious and begin cooling down. It would be hours until he wakes up, and the storm shows no signs of letting up.
They're all too scared to mention it as a possibility, because Yamashita alone, as a secondary, can't possibly keep them all warm enough. Without Massu, there is a very real possibility of death.
Massu starts shaking, and Tegoshi grips his hand tightly.
"Shige, check his temperature," Yamashita whispers, his voice hoarse.
Looking worried, Shige pulls off a glove and reaches his fingers towards Massu.
He shrinks away. "I'm okay. I'm okay," he keeps saying, but they all know it's a lie.
Shige doesn't need to touch him to know it better than the rest of them. He doesn't even need to say what the temperature is. Shige and Yamashita share a look.
"Koyama."
"No!" Massu shrieks, but he doesn't move.
"You're too hot, and you know it," Ryo mumbles into Yamashita shoulder.
"Massu," Koyama says very gently; Massu shakes his head vigorously and tries to cover his ears. "Cool to your resting temperature."
"It's not fair," Massu nearly cries. "I'm okay."
"You're not," Tegoshi whispers. "Rest a little."
In minutes, the air in the tent and in their bundle of blankets is cooler. Massu keeps mumbling about his duty, about his IATC, that it's his job to keep them warm. Koyama periodically shushes him.
None of them sleep that night. It's far too cold.
---
The System was turned on January 17th.
But, no one knew anything was wrong until months later.
It was meant to alleviate suffering due to extreme weather conditions, not end or alter the season themselves.
After the fourth unseasonal, heavy blizzard in Japan, after the monsoon rains in the south Pacific were officially months late, after the hot summer sun would not slowly fade, the world began to wonder if something went wrong.
And, it did. Severe weather wasn't being controlled, the seasons were. Everyone trapped in the seasonal weather patterns of whatever season January 17th happened to fall in; winter for the northern hemisphere, summer for the southern, and the equatorial regions trapped either in monsoons or desperately needing them.
Japan lives in winter now. The air is always cold, and the ground does nothing but trap that cold.
It has been the height of winter for 20 years, and it is the new reality of people's world.
---
"Koyama, your request is extremely... unconventional," Chief Takizawa says, looking uncomfortable. "As your team currently stands--"
"We can still do our job."
Takizawa looks down and checks the canceller that hangs around his neck. The green light is solid, so he has nothing to worry about.
"A team of four has never been authorized in the field. Not even in suburban surveying. You're expecting me to authorize you all as a team of four. For rural and deep-rural surveying. Koyama, this is preposterous."
"Why exactly do you think we can't do this?"
Takizawa frowns. "The other rural teams -- Arashi, KAT-TUN, and the half-sections of HeySay -- are five member teams, and they struggle plenty enough. A four-man team... you'd be spread too thin. You'd all be pulling too much weight."
"We aren't them," Koyama says clearly, sitting straight in the office chair. "We can do it. Shige, Massu, Tegoshi -- I know them, better than you do, and I know the four of us can continue surveying successfully. Until the matter with Yamashita and Nishikido is cleared up."
Takizawa stares down at his desk, eyes sad, and Koyama wonders about what's going on with Yamashita and Ryo's case.
"Give us a chance. Let us prove it to you. If we fail, I won't bring it up again. Ever."
"What is it with News and being so damn ambitious," Takizawa sighs.
---
They are sent out too early on their first mission.
Ryo hasn't adjusted to his REM inhibitor, no one has learned how to deal properly with Tegoshi's uncontrolled remarks. Shige fights the constant urge to scratch at his skin, and Koyama is weary to speak anything that could be taken as a question or order.
The only ones who seem vaguely okay are Yamashita and Masuda, comfortable out in the rural areas in little more than hoodies. The other four are a bit jealous, that those two have each other to see through this period. They're not alone when wondering about IATCs. When Yamashita get distracted on the radio, Massu fills in for him. And, when Massu's delirium gets to be a bit too much to handle, Yamashita likewise steps up.
They're sent to survey an aging town. Of the 147 residents, only three are below the age of majority, and nearly one hundred are over the age of 60. Demographics like that do not bode well for any town.
The residents ask for larger rations and more medicine to be delivered, and as leader, it's Yamashita's painful duty to explain to them, in the gentlest of terms, that the policymakers see more rewards in encouraging growth and sustainability in towns with a healthier demographic spread. But, Tegoshi beats him to the punch, and says something far more undiplomatic, along the lines of, "we're not going to waste resources on a bunch of old people who are just going to die soon anyways."
The citizens rage and scream, demand what is rightfully theirs for suffering through the icy hell that those policymakers brought upon the world.
The new team -- News, as they were dubbed -- is run out of town. They run until there is a mountain and a valley between their camp and that village.
Camp is quiet and miserable. All that anyone says all night comes from Yamashita, a soft and sad-sounding, "Tegoshi, you musn't jump ahead like that. Ever."
Tegoshi nods, slowly, and moves closer to the fire.
---
Yamashita is going to falsify the report, and Ryo knows it.
He's going to re-paint that village, use all the right buzzwords that he told Yamashita the rationing council looks for, and get them more, all in the hope that it'll save those kids and that village. Maybe it will. Maybe it won't.
Yamashita is very clearly willing to take that chance; both on the village and his career.
---
Chief Takizawa believes fervently in the surveying teams that work under him. They brave a lot of shitty places for the sake of keeping the Bureau well-informed. Koyama was right when he said that Takizawa didn't know News as well as their new de-facto leader. Takizawa's interactions with the teams are largely limited to the leaders, meaning that he'd only dealt personally with Yamashita.
He watches News sitting at their desks, crazy and itchy and impatient and wanting to do something. He can see when a person's potential is being wasted, can see how much these boys want to do something for their home.
Takizawa is a well-liked guy, and there are people who owe him favors all over the Bureau -- and, he has to cash in nearly all of them to get News the chance to prove that 4 person teams are viable in not only Post-System Failure surveying, but rural surveying as well.
---
Kitamoto town, Saitama prefecture isn't quite far out enough to be considered a truly rural town, but at the same time, it's too far from any major population center for it to be labeled as a suburban district. And, it's where News is headed, after receiving their surveying details from Chief Takizawa, who reminds them of the unprecedented nature of this mission, and that News has only this one opportunity to prove themselves.
Koyama is visibly nervous, feeling the strain of his psuedo-leadership. He quadruple checks the team's gear (even after Tegoshi and Massu's double check), and tests the team's standard hand-held radio enough times for the shift supervisor at the command center to tell Koyama off for tying up the frequency.
The delays set them behind schedule far enough that they don't reach the pre-marked ideal campsite; it also means they'll have to make-up the time lost tomorrow.
"Good job keeping us on pace, Leader," Tegoshi hisses, looking up from peeling carrots just long enough to send Koyama a sharp glare.
Koyama tries to laugh it off, like he always does Tegoshi's uncontrollable, harsh comments. But, this time is different. It's a weak, airy laugh, and Koyama is too scared to look up from his own duties to see if Tegoshi is still glaring.
He was called "leader," but he sure as hell doesn't feel like one. Yamashita always made it look so easy. He always carried the responsibility and duty like it was nothing, and it didn't weight a thing upon his shoulders.
But, after barely a whole day, Koyama is tired and stressed and his shoulders ache from that weight of responsibility.
---
Yamashita wouldn't say he falsified his report on that little village.
Stretched the truth, exaggerated certain points -- sure, but lied? No.
The numerous committees and councils and Bureau heads he's been in meetings with seem to think otherwise, though.
"I can't believe you would do this," Chief Takizawa murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've always been such a good leader, always so reasonable and fair in your surveying assessments. Why this? Why now?"
"We're supposed to be looking out the well-being of the towns. Ensuring their survival. I did what I felt was necessary to give them the supplies necessary to do that."
"By lying," Takizawa snaps. "Your job is to access their rate of consumption, measure the population stresses on food stores, certify that their cellars are operating within assigned standards, and rate the general health of the town."
'If we're just going to let towns die, what's the point of going all the way out there to do all that?" Yamashita face is blank, like he's in the middle of a poker game, but his voice is hard, determined. "The ultra-rural towns have been left to suffer at the far end of the distribution chain for too long. At some point, they are going to collapse."
"If a village fails, it's not our fault. We don't assign what supplies go where."
"No, we just write the reports that are used by the Distribution Section to determine that."
"Yamashita --"
"If this is how this Bureau looks after the citizens, then I don't want anything to do with it anymore."
Takizawa's jaw drops, utterly speechless, and watches as his once golden-boy of the rural teams walks out of his office.
He hears through the office gossip chain a few days later that Yamashita's radio was remotely decommissioned, but the higher-ups left his IATC functioning. Apparently removing it would have been a drawn out process, and they wanted him severed with the Bureau as quickly as possible.
---
No one wants to be part of a surveying team.
What with the harshness of going out to rural villages, dealing with the pains of psycho-tech, and ever-present stress from communities asking, demanding, begging for more, it's a pretty miserable job.
No one wants it, but plenty of people apply for it.
Guaranteed rations in even the toughest of winters is a damn good incentive for applicants.
Koyama hates being away from home so often. His family is close, all living together in one big house, and he knows that his mother could his help for all sorts of things. But, it's all worth it -- the cold, and the camping, and heartbreak of little villages -- because when he comes home, he can share his rations with the people he absolutely loves most. Apples for his nephews, plums for his sister and brother-in-law, kinoko and tomatoes for his mother; that generous spirit and the looks of pure joy on their faces makes every hardship worth it.
Being home is difficult for Tegoshi, because even though he's the spoiled only child, his parents never have dealt well with the side-effects of his physio-tech. But, it's okay, because due to his work, his family can manage to have a great luxury in these times -- pets. Tinny and Skull never look at him harshly or scold him for his words. They wag their tails furiously when he comes home and curl up in his bed at night, obviously happy at his being home.
Shige's work is a sore spot, more for his father than his mother. His parents waited until they were a bit older to have him, and now that they've aged even further, the cold, dry winters are hard for them. Their health suffers; his mother has migraines and his father arthritis. If it weren't for their only son -- going out and being the key breadwinnder and nearly de-facto man of house, taking on the difficult duty of a surveying team -- his parent's health would suffer. Perhaps they would not have lived so long. Shige doesn't mind; he's a filial son and loves his parents deeply. But, his father laments, always feeling guilty.
Massu has always been a big eater. His mother has always joked about it, but it aches Massu's heart. His mother has always looked over their family so well, putting her children and husband before herself. He'd look at her plate and think about how there weren't enough calories there; no way was she getting anything near a proper diet. Her skin was always pale and dry, and her hands always shook. Even if she said otherwise, Massu always felt it was his fault for always being hungry, always wanting a snack. So, once he was old enough, he applied for a position on a surveying team. It was tough work, and his mother asked him not to, but while he'd be gone on jobs, his mother could eat a little more, and even month, he could come home with bags of rations, full of wondrous, healthy things.
-
"You've impressed the higher ups." Takizawa says, leaning back in his chair, Koyama standing stiffly on the other side of his desk. "They really didn't think you could get the Kitamoto job done. Granted, you went over the time budgeted, but not enough for them to consider it a failure of a surveying."
Koyama smiles and opens his mouth to speak, but Takizawa cuts him off.
"Of course, it's all still in review. No promises, Koyama. Your team will return to their desk duties for the time being."
"Yes, sir."
Takizwa looks down at his desk. "Also, I have some.... news regarding Yamashita and Nishikido."
Koyama wants to be hopeful, but Takizawa's tone and body language give him little reason to be.
"Yamashita has left the Bureau. And Nishikido has been transferred. Regardless of what comes about from this little experiment, they will not be returning to News."
Koyama feels sick into his stomach, and the rest of the meeting with Takizawa is a blur.
--
The air around their little camp is tense, and Massu is already dreading when they all have to cram into the little tent and try to sleep.
Koyama is sitting by the fire with Tegoshi, talking quietly and patting the younger on the hand and sometimes his forearm. Tegoshi looks bored and uncaring, and maybe -- just maybe, a tiny bit -- sad.
Much further away, Ryo is sitting with Yamashita. Their quiet murmuring together sounds like nothing. Every once and a while, Ryo will snap something loudly and gesticulate dramatically. Yamashita always pulls his arms down and lowers the tone of their conversation.
Massu sips from his water bottle and scoots closer to Shige.
"I don't want to cuddle with you."
Massu hmms and offers his bottle towards Shige. "Water?"
Shige glances over at Massu, who is always so protective of the cleanliness of his things and has a bit of an aversion to sharing. He wonders if the IATC is making him delirious or if, since every one has paired off so quickly from nearly the very start of their group, Massu figures he might as well open up to his chosen buddy.
After a long sigh, Shige takes the bottle and squirts some water into his mouth. The rim doesn't touch his lips, and the water is cold. Massu looks happy though and starts listing off trivia about various sealife.
--
It's a grey, miserable, and especially cold January morning when Chief Takizawa calls News into his office -- all of them, not just their de facto leader, Koyama.
They all know what this means.
"The final decision has come regarding your team's..... reduced membership."
"Just get to it," Tegoshi says.
Koyama grabs on tightly to Shige's forearm; he doesn't say anything, just looks straight at the chief.
Takizawa sighs and leans back in his chair. "They're allowing you to remain as functioning four-man team. They say there aren't any strings attached, but assume that they will be watching your performance very closely. You're leaving for the Sanriku district of Nagano in three days. My secretary will give you the details."
"We will begin our preparations immediately," Koyama says, his voice sounding tight.
When they exit his office, the secretary doesn't even look up from her work. She just holds out a manila envelope for Koyama to take.
Koyama can't help the broad smile across his face, and Tegoshi can't help complaining that Nagano water always tastes like dirt.
-
"Why should I trust you?" The mayor asks.
The young man smiles. "I used to work for them. In a rural surveying team. I know what they look how, what they will punish and reward, what they will ask you about -- everything. Everything the team will do and say, I know."
"... And you gave all that up for this? Why?"
Yamashita grins and adjusts his hat. He shrugs. "I guess I've developed a bit of a taste for working the system."
--
Yasuda and Subaru bicker light-heartedly while they peel potatoes, and Maruyama hums quickly as he chops onions.
"Deadlines in the Kansai offices are more... guidelines than rules," Hina says. "The world ain't going anywhere, so there's no need to rush. We always take time like this."
"It's important to savour one's meals," Ohkura chirps.
"R-right," Ryo mutters and stifles a yawn.
"We all know you're still settling in from your sudden transfer, so if there's anything we can do to help, don't hesitate."
Ryo nods, and as they all lay together in the tent, three IATCs burning, he's torn between guilt for leaving News while at their weakest and the joy of working with the guys he'd first applied with.
--
Six months on, and they are a well-oiled machine; they never miss a step or a detail and always swoop in just in time for help any of the others with their responsibilities.
Koyama smiles across the make-shift firepit.
Shige is always so careful in peeling potatoes, doing it as shallowly as possible. Tegoshi doesn't care, just absently flicks off bits of the rough skin and watches Massu set up their tent. Every so often he chirps out all the ways he could do it better. Shige tells him to shut up, and Massu just laughs, sweat running down his temples.
"News team, check, check," Koyama's radio buzzes.
"Check," he says back, none of the other paying any mind to their leader talking to himself. It's normal nowadays, like it's always been Koyama carrying their radio.
"Surveying status."
"Orizawa bi-annual survey completed at 16:45. Hiked to surveying team camp-point 34-Kappa-Nu. Arrived approximately 18:10. Currently striking camp."
"Team status."
"All well and accounted for."
"Weather tomorrow is calling for rain in the low-lands, and there is an advisory for possible snow and ice through mountain passes."
"Weather conditions noted."
"Bureau is recommending all surveying teams in your area to -- if possible -- take the old 7 road. Files show that your team will have sufficient rations for the extra walk."
"Confirmed. Rations sufficient. Will detour to the old 7 road."
"Check complete."
"Out."
"Why the hell do we have to detour to the 7 road? I want to get home," Tegoshi says immediately.
"Weather warnings through the pass. I'd rather take the extra day than risk getting bogged down in the snow."
Shige finally sets aside the single potato he's managed to peel in the space of Tegoshi's five. "I'm all for it. I really don't need my epidermals freaking out over the temperature fluctuations in the pass."
"Um, I-" Massu begins, but Koyama cuts him off.
"This isn't a democracy," he says, sharply, using his 'leader' voice that always make Tegoshi have to stifle his giggles. "We're taking the 7."
Massu nods slowly, looking a little hurt that his wasn't allowed to talk, and Shige just looks happy.
It catches up with them quickly -- moments like those, when dynamics of a four-man team show themselves so clearly to be different from those of the five- and six-man teams. They are close, and in so many ways, equals, but when it comes to it, Koyama is in charge; he gives the reports and gets the weather reports right in his head, and it's always his final call.
After their curry dinner -- which tasted quite a bit like nothing -- they curl up in their tent. Tegoshi claims a spot next to Massu and pulls Koyama to his other side, like he does every night. Shige mumbles something about his sensors and sleeping close to Massu. That happens every night too, and every night he still sleeps on Massu's other side and wakes with no problems but the standard stiff neck.
Right as he's about to drift off, Koyama absently thinks that, probably, the weather advisory for the pass is just the Bureau being overly safe. But, Koyama doesn't want to take the chance that the weather could turn poor. It's too much a bet, and he's not going to risk these three over a day's detour.
He smiles and tugs his sleeping bag tighter. Tegoshi's leg jerks in his sleep and kicks Koyama, but their mostly-fearless leader just keeps smiling.
GROUP: News (6! and 4!)
RATING/GENRE: G. Gen, or perhaps some extraordinarily vague pairings if you read into it.
SUMMARY: How News starts, is, gets broken, and begins anew.
NOTES: For my oh-so-lovely, sanjihan ♥ &hearts Merry Christmas, Happy New Year's, Season's Greetings, etc~ I took basically all a significant portion of my inspiration from (a) "man doing stupid things and screwing himself," (b) how much I know you like post-apocalyptic and 'punk stuff, and (c) this picture. Also, just as an FYI, the story is not told in chronological order.
(Also, I realized I posted this early, but I am also several hours ahead of you all, I think. And, I will be traveling from December 23rd without my laptop. So. It's either now or sometime after January 6.)
The System was supposed to help.
It was supposed to alleviate flooding and drought, extreme heat and extreme cold, control winds from stirring up dirt and sand into the air that man breaths.
It was supposed to usher in a new age of Man where the concerns of weather were nothing, and people could focus on jobs and careers and families and everything else that is more important than, "Should I wear a heavy coat today?" or "Will I need an umbrella?"
Everyone was told that the world would be better off with The System. Scientists said so. Politicans said so. Business leaders said so. Doctors said so. Everyone important said it was the way of the future.
They were all lies.
---
The Livelihood and Survival offices are never well heated. The digital environment readers would always say the hallways and conference rooms and offices were a tolerable 55 degrees Fahrenheit.
Shige doesn't even need to pull off his gloves to know it's a lie. His cheek twitches.
It's 43 degrees in this hallway, and he knows it. He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck.
Next to him, Massu sits wearing his ever-present shorts. But, he must be at least a little cold to have pulled the sleeves of his fleece jacket from his elbows down to his wrists. On Massu's other side, Tegoshi's naps, his goggles tight over his eyes.
Shige wonders how much longer Koyama's meeting is going to take.
---
"These people won't make it through autumn, much less winter," Tegoshi says before they've even finished striking camp on the outskirts of the little village. "They're doomed."
He says it with such finality and nonchalance. Koyama frowns and tries not to say anything mean; he knows Tegoshi can't help it.
Yamashita -- their leader -- looks up from building a fire. "I'm impressed that you manage to keep that in all day."
Tegoshi shrugs.
"It's true, though," Ryo mumbles, getting their food rations ready. "These mountain villages are always hanging on by just a threat, but this one...."
The conversation dies out, the especially depressing day of work they'd had takes the energy from them. They eat dinner quietly. Shige gives his mushrooms to Ryo, knowing that mountains are never good for Ryo's health. Massu and Yamashita leave dinner early to go the tent that the six share. They shuck off most of their clothes, and sit quietly together, steadying raising their body temperature.
When the other four join them to sleep, they keep more clothes on that usual.
"35," Shige mutters, smushed between Yamashita and Tegoshi.
It's a terrifying thought -- that the combined warmth of Massu and Yamashita can barely win out over these mountains.
---
"Koyama is not an ideal leader for this sort of team," Tegoshi says at the end of their first surveying mission as a team of four.
No one contradicts him.
Not Koyama, who is always so quick to justify why he is the most ideal leader for the now smaller team.
Not Shige, who is always so quick to defend his best friend.
Not Massu, who is always so quick to remind Tegoshi that his remarks are often unnecessarily blunt.
---
Central Government offices, Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare, Post-System Failure Bureau, Livelihood and Survival Department, Ration Surveying Section.
If any of them received a paycheck, that's what it would say. But, they don't receive a paycheck.
Honestly, in this day and age, no one cares much for cash money anymore.
The best kind of payment one can hope for is food, and that's what the Bureau pays them in. Their jobs aren't especially fun, but they are necessary, and the team is paid well in rice and bread, pork and chicken, spinach and burdock root, persimmon and apples.
And, they're given the tools to do their jobs -- clothing, measuring equipment, gear.
They get more than that too, but no one really likes to talk about it. The physio-tech. The things that are supposed to make their lives easier and make them more efficient at their jobs.
Shige's Epidermal Sensors mean he always knows exactly how cold it is, how humid it is, what the air pressure is doing, what's the barometric pressure doing. He can read the air like book, but it's always a depressing one, and he can't help but think it's left him in a constant state of pessimism. And, when the sensors start to go haywire -- in need of a tune-up or an upgrade or something -- even the slightest touch is unbearably painful, and Shige grits his teeth at the pain of wearing clothes.
Massu's Internal Autonomic Temperature Control, giving him a constantly increased body temperature and control over raising it even further, might seem like a godsend in their eternal winter, but they all know it's really not. 104 degrees Fahrenheit is a delirium fever in a regular person, and the physio-tech doesn't make Massu special in any other way. He lives constantly -- even when he's at his coolest -- in a border-line state of delirium, always trying to control himself. Tegoshi says that's why he always dresses in such "interesting" ways.
Ah, and Tegoshi. The blunt, cold-hearted baby of the group, whose Prefrontal Cortex was cut up to make way for his Optical Sensors, leaving him with nearly no sympathy or empathy towards others, and computer eyes that see everything (infrared, night, electromagnetic traces). He acts like he doesn't care about the Prefrontal Cortex thing (the doctors conveniently forgot to mention it in the pre-op meetings), but the others think that it must wear on him, to know that he's being crass and uncaring to the people who beg them for greater rations, but is utterly unable to control his comments.
Koyama, since having become the new leader, had his physio-tech upgraded. He still bears the Silver Tongue, implants in his tongue and lower jaw that emit a radio frequency that prevents people from lying to him and, under the right circumstances, to follow his orders. Certainly helpful when questioning villagers about ration use and levels, but not so much when his friends and teammates always find themselves answering his meaningless little questions with things like, "I am miserable," or "I wish I hadn't survived that first winter when I was little," or "I don't remember a time when it wasn't cold." And, on top of the Silver Tongue, he now has the standard issue internal radio that leader's always have. It's all well-and-good being in constant contact with the Bureau, but Koyama doesn't understand why the radio has to be in his head. He gets woken up at all hours of the night for status reports, interrupted while questioning villagers and calming tensions in their newly down-sized and stressed group.
The government talks like physio-tech is the most wonderful thing ever. Science's greatest gift to the people of the world.
It seems like quite a lot of people have forgotten when those same words were said The System.
Or, maybe all people who remember the days before The System are long since dead.
---
The first time the six of them meet, it is only a few short hours before their physio-tech surgeries, at a mandatory group pre-op session.
They are all familiar with the others thanks to dossiers, physical and psychological profiles, and short run-ins in the hallway between individually specific meetings and appointments. Introductions are unnecessary, but the psychiatrist present makes them go through it anyways.
"I'm Yamashita Tomohisa," the one they all know to be the leader says first. "Obviously, I will be carrying the radio, but I will also be the secondary oven."
The psychiatrist scribbles a note; Yamashita persists in the use of colloquial terms for psychio-tech. May be at higher risk of rejection.
"I'm the primary. Masuda Takahisa. 'Massu' is fine." He rubs his hands together. "IATC, I mean. I-I'll do my best to keep you all warm."
A faulty or confidence-lacking IATC can spell quick doom -- and death -- for a far-reaching team like theirs. The psychiatrist writes, Follow-up closely with Masuda.
A slight and young-eyed man speaks next. "I'm Tegoshi Yuuya. I'll have the optics."
The psychiatrist nods slowly. Reminder: Apology, Dr. Fujioka, concerning PreF Cor.
"Koyama Keiichirou, Silver Tongue," a tall, fidgety man says next. He smiles broadly and his eyes are bright.
Compliment Dr. Hada for a well-matched ST.
".... Kato Shigeaki. Epidermals."
Someone mumbles something that sounds like, "Sucks to be you." Everyone knows the reputation of Epidermals, of their finicky behavior and programming, and the stress is puts on the people who carry them.
Kato's eyes turn dark, and he slumps down in his seat.
Likewise -- high rejection chance. May require extended counseling post-op.
There is only one left -- man with sharp eyes and thick, dark hair: Nishikido Ryo, the former pencil pusher who, for some odd reason, asked for a transfer to a Ration Surveying Section squad.
"Nishikido. Neurological REM Inhibitor."
Yamashita and Massu both jerk and bite their lips, looking almost embarrassed.
New REMs -- prohibited from anything other than slight nap, meant to keep watch through the night, so that in case the IATCs fail, steps can be taken to save the team from freezing. His physio-tech assignment means that the doctors and psychiatrists are not entirely convinced that Massu has what it takes to keep his team warm, and that Yamashita can't do it on his own as a secondary.
"Well, now that the introductions are done, I'd like to begin with the first exercise," the psychiatrist says. The team members nod and wearily look amongst themselves.
---
"We are from the Livelihood Bureau. I'm Koyama, this is Kato, Tegoshi, and Masuda. We're here for your town's bi-annual ration assessment."
The mayor, a gaunt-looking man in his 40s or 50, frowns at them from across his desk. His knit hat is pulled low over his forehead and his lips are just short of being blue. He looks at them all with an intense look, measuring them up.
"Well, don't you all look well-fed."
It's not an uncommon comment. It's not like the government hordes the best, or even majority, of the food for its workers, but surveying teams have to be strong, healthy, able to travel all over the islands of Japan that have been in an ever-present state of deep, cold winter for 20 years.
"Getting piss--"
"Tegoshi, shut it!" Koyama snaps, and he does.
Massu spares at glance; Shige looks distinctly uncomfortable, but whether it's from the atmosphere or his epidermals, Massu can't tell. Tegoshi's temples are twitching, which means he's taking in the office, looking at the heat signatures and magnetic traces and all the other sciencey things that Massu doesn't entirely understand.
"To begin with, we'd like to see your cellars and stores."
The mayor stands, but he still looks unhappy, like he wants to make a crude comment about fat government dogs and their physio-tech, putting them so high above the starving, struggling peons that are everyone else.
---
If Koyama thinks really hard, really tries to remember, he can just barely recall what warmth is. What it feels like to run in the warm sun, to not be wearing layers upon layers upon layers of clothing, to go to sleep with the window open and wearing nothing but underwear.
He's the oldest of the group at 27, but that means he was only 7 when The System failed, and memories of warmth and summer and watermelons and water fights fade a little bit more with every passing year.
Massu, Tegoshi, and Shige were all so much younger when it happened. Koyama doesn't dare ask -- if they remember what warm weather is -- because with this Silver Tongue, they'd answer, and he worries about how they might answer him.
---
"What do you mean you're leaving?"
Yamashita bites his lip. "There are some... issues. With the last report. Section Chief Takizawa has been ordered to remove me from the team for the time being."
Koyama frowns, and asks what they're all thinking. "For how long?"
"Not fair," Yamashita whines. None of them like it when Koyama abuses his Silver Tongue like that. "I don't know. He wouldn't say."
"What are supposed to do without our Leader?" Massu asks, sounding miserable and forlorn. "And, teams of more than four are required to have two IATCs. I can't keep everyone warm on my own."
Ryo coughs, sounding awkward. "I'll be gone for a little as well."
"You guys are dicks," Tegoshi says, sipping coffee.
"He's right, and for once, I'm not going to tell him to be more diplomatic about his statements," Shige adds. "There are rules about surveying teams like ours. We're not allowed out as a four-man team. What the hell are we supposed to do without you guys? Are temps getting brought in?"
Yamashita and Ryo share a look.
"You're all going to be on desk duty until this blows over," Yamashita finally says, unable to look any of them in the face.
Tegoshi throws his coffee at Yamashita and storms out of the conference room.
---
January 17th is System Failure Remembrance Day.
It's probably worst national holiday to ever exist.
People gather together and reminisce about what it was like before The System, wonder if the scientists are actually close to shutting it down, or if they just keep saying that to keep people's spirits up.
They can't even have a feast, because the rationing doesn't allow for it. They don't even have New Year's feasts anymore.
All in all, it's a terrible day of nothing but pessimism and depression. More people kill themselves in the week of January 17th than any other week in the year.
---
It's their first, group post-op meeting.
Koyama is shy to talk. Partially because his jaw still hurts from the surgery, and also because he's not entirely comfortable with being able to get people to tell him nearly anything.
Nishikido is pale and has to walk with the help of a nurse. He looks doped up, and he probably is a little. Will continue to be, until the doctors can get him properly accustomed to his new non-sleep schedule.
Tegoshi has goggles over his eyes, blocking out the harsh, florescent light. There is a long line of stitches along his scalp.
Masuda and Yamashita are wearing nothing but the standard issue, thin hospital gown, and looking quite comfortable. Their cheeks are flushed, and they have a slight sheen of sweat along their brow. Masuda has a little chemical cool-pack that he periodically presses against his neck or chest. Every so often, Yamashita will randomly start talking, answering what must be benign questions like, "What is your name," or "how old are you," or "what is your favorite food." It would be creepy, if they all didn't know it was just his radio being tested.
Shige is covered in bandages, all along his arms and feet. He barely moves, and when he does, he hisses at the feel of it.
"I'm so glad you could all manage to be here today," the psychiatrist says. "You're all looking quite well, I must say."
Shige makes an irritated noise, and Tegoshi says, "We look like shit, are you fucking blind?"
The room is silent for a very long, and uncomfortable, moment.
"I supposed it would be best to first address the incident with Tegoshi. Would you like to tell them or--"
"The surgeon fucked the hell up and nicked something important in the bit of the brain up here." He points to his forehead. "So, apparently, now I'm unsympathetic and say things others consider rude without being able to control it."
Yamashita's jaw drops, and Koyama just looks sad for him.
"In somewhat more eloquent terms, the Prefrontal Cortex was... damaged during the installation of the Optic Sensors. Tegoshi is otherwise completely fine and fit for his work. You'll all just have to be patient with him."
"Did you fuck up on any of the rest of us?" Nishikido asks, mumbling his words and looking ready to fall asleep at any moment.
"No. The rest of the surgeries all went as they should have."
---
"You aren't following the directions that the Bureau has very clearly laid out," Shige says, checking a box on his form and scribbling down notes on his tablet.
"Excuse me?" A short, crass-looking woman says. "This cellar is perfectly cooled."
The directions for proper cooling of vegetables and fruits is on a poster, pasted on the wall of the cellar. Shige points to it.
"The maximum recommended temperature for these items is 52 degrees. This cellar is 58. You are allowing these foodstuffs to rot quicker than they otherwise could, and are wasting extremely valuable resources that the government is providing to you."
The woman straightens up in height. "This cellar is 50 degrees. It is always 50 degrees."
Shige knows it's not. His cheek twitches. It's 58.
Tegoshi walks up behind him and whispers in his ear, "The vents have a hint of color. They don't ever properly cool this cellar. They're trying to cover their tracks. Totally fucking with us, Shige. Probably going to gorge on it, then claim rodents or something, and get emergencies goods from the Bureau."
It's not a new story.
Shige knows it's 58 in here, and if Tegoshi says it used to be warmer, then it was.
Shige doesn't need to take off his gloves and have more skin in contact with the air to know that. And Tegoshi could see those lingering heat signatures even without the goggles that block out unnecessary distractions in his vision.
They look at each other, and Tegoshi smirks. He pulls up his goggles, the physio-tech in his eyes swirling and shifting into new shapes to take in everything in the cellar. Shige pulls off his gloves, the sensors in his skin reflecting silver and blue.
The woman gasps and stumbles over her words. She knows she's been found out. There is no lying to physio-tech.
That night, the six of them sit around their little fire, and Tegoshi smiles. He looks at the air above the fire and watches how the colors and heats dance.
"Sometimes, it's a little fun to be over-dramatic showy with the tech," he whispers. "There are so few things to derive enjoyment from nowadays."
"Tegoshi, finish your tomatoes," Koyama says.
He doesn't want to. He knows that if he leaves them for much longer, Shige or Massu will eat them. But, Tegoshi watches his hands move towards the bowl, pick up his fork, and stab the soft, red fruit.
"You and your fucking tongue," Tegoshi mutters, right before he bites the boiled tomato off the fork.
---
"This town is no different from any of the others that struggle to survive," Ryo hisses to Yamashita, the two of them walking quite further behind the other four.
"It is."
"Wha- No. No, it's not. You can't be so fucking sensitive."
Yamashita stops. "32% of the population is below the age of majority."
"And?"
"None of them are well."
Ryo bites his lip.
Every town has a couple kids that are constantly ill with something that, if there was enough food for them to have a proper diet, would quickly be cured. But, this place...
"If you cheat and get this place a couple hundred more calories per kid -- it won't mean anything. They might not get better. Those rations will have to come from someone else."
"This place will not survive."
Ryo turns back to watch the other four continuing up ahead. "I know," he says quietly.
---
Desk duty does not go well.
Yamashita and Ryo are in a constant state of MIA, and when the other four inquire as to their whereabouts, the answer is always a sharp, "Get back to work!" Even Koyama's Silver Tongue is useless, what with the little cancellers that the rest of the office staff have taken up wearing.
The office environment is uncomfortable for them all.
Massu, even with his status as an IATC, has to wear the standard issue office uniform, which is thick and heavy, meant to trap warmth close to the body. But, it overheats Massu every day. At least once, he slumps against his desk, or falls out of his chair, passed out from heat and dehydration. His delirium gets worse and takes up spouting out random trivia, annoying the others who sit in their little area.
The uniform irritates Shige as well. The strange wool blend is itchy, and it rubs uncomfortably against his sensors.
Tegoshi complains loudly, wanting to get back on the road and doing a real job. He's like a bored little dog, ripping apart everything he can get his teeth into, all in a desperate attempt at attention and freedom.
And Koyama is distraught. He's the oldest, and while never the leader, has always taken a certain amount of pride in caring for his team. They're two men down and falling apart at the seams. They aren't suited to an office environment, and he works hard at trying to find a way out for them.
---
The blizzard outside is harsh and strong, and the winds pound against the fabric of the tent. The six are huddled tightly together, teeth chattering, focused on surviving. Massu and Yamashita both have their IATCs as high as possible, but everything still feels cold, and Tegoshi won't stop whining.
None of them want to say what they're all thinking -- Massu looks ill. He's pushing the limits of his system, far higher than what Yamashita can ever hope to match. It's not safe, but all he's thinking about is his team, and his job to safely see them through his cold storm.
They're all too scared to mention the fact that if he runs at his maximum temperature for too long, the IATC systems will crash, he'll fall unconscious and begin cooling down. It would be hours until he wakes up, and the storm shows no signs of letting up.
They're all too scared to mention it as a possibility, because Yamashita alone, as a secondary, can't possibly keep them all warm enough. Without Massu, there is a very real possibility of death.
Massu starts shaking, and Tegoshi grips his hand tightly.
"Shige, check his temperature," Yamashita whispers, his voice hoarse.
Looking worried, Shige pulls off a glove and reaches his fingers towards Massu.
He shrinks away. "I'm okay. I'm okay," he keeps saying, but they all know it's a lie.
Shige doesn't need to touch him to know it better than the rest of them. He doesn't even need to say what the temperature is. Shige and Yamashita share a look.
"Koyama."
"No!" Massu shrieks, but he doesn't move.
"You're too hot, and you know it," Ryo mumbles into Yamashita shoulder.
"Massu," Koyama says very gently; Massu shakes his head vigorously and tries to cover his ears. "Cool to your resting temperature."
"It's not fair," Massu nearly cries. "I'm okay."
"You're not," Tegoshi whispers. "Rest a little."
In minutes, the air in the tent and in their bundle of blankets is cooler. Massu keeps mumbling about his duty, about his IATC, that it's his job to keep them warm. Koyama periodically shushes him.
None of them sleep that night. It's far too cold.
---
The System was turned on January 17th.
But, no one knew anything was wrong until months later.
It was meant to alleviate suffering due to extreme weather conditions, not end or alter the season themselves.
After the fourth unseasonal, heavy blizzard in Japan, after the monsoon rains in the south Pacific were officially months late, after the hot summer sun would not slowly fade, the world began to wonder if something went wrong.
And, it did. Severe weather wasn't being controlled, the seasons were. Everyone trapped in the seasonal weather patterns of whatever season January 17th happened to fall in; winter for the northern hemisphere, summer for the southern, and the equatorial regions trapped either in monsoons or desperately needing them.
Japan lives in winter now. The air is always cold, and the ground does nothing but trap that cold.
It has been the height of winter for 20 years, and it is the new reality of people's world.
---
"Koyama, your request is extremely... unconventional," Chief Takizawa says, looking uncomfortable. "As your team currently stands--"
"We can still do our job."
Takizawa looks down and checks the canceller that hangs around his neck. The green light is solid, so he has nothing to worry about.
"A team of four has never been authorized in the field. Not even in suburban surveying. You're expecting me to authorize you all as a team of four. For rural and deep-rural surveying. Koyama, this is preposterous."
"Why exactly do you think we can't do this?"
Takizawa frowns. "The other rural teams -- Arashi, KAT-TUN, and the half-sections of HeySay -- are five member teams, and they struggle plenty enough. A four-man team... you'd be spread too thin. You'd all be pulling too much weight."
"We aren't them," Koyama says clearly, sitting straight in the office chair. "We can do it. Shige, Massu, Tegoshi -- I know them, better than you do, and I know the four of us can continue surveying successfully. Until the matter with Yamashita and Nishikido is cleared up."
Takizawa stares down at his desk, eyes sad, and Koyama wonders about what's going on with Yamashita and Ryo's case.
"Give us a chance. Let us prove it to you. If we fail, I won't bring it up again. Ever."
"What is it with News and being so damn ambitious," Takizawa sighs.
---
They are sent out too early on their first mission.
Ryo hasn't adjusted to his REM inhibitor, no one has learned how to deal properly with Tegoshi's uncontrolled remarks. Shige fights the constant urge to scratch at his skin, and Koyama is weary to speak anything that could be taken as a question or order.
The only ones who seem vaguely okay are Yamashita and Masuda, comfortable out in the rural areas in little more than hoodies. The other four are a bit jealous, that those two have each other to see through this period. They're not alone when wondering about IATCs. When Yamashita get distracted on the radio, Massu fills in for him. And, when Massu's delirium gets to be a bit too much to handle, Yamashita likewise steps up.
They're sent to survey an aging town. Of the 147 residents, only three are below the age of majority, and nearly one hundred are over the age of 60. Demographics like that do not bode well for any town.
The residents ask for larger rations and more medicine to be delivered, and as leader, it's Yamashita's painful duty to explain to them, in the gentlest of terms, that the policymakers see more rewards in encouraging growth and sustainability in towns with a healthier demographic spread. But, Tegoshi beats him to the punch, and says something far more undiplomatic, along the lines of, "we're not going to waste resources on a bunch of old people who are just going to die soon anyways."
The citizens rage and scream, demand what is rightfully theirs for suffering through the icy hell that those policymakers brought upon the world.
The new team -- News, as they were dubbed -- is run out of town. They run until there is a mountain and a valley between their camp and that village.
Camp is quiet and miserable. All that anyone says all night comes from Yamashita, a soft and sad-sounding, "Tegoshi, you musn't jump ahead like that. Ever."
Tegoshi nods, slowly, and moves closer to the fire.
---
Yamashita is going to falsify the report, and Ryo knows it.
He's going to re-paint that village, use all the right buzzwords that he told Yamashita the rationing council looks for, and get them more, all in the hope that it'll save those kids and that village. Maybe it will. Maybe it won't.
Yamashita is very clearly willing to take that chance; both on the village and his career.
---
Chief Takizawa believes fervently in the surveying teams that work under him. They brave a lot of shitty places for the sake of keeping the Bureau well-informed. Koyama was right when he said that Takizawa didn't know News as well as their new de-facto leader. Takizawa's interactions with the teams are largely limited to the leaders, meaning that he'd only dealt personally with Yamashita.
He watches News sitting at their desks, crazy and itchy and impatient and wanting to do something. He can see when a person's potential is being wasted, can see how much these boys want to do something for their home.
Takizawa is a well-liked guy, and there are people who owe him favors all over the Bureau -- and, he has to cash in nearly all of them to get News the chance to prove that 4 person teams are viable in not only Post-System Failure surveying, but rural surveying as well.
---
Kitamoto town, Saitama prefecture isn't quite far out enough to be considered a truly rural town, but at the same time, it's too far from any major population center for it to be labeled as a suburban district. And, it's where News is headed, after receiving their surveying details from Chief Takizawa, who reminds them of the unprecedented nature of this mission, and that News has only this one opportunity to prove themselves.
Koyama is visibly nervous, feeling the strain of his psuedo-leadership. He quadruple checks the team's gear (even after Tegoshi and Massu's double check), and tests the team's standard hand-held radio enough times for the shift supervisor at the command center to tell Koyama off for tying up the frequency.
The delays set them behind schedule far enough that they don't reach the pre-marked ideal campsite; it also means they'll have to make-up the time lost tomorrow.
"Good job keeping us on pace, Leader," Tegoshi hisses, looking up from peeling carrots just long enough to send Koyama a sharp glare.
Koyama tries to laugh it off, like he always does Tegoshi's uncontrollable, harsh comments. But, this time is different. It's a weak, airy laugh, and Koyama is too scared to look up from his own duties to see if Tegoshi is still glaring.
He was called "leader," but he sure as hell doesn't feel like one. Yamashita always made it look so easy. He always carried the responsibility and duty like it was nothing, and it didn't weight a thing upon his shoulders.
But, after barely a whole day, Koyama is tired and stressed and his shoulders ache from that weight of responsibility.
---
Yamashita wouldn't say he falsified his report on that little village.
Stretched the truth, exaggerated certain points -- sure, but lied? No.
The numerous committees and councils and Bureau heads he's been in meetings with seem to think otherwise, though.
"I can't believe you would do this," Chief Takizawa murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've always been such a good leader, always so reasonable and fair in your surveying assessments. Why this? Why now?"
"We're supposed to be looking out the well-being of the towns. Ensuring their survival. I did what I felt was necessary to give them the supplies necessary to do that."
"By lying," Takizawa snaps. "Your job is to access their rate of consumption, measure the population stresses on food stores, certify that their cellars are operating within assigned standards, and rate the general health of the town."
'If we're just going to let towns die, what's the point of going all the way out there to do all that?" Yamashita face is blank, like he's in the middle of a poker game, but his voice is hard, determined. "The ultra-rural towns have been left to suffer at the far end of the distribution chain for too long. At some point, they are going to collapse."
"If a village fails, it's not our fault. We don't assign what supplies go where."
"No, we just write the reports that are used by the Distribution Section to determine that."
"Yamashita --"
"If this is how this Bureau looks after the citizens, then I don't want anything to do with it anymore."
Takizawa's jaw drops, utterly speechless, and watches as his once golden-boy of the rural teams walks out of his office.
He hears through the office gossip chain a few days later that Yamashita's radio was remotely decommissioned, but the higher-ups left his IATC functioning. Apparently removing it would have been a drawn out process, and they wanted him severed with the Bureau as quickly as possible.
---
No one wants to be part of a surveying team.
What with the harshness of going out to rural villages, dealing with the pains of psycho-tech, and ever-present stress from communities asking, demanding, begging for more, it's a pretty miserable job.
No one wants it, but plenty of people apply for it.
Guaranteed rations in even the toughest of winters is a damn good incentive for applicants.
Koyama hates being away from home so often. His family is close, all living together in one big house, and he knows that his mother could his help for all sorts of things. But, it's all worth it -- the cold, and the camping, and heartbreak of little villages -- because when he comes home, he can share his rations with the people he absolutely loves most. Apples for his nephews, plums for his sister and brother-in-law, kinoko and tomatoes for his mother; that generous spirit and the looks of pure joy on their faces makes every hardship worth it.
Being home is difficult for Tegoshi, because even though he's the spoiled only child, his parents never have dealt well with the side-effects of his physio-tech. But, it's okay, because due to his work, his family can manage to have a great luxury in these times -- pets. Tinny and Skull never look at him harshly or scold him for his words. They wag their tails furiously when he comes home and curl up in his bed at night, obviously happy at his being home.
Shige's work is a sore spot, more for his father than his mother. His parents waited until they were a bit older to have him, and now that they've aged even further, the cold, dry winters are hard for them. Their health suffers; his mother has migraines and his father arthritis. If it weren't for their only son -- going out and being the key breadwinnder and nearly de-facto man of house, taking on the difficult duty of a surveying team -- his parent's health would suffer. Perhaps they would not have lived so long. Shige doesn't mind; he's a filial son and loves his parents deeply. But, his father laments, always feeling guilty.
Massu has always been a big eater. His mother has always joked about it, but it aches Massu's heart. His mother has always looked over their family so well, putting her children and husband before herself. He'd look at her plate and think about how there weren't enough calories there; no way was she getting anything near a proper diet. Her skin was always pale and dry, and her hands always shook. Even if she said otherwise, Massu always felt it was his fault for always being hungry, always wanting a snack. So, once he was old enough, he applied for a position on a surveying team. It was tough work, and his mother asked him not to, but while he'd be gone on jobs, his mother could eat a little more, and even month, he could come home with bags of rations, full of wondrous, healthy things.
-
"You've impressed the higher ups." Takizawa says, leaning back in his chair, Koyama standing stiffly on the other side of his desk. "They really didn't think you could get the Kitamoto job done. Granted, you went over the time budgeted, but not enough for them to consider it a failure of a surveying."
Koyama smiles and opens his mouth to speak, but Takizawa cuts him off.
"Of course, it's all still in review. No promises, Koyama. Your team will return to their desk duties for the time being."
"Yes, sir."
Takizwa looks down at his desk. "Also, I have some.... news regarding Yamashita and Nishikido."
Koyama wants to be hopeful, but Takizawa's tone and body language give him little reason to be.
"Yamashita has left the Bureau. And Nishikido has been transferred. Regardless of what comes about from this little experiment, they will not be returning to News."
Koyama feels sick into his stomach, and the rest of the meeting with Takizawa is a blur.
--
The air around their little camp is tense, and Massu is already dreading when they all have to cram into the little tent and try to sleep.
Koyama is sitting by the fire with Tegoshi, talking quietly and patting the younger on the hand and sometimes his forearm. Tegoshi looks bored and uncaring, and maybe -- just maybe, a tiny bit -- sad.
Much further away, Ryo is sitting with Yamashita. Their quiet murmuring together sounds like nothing. Every once and a while, Ryo will snap something loudly and gesticulate dramatically. Yamashita always pulls his arms down and lowers the tone of their conversation.
Massu sips from his water bottle and scoots closer to Shige.
"I don't want to cuddle with you."
Massu hmms and offers his bottle towards Shige. "Water?"
Shige glances over at Massu, who is always so protective of the cleanliness of his things and has a bit of an aversion to sharing. He wonders if the IATC is making him delirious or if, since every one has paired off so quickly from nearly the very start of their group, Massu figures he might as well open up to his chosen buddy.
After a long sigh, Shige takes the bottle and squirts some water into his mouth. The rim doesn't touch his lips, and the water is cold. Massu looks happy though and starts listing off trivia about various sealife.
--
It's a grey, miserable, and especially cold January morning when Chief Takizawa calls News into his office -- all of them, not just their de facto leader, Koyama.
They all know what this means.
"The final decision has come regarding your team's..... reduced membership."
"Just get to it," Tegoshi says.
Koyama grabs on tightly to Shige's forearm; he doesn't say anything, just looks straight at the chief.
Takizawa sighs and leans back in his chair. "They're allowing you to remain as functioning four-man team. They say there aren't any strings attached, but assume that they will be watching your performance very closely. You're leaving for the Sanriku district of Nagano in three days. My secretary will give you the details."
"We will begin our preparations immediately," Koyama says, his voice sounding tight.
When they exit his office, the secretary doesn't even look up from her work. She just holds out a manila envelope for Koyama to take.
Koyama can't help the broad smile across his face, and Tegoshi can't help complaining that Nagano water always tastes like dirt.
-
"Why should I trust you?" The mayor asks.
The young man smiles. "I used to work for them. In a rural surveying team. I know what they look how, what they will punish and reward, what they will ask you about -- everything. Everything the team will do and say, I know."
"... And you gave all that up for this? Why?"
Yamashita grins and adjusts his hat. He shrugs. "I guess I've developed a bit of a taste for working the system."
--
Yasuda and Subaru bicker light-heartedly while they peel potatoes, and Maruyama hums quickly as he chops onions.
"Deadlines in the Kansai offices are more... guidelines than rules," Hina says. "The world ain't going anywhere, so there's no need to rush. We always take time like this."
"It's important to savour one's meals," Ohkura chirps.
"R-right," Ryo mutters and stifles a yawn.
"We all know you're still settling in from your sudden transfer, so if there's anything we can do to help, don't hesitate."
Ryo nods, and as they all lay together in the tent, three IATCs burning, he's torn between guilt for leaving News while at their weakest and the joy of working with the guys he'd first applied with.
--
Six months on, and they are a well-oiled machine; they never miss a step or a detail and always swoop in just in time for help any of the others with their responsibilities.
Koyama smiles across the make-shift firepit.
Shige is always so careful in peeling potatoes, doing it as shallowly as possible. Tegoshi doesn't care, just absently flicks off bits of the rough skin and watches Massu set up their tent. Every so often he chirps out all the ways he could do it better. Shige tells him to shut up, and Massu just laughs, sweat running down his temples.
"News team, check, check," Koyama's radio buzzes.
"Check," he says back, none of the other paying any mind to their leader talking to himself. It's normal nowadays, like it's always been Koyama carrying their radio.
"Surveying status."
"Orizawa bi-annual survey completed at 16:45. Hiked to surveying team camp-point 34-Kappa-Nu. Arrived approximately 18:10. Currently striking camp."
"Team status."
"All well and accounted for."
"Weather tomorrow is calling for rain in the low-lands, and there is an advisory for possible snow and ice through mountain passes."
"Weather conditions noted."
"Bureau is recommending all surveying teams in your area to -- if possible -- take the old 7 road. Files show that your team will have sufficient rations for the extra walk."
"Confirmed. Rations sufficient. Will detour to the old 7 road."
"Check complete."
"Out."
"Why the hell do we have to detour to the 7 road? I want to get home," Tegoshi says immediately.
"Weather warnings through the pass. I'd rather take the extra day than risk getting bogged down in the snow."
Shige finally sets aside the single potato he's managed to peel in the space of Tegoshi's five. "I'm all for it. I really don't need my epidermals freaking out over the temperature fluctuations in the pass."
"Um, I-" Massu begins, but Koyama cuts him off.
"This isn't a democracy," he says, sharply, using his 'leader' voice that always make Tegoshi have to stifle his giggles. "We're taking the 7."
Massu nods slowly, looking a little hurt that his wasn't allowed to talk, and Shige just looks happy.
It catches up with them quickly -- moments like those, when dynamics of a four-man team show themselves so clearly to be different from those of the five- and six-man teams. They are close, and in so many ways, equals, but when it comes to it, Koyama is in charge; he gives the reports and gets the weather reports right in his head, and it's always his final call.
After their curry dinner -- which tasted quite a bit like nothing -- they curl up in their tent. Tegoshi claims a spot next to Massu and pulls Koyama to his other side, like he does every night. Shige mumbles something about his sensors and sleeping close to Massu. That happens every night too, and every night he still sleeps on Massu's other side and wakes with no problems but the standard stiff neck.
Right as he's about to drift off, Koyama absently thinks that, probably, the weather advisory for the pass is just the Bureau being overly safe. But, Koyama doesn't want to take the chance that the weather could turn poor. It's too much a bet, and he's not going to risk these three over a day's detour.
He smiles and tugs his sleeping bag tighter. Tegoshi's leg jerks in his sleep and kicks Koyama, but their mostly-fearless leader just keeps smiling.