Team AU, prompt 3: I’m not ordinary
Title: Relatively Normal (Or Not)
Pairing/Group: KAT-TUN, Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really. Maybe some language.
Summary: Nakamaru Yuichi isn’t most people. Now if only he could accept that little fact about himself.
Notes: Inspired mainly by Run For You PV setting, but with a mix of Change Ur World too. Little bits were also inspired by the Charmed TV show and probably X-Men as well. Once you read, it will probably be fairly obvious what. Thanks to my beta for all the encouragement, etc. <3
I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary…
His pen loops the mundane words over and over, adding more lines to the well-used notebook. If it had been anyone else, their minds would be elsewhere, their movements automatic after so many years of the same ritual. Along with the familiar scratch of his pen is the click - click - click of metal balls, twice the size of a marble, swinging back and forth in a metal frame on his desk.
A sharp knock breaks his concentration. He looks toward the steel door as a drawer slides out from the right. The voice that crackles over the intercom is bland just as everything in his modest room is bland.
“Time for your session.”
He glances at the clock hanging on the wall. 9 AM. As he does every day, he closes his notebook and lays the pen neatly at its side. Then he gets up and walks over to the door, reaching in for the contents. Once he pulls them out, the drawer slides back with a hushed whir. His fingers slide over smooth metal, the bracelets unclasped and waiting to be worn.
At this time, most people would be out and about, oblivious to the subtle shift happening in the norm of society, in the next step of evolution for human beings.
Just before he snaps the bracelets into place on his wrists, he makes the smallest of gestures with his hand. The click - click - click goes silent, the balls suspended in mid-air.
Nakamaru Yuichi isn’t most people.
-
He discovers his powers when he is seventeen and almost blows his sister’s head off.
He had been scrambling to put the final touches on a scale model for an environmental science project when his sister barges in, as usual, complaining about something or other. The details are fuzzy now, but it probably had something to do with how messy he usually left their shared bathroom.
He ignores her - again, as usual - and she is huffy enough to swat at his model, unknowingly striking the spot that he just finished gluing. The glue hadn’t yet dried and so the building crumbles easily.
Angry at his hard work ruined and at the prospect of having to start all over again, he flings a hand in her direction and shouts at the same time the picture frame hanging on the wall beside her explodes. He freezes amidst her hysterical screams.
Later, he doesn’t know what to tell their father when he demands an explanation for why his sister can’t stop crying. Eventually he chalks it up to a freak accident and once his sister finally calms down, their father has to accept it when she can offer no plausible explanation either. Though Nakamaru never forgets the fearful look she gives him when she’s ushered away by their youngest sister.
He doesn’t want to believe it, but he somehow knows the accident had everything to do with him and nothing to do with chance. He buries his suspicions under schoolwork, though he takes great care in trying not to get angry regardless.
That lasts only a week when he’s late to school twice in a row, a result of staying up to study, and his father berates him for being irresponsible. Irritated, he lifts his hands - a mindless gesture of frustration - and his father is blasted back into the wall.
Horrified, Nakamaru scrambles over to his father to check on him, only to be pushed away. If the fear in his sister’s face is hard to forget, the pain and disgust in his father’s is seared like a brand in his memory.
It’s the first time Nakamaru realizes he’s a freak.
-
Something’s different during the lunch hour and it takes Nakamaru a moment to discern why. There’s a new patient - inmate, his mind whispers - sitting alone in the middle of the cafeteria.
His eyebrows are furrowed together, displeased, as he pushes around the cold mashed potatoes and peas on his plate. The accompanying breast of chicken looks about as tasty. Nakamaru inwardly sympathizes with him as he looks down at his own tray. Still, he eats it because it’s the only food they offer and it’s not like he can afford to be choosy.
The cold meat is a minor distraction as Nakamaru studies the newcomer from his empty table in the corner. His hair is a dark brown, pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He looks to be on the smaller side than most of the other patients, though Nakamaru takes note that his lean build is not without a hint of muscles under the baggy attire given to them.
Even with the distance between them, Nakamaru decides his eyebrows are his most distinctive feature, though he can’t imagine them being anything else besides turned down in displeasure. There’s something about him though, and not just because he’s ‘fresh meat’, as one of Nakamaru’s acquaintances would say.
Nakamaru glances around and realizes that the guards feel it too, though it must be because they’re privy to details that he’s not. There’s a kind of tension in their build whenever they look the newcomer’s way. Interesting. He stores the information in the back of his mind and only wonders for a brief moment what landed him in this place of limbo.
It’s none of his business.
-
The Institute, as Nakamaru likes to refer to his current place of residence, is not so bad. As long as you’re compliant. Few patients are though, so there is plenty of punishment to go around. But Nakamaru keeps to himself when allowed and simply lives one day to the next, hoping that his being here is somehow helping in the grand scheme of things.
Though if not for the Institute, he would have no control over his powers. He’s here because they want to study them - him - how they work, when, why. In the process, they’re teaching him control. It’s a give and take thing, Nakamaru rationalizes.
Control. Routine. He can’t have one without the other. And the Institute is nothing if not repetitive.
Each patient is outfitted in the same thing - plain, white tops to match plain, white drawstring pants. It’s all about conformity, though Nakamaru idly wonders if they simply have a thing against color.
Then there are the bracelets, the one thing absolutely necessary for keeping the patients in line. Power bracelets worn on each of their wrists keep their powers in check. As long as they’re wearing them, their powers are kept at bay, stirring beneath the surface but unable to come out.
But that’s the thing. The powers need to get out or the energy builds up and bad things happen. While there is some value in studying the patients in death, live subjects are preferable. So patients are allowed free reign of their powers in their rooms - cells - each one specifically designed to contain them and whatever special ability they have. Energy accumulated throughout the day is released during this time. This is especially a relief for the days without scheduled sessions.
When they are escorted back inside their rooms, the door is shut firmly behind them before a shelf pulls out of the wall. Placing their wrists inside deactivates the sensors and the locks. The bracelets unclasp themselves and the shelf retreats back.
Every time it happens, it’s like a switch is flipped. The tension inside relaxes ever so slightly, the flow of their bodies now allowed to proceed as nature intended. It’s his least favorite part of the day. He prefers the cool metal against his skin.
It allows him the pretense of being normal.
-
During his time in the Institute, Nakamaru keeps his head down and concentrates only on understanding this thing inside him. So when the director - warden - summons him, Nakamaru isn’t sure what to expect. Though it feels a little like being called into the principal’s office. Except principals don’t wear lab coats and their offices don’t tend to smell like antiseptics.
The director looks to be as old as his father, but with more salt than pepper in his hair. His square-rimmed glasses have a slight tint, making it hard to read his expression. He stares at Nakamaru so long over steepled fingers that Nakamaru has to fidget and look away. And when he finally speaks, his voice is soft and unassuming.
“How are you doing, Nakamaru-kun?”
Nakamaru reflexively comes to attention, spine ramrod straight. “Fine… sir.”
“Good, that’s good.” The director rifles through the folders on his desk. “You’ve been showing great promise in your recent sessions. It seems your range has significantly improved.”
There is a weird kind of gratification in garnering even the slightest bit of approval in this place. “Only for a few seconds, sir,” he says truthfully.
“Come now, don’t sell yourself short. You’re one of our brightest stars,” the director says with a smile. “And that’s why I want you to do something for me.”
One of Nakamaru’s hands curl into the material of his pants. “Sir?”
“I’m hearing some bothersome things.” The director checks another folder, and then pulls it out of the pile. “Someone is trying to cause trouble in my facility.”
A face flashes through Nakamaru’s mind, but he keeps his expression carefully blank.
“I have his name, but you see, if he has indeed gathered supporters, I want to weed them out. Every stray spark must be extinguished, for each has the potential to erupt into a blaze.” The director holds out the file. An assistant is immediately on hand, taking it and then handing it over to Nakamaru. “I won’t tolerate chaos here.”
Nakamaru opens the folder and isn’t at all surprised to see the newcomer glaring back at him. Alongside the profile photo, most of the information has been redacted, probably for his benefit, but there is enough left in his history for Nakamaru to glean what a prize he must have been for the Institute to get their hands on.
Kamenashi Kazuya.
Suddenly uneasy, he closes the file.
In his quiet voice, the director states, “Nakamaru-kun, I want you to find out what they’re planning.”
His throat feels dry. “You want me to spy.”
“I abhor surprises,” the director replies. “I just want you to make sure I’m not surprised.”
“… yes, sir.” As if he has any other choice.
-
The director made it sound easy, but it’s not as simple as going, “Hey, can I be in your inner circle so I’ll be privy to the secret plan the warden thinks you’re plotting?”
Somehow Nakamaru doesn’t think that would go over too well.
It takes a few days of observation for him to realize this Kamenashi Kazuya seems to favor other patients Nakamaru already knows. Though an ‘in’ has presented itself, Nakamaru is reluctant to take it. He hates to approach Taguchi for anything. Give him an opening and he’ll be your shadow until something or someone else catches his fancy.
Taguchi has a way of worming into everyone’s personal space, so it’s no surprise that he manages to do it to the newcomer too. He even cultivates some kind of a relationship, as Nakamaru observes the two exchanging what appear to be confidences. That’s not the best indication of the level of Kamenashi’s sanity. Nakamaru can only hope that works in his favor.
Here goes nothing.
When he nears their table in the cafeteria, Kamenashi’s gaze shifts from Taguchi to him, and something about his attention makes Nakamaru want to turn right back around. Taguchi catches sight of him before he can do just that.
“Nakamaru-kun!” Taguchi waves not only his hands but also his arms enthusiastically, and Nakamaru grimaces, self-conscious as heads turn his way. “Long time no see!”
Nakamaru nods. “Hey,” he greets nonchalantly. Or, he hopes it’s nonchalantly because his insides are a mess of nerves.
Taguchi taps his foot on the empty bench, inviting him to sit, while he himself sits on the tabletop. His long black bangs are swept to the left, one side of his head shaved to a greater degree than the other. “When are we finally going to have a go in a session? You keep putting me off,” he says.
Each scheduled session is different, depending on the handler. Luckily, Nakamaru is under someone who doesn’t believe in pitting patients against each other in order to determine the strengths and weaknesses of their skills. Taguchi, however, is, and he revels in it. Nakamaru had once seen him escorted back to his room after a sparring session, and the bloodlust in his eyes was hard to miss.
Nakamaru doesn’t want to whet Taguchi’s appetite, nor does he have any desire to reveal what he can do to others. It’s not something to brag about.
“You know I don’t like to fight. Why don’t you ask your new friend here?” he tosses out casually, nodding to the newcomer at the other end of the table.
Taguchi laughs. “How do you think we became friends in the first place?” he asks. “Kazuya trounced me! It was awesome.”
The little smirk on Kamenashi’s face is probably the closest he’s ever come to a smile. “Most people would be upset,” the newcomer comments.
“Why? Next time when I beat you, it’ll be that much sweeter,” Taguchi replies, anticipation clear in his easy grin. Nakamaru moves to sit, leaning back with his elbows on the table, which does the job of drawing Taguchi’s attention again. “Oh right, Kazuya, this is Nakamaru-kun. Nakamaru-kun, Kazuya.” He gestures between the both of them.
Nakamaru holds out his hand. “Nakamaru Yuichi.”
The newcomer runs a calculating gaze over him. His eyes seem to take in everything, while giving nothing away. Nakamaru doesn’t know what he sees, but in the next moment, the newcomer takes his proffered hand with one shake. “Kamenashi,” he says. “Kazuya. Call me Kame.”
Nakamaru’s eyes flick to Taguchi, and Kame must have caught it because he continues, “Taguchi has no sense of personal boundaries.”
Nakamaru snorts, nodding.
“Huh?” Taguchi looks genuinely clueless and Nakamaru shakes his head.
“Here.” He tosses a peach towards him. It was supposed to be his excuse for coming over if Taguchi wasn’t in a welcoming mood. He’s not one to waste things.
Taguchi lights up. “How did you get this?!” he asks, rolling the peach around in his fingers to inspect it.
“Masuda got me the wrong contraband,” he lies with a shrug. “And it’s not like he can return it. Thought you might want it.”
“Thanks,” the taller man replies reverently, smelling the velvety skin. Nakamaru can’t blame him. Fruit is a rare commodity where they are. If they had been strawberries, he wouldn’t have been able to give them up.
He looks over at Kame, surprised to see something like approval in his eyes, but then it’s gone just like that. “Do you have a favorite fruit?” Nakamaru asks. Maybe he can get Masuda to smuggle that in for him too.
“I hate dried plums.”
“Ah.” Nakamaru blinks. “I’ll be sure not to get those then.”
“See that you don’t.” The little smirk is back. Was he teasing him? “Do you play chess?”
Nakamaru has no idea how he lost track of the conversation. “I do,” he replies, trying not to give away his confusion.
“I’ll bring my chessboard tomorrow then,” Kame states with a nod, matter closed.
How Kame acquired a chessboard is a mystery, though Nakamaru is more preoccupied with the fact that Kame already assumed he would play. He has the distinct impression he’s being tested.
“Bring it on.”
-
Nakamaru loses. Badly. But he gets invited for another game the next day, and then the day after that. Before long, he’s moved from his lone corner in the cafeteria to what is essentially Kame’s domain. It’s loudest in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, where fellow patients have time to socialize and roam around.
He pretends not to see the slight nods every so often from the guards.
The three times a day when food is served are the only times all the patients are in one place. Otherwise, each schedule is different. Recreational time is a hit or miss, given out only to those who exhibit good behavior. Taguchi is a rare sight, but Nakamaru sees Kame more often than not with two other of Nakamaru’s acquaintances. He’s always been on amiable terms with Koki and Ueda, the former insisting on the use of his first name.
Out of everyone in the facility, Nakamaru is probably closest to Koki. The first time he sees them with Kame, Koki gives him a fist bump and it’s business as usual. Ueda nods in acknowledgement, but something seems off with their usual comfortable repertoire. It’s whenever he gets a chance to talk to Kame that he realizes there is a frisson of tension radiating from the auburn-haired man.
When they’re finally alone during rec time - Kame and Koki absent most likely due to punishment - Nakamaru asks him point-blank, “Do you have a problem with me?”
Ueda studies him over the book he acquired from the small library. “What are you doing?” he replies.
“That’s not -”
“I’m asking what you’re doing,” Ueda cuts him off. “Why the sudden need to mingle? The interest in Kame? You’ve only ever been interested in keeping to yourself.”
Nakamaru had expected someone to call him out sooner, and hopes his face doesn’t give away anything. “Being that way gets lonely,” he replies, glad that at least is the truth. “I thought I should change something.” Lie.
Ueda remains unimpressed, though that’s certainly not a new expression. “I mind my own business, but I also don’t intend to stick around in this hellhole,” he states. “If you jeopardize this in any way…”
He straightens, the words bouncing around his head. “Jeopardize what?”
Ueda doesn’t answer, but gets up from his seat. “I won’t tolerate it,” he says, and then simply walks away.
Something’s in the wind and he has a suspicion as to what. That they haven’t told him is indicative of their trust in him, and bizarrely enough, it stings. There are actually times when the camaraderie seems real, those times when he forgets his real purpose in seeking them out.
The director would want to know. Nakamaru ignores the clench in his gut when he passes a note to the nearest guard.
They’re right not to trust him.
-
Nothing happens, and Nakamaru takes the director’s silence as a need for more information. A suspicion isn’t concrete. He continues as usual, playing chess with Kame and bickering over asinine things with the others. But one day Taguchi isn’t around for any of the meal times, which puts Kame in a blacker mood than usual.
Koki slides next to Nakamaru on the bench. “He’s in solitary,” he says in a low voice, leaning towards the middle so Kame and Ueda can hear him too.
“What the hell did he do this time?” Ueda asks, frowning.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kame retorts. His expression is faraway, his mind preoccupied. “We’ll get him out.”
“I guess you’re just going to knock on the door,” Nakamaru remarks dryly.
Koki and Ueda exchange a look, but Kame regains his awareness and stares at him. “No, you’re going to get me in,” he replies.
Nakamaru laughs, but it tapers off when Kame doesn’t even blink. “I think you’ve overestimated my sway in the way things work here,” he says.
“You’ll tell the director I’m planning an escape,” Kame states. “Pass another message along.”
Nakamaru tenses, his eyes flickering to Ueda and Koki. The former is unfazed, while the latter seems worried. Did Ueda voice his doubts? Kame’s gaze is sharp and uncompromising, and any thought of lying wilts.
“Are you really?” he asks instead.
Kame raises an eyebrow. “Why? Want to come?” There’s mockery in his tone, as if he doesn’t believe Nakamaru wants to at all.
He falls back on what he knows. “We belong here,” Nakamaru says.
Kame’s eyes flash. “Says you,” he replies. “Not all of us are determined to lock part of ourselves away.”
“Maybe Nakamaru is conveniently forgetting that the rest of us didn’t choose this,” Ueda comments airily, flipping through another one of his books.
“Yucchi, I can’t believe you bought into their bullshit,” Koki says. He runs a hand through his blond hair in agitation. “You don’t want to stay here.”
Nakamaru touches the metal on his wrist. He’s the only one here voluntarily.
“Come with us or don’t,” Kame says, “but send the damn message.”
-
As Kame predicted, he’s swept away into solitary when Nakamaru lets the director know an escape is in the works. The director had wanted names of Kame’s supporters, but Nakamaru only names Taguchi since he’s already inside. He doesn’t mention Koki or Ueda, though he’s stuck with their frosty silence as he returns to his corner in the cafeteria. That’s fine with him. He’s free to go back to his routine.
They can try to escape if they want, but Nakamaru doesn’t want to see it when they fail.
Come with us or don’t.
Even if a tiny part of him wishes they’d take him, too.
-
In the end, the decision is taken out of his hands.
The power bracelets have just snapped around his wrists when there are sounds of a scuffle outside his room; a large thump soon follows. Before Nakamaru can look through the small window, the glass ices over. He moves away just in time for the door to be kicked down.
“Hi.” Taguchi smiles at Nakamaru brightly, the guard who usually escorts him to a session unconscious at his feet.
Nakamaru stares at the silvery sheen of his hands, and at the tiny ice particles dancing around them. “Hey.”
“Ready to go?” Taguchi reaches out, his hand returning to normal the moment he wraps it around Nakamaru’s arm. “Come on!”
His protests fall on deaf ears as Taguchi pulls him along. It disturbs him to discover that not only is he taller, but he’s stronger too.
“Run, run, run, run, run for you,” Taguchi mumbles under his breath, while Nakamaru stares at him incredulously.
Taguchi continues pulling him until it turns into a run, and he can only follow as the taller man leads him down the twisting corridors. Every so often, they pass an unconscious guard with either dents or scorch marks along the walls.
“Run, run, run, run for your life…”
Finally, they reach a set of steel doors that Nakamaru had only traveled through once, when he had first turned himself over. If he remembers correctly, behind them is a long, non-descript hallway that ends with a single freight elevator. Waiting at the doors are the others, along with a guard he vaguely recognizes from sessions.
“I don’t have clearance to get through these,” the guard says, shaking his head. “And they’re going to discover the cameras are on a loop soon. One of you needs to punch me before I get back to my post.”
Taguchi bounces forward, no doubt to volunteer, but Kame beats him, doing it swiftly and without hesitation. The guard falls down with a curse.
“Jesus, Kamenashi! Your fist is like granite!” He wipes at the blood on his lip.
Kame helps him to his feet. “If it had been, your jaw would be broken right now,” he says calmly. “Report in tomorrow, Shige.”
The guard winces as he nods. Then he’s off down the corridor without sparing the rest of them a glance. Kame, however, greets him when Nakamaru comes to a stop, panting. “So you decided to stop being such a good little pet?” he asks.
Nakamaru yanks his arm out of Taguchi’s grasp. “Looks like,” he replies with a glare for both him and the taller man.
Koki carefully studies the green-lit panel, Ueda situated slightly behind him with his arms crossed. “Look, let me just melt it off,” Ueda says impatiently, a flame coming to life in his palm.
Nakamaru immediately notes their lack of bracelets and his touch drifts down to the metal bands he’s still wearing.
“Hold on a second,” Koki mutters. Electricity crackles along his fingers and the panel lights up brilliantly before going dark. He goes to the doors and pushes them. They easily slide out to the right and left, and he throws a smug smile at his companions.
“Finally,” Ueda says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
-
Over the next few days, Nakamaru is thrust into an underground world he was unaware existed. A secret organization counterproductive to those seeking to capture and study people with remarkable abilities, and also to those with intentions to harm the general public. When they had first arrived at their destination, an agent by the name of Yokoyama led the briefing in a conference room.
In the middle of explaining why they were there, Koki blurts out, “Let me get this straight. You want us to go out there and save the very people who turned us in, who experimented on us? The asshats who treat us like monsters?”
Yokoyama looks at them with compassion. “I understand that it was a difficult time -”
“You have no idea-”
“Koki,” Kame cuts in, his voice brooking no room for disagreement. “What did you plan to do after the escape? Run again?”
“It’s a helluva lot better than playing at superhero,” Koki retorts sharply.
Nakamaru sees his point, but… “I have nowhere to go,” he starts quietly. “I don’t think I even wanted to leave, it was… home… for so long.” His gaze sweeps around the table, and then past the glass walls at the people running around doing who knows what. “Just stick me somewhere else, but not out in the field.”
Yokoyama furrows his eyebrows. “Nakamaru-san, from our intel, your abilities would be a huge asset,” he says. “Molecular immobilization and combustion are very rare.”
Nakamaru glances at Kame. Yokoyama catches the look and explains, “Part of Kamenashi’s objective when he let himself be captured was to gather intel from the inside. We know what each of you can do.” He lists them off. “The power to create and manipulate ice-”
Taguchi.
“- fire -”
Ueda.
“- and electricity -”
Koki.
“- to varying degrees.”
Frost swirls around Taguchi’s fingers, swooping in and around them. His lips are pursed in thought. “Wait, what can you do?” he asks Nakamaru.
Nakamaru looks down at the table and doesn’t say anything.
“He can freeze things,” Kame clarifies after a moment. “Or blow them up.”
Taguchi perks up instantly. “That sounds so cool,” he says, breathless. “I knew you had to come with us. We’ll be so great together, fighting crime and bad guys!”
He feels a headache coming on. “Leave me out of it,” he replies, tired. “Like I said, put me anywhere but out there. I don’t plan on using my powers.”
“But -”
Kame quells Taguchi’s protest with a look. “Go to tech,” he tells Nakamaru. “They’ll fit you with power bracelets that you can take off yourself. Get rid of those.” He gestures to the bracelets Nakamaru still hasn’t taken off. “The rest of you, with me.”
The others file out after Kame, expressions ranging from annoyed to excited. Then Nakamaru is left behind with Yokoyama, who stands at the head of the table awkwardly. The agent coughs and jerks his head toward the exit.
“So. Tech then?”
-
They stick him in the tech lab. After such a long time away, he had forgotten that he’d always been naturally adept with technology. When Yokoyama escorted him to replace his bracelets, he ended up asking the team there an endless amount of questions about the latest technological advances he had missed while inside. It’s fascinating, so he has no problem with the decision to be assigned to that division. The snacks are whatever and the coffee is cold, but the people are nice and he suddenly finds himself with a different, less stress-inducing routine.
Despite being tucked away, his companions from the Institute still manage to find him. Taguchi and Koki bug him to hang out, his earlier deception not seeming to bother them at all. It takes a while longer, but then even Ueda comes around to check on him. It’s nice to know he hasn’t been forgotten.
By the time Kame drops by, Nakamaru is no longer surprised and is even glad to see him. “Eager for a chess game?” he asks, half-serious half-joking. He sort of misses them.
Kame scans the room, taking in the other workers bent over their worktables with various tools at hand. “You need to join my team,” he says, once he finally looks at him. “You’re wasted here.”
His smile fades. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you want to know why I didn’t shut you down the moment I figured out you were spying on us?” Kame asks. “You were in that place voluntarily for all the wrong reasons. You were there because you’re scared.”
“Of course I am!” Nakamaru exclaims. He hates that everyone is so casual about it, as if what they can do is normal. “The things I can do - that we can do - it’s dangerous! It’s not natural!”
“So the answer is to lock yourself away for the rest of your life?” Kame replies, irritation evident even in his steady voice. “No, it’s not normal, but you could do extraordinary things. Or you could be stuck in one place. Again.”
There’s a promise of so much more, but Nakamaru doesn’t trust himself.
Kame quietly adds, “You’re not alone.”
He hesitates, though he can feel his resistance crumbling.
Kame somehow senses this and makes a concession. “Just a simple midnight reconnaissance mission, nothing heavy. See how it is out there,” he says. “Your strategical skills will come in handy.” He holds out his hand. “What do you say?”
The cold coffee - which he doesn’t even drink - on his desk tells him that taking a chance on something exciting might be a good change of pace. Just jump in. Let go for once in his life.
Nakamaru grasps Kame’s hand. “What the hell.”
-
Nakamaru dives behind a car just as the weapons-making facility explodes in a fiery rainfall with a little help from Ueda. On his hands and knees, and wheezing from his mad dash, he glares at Kame who collapses next to him.
“Simple reconnaissance, huh?” He shouts to be heard over the roaring.
“We saw an opportunity and we took it,” Kame says with a shrug. He looks over the Hummer vehicle to see security swarming the area. “You wanna take care of this, or should I? Just remember not to get us too.”
Nakamaru peeks around the corner. “There must be thirty, forty guys out there!”
“Makes you thankful they were too busy watching the game to be bothered with us earlier, huh?” Kame has an impish smile on his face. And of course, this would be exactly the type of situation which gets him to smile. Nakamaru always thought there was a streak of craziness in him.
Kame’s eyes glow as the earth beneath them rumbles and the shadows bend. “Your way will probably be less messy than mine,” he comments.
With a flash of suspicion, Nakamaru exclaims, “This was a set-up!”
Kame laughs. “I admit I’m that clever, but no, not this time.” He gestures and the shadows lift Nakamaru up on his knees. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
A sheet of ice crawls up next to them, and then Taguchi comes sliding in, barely avoiding a hail of gunfire. “So this is fun,” he says cheerfully. “Uepi and Koki are stuck on the eastside.”
Nakamaru turns to Kame. “My range -”
“- has improved enough that you can almost cover an entire city block,” Kame says. “If the facility had been big enough, you’d probably cover a small neighborhood.”
Taguchi looks between the both of them, blinking. Then he spots Nakamaru’s accessories. “Come on, why are you still wearing these?” He breathes ice and the air around them drops several degrees. He touches his fingers to Nakamaru’s bracelets and the ice cracks them. “I’ve been waiting to see you kick some ass.”
The bracelets fall from his wrists. “These ones unlock, y’know,” Nakamaru grumbles, brushing off the fragments still clinging to his skin.
Taking a deep breath, Nakamaru stands and only slightly flinches when a bullet barely misses him. The next ones are shot out of the air with a crack of lightning, and he spies Koki a ways away with his hand outstretched. Nakamaru’s not alone.
He recalls the words he used to keep himself in check, and realizes he hasn’t written or said it to himself in weeks, months. Not since he had broken his routine and found himself in the middle of a group of misfits.
Nakamaru stretches, clenching and unclenching his fingers as the familiar flow of power rushes through. For the first time, he welcomes it.
I’m not ordinary.
He murmurs to himself, lifts his hands.
And the world stops.
Poll Team AU Prompt 3
Pairing/Group: KAT-TUN, Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really. Maybe some language.
Summary: Nakamaru Yuichi isn’t most people. Now if only he could accept that little fact about himself.
Notes: Inspired mainly by Run For You PV setting, but with a mix of Change Ur World too. Little bits were also inspired by the Charmed TV show and probably X-Men as well. Once you read, it will probably be fairly obvious what. Thanks to my beta for all the encouragement, etc. <3
I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary, I’m ordinary…
His pen loops the mundane words over and over, adding more lines to the well-used notebook. If it had been anyone else, their minds would be elsewhere, their movements automatic after so many years of the same ritual. Along with the familiar scratch of his pen is the click - click - click of metal balls, twice the size of a marble, swinging back and forth in a metal frame on his desk.
A sharp knock breaks his concentration. He looks toward the steel door as a drawer slides out from the right. The voice that crackles over the intercom is bland just as everything in his modest room is bland.
“Time for your session.”
He glances at the clock hanging on the wall. 9 AM. As he does every day, he closes his notebook and lays the pen neatly at its side. Then he gets up and walks over to the door, reaching in for the contents. Once he pulls them out, the drawer slides back with a hushed whir. His fingers slide over smooth metal, the bracelets unclasped and waiting to be worn.
At this time, most people would be out and about, oblivious to the subtle shift happening in the norm of society, in the next step of evolution for human beings.
Just before he snaps the bracelets into place on his wrists, he makes the smallest of gestures with his hand. The click - click - click goes silent, the balls suspended in mid-air.
Nakamaru Yuichi isn’t most people.
-
He discovers his powers when he is seventeen and almost blows his sister’s head off.
He had been scrambling to put the final touches on a scale model for an environmental science project when his sister barges in, as usual, complaining about something or other. The details are fuzzy now, but it probably had something to do with how messy he usually left their shared bathroom.
He ignores her - again, as usual - and she is huffy enough to swat at his model, unknowingly striking the spot that he just finished gluing. The glue hadn’t yet dried and so the building crumbles easily.
Angry at his hard work ruined and at the prospect of having to start all over again, he flings a hand in her direction and shouts at the same time the picture frame hanging on the wall beside her explodes. He freezes amidst her hysterical screams.
Later, he doesn’t know what to tell their father when he demands an explanation for why his sister can’t stop crying. Eventually he chalks it up to a freak accident and once his sister finally calms down, their father has to accept it when she can offer no plausible explanation either. Though Nakamaru never forgets the fearful look she gives him when she’s ushered away by their youngest sister.
He doesn’t want to believe it, but he somehow knows the accident had everything to do with him and nothing to do with chance. He buries his suspicions under schoolwork, though he takes great care in trying not to get angry regardless.
That lasts only a week when he’s late to school twice in a row, a result of staying up to study, and his father berates him for being irresponsible. Irritated, he lifts his hands - a mindless gesture of frustration - and his father is blasted back into the wall.
Horrified, Nakamaru scrambles over to his father to check on him, only to be pushed away. If the fear in his sister’s face is hard to forget, the pain and disgust in his father’s is seared like a brand in his memory.
It’s the first time Nakamaru realizes he’s a freak.
-
Something’s different during the lunch hour and it takes Nakamaru a moment to discern why. There’s a new patient - inmate, his mind whispers - sitting alone in the middle of the cafeteria.
His eyebrows are furrowed together, displeased, as he pushes around the cold mashed potatoes and peas on his plate. The accompanying breast of chicken looks about as tasty. Nakamaru inwardly sympathizes with him as he looks down at his own tray. Still, he eats it because it’s the only food they offer and it’s not like he can afford to be choosy.
The cold meat is a minor distraction as Nakamaru studies the newcomer from his empty table in the corner. His hair is a dark brown, pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He looks to be on the smaller side than most of the other patients, though Nakamaru takes note that his lean build is not without a hint of muscles under the baggy attire given to them.
Even with the distance between them, Nakamaru decides his eyebrows are his most distinctive feature, though he can’t imagine them being anything else besides turned down in displeasure. There’s something about him though, and not just because he’s ‘fresh meat’, as one of Nakamaru’s acquaintances would say.
Nakamaru glances around and realizes that the guards feel it too, though it must be because they’re privy to details that he’s not. There’s a kind of tension in their build whenever they look the newcomer’s way. Interesting. He stores the information in the back of his mind and only wonders for a brief moment what landed him in this place of limbo.
It’s none of his business.
-
The Institute, as Nakamaru likes to refer to his current place of residence, is not so bad. As long as you’re compliant. Few patients are though, so there is plenty of punishment to go around. But Nakamaru keeps to himself when allowed and simply lives one day to the next, hoping that his being here is somehow helping in the grand scheme of things.
Though if not for the Institute, he would have no control over his powers. He’s here because they want to study them - him - how they work, when, why. In the process, they’re teaching him control. It’s a give and take thing, Nakamaru rationalizes.
Control. Routine. He can’t have one without the other. And the Institute is nothing if not repetitive.
Each patient is outfitted in the same thing - plain, white tops to match plain, white drawstring pants. It’s all about conformity, though Nakamaru idly wonders if they simply have a thing against color.
Then there are the bracelets, the one thing absolutely necessary for keeping the patients in line. Power bracelets worn on each of their wrists keep their powers in check. As long as they’re wearing them, their powers are kept at bay, stirring beneath the surface but unable to come out.
But that’s the thing. The powers need to get out or the energy builds up and bad things happen. While there is some value in studying the patients in death, live subjects are preferable. So patients are allowed free reign of their powers in their rooms - cells - each one specifically designed to contain them and whatever special ability they have. Energy accumulated throughout the day is released during this time. This is especially a relief for the days without scheduled sessions.
When they are escorted back inside their rooms, the door is shut firmly behind them before a shelf pulls out of the wall. Placing their wrists inside deactivates the sensors and the locks. The bracelets unclasp themselves and the shelf retreats back.
Every time it happens, it’s like a switch is flipped. The tension inside relaxes ever so slightly, the flow of their bodies now allowed to proceed as nature intended. It’s his least favorite part of the day. He prefers the cool metal against his skin.
It allows him the pretense of being normal.
-
During his time in the Institute, Nakamaru keeps his head down and concentrates only on understanding this thing inside him. So when the director - warden - summons him, Nakamaru isn’t sure what to expect. Though it feels a little like being called into the principal’s office. Except principals don’t wear lab coats and their offices don’t tend to smell like antiseptics.
The director looks to be as old as his father, but with more salt than pepper in his hair. His square-rimmed glasses have a slight tint, making it hard to read his expression. He stares at Nakamaru so long over steepled fingers that Nakamaru has to fidget and look away. And when he finally speaks, his voice is soft and unassuming.
“How are you doing, Nakamaru-kun?”
Nakamaru reflexively comes to attention, spine ramrod straight. “Fine… sir.”
“Good, that’s good.” The director rifles through the folders on his desk. “You’ve been showing great promise in your recent sessions. It seems your range has significantly improved.”
There is a weird kind of gratification in garnering even the slightest bit of approval in this place. “Only for a few seconds, sir,” he says truthfully.
“Come now, don’t sell yourself short. You’re one of our brightest stars,” the director says with a smile. “And that’s why I want you to do something for me.”
One of Nakamaru’s hands curl into the material of his pants. “Sir?”
“I’m hearing some bothersome things.” The director checks another folder, and then pulls it out of the pile. “Someone is trying to cause trouble in my facility.”
A face flashes through Nakamaru’s mind, but he keeps his expression carefully blank.
“I have his name, but you see, if he has indeed gathered supporters, I want to weed them out. Every stray spark must be extinguished, for each has the potential to erupt into a blaze.” The director holds out the file. An assistant is immediately on hand, taking it and then handing it over to Nakamaru. “I won’t tolerate chaos here.”
Nakamaru opens the folder and isn’t at all surprised to see the newcomer glaring back at him. Alongside the profile photo, most of the information has been redacted, probably for his benefit, but there is enough left in his history for Nakamaru to glean what a prize he must have been for the Institute to get their hands on.
Kamenashi Kazuya.
Suddenly uneasy, he closes the file.
In his quiet voice, the director states, “Nakamaru-kun, I want you to find out what they’re planning.”
His throat feels dry. “You want me to spy.”
“I abhor surprises,” the director replies. “I just want you to make sure I’m not surprised.”
“… yes, sir.” As if he has any other choice.
-
The director made it sound easy, but it’s not as simple as going, “Hey, can I be in your inner circle so I’ll be privy to the secret plan the warden thinks you’re plotting?”
Somehow Nakamaru doesn’t think that would go over too well.
It takes a few days of observation for him to realize this Kamenashi Kazuya seems to favor other patients Nakamaru already knows. Though an ‘in’ has presented itself, Nakamaru is reluctant to take it. He hates to approach Taguchi for anything. Give him an opening and he’ll be your shadow until something or someone else catches his fancy.
Taguchi has a way of worming into everyone’s personal space, so it’s no surprise that he manages to do it to the newcomer too. He even cultivates some kind of a relationship, as Nakamaru observes the two exchanging what appear to be confidences. That’s not the best indication of the level of Kamenashi’s sanity. Nakamaru can only hope that works in his favor.
Here goes nothing.
When he nears their table in the cafeteria, Kamenashi’s gaze shifts from Taguchi to him, and something about his attention makes Nakamaru want to turn right back around. Taguchi catches sight of him before he can do just that.
“Nakamaru-kun!” Taguchi waves not only his hands but also his arms enthusiastically, and Nakamaru grimaces, self-conscious as heads turn his way. “Long time no see!”
Nakamaru nods. “Hey,” he greets nonchalantly. Or, he hopes it’s nonchalantly because his insides are a mess of nerves.
Taguchi taps his foot on the empty bench, inviting him to sit, while he himself sits on the tabletop. His long black bangs are swept to the left, one side of his head shaved to a greater degree than the other. “When are we finally going to have a go in a session? You keep putting me off,” he says.
Each scheduled session is different, depending on the handler. Luckily, Nakamaru is under someone who doesn’t believe in pitting patients against each other in order to determine the strengths and weaknesses of their skills. Taguchi, however, is, and he revels in it. Nakamaru had once seen him escorted back to his room after a sparring session, and the bloodlust in his eyes was hard to miss.
Nakamaru doesn’t want to whet Taguchi’s appetite, nor does he have any desire to reveal what he can do to others. It’s not something to brag about.
“You know I don’t like to fight. Why don’t you ask your new friend here?” he tosses out casually, nodding to the newcomer at the other end of the table.
Taguchi laughs. “How do you think we became friends in the first place?” he asks. “Kazuya trounced me! It was awesome.”
The little smirk on Kamenashi’s face is probably the closest he’s ever come to a smile. “Most people would be upset,” the newcomer comments.
“Why? Next time when I beat you, it’ll be that much sweeter,” Taguchi replies, anticipation clear in his easy grin. Nakamaru moves to sit, leaning back with his elbows on the table, which does the job of drawing Taguchi’s attention again. “Oh right, Kazuya, this is Nakamaru-kun. Nakamaru-kun, Kazuya.” He gestures between the both of them.
Nakamaru holds out his hand. “Nakamaru Yuichi.”
The newcomer runs a calculating gaze over him. His eyes seem to take in everything, while giving nothing away. Nakamaru doesn’t know what he sees, but in the next moment, the newcomer takes his proffered hand with one shake. “Kamenashi,” he says. “Kazuya. Call me Kame.”
Nakamaru’s eyes flick to Taguchi, and Kame must have caught it because he continues, “Taguchi has no sense of personal boundaries.”
Nakamaru snorts, nodding.
“Huh?” Taguchi looks genuinely clueless and Nakamaru shakes his head.
“Here.” He tosses a peach towards him. It was supposed to be his excuse for coming over if Taguchi wasn’t in a welcoming mood. He’s not one to waste things.
Taguchi lights up. “How did you get this?!” he asks, rolling the peach around in his fingers to inspect it.
“Masuda got me the wrong contraband,” he lies with a shrug. “And it’s not like he can return it. Thought you might want it.”
“Thanks,” the taller man replies reverently, smelling the velvety skin. Nakamaru can’t blame him. Fruit is a rare commodity where they are. If they had been strawberries, he wouldn’t have been able to give them up.
He looks over at Kame, surprised to see something like approval in his eyes, but then it’s gone just like that. “Do you have a favorite fruit?” Nakamaru asks. Maybe he can get Masuda to smuggle that in for him too.
“I hate dried plums.”
“Ah.” Nakamaru blinks. “I’ll be sure not to get those then.”
“See that you don’t.” The little smirk is back. Was he teasing him? “Do you play chess?”
Nakamaru has no idea how he lost track of the conversation. “I do,” he replies, trying not to give away his confusion.
“I’ll bring my chessboard tomorrow then,” Kame states with a nod, matter closed.
How Kame acquired a chessboard is a mystery, though Nakamaru is more preoccupied with the fact that Kame already assumed he would play. He has the distinct impression he’s being tested.
“Bring it on.”
-
Nakamaru loses. Badly. But he gets invited for another game the next day, and then the day after that. Before long, he’s moved from his lone corner in the cafeteria to what is essentially Kame’s domain. It’s loudest in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, where fellow patients have time to socialize and roam around.
He pretends not to see the slight nods every so often from the guards.
The three times a day when food is served are the only times all the patients are in one place. Otherwise, each schedule is different. Recreational time is a hit or miss, given out only to those who exhibit good behavior. Taguchi is a rare sight, but Nakamaru sees Kame more often than not with two other of Nakamaru’s acquaintances. He’s always been on amiable terms with Koki and Ueda, the former insisting on the use of his first name.
Out of everyone in the facility, Nakamaru is probably closest to Koki. The first time he sees them with Kame, Koki gives him a fist bump and it’s business as usual. Ueda nods in acknowledgement, but something seems off with their usual comfortable repertoire. It’s whenever he gets a chance to talk to Kame that he realizes there is a frisson of tension radiating from the auburn-haired man.
When they’re finally alone during rec time - Kame and Koki absent most likely due to punishment - Nakamaru asks him point-blank, “Do you have a problem with me?”
Ueda studies him over the book he acquired from the small library. “What are you doing?” he replies.
“That’s not -”
“I’m asking what you’re doing,” Ueda cuts him off. “Why the sudden need to mingle? The interest in Kame? You’ve only ever been interested in keeping to yourself.”
Nakamaru had expected someone to call him out sooner, and hopes his face doesn’t give away anything. “Being that way gets lonely,” he replies, glad that at least is the truth. “I thought I should change something.” Lie.
Ueda remains unimpressed, though that’s certainly not a new expression. “I mind my own business, but I also don’t intend to stick around in this hellhole,” he states. “If you jeopardize this in any way…”
He straightens, the words bouncing around his head. “Jeopardize what?”
Ueda doesn’t answer, but gets up from his seat. “I won’t tolerate it,” he says, and then simply walks away.
Something’s in the wind and he has a suspicion as to what. That they haven’t told him is indicative of their trust in him, and bizarrely enough, it stings. There are actually times when the camaraderie seems real, those times when he forgets his real purpose in seeking them out.
The director would want to know. Nakamaru ignores the clench in his gut when he passes a note to the nearest guard.
They’re right not to trust him.
-
Nothing happens, and Nakamaru takes the director’s silence as a need for more information. A suspicion isn’t concrete. He continues as usual, playing chess with Kame and bickering over asinine things with the others. But one day Taguchi isn’t around for any of the meal times, which puts Kame in a blacker mood than usual.
Koki slides next to Nakamaru on the bench. “He’s in solitary,” he says in a low voice, leaning towards the middle so Kame and Ueda can hear him too.
“What the hell did he do this time?” Ueda asks, frowning.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kame retorts. His expression is faraway, his mind preoccupied. “We’ll get him out.”
“I guess you’re just going to knock on the door,” Nakamaru remarks dryly.
Koki and Ueda exchange a look, but Kame regains his awareness and stares at him. “No, you’re going to get me in,” he replies.
Nakamaru laughs, but it tapers off when Kame doesn’t even blink. “I think you’ve overestimated my sway in the way things work here,” he says.
“You’ll tell the director I’m planning an escape,” Kame states. “Pass another message along.”
Nakamaru tenses, his eyes flickering to Ueda and Koki. The former is unfazed, while the latter seems worried. Did Ueda voice his doubts? Kame’s gaze is sharp and uncompromising, and any thought of lying wilts.
“Are you really?” he asks instead.
Kame raises an eyebrow. “Why? Want to come?” There’s mockery in his tone, as if he doesn’t believe Nakamaru wants to at all.
He falls back on what he knows. “We belong here,” Nakamaru says.
Kame’s eyes flash. “Says you,” he replies. “Not all of us are determined to lock part of ourselves away.”
“Maybe Nakamaru is conveniently forgetting that the rest of us didn’t choose this,” Ueda comments airily, flipping through another one of his books.
“Yucchi, I can’t believe you bought into their bullshit,” Koki says. He runs a hand through his blond hair in agitation. “You don’t want to stay here.”
Nakamaru touches the metal on his wrist. He’s the only one here voluntarily.
“Come with us or don’t,” Kame says, “but send the damn message.”
-
As Kame predicted, he’s swept away into solitary when Nakamaru lets the director know an escape is in the works. The director had wanted names of Kame’s supporters, but Nakamaru only names Taguchi since he’s already inside. He doesn’t mention Koki or Ueda, though he’s stuck with their frosty silence as he returns to his corner in the cafeteria. That’s fine with him. He’s free to go back to his routine.
They can try to escape if they want, but Nakamaru doesn’t want to see it when they fail.
Come with us or don’t.
Even if a tiny part of him wishes they’d take him, too.
-
In the end, the decision is taken out of his hands.
The power bracelets have just snapped around his wrists when there are sounds of a scuffle outside his room; a large thump soon follows. Before Nakamaru can look through the small window, the glass ices over. He moves away just in time for the door to be kicked down.
“Hi.” Taguchi smiles at Nakamaru brightly, the guard who usually escorts him to a session unconscious at his feet.
Nakamaru stares at the silvery sheen of his hands, and at the tiny ice particles dancing around them. “Hey.”
“Ready to go?” Taguchi reaches out, his hand returning to normal the moment he wraps it around Nakamaru’s arm. “Come on!”
His protests fall on deaf ears as Taguchi pulls him along. It disturbs him to discover that not only is he taller, but he’s stronger too.
“Run, run, run, run, run for you,” Taguchi mumbles under his breath, while Nakamaru stares at him incredulously.
Taguchi continues pulling him until it turns into a run, and he can only follow as the taller man leads him down the twisting corridors. Every so often, they pass an unconscious guard with either dents or scorch marks along the walls.
“Run, run, run, run for your life…”
Finally, they reach a set of steel doors that Nakamaru had only traveled through once, when he had first turned himself over. If he remembers correctly, behind them is a long, non-descript hallway that ends with a single freight elevator. Waiting at the doors are the others, along with a guard he vaguely recognizes from sessions.
“I don’t have clearance to get through these,” the guard says, shaking his head. “And they’re going to discover the cameras are on a loop soon. One of you needs to punch me before I get back to my post.”
Taguchi bounces forward, no doubt to volunteer, but Kame beats him, doing it swiftly and without hesitation. The guard falls down with a curse.
“Jesus, Kamenashi! Your fist is like granite!” He wipes at the blood on his lip.
Kame helps him to his feet. “If it had been, your jaw would be broken right now,” he says calmly. “Report in tomorrow, Shige.”
The guard winces as he nods. Then he’s off down the corridor without sparing the rest of them a glance. Kame, however, greets him when Nakamaru comes to a stop, panting. “So you decided to stop being such a good little pet?” he asks.
Nakamaru yanks his arm out of Taguchi’s grasp. “Looks like,” he replies with a glare for both him and the taller man.
Koki carefully studies the green-lit panel, Ueda situated slightly behind him with his arms crossed. “Look, let me just melt it off,” Ueda says impatiently, a flame coming to life in his palm.
Nakamaru immediately notes their lack of bracelets and his touch drifts down to the metal bands he’s still wearing.
“Hold on a second,” Koki mutters. Electricity crackles along his fingers and the panel lights up brilliantly before going dark. He goes to the doors and pushes them. They easily slide out to the right and left, and he throws a smug smile at his companions.
“Finally,” Ueda says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
-
Over the next few days, Nakamaru is thrust into an underground world he was unaware existed. A secret organization counterproductive to those seeking to capture and study people with remarkable abilities, and also to those with intentions to harm the general public. When they had first arrived at their destination, an agent by the name of Yokoyama led the briefing in a conference room.
In the middle of explaining why they were there, Koki blurts out, “Let me get this straight. You want us to go out there and save the very people who turned us in, who experimented on us? The asshats who treat us like monsters?”
Yokoyama looks at them with compassion. “I understand that it was a difficult time -”
“You have no idea-”
“Koki,” Kame cuts in, his voice brooking no room for disagreement. “What did you plan to do after the escape? Run again?”
“It’s a helluva lot better than playing at superhero,” Koki retorts sharply.
Nakamaru sees his point, but… “I have nowhere to go,” he starts quietly. “I don’t think I even wanted to leave, it was… home… for so long.” His gaze sweeps around the table, and then past the glass walls at the people running around doing who knows what. “Just stick me somewhere else, but not out in the field.”
Yokoyama furrows his eyebrows. “Nakamaru-san, from our intel, your abilities would be a huge asset,” he says. “Molecular immobilization and combustion are very rare.”
Nakamaru glances at Kame. Yokoyama catches the look and explains, “Part of Kamenashi’s objective when he let himself be captured was to gather intel from the inside. We know what each of you can do.” He lists them off. “The power to create and manipulate ice-”
Taguchi.
“- fire -”
Ueda.
“- and electricity -”
Koki.
“- to varying degrees.”
Frost swirls around Taguchi’s fingers, swooping in and around them. His lips are pursed in thought. “Wait, what can you do?” he asks Nakamaru.
Nakamaru looks down at the table and doesn’t say anything.
“He can freeze things,” Kame clarifies after a moment. “Or blow them up.”
Taguchi perks up instantly. “That sounds so cool,” he says, breathless. “I knew you had to come with us. We’ll be so great together, fighting crime and bad guys!”
He feels a headache coming on. “Leave me out of it,” he replies, tired. “Like I said, put me anywhere but out there. I don’t plan on using my powers.”
“But -”
Kame quells Taguchi’s protest with a look. “Go to tech,” he tells Nakamaru. “They’ll fit you with power bracelets that you can take off yourself. Get rid of those.” He gestures to the bracelets Nakamaru still hasn’t taken off. “The rest of you, with me.”
The others file out after Kame, expressions ranging from annoyed to excited. Then Nakamaru is left behind with Yokoyama, who stands at the head of the table awkwardly. The agent coughs and jerks his head toward the exit.
“So. Tech then?”
-
They stick him in the tech lab. After such a long time away, he had forgotten that he’d always been naturally adept with technology. When Yokoyama escorted him to replace his bracelets, he ended up asking the team there an endless amount of questions about the latest technological advances he had missed while inside. It’s fascinating, so he has no problem with the decision to be assigned to that division. The snacks are whatever and the coffee is cold, but the people are nice and he suddenly finds himself with a different, less stress-inducing routine.
Despite being tucked away, his companions from the Institute still manage to find him. Taguchi and Koki bug him to hang out, his earlier deception not seeming to bother them at all. It takes a while longer, but then even Ueda comes around to check on him. It’s nice to know he hasn’t been forgotten.
By the time Kame drops by, Nakamaru is no longer surprised and is even glad to see him. “Eager for a chess game?” he asks, half-serious half-joking. He sort of misses them.
Kame scans the room, taking in the other workers bent over their worktables with various tools at hand. “You need to join my team,” he says, once he finally looks at him. “You’re wasted here.”
His smile fades. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you want to know why I didn’t shut you down the moment I figured out you were spying on us?” Kame asks. “You were in that place voluntarily for all the wrong reasons. You were there because you’re scared.”
“Of course I am!” Nakamaru exclaims. He hates that everyone is so casual about it, as if what they can do is normal. “The things I can do - that we can do - it’s dangerous! It’s not natural!”
“So the answer is to lock yourself away for the rest of your life?” Kame replies, irritation evident even in his steady voice. “No, it’s not normal, but you could do extraordinary things. Or you could be stuck in one place. Again.”
There’s a promise of so much more, but Nakamaru doesn’t trust himself.
Kame quietly adds, “You’re not alone.”
He hesitates, though he can feel his resistance crumbling.
Kame somehow senses this and makes a concession. “Just a simple midnight reconnaissance mission, nothing heavy. See how it is out there,” he says. “Your strategical skills will come in handy.” He holds out his hand. “What do you say?”
The cold coffee - which he doesn’t even drink - on his desk tells him that taking a chance on something exciting might be a good change of pace. Just jump in. Let go for once in his life.
Nakamaru grasps Kame’s hand. “What the hell.”
-
Nakamaru dives behind a car just as the weapons-making facility explodes in a fiery rainfall with a little help from Ueda. On his hands and knees, and wheezing from his mad dash, he glares at Kame who collapses next to him.
“Simple reconnaissance, huh?” He shouts to be heard over the roaring.
“We saw an opportunity and we took it,” Kame says with a shrug. He looks over the Hummer vehicle to see security swarming the area. “You wanna take care of this, or should I? Just remember not to get us too.”
Nakamaru peeks around the corner. “There must be thirty, forty guys out there!”
“Makes you thankful they were too busy watching the game to be bothered with us earlier, huh?” Kame has an impish smile on his face. And of course, this would be exactly the type of situation which gets him to smile. Nakamaru always thought there was a streak of craziness in him.
Kame’s eyes glow as the earth beneath them rumbles and the shadows bend. “Your way will probably be less messy than mine,” he comments.
With a flash of suspicion, Nakamaru exclaims, “This was a set-up!”
Kame laughs. “I admit I’m that clever, but no, not this time.” He gestures and the shadows lift Nakamaru up on his knees. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
A sheet of ice crawls up next to them, and then Taguchi comes sliding in, barely avoiding a hail of gunfire. “So this is fun,” he says cheerfully. “Uepi and Koki are stuck on the eastside.”
Nakamaru turns to Kame. “My range -”
“- has improved enough that you can almost cover an entire city block,” Kame says. “If the facility had been big enough, you’d probably cover a small neighborhood.”
Taguchi looks between the both of them, blinking. Then he spots Nakamaru’s accessories. “Come on, why are you still wearing these?” He breathes ice and the air around them drops several degrees. He touches his fingers to Nakamaru’s bracelets and the ice cracks them. “I’ve been waiting to see you kick some ass.”
The bracelets fall from his wrists. “These ones unlock, y’know,” Nakamaru grumbles, brushing off the fragments still clinging to his skin.
Taking a deep breath, Nakamaru stands and only slightly flinches when a bullet barely misses him. The next ones are shot out of the air with a crack of lightning, and he spies Koki a ways away with his hand outstretched. Nakamaru’s not alone.
He recalls the words he used to keep himself in check, and realizes he hasn’t written or said it to himself in weeks, months. Not since he had broken his routine and found himself in the middle of a group of misfits.
Nakamaru stretches, clenching and unclenching his fingers as the familiar flow of power rushes through. For the first time, he welcomes it.
I’m not ordinary.
He murmurs to himself, lifts his hands.
And the world stops.
Poll Team AU Prompt 3