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Events were winding down at Tamakoma branch, especially with Hyuse’s integration into normal society. With the help of Tamakoma-2, Hyuse figured out how to ride a bike, use a rice cooker, and hold a normal social interaction without sounding like he was being condescending the entire time. Progress. Yotaro decided to celebrate Hyuse finally learning basic history to show an ‘education documentary’ (really just a glorified, unrealistic war movie).
Hyuse debated staying in his room, but his absence would be noticeable, and noticing led to questions, which led to explanations, which led to him giving them too much information about himself than he would like. So he sat on the ratty couch in the living room, pushed up next to Yotaro and Konami, as everyone tried to sit down together.
Yotaro shifted a couple of times in his seat before pouting and getting up. He hopped onto Rajinmaru, groaning. “It’s no fun being squished next to each other! I’m going to sit on Rajinmaru instead.” He gave the furry animal a hug.
Moments later, Jin walked through the door to the kitchen, rice crackers in tow. “I made popcorn!” he announced, holding up two microwaved bags practically oozing with butter. Hyuse scowled. “This is unhealthy and does not provide the proper nutrients necessary for a living organism to function.” He declined, and crossed his legs, suddenly feeling a small chill run down his spine as the movie thundered to life.
He dismissed it immediately. It was just an involuntary muscle spasm, that was all. Nothing else. To admit it was anything else would be weakness, and Hyuse could not show weakness.
As the movie continued, Hyuse found himself becoming more and more absorbed in the action. His eyes flicked across the screen, tracking the movements of a soldier one moment, the fire of artillery the next. This was all… strangely familiar, in a way. He ignored the thought, pushing it to the back of his brain as he continued critiquing the strategy in his mind.
They aren’t refilling the munitions quickly enough. They should be retreating, not attacking with full force. There’s no way the enemy captains wouldn’t discern their foolish plan, it’s laid out directly in the open for all to see. This is child’s play.
With every twist of events that Hyuse had figured out already, gasps were drawn from the rest of the branch members. Even Reiji was surprised when the main character managed to roll under the moving truck instead of being run over like roadkill, a move Hyuse had predicted 6 minutes ago because it was insensible that the producers of such an inaccurate film would allow the protagonist to perish.
The voices of Hyuse’s companions faded into the background as his eyes darted around, scanning the battlefield in mere seconds and analyzing the trajectory of artillery shells before they were even launched. He began subconsciously tapping his fingers against his thighs in quick repetition, formulating multitudes of more effective strategies in his head.
As the minutes passed, his mind grew more and more occupied with defense and planning, his vision tunneling on the screen as everything else grew distant. He was vaguely aware of his fingers tapping a faster, erratic beat as he tried to comprehend the situation. The air was nearly suffocating at this point, his heart beating quickly in his chest as he watched a soldier be blown up by a landmine.
Another soldier rushed in to save him, to no avail. It was only bait for the enemy to fire once more, drowning both in an onslaught of artificial blood. Now that Hyuse looks closer, one of the men looks quite small, almost like a teenager. Almost like he was forced into battle. Another burst of fire tore out of the weapons as the enemy barked orders to the soldiers. Hyuse’s mind was faster now, like the barking of the commanding officer.
Don’t move. Now. Retreat. Forward. Fire. Slow down. No. Slow down, slow down, slow down, you’re not safe. Not safe. Dead.
The screen zoomed in on another soldier, being pushed around by what looked to be a lieutenant. Hyuse could make out what the higher up was saying through the din of static his ears were supplying him with. “Keep going, soldier! We’ll have victory if we die trying!”
Die trying. Die… trying. Like the shortage of people to fight against the forces of Eros, causing children to be thrown into the fray. The mud against boots, shots fired, heads tilted at unnatural angles as the clothes too big for them in the first place were riddled with bullets. The clinical dismission of the commanding officers of any mortal wounds. Having to learn first aid with no one to teach, not being able to mess up without causing infection and disease. The blood, the bodies, so many bodies, too small to be adults, child soldiers who never had a chance.
The room was too cold and too hot at the same time, the light of the screen burning into his retinas as his breathing hitched and became more shallow. His fingers, previously rapping against his legs at a concerning pace, stilled. And he was back. Back to the battlefield, back to the blood, back to the crunches under his boots that sounded a bit too much like bones, but he knew if he looked down he would be the next nameless victim in a massacre of thousands.
Konami, sitting next to him, gasped at the sudden explosion of the enemy’s base, the next sign of victory approaching. She glanced over. He… didn’t look very good. His back was straight as always, but it was stiff, as if something was forcing it there. She frowned quizzically, and waved her hand in front of his face. “Hey, dude. Were you even paying attention? You good?” No reaction.
She dipped her head to look at his eyes, wondering if he fell asleep sitting again. No. His eyes were shaking a bit, closed off and guarded. She decided to tap him on the shoulder, attempting to wake him up. Her voice laced with annoyance, she reached her hand up to tap on his arm as other members of Tamakoma began to notice. “Hey! Answer me, dumbass. Or are you ignoring me again-”
His hand shot out like a whip, grabbing her by the wrist. In the blink of an eye, he had thrown her over the back of the couch and pinned her down. She struggled, trying to escape his grip. “Hey, let go of me! This isn’t how you treat your elders, y’know! What’s gotten into you!?” She looked up, and paused. His eyes were filled with malice, clearly not seeing what was in front of him. Reiji jumped up and separated the two, leaving Hyuse dazed and breathless.
His knees buckled underneath him as he slid to the floor, gasping and clutching his chest. For only a split second, panic and fear flashed in his gaze. He swiftly got to his feet. Konami, being helped up by Shiori, sent him a scathing glare. “What the hell is wrong with you!? You can’t just attack people like that!”
Yuma flipped in his seat, pausing the movie and peering over the couch cushions. Konami turned to him. “It was probably just a reflex to you being annoying, don’t worry about it.” He grinned cheekily, succeeding at lightening the mood. When Konami turned back, Hyuse was no longer there. Huh? Where had he gone?
Hyuse had exited the living room and rushed through the kitchen as soon as attention was diverted to Yuma, clambering down the stairs to the basement as fast as he could without making too much noise. He… couldn’t really explain what he did himself. It had just happened, faster than he could try to suppress it, like an enemy soldier had hit him in the shoulder with shrapnel.
He practically threw himself into his room, locking the door behind him and sliding down against the wall. Hyuse pressed himself into a corner, kneeling down and hugging his shoulders tightly and ducking his head. Just as soon as he had curled himself into a ball, his head shot up. Didn’t they have… cameras in his room? Hyuse couldn’t be caught exhibiting weakness or they would dispose of him. That’s what you do with prisoners of war according to Aktokrator, after all.
He quickly untangled himself and scanned the room, sighing with relief as he found himself to be in a blind spot. Hyuse got up and made sure to act like he was perfectly fine, carrying himself with an air of indifference and forcibly stilling the tremor in his hands. He threw himself onto his bed, sighed, and pulled the covers over him. He was just going to bed early, that was all.
The texture of his sheets rubbed against his horns and his body heat soon encapsulated the small space, but he could deal with being uncomfortable if it meant they wouldn’t see him cry. He took a shaky breath, allowing a few salty droplets to fall from his eyes before wiping them with the sleeve of his hoodie, making sure not to rub his eyes so it wouldn’t be noticeable that he was crying.
Hyuse sat in his blanket cocoon until his breathing evened out and he had feeling in his face again. Against his will, he felt his eyelids drooping. He wriggled his head out of the sheets, giving himself some fresh air, before succumbing to exhaustion.