Chapter Text
It started off small. Small enough that barely anyone had even noticed what was happening; an invisible enemy that struck from the shadows. It wasn’t until Arafune collapsed mid-rank war that Border finally connected the dots and realised what they were facing.
A trion virus.
They weren’t sure how the virus worked nor did they have any way in which to cure it – though there was no need to, seeing as the effects were identical to the regular flu and would pass after a few weeks. However, they did discover that the symptoms were amplified tenfold whilst the victim was in a combat body or expending trion. In order to limit the spread, Border ordered a three-week isolation period where only select individuals, who have shown no signs of the virus, were allowed to patrol. Those who did show signs of infection were required to remain at home and forbidden from using their triggers.
Border became a ghost-town. No rank-wars. No idle chatter filling the lounges. No bustling crowds in the cafeteria. Only silence. Occasionally, an agent would pass through on their way to turn in a report after finishing patrol. However, for the majority, it was abandoned.
Even with the isolation and hygiene practices in place, many agents still caught the contagious flu. Many explained that it couldn’t have been worse than a common cold when they weren’t using their combat bodies – using their triggers was an entirely different story.
=3=
Tamakoma-2 were one of the lucky few who had yet to have any contact with the virus, and therefore one of the lucky few to pick up the majority of Border’s patrol shifts.
That day was their last day before they could finally take a break, seeing as Ninomiya squad would finally be free from quarantine.
Halfway through the shift, Hyuse suggested that they split up to cover a wider area. None of them had trouble defeating neighbours on their own – Osamu had really improved over the past year – so no one had any complaints; in fact, the group turned the rest of their defence duties into a would-be competition. Whoever took out the most trion soldiers won bragging rights. Of course, Shiori kept track of scores to keep things fair.
It wasn’t until almost knock-off time that disaster struck.
Yuma slowly rounded another corner and spotted a small group of marmods further down the street. Grinning, he summoned his scorpion and, using grasshopper, launched himself towards the enemy.
He made quick work of the first one, weaving through deadly pincers, and striking at its core. His weapon buried into the glowing eye and shattered the lens – the marmod immediately fell still and lifeless as he pulled his scorpion from the remains. Swiftly dodging an attack from the second, he leapt around the hulking mass and ran his blade through its middle, cutting the soldier in half.
Turning towards the last marmod, however, Yuma faltered. While it was faint, his vision blurred around the edges – enough that he couldn’t focus entirely on the enemy. Tripping over his own feet, Yuma only just managed to roll out of the way before large pincer-like arms could impale him. Regaining his composure, he swiftly summoned his scorpions and, in a single swing, sliced off the two front arms. He didn’t wait for his opponent to recover; lurching forward, he impaled the trion soldier through its eye, effectively destroying it much as he’d done with the first.
With that final manoeuvre, the last marmod crumpled the ground, leaving the barren streets of the forbidden zone once more enveloped in silence. It was only when he was sure that there were no enemies nearby, that Yuma finally acknowledged that something was wrong with him.
The blurred vision was creeping in, becoming more predominant than not. Raising a hand to his head to steady himself, Yuma attempted to focus on a single spot on the ground. Finding his efforts useless, and feeling the lethargy in his limbs grow, Yuma stumbled over to a nearby wall. Leaning against the surface, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, finding his legs quickly losing strength.
His immediate reaction was to panic, believing his trion body - or more accurately, his real body - was finally failing and at any given moment, would dissipate into thin air. Not now. Please, not now! However, logic kicked in before his worries took hold. Re-running over the information they’d basically had playing on loop over the past week, Yuma immediately understood what was happening.
“Osamu,” he hailed over the comms, "I think I caught the virus.” Straight to the point was always best, especially when dealing with his worrier of a captain.
“Are you okay? We’ll get Director Rindo and come pick you up. In the meantime, deactivate your trigger so it doesn’t get… worse…” Osamu trailed off.
While he waited for his captain to continue, Yuma followed orders and deactivated his combat body. It was only when he didn’t feel any ease in his discomfort that he realised what Osamu had been thinking.
He couldn’t return to a flesh and blood body. He was trapped in a trion body where the virus could run wild.
“Kuga, we’re coming to get you, just hang tight.”
“No, you guys might catc-“
“Kuga. We’re coming to get you,” Osamu repeated sternly, essentially cutting off Yuma’s argument. When it came to his friend’s wellbeing, Osamu wasn’t one to be trifled with.
Sighing in defeat, Yuma settled himself to wait. Once more leaning his head back against the cold, brick wall, Yuma closed his eyes and took stock of his sore limbs.
Sore. The word felt foreign to him. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d last felt any form of pain or discomfort – trapped within an artificial body he could barely call his own – so the deep aches were both a strange and unwelcomed change.
His mind was foggy, as though stuffed with cotton, and his eyelids were heavy as though they were made of lead. Each appendage felt like it would fall off at any given moment, so lacking in energy that they simply refused to continue existing. How was it even possible for a synthetic body such as his to be sick, of all things?
None of the agents who had been infected had stayed in their combat bodies for long, so Yuma had no grasp on just how bad the virus could become. He didn’t expect it would be fatal, considering it only resulted in flu-like symptoms, but he couldn’t be sure. Arafune had collapsed during a rank war, and that was only just after he’d been infected; the thought of how worse it may become weighed heavily on his conscience.
A hand heavily landing on his arm had him jolting to the side. Eye’s snapping open, Yuma’s gaze landed on Osamu, Chika, Hyuse and Director Rindo, each with some form of worry etched into their features. He stared dumbly at the group, mentally smacking himself for not noticing their approach sooner – if they’d been an enemy, he would have already been dead.
“Yo,” he waved half-heartedly from his spot on the ground, lacking the energy to greet them properly, “You guys really shouldn’t be here… you’ll catch it too.”
“Yeah, but we can actually take off our triggers Kuga. Even if we get it, it wouldn’t be any worse than a cold. Now, let’s get you back to base,” Osamu offered his hand to help the neighbour stand.
Accepting the out-stretched appendage, Yuma was dragged to his feet, only to almost fall over again when his legs refused to hold his weight. Luckily, Osamu kept a firm grip on his arm to keep him from toppling over.
Surprising everyone, Hyuse crouched down in front of the shorter neighbour with his back turned, wordlessly offering to give Yuma a lift. With a huff of laughter, the white-haired agent, with the assistance of his team, wrapped his arms around the older’s shoulders. Bracing his charge under the legs, Hyuse hoisted Yuma onto his back and prepared for their journey back to the car.
With his head resting against Hyuse’s back, the rhythmic steps as the group ambled through the forbidden zone almost lulled Yuma into unconsciousness.
Or maybe it did, considering he didn’t remember arriving back at base.
=3=
Hyuse could feel the moment Yuma fell unconscious – his grip on the older neighbour’s back loosening until he was toppling backwards. The brunette stumbled forward, catching his small charge before he could completely fall from his perch.
“Yuma?” Hyuse called, turning his head yet unable to see the albino; the lack of response only confirmed what he already suspected. The commotion pulled the attention of the others, each turning to look at the duo, their worried and questioning looks landing on the now-sleeping albino.
“Kuga?” Osamu approached. Worry etched into his every feature as his gaze landed on the closed eyelids of his teammate, “I’ve never seen him unconscious before. Replica said he hasn’t needed sleep since he got his trion body, so I don’t know if this is a sign that something is seriously wrong or…”
Trailing off, Osamu turned back to Yuma and, as gently as he could, attempted to stir the unconscious neighbour from his slumber; however, after several calls of his name, and a none-too light shake of his arm, Yuma remained out to it.
“I guess the best thing we can do is get him back to Base; have Cronin look over him,” Rindo contributed, “We’ll be better equipped to look after him there too.”
With a round of determined nods, the group was once again on the move, their pace faster and steps more meaningful. The car had only been a hundred metres away when they stopped, so the walk was quick.
Awkwardly manoeuvring Yuma into the middle of the backseat, Hyuse climbed in beside him. Osamu followed suit on the other side; between the two taller teens, they could keep Yuma relatively secure on the trip home – that said, the moment neither were actively holding him up, he slumped to the side with his head roughly falling onto Osamu’s shoulder.
As soon as Chika and Director Rindo were buckled in, the car was taking off.
Yuma’s condition only continued to deteriorate on the ride back to base – his breathing becoming short and shallow, and gained a rather raspy quality that worried Hyuse more than he cared to admit.
With a trion body, things like respiratory failure or a fever high enough to cook his brain weren’t major concerns as far as they knew; that said, how it was going to affect his situation was nothing short of terrifying. Would the illness affect his real body? Would it be capable of destroying the trion one?
The unknowns were stacking up against them; the pile growing more daunting as they allowed their thoughts to wander. The whole trion virus situation was nothing short of strange in itself; however, now Yuma – with a condition even more unique – was getting wrapped up in a mess they couldn’t even fathom of solving.
“I’ve been wondering…” Osamu began, breaking the tense silence that had filled the car, “…how Kuga would have caught it in the first place. It’s not like we’ve been around anyone who’s been infected, and we’ve been cautious. So why now of all times?”
At first, no one answered him, the silence returning with a vengeance. In truth, no one knew how to answer, they couldn't even think of a plausible explanation – it was another unknown to add to the already tremendous pile.
“I’m sure we’ll get all the answers we need once Cronin looks over him,” Rindo finally answered, reiterating his previous comforting statement about involving their engineer, “I’ll contact Jin and have them prepare for when we arrive, though I’m sure he already knows.”
With that, they fell back into their thoughts, trying not to let the sudden perilous situation drag them down.
Hyuse turned towards the window. While his eyes locked onto the buildings as they flew by, his mind was miles away.