Chapter Text
Kinta was suspicious.
He had good reason to be. That… that guy was following him around lately. Every time Kinta thought he managed to escape, he just showed up again. That stupid, idiotic, fake grin on his face.
Jin 'Jiji' Enjoji. The bane of Kinta's existence.
Kinta knew his type. Acted nice, lulled you into a false sense of security, and then they struck. Breaking your Gundams, shredding your manga, shoving you to the ground, Kinta had dealt with it all. He'd learned his lesson -
Don't trust a pretty face.
So, obviously Pretty Boy Jin wasn't to be trusted. The others on his team seemed to trust him well enough, but, well, he wasn't sure he trusted them 100% either. In combat? Absolutely.
To be his friends? Well, maybe Private Takakura. Maybe. He could see himself getting along with his fellow nerd, maybe, but hadn't had much a chance to… try yet.
(And he did not want to admit he was scared to, for he was the Fearless Kinta and would never fear something so simple as human interaction.)
So, their opinions on Jin couldn't be trusted.
Clearly, he feared Kinta taking over his place on the team. Why else would he constantly appear whenever Kinta let his guard down, trying to get him to chat about whatever manga Kinta had on hand at the time? Obviously, he was trying to find his weakness and exploit it! But Kinta was smarter than him.
He stayed one step ahead. Used stealth he'd only dared read about before, never put into practice. He'd monitored Jin's motions, planned his own out around them. He'd-
"Kin-Kin!"
He'd failed.
Jin was just too crafty, worthy of being the rival of someone as amazing The End of Joytoy Pegasus Kinta. However, being worthy to be his rival did not mean Kinta was just going to give up!
"Halt!" Kinta shouted, holding up his hand in a 'stop' motion as Jin ran forward, something in his hands.
"Kin-Kin!" Jin repeated, holding out… a carton? "I saw you drop yours earlier, so I thought I'd get you a new one!"
Ah yes… he'd… 'dropped' it.
(He'd been shoved from behind, causing him to trip, the carton balanced on his notebooks falling forward. He'd stepped on it while trying to regain his balance and it had been crushed, drink spilling beneath his feet.)
"Ah… yes… so I did…" Kinta said, eyeing the drink suspiciously. He slowly reached forward, snatching it up quickly and yanking his arm back before Jin could react.
He looked at it. It was, indeed, the same brand of milk tea he'd been planning to drink earlier - a treat he'd gotten himself with a bit of money he'd gotten selling off some of the duplicate mystery box items he'd gotten recently. Usually, he preferred to save his spare change for collectibles, but occasionally, he'd allow himself a treat.
(He should've known better than to bring it to school.)
But wait… they didn't… sell this at the school store. He knew, he'd checked yesterday before deciding to pick it up at a nearby store after school.
All the more suspicious.
He squinted at the carton, bringing it closer to his face and adjusting his glasses for optimal inspection. It still seemed sealed, no signs of tampering. But then… why?
He looked back at Jin, who was still standing there, stupid smile on his face.
What a pretty boy.
(He meant it in the most derogatory of ways, of course. It was only a compliment if a girl was called pretty. Obviously.)
"…Thank you," Kinta finally said, though he was still incredibly suspicious. He'd wait to drink it. Perhaps Jin was waiting to release one of his legendary 'jokes', attempting to get the tea to spill from his nose, take a picture, and spread it across the school grounds.
"So…" Jin said, rocking his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels and back again. "I was wondering…"
"Alas, duty calls!" Kinta cried out, moving to grab his bag and head out. He'd been hiding in an obscured pathway behind the school, but it meant he needed to leave early in order to make it to class on time. And if he was leaving a little earlier than he needed to, it wasn't because he was scared, it was simply… a strategic retreat.
He held the milk tea more firmly in his hands this time. He wouldn't drink it until he got home, in case there was some kind of plan involved. That way he'd be safely tucked away where no one could witness any possible… side effects.
"Kinny, wait!"
He ignored Jin calling after him as he sped away, bag sloppily thrown over his shoulders. He knew the other would be able to catch him - he had, of course, injured his ankle recently and due to the need to recuperate, could not operate at full speed - but he didn't seem to follow.
He seemed to understand that it would be futile. Good.
Kinta would've hated to pull out the heavy artillery. It would've been overkill, after all.
The milk tea was delicious, actually. If there had been poison in it, it was an extremely slow acting kind (though, he wouldn't put that above Jin). However, that possibility was not enough to stop him from enjoying every last drop.
Really, it was like Jin hadn't gotten it for him, as he had technically spent his own money on milk tea.
Disregard that that had wound up coating his shoes, rather than his stomach.
So no, delicious tea or not, this was no peace offering. If anything, this was an act of war, reminding Kinta of the atrocity that had struck his own hard-earned tea.
With that thought in mind, Kinta decided to continue his evasive maneuvers the next day. He thought that it would be easy, considering it was a Saturday. He'd planned to spend the day holed up in his home base, painting the new batch of mini figures that had arrived at his doorstep a few days prior. Then, perhaps, a re-watch of some of his favorite mech fighting scenes.
For preparation for their next battle, of course.
Just as he'd adjusted the lighting in his studio and gotten out his paints, he received a text.
Odd.
He was used to notifications from forums, updates on merchandise sale releases, sale alerts on a few otaku sites, but not texts. His parents were a bit old fashioned, preferring to call if they needed to contact him, but even those calls were sporadic at the best of times.
The text was from an unknown number, but it was easy to decipher who it was.
'Yo, Kinkin! Okaruns still got no cell so he passed ur number to me! ⊙▽⊙ meetin at the Ayase home for planning, u gotta com!!! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶'
Somehow, Jin had gotten hold of his number.
He'd have to invest in a new line soon. For safety reasons. But for now, it could wait.
First, the Ayase household, for some intense planning!
This… was not what Kinta expected when Jin had said 'planning'. It was the entire team, yes, but it more seemed that they were recreating their usual after-battle feasts. There were no whiteboards for figuring out attacks, no cork boards cover in red string to track down the secret identities of their foes.
No mini figures on a mapped out table to plan the ultimate battle strategies!
Just. A lot of food, and a lot of teens fighting for it. Plus someone he was supposed to believe was an old lady, and a weird, talking cat.
(Nobody had ever answered him on why the cat could talk, by the way. The most he'd gotten as an explanation was 'that's just Turbo Granny'. What was that supposed to mean?)
"Ugh, who invited the perv?" Lady Shiratori complained from her spot on the floor, her chopsticks currently at war with Miss Ayase's, who was across the table from her. She seemed to be far less into the battle than the clearly angered Miss Ayase, but Kinta could see her lips twitching in frustration, her lips barely holding back a growl.
She couldn't fool him - clearly, he was amazing at reading people.
"Kin-kin!"
Oh no.
He'd let his guard down. Despite receiving the text from Jin himself, he'd almost forgotten that the boy would be here. His bitterest of rivals, his mortal foe.
"C'mere, look what Okarun's got!"
Suspicion levels high, Kinta adjusted his glasses and stiffly made his way over to the other end of the table, glancing at a smiling Miss Vamola, happily stuffing her face while he passed her.
He was still angry with his Private for stealing the kiss clearly intended for himself, but alas, he'd had to accept it. For the fate of their team, they'd needed to learn to coexist.
He glanced at Jin again, as he sat down.
Well, mostly. Not to the point where he'd let his guard down. That he'd actually trust them in their regular lives.
He strategically picked his seat on the other side of Takakura, rather than next to Jin. He sat on his knees so he could easily peak over the shorter boy's shoulder to see the magazine they were reading.
"Look, Okarun picked up this cool magazine about robots and stuff! Figured you could get some new ideas for that cool kick-ass one you've been working on!"
"The Great Kinta is more than some 'kick-ass robot', pretty boy," Kinta dismissed, but looked a bit closer. "Ah, Private Takakura, I see you found last month's Hobby Japan. An interesting read, though I found that they have been lacking a bit of creativity as of late. Personally, I'd recommend specifically picking up Gundam Forward for a look into some of the more animated aspects over just models, though you'd have to find a good translation from English. I, myself, have managed to pick up some of the finer details of the language in order to not need to rely on such tools."
(He couldn't necessarily read English, but he could pick up a few words after repeated translation tool uses. Enough to know what shows were the best to watch that month, what models to preorder.)
"Wow, Kinny! You know so much about this stuff!"
Suddenly, Jin's face was… very close. Kinta could feel his own face heating up. Had Jin… done something to him? No, Kinta had yet to touch the food. And besides, it seemed as though all the food was a free-for-all, everyone taking from all the bowls. Was it airborne? How could Jin have only caused such an effect on him? A quick glance showed no one else's faces reddening the way he felt his own.
(Well, aside from Miss Ayase, who had finished her war with Lady Shiratori and was now playing a game of tug of war with the cat over a crab leg. But that was the redness of excursion, not illness.)
He suddenly noticed Takakura and Jin staring at him. Ah. Yes, he'd never responded. Ahem.
"But of course," he bragged, fingers on his chest as he continued his humble declaration. "I pride myself on keeping up on all sources Gundam. The Great Kinta is a perfect blend of multiple famous Gundams, and things those creators could only dream of!"
He felt he'd earned the right to brag. He'd worked hard, dedicating his entire being into learning the ways of Gundams. Had bidding wars for old issues of Hobby Japan, stayed up until the sun began to rise to last-minute snipe a rare model in auction. It hadn't been easy, but he had a collection he could be proud of, and the knowledge to know what every piece of every mobile suit was for.
(When he was young, and felt so alone and scared in his big, dark, empty home because his parents wouldn't be home for another night again, he'd looked up to see the Gundam figure his dad had brought him after his last work trip, protecting him. It gave him a feeling of safety. So he'd begged for more. He'd researched their fights, seeing how powerful they were. They'd protect him, when he was alone. His army grew, and it kept him safe.)
"You should really teach us more!" Jin said, causing Kinta's suspicions to only grow. "You know, so we can help out next time we're all combined into that really big Great Kinta! Can't leave it all to you, Kin-Kin!"
Hm. He did have a point. As much as he hated the idea of teaching a rival any skills that could be used against him, the enemy of my enemy is my friend ally, and he would benefit from his teammates being less useless in battle. He was an expert at controlling The Great Kinta, but even his brain could only focus on so many things at once - though, it was important to note that he could still focus on more things than the average person.
"All right, I'll agree!" Kinta exclaimed, pointing his hand in the air like it was a victory pose. The chatter and sounds of food quieted around him, and he looked to see that everyone on the other side of the table was just staring at him now, a variety of expressions on their faces.
He chose to focus on Vamola-chan's, who was grinning and gave an excited clap. Yes! They were all so pleased to be under the tutelage of the great Colonel Kinta!
He took control of the magazine, barely noticing as Jin moved to sit in his other side so he could still see. He flipped the pages, knowing exactly what he was looking for, having memorized what models were on which pages on the day the issue had first dropped. He pointed out certain weaponry on the armor, the pros and cons.
Weight, of course, needed to be taken into consideration, as well as the drain on the power source. Of course, The Great Kinta - being powered by alien tech - had less of an issue with power than the average machine, but it was still important to know. Color could even play a part, when you took into consideration camouflage in certain terrains.
He got so into sharing this knowledge, finally having someone who seemed to want to know more about his passion, his very source of being, that he slowly seemed to forget that these two (one of them, less so) were meant to be his rivals.
It almost felt like… he had friends.
He paused for a moment when the thought crossed his mind. No, these were war buddies, his lieutenants if anything.
(It he allowed himself to believe they were his friends, the inevitable betrayal would only hurt that much worse. That was how the enemy got you - with a fakeout.)
"You good there, Kinny?" Jin asked, snapping him back. Right, he had stopped mid sentence at that thought. He cursed himself. How dare he show even a moment of weakness before his rivals!
"Of course," Kinta proclaimed, clearing his throat. "I was just giving your lesser minds a moment to absorb all that has been said before I continue."
He noticed Takakura and Jin share a quick look before they shrugged, though he could have sworn he saw… something flash in Jin's eyes.
An evil plot taking shape in his brain, probably.
"If you say so," Takakura shrugged before adjusting his glasses and pointing out one of the models on the page to ask a question. It was such a basic question, but Kinta supposed not everyone had the incredible knowledge he did.
Kinta took a short break to pile up some food on his plate before it could all disappear - despite the vast feast on the table, it was quickly vanishing. He had to admit, it was quite delicious. He didn't get to enjoy home cooked meals often, never having learned more than the basics, so he was sure to savor it.
(His mother had long since stopped stocking the fridge with pre-made food before she left, claiming he was old enough to care for himself. Never mind that she never taught him how.)
He listened to the conversations around him as he ate. Takakura and Jin also focused on eating for a moment, having also been so enthralled in the wonders of Gundam to focus on food, but the rest of the table was loud.
Miss Ayase had finally seemed to get her fill, and was now focused on teaching Miss Vamola how to properly use chopsticks with the occasional assistance of Lady Shiratori (who kept insisting Miss Ayase was teaching incorrectly). Lady Seiko was chatting with the weird cat granny thing, deep in a conversation about spirits.
He was surrounded by people, and yet, he felt so alone.
He glanced back at Takakura, then at Jin.
(He was loathe to admit, he wished they were his friends. He'd been just talking to them as though they were his friends. But he didn't trust them, couldn't trust them, because he knew what would happen.)
He focused on the taste of the food to prevent himself from showing his sudden emotional turmoil. Colonel Kinta would not show pain on front of his subordinates.
(Especially ones he couldn't bring himself to trust.)
By the time he'd eaten his fill, he'd managed to lose all the joy he'd felt at teaching his subordinates about Gundams. Jin had also finished eating and was back to leafing through the magazine, but Takakura had turned to Miss Ayase and was talking to her about some alien phenomena or another.
(They'd gotten bored of him already.)
He sat in silence for a moment. He still didn't really know what he was doing here. Jin had said they were here to plan, but no one had brought up what they were planning for. They were just… eating. And talking.
This was the worst war meeting he'd ever seen.
"I thought we were preparing for battle?" he finally found himself saying. Takakura stopped talking and turned to Kinta, confused.
"No? Every Saturday we come here for Ms. Seiko's cooking for lunch. And dinner, if she's feeling generous enough," he explained. "Jiji said you'd want to join, so I gave him your number."
Not… a team planning? Just… lunch? And… Jin had invited him?
"Oh," was all he said. He hated sounding so… basic, but. He didn't know what else to say.
Was this another plan to lull him into a false sense of security? It had to be. Why else lie about the reason he should come?
He felt the urge to go home. Suddenly, everything felt like too much. But, he was not weak! No… it was a strategic retreat so he could… regroup, figure out the purpose of this… surprise assault.
"I've got to go!" he announced, standing up swiftly. Everyone turned to him. Normally, he loved the attention, but right now…
The eyes felt prying. He needed to get out.
(Not because he was weak, never because he was weak, he couldn't be weak.)
"Oh, I can walk you home if you want, Kinny!" Jin offered. Kinta barely noticed Takakura turning toward his friend, eyebrow raised, before he shook his head and headed toward the door.
"You would only slow me down!" he proclaimed as he left, not bothering to look back.