#Country Identification

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Walked in a bookstore today and saw a beautifully illustrated pocket guide to insect identification, and an even more beautifully illustrated book on flower symbolism. When I tell you the fic writer in me went insane-

[audreyhxrne]

hozier putting up the trans flag on stage in ottawa, canada during take me to church after a fan handed it to him 🫶

[fursasaida]

This article is from 2022, but it came up in the context of Palestine:

Here are some striking passages, relevant to all colonial aftermaths but certainly also to the forms we see Zionist reaction taking at the moment:

Over the decade I lived in South Africa, I became fascinated by this white minority [i.e. the whole white population post-apartheid as a minority in the country], particularly its members who considered themselves progressive. They reminded me of my liberal peers in America, who had an apparently self-assured enthusiasm about the coming of a so-called majority-minority nation. As with white South Africans who had celebrated the end of apartheid, their enthusiasm often belied, just beneath the surface, a striking degree of fear, bewilderment, disillusionment, and dread.

[...]

Yet these progressives’ response to the end of apartheid was ambivalent. Contemplating South Africa after apartheid, an Economist correspondent observed that “the lives of many whites exude sadness.” The phenomenon perplexed him. In so many ways, white life remained more or less untouched, or had even improved. Despite apartheid’s horrors—and the regime’s violence against those who worked to dismantle it—the ANC encouraged an attitude of forgiveness. It left statues of Afrikaner heroes standing and helped institute the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which granted amnesty to some perpetrators of apartheid-era political crimes.

But as time wore on, even wealthy white South Africans began to radiate a degree of fear and frustration that did not match any simple economic analysis of their situation. A startling number of formerly anti-apartheid white people began to voice bitter criticisms of post-apartheid society. An Afrikaner poet who did prison time under apartheid for aiding the Black-liberation cause wrote an essay denouncing the new Black-led country as “a sewer of betrayed expectations and thievery, fear and unbridled greed.”

What accounted for this disillusionment? Many white South Africans told me that Black forgiveness felt like a slap on the face. By not acting toward you as you acted toward us, we’re showing you up, white South Africans seemed to hear. You’ll owe us a debt of gratitude forever.

The article goes on to discuss:

"Mau Mau anxiety," or the fear among whites of violent repercussions, and how this shows up in reported vs confirmed crime stats - possibly to the point of false memories of home invasion

A sense of irrelevance and alienation among this white population, leading to another anxiety: "do we still belong here?"

The sublimation of this anxiety into self-identification as a marginalized minority group, featuring such incredible statements as "I wanted to fight for Afrikaners, but I came to think of myself as a ‘liberal internationalist,’ not a white racist...I found such inspiration from the struggles of the Catalonians and the Basques. Even Tibet" and "[Martin Luther] King [Jr.] also fought for a people without much political representation … That’s why I consider him one of my most important forebears and heroes,” from a self-declared liberal environmentalist who also thinks Afrikaaners should take back government control because they are "naturally good" at governance

Some discussion of the dynamics underlying these reactions, particularly the fact that "admitting past sins seem[ed] to become harder even as they receded into history," and US parallels

And finally, in closing:

The Afrikaner journalist Rian Malan, who opposed apartheid, has written that, by most measures, its aftermath went better than almost any white person could have imagined. But, as with most white progressives, his experience of post-1994 South Africa has been complicated. [...]

He just couldn’t forgive Black people for forgiving him. Paradoxically, being left undisturbed served as an ever-present reminder of his guilt, of how wrongly he had treated his maid and other Black people under apartheid. “The Bible was right about a thing or two,” he wrote. “It is infinitely worse to receive than to give, especially if … the gift is mercy.”

[lungfuls]

one of my favorite phenomenons is "country" people from places like Washington and New Hampshire having southern accents

[afloweroutofstone]

Something new I learned today about the special treatment which the Israeli government gets from the US government: there's a completely unique process within the State Department to evaluate their human rights violations in such a way that military aid never gets cut off.

The US has what's called the "Leahy Law," which bars US security aid from going to military units identified as having committed major human rights violations. While this law has successfully prevented the transfer of security aid to some human rights abusers, it is also notoriously left unenforced in certain circumstances, including when it comes to Israel.

I'll leave the rest for an insider to explain.

Charles. O. (Cob) Blaha, "Israel and the Leahy Law," Just Security, June 10, 2024:

For seven and a half years, I served as director of the State Department office that leads Leahy vetting of foreign security units. I have seen how even and fair application of the Leahy law is key to U.S. foreign policy and credibility abroad. But when it comes to Israel — the story so far is about a lack of application.

U.S. State Department spokespersons assert that the department complies with the Leahy law via “ongoing processes,” and that treatment of Israel under the Leahy law is the same as for any other country.

Both assertions are incorrect...

Israel receives large quantities of untraceable assistance. In an attempt to develop the required list of ineligible Israeli security force units, the State Department established the so-called “Israel Leahy Vetting Forum” (ILVF), which first met in 2020. Department bureaus and Embassy Jerusalem spent months before that negotiating standard operating procedures (SOPs), the text of which has not been published, for the ILVF. The SOPs created a unique, complex, time-consuming, high-level Leahy process. In over four years, the ILVF process has failed to approve the identification of a single ineligible Israeli unit.

There are similar processes for other countries where assistance cannot be traced. But unlike the ILVF, those processes are informal, performed virtually at the expert/working level, and most importantly — they work. Unlike the ILVF, they have resulted in agreed-upon lists of ineligible units.

The ILVF is an entirely different beast. While preliminary work happens virtually at the expert/working level, the ILVF requires periodic in-person meetings at a higher level, slowing the process. Each succeeding step of the process often involves even higher, senior-level department and Embassy Jerusalem approvals, which further slow the process.

The IVLF SOPs require that a determination that any Israeli unit is Leahy-ineligible rests with the Deputy Secretary of State. This is true for no other country in the world. Such determinations are routinely made at the working level, by experts versed in the Leahy law and knowledgeable about the foreign security units in question. Disputes are resolved at those same levels; few even rise to the office director level. During my tenure as an office director, not a single Leahy ineligibility determination in the approximately 200,000 cases my office vetted annually worldwide went above my level for decision.

But even before all this, before a case even goes to the Deputy Secretary for a decision, ILVF SOPs require that formal requests be made to the government of Israel for information about allegations against any unit. Again, this is true for no other country in the world. This requires drafting, clearing, and delivering a written demarche to Israel’s Foreign Ministry, a process that takes weeks at best, often months. After that, it often takes as long as three months for the government of Israel to answer the request. And after receiving Israel’s answer, the case returns to the ILVF for yet another in-person meeting...

According to the Leahy law, a unit is ineligible for U.S. security assistance if there is “credible information” that it has committed a gross violation of human rights. The credible information standard is intentionally low, due to the difficulty of getting information from victims and witnesses, foreign government efforts to cover up misconduct, and the importance of making sure assistance does not go to human rights violators. As the State Department’s own training guidance makes clear, the credible information standard does not require proof beyond a reasonable doubt, nor clear and convincing evidence, nor evidence that would be admissible in court. The key is that the information “should be deserving of confidence as a basis for decision-making.”

However, in actual ILVF practice, the standard for ineligibility is almost impossibly high. Information that for any other country would without question result in ineligibility is insufficient for Israeli security force units.

Political considerations, including the possibility of criticism from a foreign government, are not relevant to Leahy law eligibility decisions. But in actual practice, some ILVF members include concern about criticism from the government of Israel as a factor in determining whether a unit is ineligible and deciding which cases to send to higher levels for action.

[263adder]

Don't Lose Your Vote! UK Edition

Update: Tuesday 18th June 2024 is the deadline to register to vote for the general election.

A snap general election could be called any day. This will be the first general election that requires photo ID if you vote at the polls (postal votes 📫 are unaffected by the Election Act 2022).

If you don't have an approved form of identification (list here), you can apply for a FREE voter ID photo card. Find out more below or use these 5 minutes to register and get your ID sorted instead ❎ because, and this is important to know, the government really doesn't want young people to vote.

The Explanation

Rishi Sunak, UK Prime Minister and Leader of the Conservative Party, may call a snap election in 2023. (A snap election is a vote brought in earlier ⏱ than the one that’s scheduled 🕐) The UK’s next general election (for MPs and the PM) is meant to happen between December 2024 and January 2025.

A snap election happens in as little as 25 days 😨 between the announcement (aka the PM asking the House of Commons’ to approve the dissolution of Parliament) and the vote 🏃‍♀️

You must be registered to vote - currently over 8 million people are not. Unlike other a democratic countries, the UK doesn’t automatically register all eligible voters. You have to do this yourself. Here’s a quick reminder of how to register:

Over the past 15 years, it has gotten harder for British citizens to vote:

Families can no longer register to vote as a household 🏡 so young voters must register themselves (Cameron Govt)

Colleges and universities are barred from registering students 👨‍🎓 (Cameron Govt)

The Elections Act requires photo ID 🤳 for anyone voting in person (Johnson Govt)

Local elections (for city and town governments) in 2023 were the first votes that required VOTER ID. According to the Electoral Commission, over 14,000 people were turned away from the polls because they had not heard about the change.

The House of Lords tried to amend the Elections Act before it passed, to include more common types of ID, such as bank statements, bills, student ID, library cards and much more. This amendment was struck down in the House of Commons. A lot of the IDs included in the approved list are more likely to be owned by older voters than younger ones. For example, a 60+ Oyster Card is acceptable ID but an 18+ Oyster Card is not.

Here’s the important thing to know: voters who don’t have a driving licence or passport or other approved forms of ID, can apply for a free voter ID photo card. Watch the video below to find out how!

And finally, please, for the love of our democracy, vote.

"Democracy is not something you believe in or a place to hang your hat, but it's something you do. You participate. If you stop doing it, democracy crumbles." Abbie Hoffman

[fomtooley]

Ukraine Attacks Russia Along Northern Front, Swiftly Making Gains

Sweeping south from positions in the Kharkiv region in Ukraine’s northeast, Ukrainian forces have made their largest gains since routing Russia from Kyiv in April. Ukrainian fighters in Kharkiv on Friday. President Volodymyr Zelensky said his military had captured large chunks of occupied territory in the north.Juan Barreto/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images KYIV, Ukraine — Ukrainian forces…

[rrcraft-and-lore]

In addition to my Monkey Man post from earlier, the always kind & sweet Aparna Verma (author of The Phoenix King, check it out) asked that I do a thread on Hijras, & more of the history around them, South Asia, mythology (because that's my thing), & the positive inclusion of them in Monkey Man which I brought up in my gushing review.

Hijra: They are the transgender, eunuch, or intersex people in India who are officially recognized as the third sex throughout most countries in the Indian subcontinent. The trans community and history in India goes back a long way as being documented and officially recognized - far back as 12th century under the Delhi Sultanate in government records, and further back in our stories in Hinduism. The word itself is a Hindi word that's been roughly translated into English as "eunuch" commonly but it's not exactly accurate.

Hijras have been considered the third sex back in our ancient stories, and by 2014 got official recognition to identify as the third gender (neither male or female) legally. Pakistan, Nepal, Bangladesh, and India have accepted: eunuch, trans, intersex people & granted them the proper identification options on passports and other government official documents.

But let's get into some of the history surrounding the Hijra community (which for the longest time has been nomadic, and a part of India's long, rich, and sometimes, sadly, troubled history of nomadic tribes/people who have suffered a lot over the ages. Hijras and intersex people are mentioned as far back as in the Kama Sutra, as well as in the early writings of Manu Smriti in the 1st century CE (Common Era), specifically said that a third sex can exist if possessing equal male and female seed.

This concept of balancing male/female energies, seed, and halves is seen in two places in South Asian mythos/culture and connected to the Hijra history.

First, we have Aravan/Iravan (romanized) - who is also the patron deity of the transgender community. He is most commonly seen as a minor/village deity and is depicted in the Indian epic Mahabharata. Aravan is portrayed as having a heroic in the story and his self-sacrifice to the goddess Kali earns him a boon.

He requests to be married before his death. But because he is doomed to die so shortly after marriage, no one wants to marry him.

No one except Krishna, who adopts his female form Mohini (one of the legendary temptresses in mythology I've written about before) and marries him. It is through this union of male, and male presenting as female in the female form of Mohini that the seed of the Hijras is said to begun, and why the transgender community often worships Aravan and, another name for the community is Aravani - of/from Aravan.

But that's not the only place where a gender non conforming divine representation can be seen. Ardhanarishvara is the half female form of lord Shiva, the destroyer god.

Shiva combines with his consort Parvarti and creates a form that represents the balancing/union between male/female energies and physically as a perfectly split down the middle half-male half-female being. This duality in nature has long been part of South Asian culture, spiritual and philosophical beliefs, and it must be noted the sexuality/gender has often been displayed as fluid in South Asian epics and the stories. It's nothing new.

Many celestial or cosmic level beings have expressed this, and defied modern western limiting beliefs on the ideas of these themes/possibilities/forms of existence.

Ardhanarishvara signifies "totality that lies beyond duality", "bi-unity of male and female in God" and "the bisexuality and therefore the non-duality" of the Supreme Being.

Back to the Hijra community.

They have a complex and long history. Throughout time, and as commented on in the movie, Monkey Man, the Hijra community has faced ostracization, but also been incorporated into mainstream society there. During the time of the Dehli Sultanate and then later the Mughal Empire, Hijras actually served in the military and as military commanders in some records, they were also servants for wealthy households, manual laborers, political guardians, and it was seen as wise to put women under the protection of Hijras -- they often specifically served as the bodyguards and overseers of harems. A princess might be appointed a Hijra warrior to guard her.

But by the time of British colonialism, anti-Hijra laws began to come in place folded into laws against the many nomadic tribes of India (also shown in part in Monkey Man with Kid (portrayed by Dev Patel) and his family, who are possibly

one of those nomadic tribes that participated in early theater - sadly by caste often treated horribly and relegated to only the performing arts to make money (this is a guess based on the village play they were performing as no other details were given about his family).

Hijras were criminalized in 1861 by the Indian Penal Code enforced by the British and were labeled specifically as "The Hijra Problem" -- leading to an anti-Hijra campaign across the subcontinent with following laws being enacted: punishing the practices of the Hijra community, and outlawing castration (something many Hijra did to themselves). Though, it should be noted many of the laws were rarely enforced by local Indian officials/officers. But, the British made a point to further the laws against them by later adding the Criminal Tribes Act in 1871, which targeted the Hijra community along with the other nomadic Indian tribes - it subjected them to registration, tracking/monitoring, stripping them of children, and their ability to sequester themselves in their nomadic lifestyle away from the British Colonial Rule.

Today, things have changed and Hijras are being seen once again in a more positive light (though not always and this is something Monkey Man balances by what's happened to the community in a few scenes, and the heroic return/scene with Dev and his warriors). All-hijra communities exist and sort of mirror the western concept of "found families" where they are safe haven/welcoming place trans folks and those identifying as intersex.

These communities also have their own secret language known as Hijra Farsi, which is loosely based on Hindi, but consists of a unique vocabulary of at least 1,000 words.

As noted above, in 2014, the trans community received more legal rights.

Specifically: In April 2014, Justice K. S. Radhakrishnan declared transgender to be the third gender in Indian law in National Legal Services Authority v. Union of India.

Hijras, Eunuchs, apart from binary gender, be treated as "third gender" for the purpose of safeguarding their rights under Part III of our Constitution and the laws made by the Parliament and the State Legislature. Transgender persons' right to decide their self-identified gender is also upheld and the Centre and State Governments are directed to grant legal recognition of their gender identity such as male, female or as third gender.

I've included some screenshots of (some, not all, and certainly not the only/definitive reads) books people can check out about SOME of the history. Not all again. This goes back ages and even our celestial beings/creatures have/do display gender non conforming ways.

There are also films that touch on Hijra history and life. But in regards to Monkey Man, which is what started this thread particularly and being asked to comment - it is a film that positively portrayed India's third sex and normalized it in its depiction. Kid the protagonist encounters a found family of Hijras at one point in the story (no spoilers for plot) and his interactions/acceptance, living with them is just normal. There's no explaining, justifying, anything to/for the audience. It simply is. And, it's a beautiful arc of the story of Kid finding himself in their care/company.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Aurora

strategist!yunho x spy!reader

falling in love with the enemy?au

genre and warnings: some fluff, loads of angst, slow burn, suggestive, manipulation, betrayal, lies lies lies, blood and violence warnings, swearing, human lab rats, mentions of self-harm (picking at old scars), lmk if i missed sth.

word count: 26.5k

synopsis: you're finally working at halaland's most prestigious research centre as a skilled cryptographer. reality is, you're a utopian spy trained by the crescents to uncover the suspicious activity in the medical research department. to get there, you must first become a part of jeong yunho's strategy team and win his favour. however, as you both get closer, the presence of secrets burden you both and you know you're up for eventual heartbreak when you fall in love. you dread when he'll learn who you truly are.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (made sure i got my ass working on this and yeah couldn't have done this without her <3)

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you stepped within Halaland, legally, for the first time. One could argue about the legality of your admission into the country but as far as everyone was concerned, you were a Halaland native returning from Mist Island after training.  

“The wind is not different. The land is the same. I wonder why we have so many differences?” You wondered out loud and Seonghwa shot you a warning look, making the others in the car squirm.

“No matter how much this place feels like home, remember what you are here for,” Seonghwa looked at all three of you as he said. Everyone nodded in synchrony. “As of this moment… we’re strangers and I’m just the poor Mr. Park who was unfortunate enough to be collecting young female researchers from around the continent. Now… I hope you all remember who you are?”

“Aurora,” you called your new name, the way it rolled off your lips feeling foreign even to you. “For the cryptography team.”

“And the strategy team if you’re lucky,” Seonghwa reminded you of the first step towards your ultimate goal and you gulped, nodding. While he talked to Byeol and Nami, you resorted to watching the apple farm pass by as you drew closer to the Capital.

If someone had asked you a few years ago- before the war with Utopia began- what profession you saw yourself in, you’d say teaching in a breath. Teaching maths. Your original dream, before Halaland announced war on your home and snatched everything from you- family, friends, and dreams.

It was ironic that you were now in the very land you hated to the core, as their researcher. As the notorious Halazia Research Center- home to the most dangerous weapons on the continent- came into view, you couldn’t help but wow at the endless array of towers and buildings that must make up half of the Capital. It looked plain enough for the horrors it had been producing for a decade now. You straightened and put on a practised smile before you stopped at the gate for identification.

Thankfully, none of you held your breath as they went through your tags and got a good look at you. Seonghwa said a few words to the guards and then they let you through, leading the car to the Security Office.

You got off and took a quick glance around at the grey structure and the signs in their native language before greeting the middle-aged man who you very well recognised.

“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to finally have you here,” he took off his hat and tipped his head in greeting and the three of you curtsied. “I am Dr. Eric Cho, co-director of Halazia. I hope your journey wasn’t too troublesome- I understand you had to travel through land due to the circumstances…”

“Not at all,” Byeol passed her trademark gummy smile, one that charmed not only men but women as well. “I always wanted to see what Utopia looked like. I have to admit it wasn’t much.”

Dr. Cho seemed to like that attitude and he laughed out loud. “I’m sure it’s got some hidden gems too.”

“We travelled around the border so they probably don’t have much to share about the sights,” Seonghwa dug out cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to the doctor and you watched them light each other’s cigarettes, sharing a moment which made rage simmer in your throat but you tightened your smile- Seonghwa was only acting. “Shall I take them inside?”

Dr. Cho motioned for one of the officers to escort you inside the Security Office and you weren’t surprised by how thoroughly you were all checked- they didn’t spare one inch on your body, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable. When you were done and came outside, Dr. Cho scanned you.

“Are you the one who decrypted our code in the shortest time so far?”

“3 minutes and 28 seconds, Doctor,” you saluted. “Aurora Han at your service.”

“That’s a whole 2 minutes shorter than the previous record-holder,” his eyes twinkled and you passed a proud smile. “Do you know what can happen in 2 minutes?”

“The world can change in 2 seconds.”

“I like her,” Dr. Cho laughed. “Cryptography Department, is it?”

“Keep an eye on her,” Seonghwa nodded. “Puzzles are not the only thing she is good at.”

Before the doctor could ask more, Byeol and Nami were out and the five of you had lunch where the doctor briefed you about the ambitions of this research centre and what they were striving for. It was pretty well rehearsed and felt like something he had narrated multiple times so you just listened to every word and nodded like a schoolgirl. After that, you followed an officer to the Cryptography Department where you filled the paperwork so you could get a pass and start working from tomorrow.

“Shall I ask one of those guys to give you a tour of the department?” The officer asked, looking pretty tired.

“It’s alright, I’ll just find my way to the dorms, I think the fatigue is finally catching up,” you said and he bowed before leaving. You picked up your belongings and exited the office, taking a deep breath.

This was it.

After 3 years of training as a member of Crescent- a group of spies in Utopia that infiltrated into Halaland to find something, anything to win the goddamned war, you were finally here. As you walked along the corridors, peeking into the labs and memorising the path, you couldn’t help but feel both terror and a sense of accomplishment. You weren’t afraid, no. You were terrified of the fact that whatever you did here could turn the tide of the war.

You were looking at the picture of the alumni of the department, recalling their names in your head. You remembered what the Captain- the mastermind behind the Crescents- had said time and time again:

“The easiest way to get wherever you want is to get into your senior’s good graces. The easiest way to get caught, however, comes after that.”

You were staring holes at the picture of the person you wanted to approach first when someone cleared their throat behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

“You seem to know them.”

You turned around with a hand on your heart, greeted by a tall figure in a uniform you very well recognised, the black outfit producing a striking contrast with the gold medals and red details. The Strategy Department.

“Of course I know them,” you managed to say as you took a careful step away. “Who doesn’t?”

He smiled, standing beside you. “Are you the new recruit?”

“I thought that was obvious,” you couldn’t help yourself and he grinned. You stifled a smile- he had quite a friendly face. “Do you work here too?”

“I work… around,” he said and you didn’t probe further. “I’m mostly on the field though. I bring data back. So… Miss?”

“Han. Han Aurora,” you told him and he nodded.

“Aurora,” he tested, a subtle raise of his brow as he scanned you and you licked your suddenly dry lips. “Do you need help finding the dorms? I reckon you’d want to get rid of your bags before you memorise every face on the frames in this hall.”

“Sadly, yes,” you replied. You could return his humour if that was what he wanted. He seemed to be pleased and offered to hold your bags but you insisted you were fine.

“Let me have my gentleman moment, please,” he laughed and you finally handed him your bags. 

“I thought you’d have quite a bit of those moments on ‘the field’,” you commented as you walked beside him. 

“Not really,” he shook his head. “I’m only a gentleman when I’m not on the field.”

You ooh-ed dramatically at that, making him grin. After walking to the third floor and taking a few turns, you finally arrived outside the rooms.

“Men on the left, women on right,” he pointed. “You could probably choose your own room there. We don’t have many women in this field.”

“Well, I’ll take my bag from here,” you smiled. “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Jeong Yunho, from the Strategy Department.”

—-------------------

The lab in the Cryptography Department was going to be your workplace and it was everything you had expected- a bit tense, occasional jokes to lighten the mood, some of them scribbling while the others typing endlessly into the computers. You weren’t surprised by the vibe.

However, you were surprised when Jeong Yunho from yesterday introduced himself as a member of the Cryptography Department.

“He’s everywhere, you’ll get used to it,” Dr. Takashi, your team leader, said dismissively.

“When you’re from the Strategy Department… you need to be everywhere,” Yunho explained with a grin.

“Sounds fun,” you made a face and began setting your things on the desk, glancing around. “So what are your contributions to the Cryptography Department, Mr. Jeong?”

“Call me Yunho,” he smiled. “I’ll admit, not much. It’s you guys who will be cracking all the codes. Meanwhile, you, Miss Aurora, will be reporting to Dr. Takashi there with all your findings at the end of the day, and if you’re good enough, who knows? You might be assigned to my team.”

“He’s just pulling your leg,” Kate, who sat nearest to your desk, rolled around in her chair and looked pointedly at Yunho. “He’s the Strategy Department’s ace. Anyone who comes under his wing either ends up losing it or begging to quit, because once you’re assigned to him? Your life gets harder.”

“Ah, is that why you’re purposely slacking off these days, Kate?” Yunho raised a brow in challenge and Kate pursed her lips guiltily.

You remembered every detail about Jeong Yunho from the files you had read on him. Skilled cryptographer though he was playing humble here, very skilled strategist and you supposed the title of ‘ace’ fit him since his contributions stretched across multiple departments, including the Medical Department- your end goal. You knew in your bones that this man was dangerous and you could not afford a single mistake around him, but the fact that he was so… relaxed? Cheerful? Quite a contrast to the otherwise tense environment in the lab.

It put you off guard, and you did not like it.

“Shall I… try then?” You asked, drawing their attention. “I’ve been told I’m not that bad a strategist.”

“Hmm, my team has grown smaller in number in the past few months,” Yunho considered. “I like that ambition. Dr. Cho had a lot to say about you, so if you prove yourself, I might personally put in a request for you to be on my team.”

“I’m suddenly not sure if I want that,” you laughed nervously and Kate snickered.

“Yunho, you’re scaring the new kid! Get out of here, it’s only her first day, don’t overwhelm her,” Kate practically pushed Yunho out of the cubicle, his laugh ringing in the lab and the others present smiling faintly as he passed by. You frowned a bit- it was only a few hours into your first day but it was already full of surprises.

The rest of the day passed by with you studying the codes that came in for the day- thankfully, Halaland hadn’t cracked Utopia’s code of communication yet. You, of course, knew exactly what it said, being one of the masterminds behind the code creation, however, you knew you were going to be treading on dangerous waters here. You remembered what the Captain had told you-

“It’s harder to pretend that you don’t know anything than to pretend you know something. So when you see our code, how will you blend in? If you don’t provide a meaningful contribution, they’re going to transfer you out of the Capital. That means you’re done for. However, if you crack the code entirely, that means you’ve studied similar codes, which means you might be acting as a spy. So what will you do?”

“Lay low for a while and then plant an idea in someone’s head,” you had replied. “When the person gets closer to cracking the code, I’ll step in and steal the spotlight. They might call me shameless for it but in the end, what will matter is that it would be me who eventually cracked the code.”

It was only a matter of ‘when’ now, and you would thankfully be getting that message through this very code soon, by the Captain himself. Before that, you were going to start putting your plan into action and build your background so that you coming to the solution wouldn’t seem out of the blue.

And that meant you had to trick the entire Cryptography Department. That was easy- they lived in their own heads.

But could you trick Jeong Yunho? 

Later in your room, you changed into your nightgown and sat at your desk, peeking out of the window to see Dr. Cho conversing with some strangers. You shut your eyes, recalling the lesson you had learnt every day for the past two years- 

“You’re my asset, Aurora,” the Captain said and your eyes widened in surprise- the man rarely ever complimented anyone on their skill, let alone call them their ‘asset’. “You’re everything I needed.”

“And what’s that?” 

“An innocent face with a deadly brain and a frozen heart,” he patted your arm, looking down at the scar that ran down from your elbow- an ugly gash that was a sign that you were a survivor. “You’d make my perfect little spy. You’re my ace, Aurora.”

You picked at the scar as you told yourself what you were here for. 

Revenge. Plain and simple. Revenge for the people you lost, the home they took from you, the families they broke. 

All hail Utopia, you whispered to yourself as you met eyes with Dr. Cho through the window.

—----------------------

You let a few uneventful days pass by before you took your first step- which was to steer your colleagues further away from cracking Utopia’s code of communication by pointing them in a similar but totally opposite direction. 

It was simple enough- creating notes from the past few attempts of the Cryptography Department, reading books and books of code and puzzles in your spare time which you would spend either in the lab or in the cafeteria, anywhere where you had eyes. You immersed yourself in codebreaking like your teammates but with your progress, you proved everyday that you were better than the others by a good margin.

It was to the point that even your colleagues like Kate, who had initially cared if you were eating well, stopped caring altogether- you could clearly handle yourself. However, as soon as they stopped, you made sure to slack on eating, to doze off while working or scratch your hair out in frustration when you came upon a dead end. That certainly prompted some of them to ask you to take a break, reminding you that a burdened mind would be no good here.

Yunho visited twice- once with confidential information that only Dr. Takashi had the privilege to hear, and the second time to ‘glance’ around, as he put it.

He fired two people that day.

You were standing by a window and recalling the events of that day when Yunho spotted you and joined.

“What are you looking at?”

“The sky’s clear,” you replied casually.

The sky is clear. No aircrafts. No smoke. No cries of the mourners filling the seemingly permanent darkness of the sky.

“I hope you weren’t too surprised by the events of that day,” he glanced at you and you wondered if he had read your mind. “You should have guessed by now that whenever I visit, I’m actually evaluating.”

“I’m… not exactly surprised, I expected that,” you laughed nervously, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve heard enough about you and your fellows from the Strategy Department. I’m just… wondering why Strategy holds the authority to do that. I thought the Head of Cryptography did that?”

“You’re right,” Yunho nodded. “But your Head of Department is far too busy for such meagre tasks. He lets us handle it. Why do you think we hold that authority?”

You looked at him this time. “Because every second is valuable, and you cannot afford to entertain people who’re not contributing?”

“Something along those lines, but to be exact, we cannot afford the people who waste our resources. We’re few in numbers but we need maximum output. And for that, we need people who do not slack, or who at least try. So my next question is, how much are you trying, Aurora?”

Your heart sank despite all the training you had done before arriving here. “I cannot be the judge of that.”

“Exactly. You said you’re not a bad strategist. I see potential in you, but so far I haven’t seen output, Aurora. So if you at least want to stay in the Cryptography Department, I’ll need to see something significant soon.”

Asshole, you thought. You cleared your throat. “I do have this notion that I'm entertaining. I won’t spill until I’m at least 51 percent sure, but I think it could turn the tide.”

“Is that so?” Yunho raised a curious brow. 

“I’m just trying my best… Sir.”

Yunho laughed heartily at your sudden use of title and you almost glared daggers at him though his hearty laugh forced your lips to curve a bit. “I’m not pulling rank on you- that was not my intention. But… you keep working on that, okay? I’d like to hear what you’re thinking, even if you’re 49 percent sure.”

With that, he walked off and you watched his tall figure until he paused and turned, catching you staring at him.

“And Aurora?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Yunho for you,” he smiled, disappearing into the shadows. You found yourself stifling a smile at the man who could be both ice cold and warm as the sun.

Who could either unintentionally push you to success in this mission or destroy you if he learned of your true identity.

—---------------------

It was your first day off since you arrived at the facility, but you weren’t going to waste it roaming around. You had a number of tasks for today and you couldn’t risk getting caught.

You woke up at the crack of dawn and went out for your usual jog but to meet Seonghwa this time and exchange information. A few days ago you hid a letter behind one of the tires of his truck and you were going to get your answer today. You spotted Seonghwa and said hi.

“I hope you’ve adjusted well,” he asked, not daring to glance around. The people here may not have their eyes everywhere but they sure had ears.

“I’m managing,” you said with a short laugh. “Did you just get back?”

“No, I’m leaving,” Seonghwa said and you nodded slowly. “I think I’ll be on the road for a while this time.”

“I see… have a safe journey, and may the fates be with you,” you said- the farewell greeting of Mist Island. “And may you not have a problem with the tires. That one looks flat.”

“Yeah, I called someone to help me out with that,” Seonghwa scratched the back of his neck tiredly. 

“Well, I’ll be resuming my jog now.”

“Go along, and good luck with whatever the hell you’re doing here,” Seonghwa laughed lightly. “If I get praised to have found you, I’ll assume you’ve succeeded.”

“Of course, I’ll make you proud,” you saluted sarcastically before going back to your jog and analysing the conversation you just had in your head.

You had talked in code- subtle hints on what to do. Seonghwa was going somewhere far but would be travelling through Utopia- the reason he said he’d be on the road for a while. You had pointed out the flat tire where you had sneaked in a note for him a few days earlier. He had answered your question- you were doing good and now you needed to play the cards right- you needed to proceed with the plan.

So later that day, you went to Dr. Takashi and asked him why everyone in the department was analysing Utopia’s code according to maths and logic, rather than language itself.

Dr. Takashi looked at you in confusion. “What exactly are you implying?”

“I’m saying,” you swallowed, pretending to gather your courage- you knew Dr. Takashi rarely bought anyone's bullshit. “Yes, codes are usually connected to maths. It’s some simple formula, some calculation. But what if Utopia’s code is a play on language itself? Utopian language? What if, for instance, this word-” you pointed at what seemed like a random scribble, “-what if this word is a made-up word from different words, or even languages?”

“I understand what you’re implying, but I’m sure someone has already entertained this possibility before you. What makes this time different?”

“If we can crack even one word…” you began. “We could decipher the entire code. We just need to focus on patterns and repetitions and check the similarities with Utopian vocabulary or other languages.”

Dr. Takashi thought for a moment, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He looked at you for a few moments and then picked up the phone. You raised a brow in confusion, watching him click 2 for the Strategy Department.

“It’s- it’s just a possibility I was wondering we could entertain- are you gonna fire me?” 

“Relax,” Dr. Takashi chuckled and then cleared his throat when the line connected. “This is Dr. Takashi from Cryptograph. Could I have someone from Strategy? I think we might have something worth checking out.”

This time your surprise was a bit genuine- you hadn’t expected him to immediately ring the Strategy Department. You prayed Yunho would come- you had met another person from that department and he really wasn’t pleasant to be around.

But when Yunho entered, he had a knowing smile. “I knew it had something to do with the newcomer.”

“You’re quick,” Dr. Takashi commented. “You should hear her out.”

“51 percent sure?” Yunho asked and you nodded, the doctor looking between you two, lost. “Go ahead then. Surprise me.”

You showed your own framework and explained how with an approach that targeted repetitions and patterns in the Utopian language and worked on unjumbling it might work better and resultantly, shorten the workload. You explained that the focus should be on lingual patterns instead of mathematical ones. If you manage to crack some part of the code, you could at least make some sense of the whole message.

“That’s actually not such a bad idea. Why hasn't anyone entertained this possibility yet? It’s not a new approach as far as I know,” Yunho asked. 

“A similar approach was suggested by someone a few days earlier, but they weren't sure just how to implement it. Aurora here, however, seems to have built her own code as a set of guidelines. Certainly makes work easier.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘guidelines’...” you faltered but the two weren’t impressed by your lack of confidence.

“You built this code in how many days exactly?” Yunho asked, grabbing the document and checking it out. 

“One day. 14 hours, to be exact.”

“And this is new? I haven’t seen something like this before, have you, Dr. Takashi?”

“I don’t think so either,” he peeked at the table. “I think you’re not meant to be here, Aurora.”

“What do you mean?” Your heart skipped a beat.

“I mean you should be creating instead of cracking,” Dr. Takashi was clearly impressed, glancing at Yunho as if to dare him to contradict his statement. Yunho, however, remained quiet until he had finished reading the code.

“I think I’ll have the team split into half- one of them can go with this approach while the other continue with their progress. I’ll have you manage that, Dr. Takashi. As for you, Aurora…” he glanced at you, face void of expressions. “Continue entertaining more possibilities- don’t waste time merging with a team unless you’re sure you’re onto something. And this time, I’ll have your ideas that you’re only about 40 percent sure as well.”

You nodded eagerly and he finally smiled. “Good work there.”

“Thank you,” you smiled and Yunho asked Dr. Takashi if he could have a word. You went back to your seat and watched the two talk in hushed voices, glancing at you. You pretended to get back to work, glad that you were the only one who could hear the thumping of your heart.

You’d done it. You had diverted the attention when they came close to actually cracking Utopia’s code. And you might just have landed a seat in the Strategy Department- you were pretty sure the two were discussing it, though you knew the type of person Jeong Yunho was, he would wait a good while and test you a lot more before ever giving you access to the facility’s perhaps most important department.

—-------------------

You stood outside the Medical Department- the largest building in the entire facility, and you sure felt like an outsider in front of the enormous doors. You showed the guard your permit and identification card and he let you in, handing you a pamphlet with a map and requesting that you follow the directions instead of roaming around.

You ignored that. You came to roam around. 

You stood in the hallway, a stretch of white and gold leading to glass doors on either side of you, the one on the left for emergency (ICU) and handling outdoor patients (OPD). Most of the traffic was around there, but-

The Medical Research Department was on your right, a semi-restricted area that you needed to get access to. The one the Captain told you about. Your origin as a spy and your end goal.

The war was going to turn 10 this year. Halaland’s war hadn’t always been with Utopia- in fact, Utopia had once been Halaland’s strongest ally, until some political strife that was unknown even to the most trusted agents of Utopia caused Halaland to ‘unwillingly’ turn their weapons towards Utopia- which happened about 4 years ago. 

The Captain had told you that the strife was born due to some disagreement in Medical Research. Utopia and Halaland had worked very closely there, and now it was your job now to see if it was just a coincidence that none of the Utopians made it back alive after being expelled when the two went against each other.

You wondered if the Captain was right. What could be in Medical Research? Drugs? Did they finally discover how to extend their life? Or some unexplainable discovery no one could ever begin to comprehend the notion of?

You waited until someone started going towards the right, following a middle-aged woman through the hallway until she turned towards a lab, leaving you alone in the corridor. You hid the map in your pocket and walked until you reached the sign with the layout of the building- Level 1 being the ground floor which contained labs for testing the official samples, Level 2 being the experimentation labs, and Level 3 being the restricted section. You knew all this from the information the Captain had gathered from ex-employees of this facility.

You also knew you could get access to Level 3- the restricted section- if you become a part of the strategy team. That wasn’t the end, though. Your priority was the basement that they called Level 0. The one that not even the residents of the Medical Department knew of.

The one that, if still in operation, might have something that could lead Utopia to salvation.

You heard someone come and you pretended to be lost, looking at them for help. It was a man about your age. “Looking for someone?”

“I’m wondering if I should give my blood sample here or in the OPD,” you let your voice shake nervously. 

“Cryptography Department? You must be here for your monthly exam,” he asked and you nodded. “Well, you’ll have to go to the OPD for that, but if you’re already here, I’ll save you the trip, follow me.”

You thanked him, walking a few steps behind him and he asked if you had received the map or instructions before entering. You told him it was your first month here and the guard was too busy eating snacks to provide help. The man shook his head, telling you this wasn’t the first time someone had strayed here.

After giving your blood sample, you walked back to your department slowly, calculating the outcome of each move you could make from here on. There were a number of paths the Captain had sketched for you, but he had trusted you as long as you reached your goal with minimum damage. But no matter what, you had to win Jeong Yunho’s favour and get yourself in his strategy team if you wanted to get to Level 0. 

And maybe it was time you showed Yunho just what you were made of. 

You went straight back to your lab and started working on another code-cracking framework you had been building for the last two days. Once you were done, you analysed it with a few samples of Utopia’s code.

If anyone could actually figure it out (which you were sure no one in this lab would) it could break at least half of Utopia’s code language. For days, you had built everything for this exact moment. With your heart skipping beats to the point you had to sit down and shut your eyes for a few seconds, you got up and walked to your colleague Sam.

“Can I have a moment?”

He looked up, pushing his glasses up and his tousled washed-out hair away. “Sure. What’s the matter?”

You took a seat next to him. “You specialise in the structures of codes, right? I was wondering if this framework makes any sense to you- I thought an external opinion would be good because my brain’s a mess right now and I don’t want to dump this away without being sure.”

“Ah, let me see,” Sam started going through the document and you watched him look unimpressed until you pushed at the Utopian code’s samples you had been working on, which was when he detected the pattern and looked at you in surprise.

“Where did you get this?”

“The framework? I built this-”

“No, the samples,” he began, opening his drawer and pausing to check the date on your copy of samples before rushing through his drawers, creating a mess and then asking Kate to get two copies of the samples from all the dates you had already analysed. You pretended to be nervous but you were actually sweating visibly.

“Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah- yeah, everything is okay,” he nodded, his pitch uneven. “I just need to make sure you have the right samples.”

Kate arrived, looking intrigued and you both watched Sam double-checking everything and even calling the linguist in the room. You kept scratching at the skin around your fingernails until Sam finally took off his glasses and looked at you in disbelief.

“I think you’ve done it, Aurora. We’ve never been closer to cracking the entire code.”

You almost cried out in disbelief, looking around to see the rest with genuine smiles on their faces. Sam told you to follow him to Dr. Takashi’s office where the two of you briefed him on your progress and he immediately pulled the codes that had been intercepted today and let you work on it. You decrypted about 25 percent of the code.

“It makes sense,” Dr. Takashi studied it. “Unless we’re all gaslighting ourselves to believe it does. I think we should still get Strategy to see it- if they can get this to the engineers, they might be able to feed this format into their machines, which would make decryption a matter of mere seconds. We could win this war, Aurora, because you sit holed up in a corner with those stupid gummy bears and your codes, do you understand?”

This time, your tears of happiness were real, though not for the reason they thought.

I can win this war.

“I guess it’s a battle of who falls first- Aurora’s teeth or Utopia.”

“That’s a bad joke, Sam,” you rolled your eyes, laughing. “My teeth are perfectly intact. Gummy bears are harmless.”

“Says who?”

You turned to the familiar voice- Yunho, entering and looking just as surprised to see you. “Don’t tell me you called me because someone has cavities.”

You turned to Dr. Takashi- when did he call him? Or did someone else?

“Those gummy bears might have contributed to the decryption. Take a look at this, Yunho, and tell me what you make of it.”

Yunho looked sceptical as he glanced at you before sitting down. You gulped involuntarily as he analysed the document faster than even Dr. Takashi who was supposedly the expert here. He checked the decrypted sample.

“You broke the code?” He glanced at you.

“A bit of it, it seems?” 

Yunho stared at you as if he had figured you out, scanning every bit of your face and your body language. When he finally got up, you almost sighed in relief. “I’ll get this to the Department. Aurora, follow me please.”

You gathered up the rest of the documents, arranging them as you followed Yunho who looked even taller in his uniform- perhaps he had just returned from the ‘field’. He turned as if he had felt you staring at him and smiled encouragingly, allowing you to fall in step with him.

“So what’s it about the gummy bears?”

“I may have a severe addiction, Sir.”

Yunho grinned at the way you formally put it. “And that addiction may have contributed to this outcome? If so, I might send a request to the government to send funds for… ‘snacks’.”

“Definitely,” you grinned but it fell when you felt another nervous cramp in your stomach. “Can you please tell me what to expect? I might fall down at this rate, I’m very nervous.”

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Yunho said and your heart lurched at the way he so casually said that. “Well, Strategy is nothing like the Cryptography Department. I’m not saying your bunch is relaxed but everyone is always tense in our department. You’ll see what I mean- just try not to speak unless you’re spoken to, and try to… stick with me.”

You made an impressed face. “Thank you.”

“Thank me later,” Yunho said and you exited the building, the evening sun casting a golden glance and making Yunho’s skin glow beautifully.

“Try not to stare at anyone if you can help it,” Yunho caught you looking and you felt like you could disappear- so much for training to be subtle. Yunho always caught you looking at him and that did nothing but worsen your unnecessary want to keep looking at him.

 “I don’t stare at just anyone! What do you take me for,” you almost mumbled. “You stare more than me.”

“That’s because I’m figuring you out.”

“Who says I’m not looking at you for that reason too?” You countered.

Yunho paused, stifling his smile. “Figuring people out is a part of my job, Aurora.”

Sure is.

“Figuring people out is a part of my personality,” you simply said.

“And would you say you have me figured out? With the amount of times I’ve caught you looking at me, I bet you have…”

“Are you…” you laughed. “Trying to flirt or something? And no I haven’t figured you out, you’re a hard nut to crack.”

The sound of Yunho’s laugh warmed your heart. “That wasn’t my intention, I’m just pointing it out!”

“Sure. Your ears are very red, by the way. You might want to do something about it before we enter your department.”

Yunho shook his head in amusement. “You… you’re really something, Aurora. Before we get in there, I’m offering you something- would you like to be a part of my team?”

You raised a brow. “Just like that?”

“I think I have figured you out enough to be able to make that decision,” he got serious. “Honestly, I almost did this a few days ago when you presented that framework. I found that it made things much easier. I think with your current findings… we’ll definitely have something.”

You considered for a moment, trying to figure out what the glint in his eyes meant. Was he actually impressed? Even if he was, which you supposed everyone was at this point, he definitely had some plans for you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to join his team or someone else’s in Strategy, but goodness, was he a breath of fresh air in this land that suffocated you to the core.

“Can I tell you my answer after we’re done for the day?” You asked and he nodded earnestly, motioning for you to follow him.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the department was the noise. There were people freaking out, to put it simply. Messages exchanged across the room, people rushing around with documents in their hands, superiors barking orders- a stark contrast to the comfortable silence of Cryptography. To reel you in from that mess, Yunho put a hand on your back to guide you across the hallway, leading you to the office upstairs.

“We’re meeting the supervisor. She’ll know what to do with you, and she might offer you something better as well. I know I would too, if I was her.”

“Well, that’s certainly relaxing,” you shivered and he grinned. “Let’s get it over with.”

With a knock, Yunho entered and bowed with you following suit. “This is Aurora from the Strategy Department.”

“Ah, the one you can’t shut up about?” The supervisor said- a very elegant middle-aged woman. You turned to Yunho who was yet again blushing from his ears. “I’m Dr. Angela Choi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” you said and took a seat.

“What do we have now?” Dr. Choi asked.

Yunho handed you whatever files he had and urged you to go ahead and explain. You straightened and knowing now was the time you needed to impress the Strategy Department, you fell into explaining the background of your approach first, briefing her about whatever progress you had made up until now.

“That’s certainly one way to look at it- more plausible than what we had so far,” Dr. Choi studied your framework. “I like this. Even if it doesn’t work, the approach you’re taking is fresh. Perhaps because you’re young?” She laughed.

“Come on, you’re not too old yourself,” Yunho laughed along and you could sense they were comfortable with each other. “Aurora, she’s… quick. Intelligent.”

“Yes, I think someone like her shouldn’t be hiding in Cryptography,” Dr. Choi seated back, looking relaxed. “Perhaps she should join our department. Maybe with the computer scientists? They’ve been trying endlessly to make their decryption devices more efficient. They just don’t have the right data to feed in. I’ll hand them this data- it could change the course of this war. You understand that, Aurora?”

“I do, but,” you looked around. “I expected this conversation to be more… tense.”

“I understand. I must seem very laid back, huh?” Dr. Choi smiled. “I haven’t sat in my office in ten days. I was occupied at the field, at the heart of all operations. Strategists have to be able to work well under pressure.”

“Not just the strategists…” you sighed. “It’s just very different here than in Mist Island.”

“Ah, yes, Mist Island. They were losing the war, weren’t they, until they joined us?” She asked and you nodded. “Those who have more to lose, they break under the idea itself. We have a lot to lose too, yes, but we’ve been winning this war for years now. It’s only a matter of time until it ends.”

You were genuinely impressed by her confidence, even though it disgusted you to the core how little they cared about the losing side. Dr. Choi continued. “We’ve created a somewhat relaxed and peaceful environment so our cryptographers, engineers, doctors and nurses don’t feel burdened. We give them deadlines, yes, but we, the strategists, take all of their burden. We don’t want anyone else to break under pressure or we’ll lose. So, how well can you handle pressure, Aurora?”

You looked at Yunho whose smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. You wondered why. “I can handle it well, Doctor.”

“Very well. Consider my offer but if you want to stick to your current department, that’s alright too. Mr. Jeong, if you can escort her back?”

“Yes,” he got up and bowed and you followed him outside, navigating out of the hustle until you exited the department and Yunho exhaled like he could finally breathe. 

“Care for a drink?”

“You must really want me to join your team,” you smiled and he shook his head in amusement. 

“I’m just really thirsty, but I’m also wondering what’s on your mind.”

You accepted and he took you to the cafeteria, taking the window seats. You looked at him. “Halaland must have an ace up their sleeve. I’ve seen what the losing side looks like and this is far from it.”

“Perhaps,” Yunho’s tone was cryptic. “Isn’t it good to be on the winning side?”

“That’s debatable too, but that’s also the reason I’m here,” you told him. No lies there. “What does your team offer?”

“Field work. Assessing the situation and taking steps accordingly. Guiding the cryptographers and the other departments. We make the decisions that could save lives, but our decisions are not always in our favour. And most importantly, in war there’s sacrifice. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”

You nodded, eager. You were so close to your destination now. “I like that, but tell me… do you always scout people like this?”

That took Yunho by surprise and he laughed and you couldn’t help but join. “You’re the first. I’ve never had to practically beg someone to join my team. Usually the higher-ups make that decision for me and I only decide if I want to keep them.”

“You might change your mind later,” you shrugged.

“I won’t know until I work with you though,” he sipped his coffee, scanning you. “So? Do you like Dr. Choi’s offer more?”

“I’ll join your team,” you said and watched how he relaxed a bit. “I don’t want to be holed up with the machines. That’s not my forte.”

“Do you mind me asking… who trained you before you came here?”

Your heart skipped a beat as the face of the Captain flashed behind your eyes. But you had another name to give- another mentor who was just like you, a spy who made his place here. “Dr. Kang who, I believe, is in the Medical Research Department here?”

Yunho raised a brow at that, surprised. “Dr. Kang trained you? He must have trained you for the Strategy Department then. Why begin with Cryptography?”

“He wasn’t sure I could handle it,” you placed your cup on the table. “And he might be right. We’ve all lost something in this war, haven’t we?”

Yunho unconsciously glanced at what was visible of the scar on your arm and you caught that, tugging your sleeve down which took him out of his trance. So he had noticed. He cleared his throat, meeting eyes with you. 

“We all have,” his voice was thick with emotion and you could tell he had lost something- or someone important too. “Well, let’s hope you can show Dr. Kang that you can handle more than he thinks.”

“Do you know Dr. Kang personally?” You asked, actually curious. There was no way-

“Kang Yeosang, right?” Yunho was smiling. “He’s an old friend. He got me here.”

Your heart sank. Yunho was Kang Yeosang’s old friend? Was he also a spy then? But… there was no way you could confirm that. And if he was not a spy for Utopia…

That meant he was more dangerous than you had thought. 

“Wow… what a coincidence,” you exhaled. “Yeah, it’s been a while since I met Dr. Kang. I hope I can see him soon.”

“He’s quite busy these days. Very hard to run into him now,” Yunho finished his coffee. “But tell you what- next time I have business in Medical Research, you may tag along.”

“Sure.”

“Is there a reason you aren’t mentioning that you have medical experience as well?” Yunho asked and you sighed internally- he really was testing you at every point. You wondered why. “I mean… I looked at your resume before making the decision to offer you a spot in my team. But you haven’t told me anything about your previous experiences at all.”

“Does it matter?” You asked. “Everyone in Mist Island was trained to gain some medical experience. I don’t like to go into the details, but the one who found me insisted it be mentioned.”

“Is there a reason behind that? You don’t have to tell me exactly what, I just want to know if you’re okay with medical field work if we’re required to do so in the future.”

“Yes, there is a reason why I don’t like mentioning it,” you told him. “Dr. Kang knows my history. If you trust him… you can trust me, can’t you?”

The way Yunho did not immediately agree told you he must know something- either about you or his old friend. You cleared your throat. “I’m okay with medical field work. I’m not the best but I can certainly assess the situation and act quickly.”

“That’s good enough,” Yunho grabbed his things from the table and you started getting up as well. “I won’t pressure you to do anything you do not want to, so when I offer you an assignment, you don’t have to worry about me firing you if you do not accept it because you’re uncomfortable. I only fire people who are-”

“A burden, a waste of resources, yes, I know the drill,” you finished for him and he grinned, walking with you outside.

“Well then. Pack your stuff, and I’ll see you tomorrow in Room no. 8 of the Strategy Department. Sleep well, Aurora.”

He was about to go but you grabbed his arm lightly and he paused, turning in surprise. “I haven’t thanked you for your kind offer.”

“Thank me later,” he winked and ran off, making you wonder just how you were supposed to thank him ‘later’.

—----------------------

Yunho was nothing like the person you had come to know in the past month when he was working. If you thought you knew him, you were so wrong.

You weren’t sure what surprised you more- the switch of character or the fact that you misjudged him. Perhaps because it was your first time interacting with someone outside of work first. Perhaps you should have expected it-

No. He was different.

He was a natural leader, you were finding. He was respected and possibly even feared by the fresh recruits- your fellows from Cryptography weren’t wrong about him. He took charge of the room, barked orders, maintained punctuality down to the seconds and wanted results. Quick. And anyone who couldn’t deliver was given an earful in private.

He told you he would cut you some slack only on your first day, like he did with everyone. You were no longer ‘Yunho’ and ‘Aurora’. He was ‘Sir’ and you were ‘Miss Han’ which put a strict distance between you. He did not joke around while working at all. You learned that he was right when he said he had to be on his toes, had to make important decisions and choose what to keep and what to sacrifice. 

It had been over a week now- you had shifted your dorms, the current room giving you the view of your former workplace but blocking the sun, which you didn’t mind. It was a bit more luxurious too and gave you better room for optimisation, but you had nothing much here anyway.

The emptier the better.

Yunho was the leader of your team- Team no. 8. He reported to Dr. Choi who reported to the Head of the Department. The decision-making usually fell to the higher-ups and the team leaders, and the working dynamics were good. You wondered if that was the reason Halaland was winning.

You wondered how Utopia was handling things- you missed home. You missed the smell of citrus in the air, back before the smell of smoke and blood became a norm. You missed the constantly cloudy but blue sky before it took on an eternal darkness- you were beginning to hate the sun here. 

You missed your family who were no longer here, gone together in the dead of night, leaving you forlorn in this world. You missed the new family you had found among the Crescents- even though they insisted attachment would do you no good, the Captain himself had been like a big brother to you. Perhaps because all of you had bonded over mutual loss that you found yourselves unable to not depend on each other, not find comfort in each other. They were home, no matter where you went after that. 

You didn’t realise how long you had been standing at the end of the corridor where the dorms were, at the only window in the building that faced west towards Utopia, scratching at the scar on your arm until you felt gentle fingers lace through your hand and place them softly on the window sill. 

Again, you were surprised for many reasons as you looked up at the man who was always there when you least expected him, whose footsteps were so silent yet presence so filling, whose gaze was so warm even when he put distance between you. He stood next to you, his hands right next to yours as he looked outside.

“I’m curious what part of this view exactly is so captivating that you’ve been standing motionless for so long,” he commented, peeking out with an unimpressed face. “All I see is barren land and a boring sky.”

“That’s exactly what I needed,” you said, glad your voice didn’t crack, glancing at what you had done- you never let the scar heal. You were always picking at the long gash somewhere. A reminder, you told yourself, though you didn’t need to hurt yourself to be reminded. It already hurt enough. “I didn’t want to be distracted by a pretty view.”

“Makes sense,” he turned towards you, glancing at the bleeding scar again. “Does that hurt?”

You didn’t expect him to inquire directly about the topic you both had danced around since you met. “Not really.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he tsk-ed. “Do you have a first-aid kit in your room?”

“No?”

“You should have,” he looked disappointed. “I’ll ask someone to give you one. If you’re going to the field, you should definitely have a kit with you at all times.”

“But I’m not… or am I?” You narrowed your eyes and he stifled a smile. 

“I thought I’d ask you how your first week had been before offering you to join me,” he put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “Was it too much?”

“Not at all,” you glanced down again- it was starting to sting a little especially with the blood wanting to trail down-

“This won’t do,” Yunho sighed. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Just… stop questioning me for once and come with me,” he said and you thought you heard the tiniest bit of frustration in his voice so you followed him to the other end of the hall and realised he might be taking you to the men’s dorm. He unlocked the door to his room and you immediately felt like you were being hugged by him- the clean, almost aquatic scent of whatever product he used filled the room.

It was nice.

Yunho motioned to the couch and you glanced around before taking a seat- it looked as empty as your room, the only sign of living some clothes hanging around or food in the kitchen from where Yunho got his kit and came to sit beside you.

“I can do this-” 

“Let me,” he insisted, looking at you for permission and when you nodded, he took your arm and examined it, drawing your sleeve up hesitantly until it was above the elbow. He dipped some cotton in alcohol and cleaned it, the sting drawing your focus and when you winced, Yunho shook his head.

“You should stop picking at your scar if you want to work in the field,” he began, his voice low and thick now that he was so close. “It would be a shame if it got infected. I want my members in top condition, you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered and he grinned.

“I told you, it’s just Yunho for you- when we’re not working,” he insisted and you nodded. “You can ask me now. I can see you have questions.”

“What exactly will we be doing?”

“I cannot tell you until we’re on the mission,” he finished cleaning. “But we might have to travel a bit and transfer confidential data.”

“I guess I’ll join? I have nothing better to do.”

“Ay, are you saying your time at the department is a waste?”

“I mean- yeah, I could keep working but this would be better-”

Yunho laughed, wrapping a bandage around your arm and you pouted when you realised he was back to being the goofy senior you had come to know in your duration here. “I know what you mean, you don’t have to explain yourself. You’ll learn a lot from the field but you should know that everything we see, everything we observe is strictly confidential. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do, and that’s why I am working here,” you told him and he liked your answer.

“There,” he tied the bandage. “I don’t want to see you picking at your scar again. If you feel like doing that again… come find me and I’ll distract you, okay?”

“Come find me,” you quoted back with a scoff, surprising him. “When you’re the busiest person I know? I thought you were friendly with me just to get me on your team, and then suddenly there’s this distance between us and you’re ‘Sir’ and I’m ‘Miss Han’ and you keep ordering me around and pushing me-”

You stopped when you saw how he was smiling, head resting on his hand, elbow propped on his leg. “What?”

“Carry on,” he urged. “I’m enjoying this.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, your heart suddenly aching at the sight of him- you were getting really annoyed at the way he made you ramble and had you expecting more when in fact, you should be anywhere but here-

“Just say that you missed me, Aurora.”

“As if,” you scoffed. “Thank you for the help. I’m going,” you said and got up but he grabbed your wrist, making you sit right back and you gaped at him as he failed to hold his smile, the smile that changed his entire face and made his eyes curve-

“Well, I definitely missed this,” he said but his eyes changed as he locked them with yours. “You can find me anytime you want. If it’s too much, if anything’s bothering you, you can find me, okay? I won’t let you down.”

You raised a brow. “Do you offer this to everyone?”

“Maybe? Some of it?” He wondered out loud, indicating he might not have offered this to anyone at all, for that matter. “My point is… I know we all have scars, Aurora. Not all are physical. The physical scars? They hurt more here, don’t they?” He pointed at his heart. “You’re… a part of my team now. I want your wits gathered. I want you relaxed because you’ve seen how tense the rest of my team is. I think I can depend on you if you can depend on me- and when we go on this mission, I’d be glad if I’m right about this.”

“Just say that you missed me too,” you laughed and he joined, realising he was still holding your wrist, letting it go gently. “Okay. I’ll try to find you next time.”

“Good,” he nodded, satisfied. “...good.”

You realised he was spacing out as his eyes travelled all across your face. You stared right back- at his kind eyes, at his incredibly charming face, at the way his hair fell on his forehead and when his eyes met yours, he held your stare for a moment too long before clearing his throat.

“Well, I’ll brief you tomorrow about the mission so you still have time if you want to change your mind. Think it over tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” you finally got up, straightening your clothes. “Thank you… for everything.”

Yunho smiled at that and you left for your room, staring at the bandage until you fell asleep.

—---------------------

It was two days later that you found yourself on the road with Yunho, travelling in a military car escorted by soldiers. You two were the only ones facing each other in the backseats but Yunho was currently busy going through some documents and you recalled the conversation you just had with him in the office.

Your colleague Hani, who had field experience, had briefed you about the clauses in your contract- what to do in case you found yourself in a compromising situation or if your life was being threatened in exchange for information. You had a strict non-disclosure agreement already signed, but this was a fresh reminder that anything could go wrong. 

And that your life had little to no value so you shouldn’t bother saving yourself by exchanging information. It was like this everywhere, but since it was the enemy you were now working for, you hated the idea of even getting a scratch for them, though the Captain had told you that you would be put in such a situation eventually. Today, you were going to play your part in a rehearsed skit. And today was all about your acting skills.

You touched the locket around your neck that Yunho had given you before leaving. He caught you tugging at it and you put it inside your uniform- all black with red details like Yunho’s. He cleared his throat. “Nervous?”

“A bit, but I’m fine,” you admitted. He was probably inquiring because the locket was your death sentence- a cyanide pill you could use only if all else failed. You recalled the moment when he had secured it around your neck himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, making you lock eyes with him.

“I’ll pray you never have to resort to a situation where you have to use this,” Yunho’s voice was firm. “If you’re in pain, you live through it. Think about your family, your friends, or whoever you’re fighting for. You make it back alive no matter how hard it is, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But,” and this time, his voice was steel and gaze so harsh that you wondered if this was the same person who told you he could ask the government to provide funds for your gummy bear addiction. “If you think of betraying your team and someone loses their life because of you? I’d rather you have eaten the pill.”

Your heart sank dangerously and you recalled when the Captain had held you just like this and told you what fate you would meet if you ever betrayed them. You nodded firmly, once. “Of course.”

Immediately, his gaze softened and he patted your arm as he let go. “I know how hard it is to make a decision, especially when they have something on you. But the enemy, no matter how appealing their offer is, you do not give in, okay? If the pain really is too much to handle… I wish you’d live through it instead of opting for this solution.”

“I understand,” you nodded, pursing your lips. “I really do.”

Now, in the car with Yunho who scanned your face as if trying to figure out just what was going through your head, you decided to ask him. “What if we lose each other in the middle of the mission?”

“Glad you asked,” he sighed. “I’ll show you the points where we can gather as soon as we’re entering the town.

And when you did, he sat next to you, pointing at 5 random points that were chosen for today’s mission. He told you their strategy was to always have new points to gather at during every mission so nobody could snitch on them. When you finally reached Sector 1, Yunho made sure your bulletproof vest was secured under your uniform and you had no bugs on you- ‘protocol’, he called it, though you made sure he saw you scowl. You stopped at an old hospital that was now abandoned and got off, the harsh sun making you flinch and immediately wear your shades.

“This hospital used to be the heart of this town, before a bomb struck here,” Yunho told you and you nodded- you recalled that. It was a few years ago when Neverland managed to strike here and you always wondered how someone could be heartless enough to target a hospital.

It made sense later- Neverland, now Utopia’s ally but earlier the enemy, probably also got a whiff of whatever the hell was going on with Halaland’s Medical Research Departments. Innocent lives were lost but you hoped at least something had come out of it.

“I always wondered why anyone would target hospitals,” Yunho said out loud as if he had read your mind.

You cleared your throat. “Halaland targeted hospitals first. I hope you haven’t forgotten your history… Sir.”

Yunho glanced at you, eyes unreadable behind the shades. “Of course I remember. That’s why I said ‘anyone’. What do you think? Why would someone target the hospitals?”

A test, perhaps. You pretended to think. “Doctors… They’re the backbone of any war, and perhaps the most precious asset especially in war.”

Yunho nodded, satisfied. “It’s a low move. I don’t support that, but like I said, sometimes when you strategise, sacrifices must be made.”

“And what came out of sacrificing doctors?”

“That’s not for just anyone to know,” Yunho pointed to the backdoor and you followed him.

“So am I ‘just anyone’?” 

“As am I,” he sighed. “I’ve only heard something did come out of it, and something valuable was lost when this hospital was targeted. Pretty sure they weren’t talking about the doctors or the patients.”

You wondered if he really did not know or was pretending. You spotted a shadow behind the door and Yunho confirmed it was the man you were supposed to meet. He led you inside and the man met both your eyes before handing Yunho an envelope- the contents inside you referred to as ‘the key’. He turned to you and you handed him your key. With a nod, you parted ways and exited the hospital.

“That’s about it,” Yunho exhaled in relief. “A simple exchange of information. No words spoken. The information is not for our eyes nor can we interpret it. We’re only couriers.”

“So was that man a spy then?” You asked. “Do you receive information from other lands?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Yunho admitted and you believed him. “But I reckon he must be. You wouldn’t make such a fuss for a local.”

You started driving back, pretending to be relieved that the mission was over when in fact, you were counting the minutes.

And then it happened- you heard the sound of a gunshot and you flinched even when you saw it coming. The soldier escorting you spoke in the radio to make sure everything was clear, but-

“We have a tail, Sir- 2 SUVs. We’re waiting for your orders.”

You looked at Yunho who dared to peek outside before calling in his radio, “Turn west. We’re taking Route no. 3. Provide cover-”

Another gunshot and this time you had to cover your ears and crouch down out of instinct as the windshield shattered. Yunho’s eyes were wide with horror as he took in the sight of the shot driver, the soldier frantically trying to steer the car while putting one hand on the wound on the driver’s chest. You straightened and looked at Yunho.

“I can either drive or provide medical attention- or fight back. What do you want me to do, Sir?”

“How good is your aim?”

You let the faintest hint of a smirk grow on your lips. “Good enough, Sir.”

With that, you dragged the driver’s body to the backseat with the soldier’s help who immediately put pressure on the wound and checked the pulse. Yunho crawled to the driving seat and you borrowed the soldier’s rifle and examined the situation- one of your escort cars was down and you only had one at your front and on your right now. 

So you waited until you sighted the tail- a black SUV. You aimed for the tires and shot once, twice, hitting the mark on your second shot which gave the escort car behind you a chance to shoot at the passengers. You broke the rest of the windshield with the butt of your rifle to clear your view, surprising Yunho, and sat on the frame to take another shot, managing to break their windshield this time. They fell back and the escort cars provided cover. The soldier honked and the three of your cars picked speed, the one behind you shooting aggressively. It seemed to have worked and you lost your tail, managing to follow the designated route.

You slid back to your seat, turning to check if you could assist in any way but it was too late- the soldier looked grim as he met eyes with you.

“He was gone within a minute.”

You bit your lips, wondering if you could have saved him had you not been selfish and hesitant about practising medical attention on people anymore. You glanced at Yunho who was clenching his jaw. With a sigh, you rested on the seat as you calmed yourself down from the adrenaline and braced yourself for whatever was about to happen next.

The drive was pretty much silent until you reached the Research Centre, a medical team ready to take the people who lost their lives in the mission. You learned that two other soldiers had died. After paying your respects, you escorted Yunho to your department where the supervisor, Dr. Choi was waiting.

“I heard it went well,” she said and you raised a brow, glancing at Yunho who appeared tense.

“We lost three soldiers today.”

“But you have the key?” She asked, referring to what you had received from the supposed-spy.

Yunho didn’t say anything, just handed the key to the doctor and she didn’t open it. She looked at you. “Report.”

You swallowed. “We had no tail until after we left the hospital. About 800 metres on Route no.1, we received the tip from Escort Car no. 3 about the tail. As soon as Mr. Jeong ordered us to embark on Route no. 3, our driver was shot and we had to improvise. The soldier with us went on to provide medical attention to him while Mr. Jeong drove and I attacked. I managed to puncture their tire and shoot through their windshield which Escort Car no. 2 informed us, helped eliminate one of the 5 passengers in the black SUV without a plate. That’s when we lost them and continued our return.”

“I see. Anything you’d like to add to that, Mr. Jeong?” 

“I’ll let you make the conclusion,” Yunho answered, looking like he could kill her. “I don’t know if it’s my position to say this but maybe you should take a look at who’s friend and who’s foe again. No one other than me knew our meeting point. Me and the person we were meeting.”

Dr. Choi shifted in her seat, looking amused. “You’re telling me that I should look into that person and you?”

Yunho shrugged. “I think you know exactly what I meant.”

You poked your tongue in your cheek as you looked back and forth between them. They were practically having a stare down and Dr. Choi finally nodded slowly. Yunho said he would take his leave now, leaving you alone with the supervisor who simply smiled.

“He gets like this when a mission doesn’t go smoothly.”

“I see,” you nodded slowly. So it had happened before. “Anything I should do, Dr. Choi?”

“Let’s see,” Dr. Choi opened the envelope and skimmed through the contents. “Not for now, no. You can take the rest of the day off. You did well.”

—-----------------------

Though your mission today had gone exactly the way you had wanted to- a successful exchange of information followed by an attack, staged by the Crescents just so you could prove you were indeed someone who could be trusted- a test, you realised now, from the Crescents as well- you still felt unsatisfied for a number of reasons.

Firstly, you had not expected the driver of your own car to get shot. You could very well have been hurt as well. You still felt guilty about not caring enough to provide medical assistance- the soldier, you were sure, only knew the basics. You could have saved him. You felt partially responsible for that loss.

You were also worried about just who in Crescents lost their lives in the mission today. You prayed it was no one you knew, but the thought that they were risking their lives like this upset you even when you had seen them go to more dangerous missions and not return. Now that you were a part of this, it stung more.

And then there was Yunho. His reaction to the dead soldier didn’t surprise you- you knew now that he was a compassionate soul no matter how stern and cold he might seem at times. But it was his behaviour with Dr. Choi that surprised you more- was it her nonchalance towards the lives lost that put him off or was it something else?

You had roamed around after getting the day off when it was already almost time for dinner. You met your teammates from Cryptography and checked their progress and they had a good laugh over how far you had come and if you’d last any longer. However, when you headed to your room, you spotted Yunho standing by the window you had met a few days earlier. Your heart tugged at the sight and you considered ignoring him and heading to your room but you wanted to know what was going through his mind right now.

You wanted to figure him out so bad that it was driving you a little crazy, and that was not good. Not in this field.

Cautiously, you walked to him and though he sensed you coming, he didn’t move until you stood next to him, hands on the sill right beside his, so near they could touch. You looked at the view.

“Not a very captivating view, is it?”

A trace of a smile danced on his lips though he maintained his composure. You stifled a sigh and dared to look at him- he looked so very tired and you wondered if he was exhausted due to the events of today or just tired of wearing his mask. Whatever it was, this was the first time you saw such emotions in his eyes.

“I know you offered to me that I could come find you whenever I felt like picking at my scar again,” you began, ignoring your subconscious that sounded a lot like the Captain cursing at you. “I thought I’d offer you the same. I should have offered it that day, but…”

“Thank you, Miss Han, but-”

“That’s Aurora for you-”

“-I’m not picking at my scars-”

“Scars of the heart,” you reminded him before he could tell you to bug off. He looked at you, hair a mess and over his eyes, still in his uniform with quite a few buttons undone and wondering just what your deal was. You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Have you had dinner yet?”

When he didn’t respond, you tsk-ed. “Do you want to have some ramen? I’ve heard I make killer ramen.”

Yunho finally gave in and scoffed, urging you to lead the way, following you to your room and you almost shut the door behind you when you realised he was still waiting outside.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“I thought you were going to take the ramen or whatever to the dining hall?”

“Just… come in. I have better snacks,” you told him.

He shook his head. “Of course you do.”

You asked him to make himself comfortable while you went into the kitchen and started cooking. Yunho took that as a sign to roam around in your space- empty walls just like his, the only sign of life the clothes on one chair-

And the unholy amount of the unhealthiest snacks he had ever seen lining the kitchen shelves. He sat on the two-seater table next to the kitchen, watching you cook. “Do you even eat normal food?”

You glared at him, not bothering to respond, focusing on the ramen while he rested his chin on his hand as he watched you until you settled down, scooping some ramen for him and cracking open two beers. You clicked your drinks and ate in silence. He was probably still sorting his thoughts, you reckoned. 

It wasn’t until he was finished, drinking his second can of beer that he finally exhaled deeply. You didn’t push, just relaxed back as you swirled your can lazily.

“Thank you for the meal, Aurora. It’s very kind of you.”

“You sound way too formal, Yunho,” you sighed.

“And you sound like me, I’m realising,” he put his head in his hands as he laughed a little. “I must have sounded like this that day, huh?”

“Now you know,” you teased.

He sighed again. “I don’t know what went wrong today. It’s happened before and I’m not even surprised,” he admitted and you nodded. “I’m just… I should have known that no one would give two shits about the lives lost today. All they care about is getting their hands on whatever information can cause the most destruction.”

“‘In war there is sacrifice’,” you quoted him and he lifted his head to look at you.

“I know. But I’m human too.”

“I understand,” you said and he wasn’t surprised at your grim tone.

There were a few moments of silence as you both sorted your thoughts out. “It’s not your fault, about the driver. You couldn’t have saved him even if you wanted to- not with that wound.”

You looked at him- how could he know just what you were feeling when he himself was a mess?

“Neither was it your fault about the events of today,” you countered. “We’re simply couriers. It’s the higher-ups who gave us the orders, knowing the risks. They should feel responsible about the loss.”

“They never do,” Yunho clenched his eyes shut as if a memory pained him. You let him have a moment and he opened his eyes, locking them with yours.

“Listen, Aurora. What happened today should not have happened, but this was your first mission. I’m proud of how you handled it.”

Your heart sank in guilt but you nodded. “Thank you.”

“I do want to keep you as my teammate, but… it’s only getting uglier as the days pass. The higher-ups have stopped caring about the lives lost as long as they get what they want. If you do not want to do this at any point, you let me know, okay? I don’t want to take you to a mission and risk losing you because you didn’t have a clear head.”

“Why can’t you do the same?” You dared to ask and he looked confused. “You could stop going to these missions too. Clearly this has happened before, and you look distraught. You could hang back too, Yunho-”

“I can’t-”

“I’m sure there are other teams that could go-”

“I really can’t,” Yunho locked eyes with you and you paused. 

He can’t? 

“Why?” You asked and when he remained silent, you knew then.

You knew that he was bound. Just like you, or maybe worse. You were bound to the Crescents and even though they had good intentions, they had promised you hell if you backed off anytime during your stay here. But what was holding Yunho back?

“Then don’t bury it in,” you countered. “I don’t want to go on another mission with you if you don't have a clear head.”

“Look at you ordering me around, Aurora.”

You matched his glare and he ended up looking down, his smile widening. You shared a chuckle as well. “I’m just looking out for myself, Sir.”

“There you go,” he scoffed in amusement. You stared at him for a few moments before you got up and started clearing the table, coming back to pick the cans but Yunho caught your wrist, folding your sleeve up to examine your scar that was still healing from all the scratching you had done before Yunho had bandaged it for you two days ago.

“This better be healed by the end of the week,” he muttered, tracing the skin near the scar from the elbow all the way down. 

“This will heal on its own,” you said. “But how do we heal the scars of our heart, Yunho?”

“I wouldn’t know that,” he barely whispered and it was the most broken you had heard him, or anyone, sound. Your heart ached deeply and with your free, now trembling hand, you touched the side of his face lightly as if to tell him that you didn’t either. That you understood it all too well. He kept staring up at you, his grip on your wrist loosening and you brought that hand up as well as you held his face, taking your time as you caressed the strands of his hair away from his face. You were positive your loud heart could be heard for miles but you didn’t care, not at that moment. 

When you were done shifting some of his hair away from his forehead, you leaned down and kissed his forehead, the first time you had kissed someone in years, the first kiss of affection after the tragic event that took your family’s life. Yunho sighed deeply and when you drew back, you rested your forehead on the top of his head for a moment.

“I know something is eating you up and making you do things you do not want to, but,” you drew back, locking eyes with him. “I want you to know that I’m with you, beside you, wherever you go from here. You’re not alone, Yunho. Don’t lose yourself. You can get through this and I’m here for you whenever you need me, understand?”

There was wonder in his eyes. Wonder and an incredible sadness. He nodded slowly and you smiled slightly, patting his cheek before turning away and picking the cans up, going to throw them in the trash can. Yunho got up, straightening his clothes.

“I- I should get back now.”

You raised a brow at the stutter and noticed his flushed cheeks and ears. “Sure. See you tomorrow.”

Yunho nodded, unmoving for a good few moments before he awkwardly turned to go and almost reached the door when he turned again.

“I might be asking too much but can I have a pack of your gummy bears? I feel like I’ll need them tonight.”

The laugh that left you came from somewhere so deeply buried that even Yunho couldn’t help but join, smiling widely at the sound that filled the room. You nodded and brought him a packet, still recovering.

“You can stop now, you know,” he said, embarrassed.

“I just,” you sighed, chuckling again. “It was so out of the blue, it caught me off guard. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look sorry, Aurora,” he countered and you laughed a bit harder, putting a hand over your mouth as you waved at him to leave already. He thanked you before leaving, saying he wouldn’t want a madman on his team and you went to your room, your laugh fading with each passing moment until it turned into an unknown feeling so overwhelming that you sat down on the floor, burying your head between your arms and crying silent tears.

—-----------------------

Something between you and Yunho had shifted ever since that night.

You were still Mr. Jeong and Miss Han during work hours, and he was still the same strict boss of your team, however, he had a hint of affection in his eyes whenever he looked at you. Maybe it was from the shared experience from that mission. Maybe it was the way you now knew you had secrets that you kept from each other, only allowing the other to know there was, in fact, something. Maybe it was something about that night when you shared a moment of vulnerability. 

You didn’t know what exactly it was, but it was messing you up and that was not good. You remind yourself every night that you are a Crescent. You answer to the Captain. You’re on a mission, and your goal is to uncover what’s going on in the Medical Research Department through any means necessary.

Involving yourself with Yunho is only a risk, and yet… you couldn’t help but be selfish. You could justify it as a means to get to Medical Research as much as you wanted, but you knew deep down that there was another factor and you could not dismiss it. It didn’t matter, you supposed, as long as nothing was done about it, but Yunho’s words rang in your ears:

“But I’m human too.”

Those words tangled around you like a spider’s web that you couldn’t shake off. They haunted you at night when you tried to sleep. And they were following you like a shadow right now, on your way to meet Seonghwa in the darkest hour of the night, this time in the Cryptography Department’s cafeteria where you could always come up with the excuse of ‘missing the food’ if someone spotted you. 

You sat at the far end of the room, waiting for Seonghwa to come as you opened a pack of gummy bears, already plagued by the memory of Yunho- you seemed to be associating a lot with him these days. Seonghwa entered, silent as a pin and settled across from you.

“I hope you’ve been doing well,” he asked.

“Thriving, really,” you muttered and he raised a brow at that attitude. You cleared your throat.

“All well at home?” You dared to ask.

“Seems so,” he was chewing gum rather loudly. “All well at yours?”

“Seems so.”

“How long till you can get to your goal?”

“If you don’t push some strings, maybe a while,” you thought out loud.

“We don’t have the luxury of time anymore, Aurora.”

You paused. Something had happened. “Then push some strings.”

He glared at you for a few moments before sighing. “Prepare yourself. You’ll be meeting your mentor soon.”

“Got it,” you got up, ready to leave.

“And Aurora?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Keep your distance from the enemy, will you?”

For a moment, you wanted to scratch at his face and ask him who, exactly, was the enemy here. It was the same in Utopia, the same here- the higher-ups not caring for the lives lost as long as they could get something out of it. And what were they doing to contribute to the war other than add more fuel to the flame? You were starting to question who exactly you were working for. Of course, you were ultimately doing this for Utopia, but you wanted to gut the people who sent you here too. Not the Captain, no- he only trained you. The ones who controlled him, and the ones who controlled them. 

The Captain- he only dared to question them once, and you remember seeing him at his lowest then when they took away something precious from him. You didn’t know what- you didn’t need to either. You could see it- everyone could. And it was the same here, with Yunho. He was just a puppet in this horrible, horrible game.

“I am,” you practically spat, knowing he must have spotted you hanging around with Yunho casually. “And you remember who the enemy is, will you?”

With that, you left the department, feeling like you were being choked and when you entered your department you paused-

Was someone following you?

You turned but there wasn’t a soul in sight. You didn’t dismiss it as just a feeling though. You could never be too careful around here. 

Someone had seen you come from the Cryptography Department, which meant you were being watched. You scoffed to yourself as you went inside your room and resisted the urge to peek out of your window. 

No more meetings with Seonghwa. You were on your own now.

—-------------------------

Things were getting tense at the department, to put it simply.

You were starting to wonder if it was simply because of the information you and Yunho had received that day which was somehow important enough to shift the power balance of the war, or if it was because Yunho had dared to question the higher-ups on their lack of regard for the sacrifices in this war.

You were positive it was the latter- especially with the way Yunho was starting to look so weary. Your seniors were also being harsher on your team, going as far as to cut down on your break hours. Yunho kept looking apologetic which made your suspicions stronger. Nothing seemed to cheer him up anymore.

You were staring at him from across the room, ignoring the pile of documents in front of you as you binged on your usual choice of snack, wondering if you should go ahead and ask just what was going on when a knock sounded and Dr. Choi entered, looking grim.

“Prepare for a group mission- we have to retrieve a person now, so make sure you gear up properly- 2 of you on the field while 3 of you stay back and monitor.”

Yunho looked as confused as the rest and when he got up to ask, Dr. Choi raised her hand. “I just got notified moments ago. Apparently they’re not pleased with what happened on your last mission, though I hardly believe that’s the reason. Just… get it over with and then we’ll speak.”

“Not pleased with what happened on our last mission,” Yunho repeated with a scoff. “All we did was follow orders and stick to protocol.”

You could see the slightest hint of pity in the doctor’s eyes before she sighed. “I know. I’m only obeying orders here too. You’ll be briefed on your way there. You have 20 minutes.”

With that, Dr. Choi exited and Yunho met your eyes. You pursed your lips, shrugging. It seemed like you had no choice. Stuffing the unfinished gummy bears in your pocket, you stood and went to him.

“You and me on the field. Who else are we taking?”

Yunho hesitated for a moment. “I’d rather you stick back as the monitor this time.”

You slumped, bored. “You know I can fight, Sir. Come on, make a decision.”

“I-” he hesitated again and your heart ached as he looked down. You wished you could ask him what the matter was. “I don’t want to see any of you get hurt if things go south.”

“Dr. Choi said two on the field, Yunho, in case you were thinking of going alone this time.”

Yunho raised a brow at the way you called his name and how you knew exactly what he was thinking. He gave in, nodding. “Fine, but you only cover me, okay? No offence.”

“Can’t promise, but okay,” you shrugged and he shook his head, getting up and calling Hani, Jongho and Chris- his most skilled. “You remember the drill, right?”

“Definitely,” Jongho grinned and Yunho seemed to relax a bit after seeing his teammates in better spirits than himself. He set the timer and all of you disappeared in the locker room, getting dressed in the uniform with bulletproof vests underneath. You checked your guns and were about to leave when a knock sounded on the door. You opened it expecting Hani but were surprised to see Yunho instead. 

“Done?” He asked and you nodded. “Can I come inside?”

Your heart sank and you gave him some space to enter in the relatively tiny room. Yunho wasted no time, digging into his pocket and producing a bunch of bullets and placing them in your palm. “This could get me fired or worse, but I need you to take these in case things don’t look good. Hide them on yourself.”

You raised a brow, counting them- 5. “This isn’t official,” you said and he nodded. “And what makes you think I won’t snitch right now?”

The way Yunho simply smiled- almost smirked- told you that there was a reason he needed you on his team. “You can go ahead and do that if you want to.”

Something unspoken passed between you two as you stared at each other and you finally hid the bullets in your inside pocket, making him roll his eyes in amusement before he left. For extra measure, you stocked more on the daggers before following him outside.

You learned on your way that one of the doctors from Medical Research had gone missing a few days ago and was reported to have been sighted in the west in a cabin near the enemy lines. You suspected it was the Crescents again, and to confirm your suspicions you spotted Seonghwa on your way out who saluted mockingly when he met your eyes. You had not expected it to be this soon after your previous mission and you wondered if something had truly gone wrong this time.

During the half an hour drive after which you were to travel on foot, Hani set up the radios and Jongho and Chris prepared to defend the rest in case they were attacked. This time, there were no escorts, no military cars, no soldiers- nothing that would alert the enemy. After reaching the end of the road, you and Yunho stepped out and Hani checked your equipment once again.

“If I lose your signal, I’ll assume you’re in trouble and wait exactly 2 minutes before I send one of them to inspect,” Hani said and Yunho nodded in approval. “If you lose our signal, you should proceed with the mission and come back when you’re done- if we’re under attack, you’ll know- I’ll fire a signal. In that case…”

“In that case, we’ll abort the mission,” Yunho said and Hani shook her head.

“Dr. Choi specifically asked us to retrieve the doctor at all costs. You do know what they mean by that, don’t you?”

“I don’t care what she said,” Yunho countered. “I don’t think we can make it back if you all are under attack anyway.”

Hani pursed her lips, looking at you for help. “Knock some sense into him, will you, Aurora?”

You shrugged. “If you’re under attack, I can come and help. You, Sir, can carry on with your mission- or we could switch these roles.”

Yunho sighed in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m the one being reminded of protocol.”

Hani grinned. “We all have our times, Yunho. Now get your ass on the field, both of you. I’m starting the clock.”

You whistled at the friendly banter. Yunho checked on his weapons one last time before motioning for you to follow him and you took a moment to run your eyes over the expanse- all dead trees and barren ground. If you squinted, you could see the faint silhouette of the marked border between Utopia and Halaland, with armed officials prowling in the area.

“Aurora?”

Home. So near yet so far away.

“You coming?” Yunho asked and you realised you were still staring in the direction of your homeland. You jogged to him, matching his pace when you fell in step with him, peeking at the map in his hands.

“Are you sure you have a clear head right now, Aurora?” Yunho asked.

“Yeah, sure, I was just… admiring the scenery.”

“Admiring the scenery?” Yunho scoffed, craning his neck to see just what about the scenery was so interesting.

“I was wondering,” you changed the topic. “Why send us to the field to retrieve a doctor? Why not the soldiers?”

“Aren’t we all soldiers, fighting for something?” Yunho mused and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay, they usually don’t send the soldiers so the other departments don’t get a whiff of what’s going on in Medical Research.”

“What exactly is going on there?” You asked, finding Yunho with a strange, knowing expression on his face. You gulped. “I’m assuming you know if they sent you?”

“I don’t know either,” he sighed deeply. “I just know there is something. I’ve heard it could help with winning the war. Only the higher-ups know. I’m nobody.”

“Well… that certainly sounds suspicious, but then again, there’s always some secret in every department, I suppose,” you let out a short laugh and he agreed. “So they’re afraid the doctor might snitch? Will they even let him live if we manage to get him back?”

“That is… a very good question. We might be taking him to death’s door if we retrieve him,” he clicked disappointingly. “But we don’t know anything, so we can’t assume and make these decisions. I think the Strategy Department, us, we’re trusted enough to retrieve him. We have the skills, and who would we snitch to anyway? Pretty sure they’d know if there was a spy among us.”

You shrugged and Yunho pointed in the distance, spotting a couple of cabins bordering the town. “That’s our destination. You ready?”

You nodded and walked in silence the rest of the way. When you reached the first cabin, you were about to go around the structure to inspect when Yunho grabbed your wrist.

“You’re only covering, remember?” 

“That’s not how this works-”

“That’s an order,” he insisted, looking slightly amused that only confused you further and you rolled your eyes, snatching your wrist away with a pout that he chuckled at before taking the lead.

With guns out, you went around the first cabin and then inside, finding no signs of life. The second cabin was just as empty and you were inside it now, watching the third from the window when you spotted movement.

“Uh, Sir?” You called and he turned around. “I’m spotting movement in that cabin.”

Yunho urged you to follow him, asking you to go around and stand by the window so the target couldn’t escape- if it was indeed the target. You signalled your team about the cabin. Yunho motioned at you that he was going inside and you provided cover as he unlocked the door-

“No-”

You turned at the strangle of a voice that left Yunho who ran towards the man- the target- who had just swallowed something you were assuming must be a pill, and before you could help them or react, you spotted someone else in the next room and pointed your gun at them.

“Drop your weapons, right now-”

You paused when recognition flashed across the man’s face and your heart sank dangerously. Before you could signal one or the other, the man moved his aim from you to Yunho and prepared to shoot.

Maybe it was instinct or something else that possessed you to take the bullet for Yunho, you mused, as you wondered why the person you had once called friend and had trained with- spared you. Out of familiarity? Out of regard? 

Burning pain overwhelmed every other sense in your body as the bullet lodged into your arm and Yunho was quick to shoot at the man, missing by an inch but probably grazing his leg given how he seethed before hiding. You clenched your eyes shut and opened them, forcing the cloud of pain away. “Save the target, I got him-” 

“No, you’re hurt-”

“I said, save the target.”

Yunho frowned at your tone and you didn’t give him another option as you loaded your gun and started for the room the man had hid himself in- he was at a dead end- this room had no window or other means of exit. You spotted him standing in the corner, gun aimed at you.

“It’s been years-”

You shot at his leg before he could speak further, earning a howl from him. One glance at Yunho to confirm that you got this, you moved towards the man and pressed the muzzle against his forehead.

“What are you doing here? What did you do to the doctor?”

“I was saving him,” he spat on your boot and you clenched your jaw. “You know that.”

You glanced behind and got closer. “Did the Captain send you?”

The man scoffed. “And what if he did? Why are you here?”

“He got me here, in case you forgot,” you seethed. “And he got you in this mess. Remember that.”

“What are you gonna do, huh? Kill your old-”

You heard the familiar footsteps of Yunho and with your eyes closed shut as if that could undo everything you were about to do, you shot your old friend, his body going limp and falling with a thud against the wall. You finally opened your eyes, bending down to shut his eyes with trembling hands.

The footsteps grew closer and you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You didn’t care at that moment. You turned to him and said, “Call the team, please. I’ll stay here.”

Yunho nodded, giving you space and leaving the room. With glazed eyes, you placed a hand on your old friend’s cheek, noticing a silver glint around his neck and you dug out what was a necklace with his code name carved on it- KB. You smiled at that, recalling when he had showed you the necklace a few years ago, very proud of it. You searched his pockets but found nothing significant so you just slumped next to him, ignoring the pain in your arm until Yunho came again, having alerted the team.

With his dagger, he cut a piece of his shirt and tied it around your arm where you were still bleeding out. You only stared into the distance, your ears ringing with the sound of the gunshots. When he was done, he patted your arm again.

“Come on, they’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you got up and exited the room, noticing the doctor with foam around his mouth. “Cyanide pill?”

“Seems so,” he said. “I’ll tell you the details later, okay? You should get treated first.”

“Just tell me this was not a waste,” you turned to him, lips quivering. “Tell me all of this was not a waste.”

Pain flashed across his eyes but he nodded. “It was not, trust me. I cannot tell you right now,” he glanced behind him at his team approaching them and you understood. “But I have something. And it’s not for the higher-ups to hear. You understand?”

Somehow, the cloud of pain cleared then. You understood. You looked back at the doctor. “Mind if I check something?”

“Go ahead,” he said and you checked his neck for something similar to a chain. Yunho coughed and you looked at him- he patted his pocket in answer. You nodded and proceeded to check the room, taking anything you thought would prove significant while Jongho and Chris packed the bodies and loaded them in the car- protocol. Proof that you were not lying, though you were pretty sure one of them directly answered the higher-ups and it was not Yunho, which meant-

You almost ran outside and looked into the distance, running your eyes across the expanse and it was then you spotted the tiniest movement in the cabin in front of you.

Eyes. They had eyes and ears everywhere. Both the Crescents and Halaland’s own spies. The question though, was…

Just who had watched everything that had just happened?

—------------------------

You had a few scenarios of how you could get into the Medical Department- either infiltrate with your ‘spy skills’ and risk getting caught, or have Seonghwa pull some strings so you could go for something like an ‘inspection’, or the personal favourite- attack. 

However, you never thought you’d get access simply because you got shot during a mission. 

It was surprising because every department did have their own little emergency room with the basic first aid stuff. It was probably because you had to report, and what place better to report the death of the doctor than the very department he worked in?

“Let her get treated first,” Yunho insisted, “And then we’ll report.”

“We don’t have time to spare, Mr… Jeong, is it?” The middle-aged man with an arrogant look that had to be his staple shrugged. “Besides, it looks like a simple gunshot wound.”

You could feel that Yunho was mentally and physically reaching his limit as he tried to reason with who you recognised was the supervisor of the Medical Research Department- both the restricted and the secret one, the restricted being his cover for the public. You cleared your throat, wanting to get this over with. “I think we can report first- I can hold on for a while-”

“No,” Yunho said with a tone of finality and glared at you first before glaring at the supervisor. “My partner will be treated first and foremost. You, of all people, Dr. Kim, should understand that.”

Dr. Kim groaned before ordering the staff to escort you to the treatment room. You got stitched up after being administered painkillers and you had to stuff a few gummy bears in your mouth for the instant sugar rush or else you were positive you would have fainted. You were just being administered another IV when you heard a very familiar voice. 

“I got this from here, thank you.”

You watched the nurses leave and a familiar blonde come closer, checking on your IV. You almost gasped and he stifled his smile as he checked your vitals. 

“Not how I expected to see you but oh well,” he whispered and you grinned. 

“Not how I planned to get here either,” you said. “It’s so good to see you, Yeosang.”

“Likewise, Aurora,” he smiled before glancing around. “Tell me what happened.”

You briefed him as quickly as you could, handing him the necklace that belonged to KB. He nodded grimly and when you told him about spotting someone who must have been watching you, he nodded in confirmation.

“It’s been a while since Yunho fell out of their good graces. I bet they’re making sure he doesn’t make more mistakes.”

“What did he do?” You asked.

“He tried digging into the secrets of the Research Department after the Utopians were expelled from this centre,” he revealed and you were genuinely impressed and confused. “He had many Utopian friends and some of them disappeared without a trace.”

“Are they messing him up on purpose?” You dared to ask. “First the attack on our previous mission, and now this…”

“That’s not how they mess you up,” Yeosang tsk-ed. “That’s just misfortune. Anyways, your report better match Yunho’s or you’ll be the one who might become their target. And Aurora?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe. Remember your motive. Don’t trust the enemy. And… we don’t have much time. You barely have a week before we sign Utopia for a loss it will never recover from.”

Your heart sank yet again and you nodded furiously, understanding the gravity of the situation now that you heard it from someone who worked in the secret lab himself. He was about to leave when you called him and mouthed ‘stay safe’. 

Thankfully, Yunho gave his report in front of your team and all you had to do was follow up with your story, omitting the part where you knew the identity of the man you killed. After signing a few documents, you were allowed to leave and Yunho said he had someone to meet, asking Hani to make sure you go right to your room and rest.

Hani did just that, going as far as to help you take off your clothes so you could wash up while she cooked you some ramen, commenting on the lack of your healthy food choices. You smiled- she was such a mother not just to you but to everyone in your team. She did leave when dinner was ready and you had time to sort your thoughts out, enough time to recall what happened today.

You took a bullet for the enemy.

Could you call Yunho ‘the enemy’? Yunho, the person who cared with all his heart, the person who did serve the enemy, the one who would have taken a bullet for you too just because that is who he was. And Yeosang’s revelations had only confused you further about him- you should have just asked him if Yunho was the enemy.

But perhaps, he was just as confused as you were. Yunho had dared to dig into something so big. What stopped him? You understood that he was brilliant and after losing so many skilled Utopians, they couldn’t afford losing their own. But… what, exactly, made him stop? What did they have over him that was eating him alive because he could do nothing about it? The fact that these unsuccessful missions were simply misfortune (though one was staged) meant that they had something else over Yunho.

What could it be? A secret? Blackmail? Family?

You shut your eyes as you tried recalling his file that you had memorised, just like every other file on the employees of this department-

A knock sounded and you opened your eyes, wondering if your ears were still ringing. But when another knock sounded, this time louder, you got up and hesitantly opened the door-

To reveal Yunho. 

“You look like a mess… Sir,” you scanned him- messy hair, buttons undone, uniform torn from where he had cut it earlier for you, smudges of dirt and possibly blood on his exposed skin. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanted to make sure Hani didn’t kill you on her way here,” he scoffed. “Can I… come in?”

You nodded and he stepped in, awkwardly glancing around and you urged him to take a seat. You offered him dinner but he refused and you wondered if you could insist but handed him a chocolate bar instead and he accepted it, asking you just what happened during the mission.

“I found these,” you put your hand under the sofa and extracted a few pages. “Not sure what they mean but they might make sense to you.”

Yunho finished eating and examined the papers. “Medical terms I’m not quite familiar with. What do you reckon they say?”

“I don’t know, all these terms seem foreign to me,” you admitted- it wasn’t the entire truth. “You have someone who could translate it for us?”

“I’ll think about it. Shall I take these then?”

“Go ahead,” you said and he folded them neatly before putting them in his pocket. “Did the doctor say something before he… died?”

Yunho sighed deeply, rubbing his face. “I asked him why he gave up on his life at the sight of me. It’s my uniform- he recognised it. He only said that he did not want to go back and that he would prefer death.”

“‘Prefer death’,” you repeated. “That’s… something must have happened?”

“Yeah, I don’t know anymore,” Yunho slumped back. “I’m not sure I can investigate either.”

“Why?” You dared ask.

Yunho looked at you. “Do you have something to lose, Aurora?” You shook your head and he smiled. “Then you are very lucky.”

“What will you lose?” Your voice was almost a whisper and he looked down.

“Four years ago when we declared war on Utopia,” he began, “I lost a lot of friends. Some moved. Some went missing. When I tried tracing them, I always found myself at the Medical Research Department. I asked myself- why would someone missing be there when they didn’t have any relationship with the Medical Department whatsoever?”

“Oh, goodness,” you sighed and he nodded.

“I still don’t know why exactly- what exactly is going down there. I don’t know who to trust. When they realised I was digging in, they drafted my brother into the army so they could hold that over me. And after the previous mission, they threatened to place him within the enemy lines, where the war and the bloodshed is the thickest. I suppose they’ll do that now.”

“That’s… inhumane,” you breathed. No matter if Yunho was the enemy, that was still inhumane- to hold family against you. “They’re controlling you.”

“They’re controlling everyone here,” Yunho scoffed. “You cannot trust anyone.”

You raised a brow and he looked at you as if having realised just what he said. He locked eyes with you until you asked the inevitable.

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know, Aurora,” his voice was low and he shifted towards you. “You clearly have secrets you keep to yourself. I don’t know why I’m here- maybe I’ve doomed myself tonight.”

His eyes were expectant and they tugged at your heart with their warmth and vulnerability and… trust. Trust without knowing who exactly you were.

And you realised how deeply done you were for him when you found yourself saying, “I trust you. With all of my heart.”

Yunho blinked as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stomach in knots, you leaned forward a bit as you locked eyes with him. “I trust your judgement. I trust your motives, and I wish I could share your burden because I do not like to see you like this. I wish I could be your strength… if you’d allow me to. And I have nothing to lose anyway. I could do this for you-”

Perhaps you had signed yourself for your doom, you wondered, as Yunho grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, bringing you in for a kiss so urgent as if you were on stolen time. Stomach in pleasurable knots, you leaned forward into the kiss, running your hands through his hair and pushing them away as you kissed him better, tasting the longing and pain in the way his hands cupped your face so delicately, in the way they later traced the outlines of your body-

And made you hiss in pain when they accidentally touched the bandaged spot on your arm. Yunho immediately drew back with concern on his face and you laughed a little when he examined it.

“I’m okay, just… it took me more by surprise, I guess.”

Yunho licked his lips, eyes falling to yours as he caught his breath. He forced himself to look at you. “You shouldn’t have taken the bullet for me, Aurora. Do you know how much it pains me?”

“I know you would have done the same,” you said and he looked away as if he did not want to believe that. “I’m fine. I know what I was doing.”

“I’m sorry-” 

“No,” you cupped his face this time, caressing it lovingly- you couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. “I would do that for you again,” you pecked his lips. “And again,” you kissed his cheek, trailing your lips up the side to plant another kiss on his temple. “And again,” you joined your forehead with his, his large hands going to hold your waist, making you feel so very safe as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, out of breath. You let him have his moment, caressing his head.

“What are we going to do, Aurora?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you kissed his head and he looked up at you. “I’ll make sure those bastards pay for what they did to you, you hear me? That’s a promise, Yunho. And I keep my promises.”

You sealed that promise with a kiss, so slow and sensual this time that it had you both wanting more. You unbuttoned Yunho’s uniform and tossed it on the floor, leaving him in a half-sleeve fitted shirt- oh, how beautiful he was. You traced his shoulders down to his arms and he snaked his hands up your waist, the sensation of his cold hands over your bare skin making you squirm a little which made him laugh, and then he was pulling you in for another kiss, this time as heated as it could be, tongues colliding and bodies rocking against each other in a rhythm that made you one.

You kissed each other for the longest time, affirmations and promises exchanged and then you lay in his arms, tired. You traced the multiple scars on his bare upper body, limbs tangled and breaths mingling as he fell asleep and you stifled in your tears, because-

Because this was love, in its pure and raw form. It took you so long to get here but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else. You wondered if all that happened was so that you could be right here, in this moment, feeling so complete-

But still, with the guilt of the lies you had said, with the secrets you kept. He was going to find out, and he would hate you, perhaps with all of his heart. But…

You’d keep your promise.

You were going to make Halaland pay for not only what they did to your homeland but what they did to their own. How they broke their own.

You chanted it to yourself along with the beat of Yunho’s heart.

—-------------------

Yunho was right about his brother being drafted to the enemy lines this time. He hated that he was right, but he could do nothing about it-

Or so he thought, because something had indefinitely snapped inside of you. Your hatred for Halaland was not only because of the fact that they took away your home and family, but because they took away the families of the ones who laid their lives for the cause. What for, you wondered? Halaland couldn’t even protect its own. So now, you were hell-bent on doing something about it. 

Each day, you pretended to be serving Halaland with utmost sincerity, urging Yunho to put on the same act. He tried his best and you prayed that it would mislead the superiors and whoever was watching. Every other night, you and Yunho gathered in either of your rooms to discuss whatever you found during the day- stealing from the database (Yunho was quite skilled) or picking information spontaneously (your forte). You’d match your findings but-

Whatever was going on in Medical Research was very, very serious if it was kept this confidential. You always found yourselves at a dead end- anyone you could contact was either still an employee or wiped off the map without a trace. 

So each night, you held Yunho in your arms and assured him that you would make it right for him. You caressed his face and kissed his head in promise, and each night he would ask you why you were doing this for him, just like he asked you tonight.

“Call me ungrateful but I don’t understand why you’re doing this for me, Aurora,” he was tracing the outlines of your face with one finger while you rested in his lap with a thick bundle of files you had been going through since the evening- the information of all the Utopian employees in the Medical Department. “I’d really like to know what the other reason is. You can’t simply be doing this for me.”

“What do you think it is?” You asked absently, reading the data of the person Yunho had pointed out earlier- Song Mingi. One of his oldest friends here who used to oversee some business in Medical Research before he went missing without a trace. The one, Yunho had told you, who made him embark on this journey.

“I don’t know,” Yunho’s arm was a comfortable weight around you and his lips on the bare skin of your neck were welcome. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“You’re pretty insistent for someone who doesn’t want to find out,” you mumbled, frowning as you read Song’s supervisor’s name- Dr. Kim- the same doctor who took your reports in your previous missions. “Is it strange that every missing person is somehow connected to Dr. Kim of Research?”

Yunho stopped nuzzling into your neck to look at you and think. “He is the supervisor.”

“That file over there,” you pointed at a file on the floor. “It said that Dr. Kim became the supervisor after every Utopian was expelled. A promotion at such a sensitive time is rather strange, don’t you think, given how ‘saddened’ you all must have been having lost a valuable ally in the war.”

Yunho shifted under you, making you face him, limbs still tangled. “You’re saying the feud must have begun due to something that happened in Medical Research, right?”

“It’s a possibility we should consider,” you planted the seed, knowing very well that it was a fact. “The timing of it all is strange. Do you think we can have someone confirm this fact? Or at least give us a hint?”

“I could ask Dr. Kang, but I’m not sure where his loyalty stands now,” he faltered.

“I mean… if they still haven’t erased him off the map, probably with Halaland?” You said and Yunho chuckled.

“Not that part. We’re all answering to someone. I don’t know if he’s answering to the right person.”

“I think we can trust him,” you offered. “When he trained me, he always insisted I put my ‘moral values’ before any order, no matter who it came from. It always stuck with me.”

“I can see that,” Yunho smiled, caressing the nape of your neck. “It’s probably why I’m here too. You don’t give a shit about rules, do you?”

You shrugged and smiled when he looked a little proud. “I could say the same for you. Do you know how dangerous it is to dig into information again? Haven’t you learned anything from the last time you did it?”

“I can’t let you carry this burden alone, can I?” He asked and you pouted because you’ve had this conversation with him just about a dozen times and he always insisted he do the dirty work and risk getting caught even when he was the one who had something to lose now. Yunho pecked at your pouted lips. “I want you to come with me when I meet Dr. Kang. He could be of help, and if he’s not…”

“If he’s not, all you have to do is say the word and he won’t breathe any part of it to anyone else,” you promised, heart dipping with the lie and he chuckled at your confidence before he kissed you.

His kisses, you were finding, could be soft like feathers when he wanted them to be. And right now, that was it. And these moments always put some hesitancy when you tried returning the sentiments because with each night you spent together like this, you were certain you could never bear being apart from him, never bear if he ever looked at you with hatred in his eyes- when he would eventually find out the truth.

Yunho’s hand cupped your face and tilted it, his hold tighter near your neck. You kissed back, but-

“Why do I always feel like something is holding you back when you’re with me, Aurora?”

You bit your lips as you drew away, finding it incredibly hard to open your eyes and face him but you did.

“The only reason I hold back,” you told him, shifting in his lap so you could face him, “is because I am so, so afraid of losing you, Yunho. I’m so afraid that you’ll hate me one day.”

 “I could never hate you,” his grip on your waist tightened and you looked down, not wanting him to see how vulnerable you were right now. If he pushed the right button, you would spill everything-

“Look at me, Aurora.”

You did and you couldn’t take the look in his eyes- you physically couldn’t, not when you wanted to tell him so much and risk wasting everything you’d built so far, so you kissed his lips with an urgency that told him to shut up for now and just kiss you back and make you feel good, and oh, did he return the sentiment.

“Don’t look at me like that again if you don’t want me to break,” you whispered in his ear.

“What about me, huh?” He stifled a pleasured groan when you rolled your hips on his lap. “Do you want to watch me break?”

You drew away and smiled and Yunho thought it was the most sadistic smile he had ever seen on anyone and it turned him on so bad. He picked you up effortlessly as he stood, making you scream a little and wrap your arms around his neck so you wouldn’t fall, laughing into his shoulder as he placed you on the table, hands on your thighs spreading them apart so he could fit between them as he looked down at you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said and then he was bringing you flush to his body and kissing you, rolling his hips along yours as you wrapped your legs around him. He wasted no time turning the kiss as heated and frantic as the movements of your body, his hands in your hair and one still on your thigh, thumb playing with the waistband of your shorts. You were lazily running your hands along his upper body and it was driving him crazy-

“Isn’t it about time we take it to bed?” You offered, looking at the clock. “It’s way past your bedtime, Yunho.”

He didn’t miss the suggestive glance and with another sensual kiss where he pulled at your lip, sending butterflies in your stomach, he let his fingers graze dangerously close to the skin between your thighs.

“Not before I have a taste of you right here.”

You shut your eyes in pleasure as warmth coursed through you at those words and you became lost in the bliss as he started trailing his lips down your body. 

Taking it to bed could definitely wait.

—-----------------------

It took you both a few days to perfect the plan to meet Dr. Kang, and you were now wondering if Yunho was turning into you as he started setting the stage so the act could play out effortlessly, so that someone would come and tell him to go to Medical Research for some dealings or strategic planning. And you wondered why Yunho hadn’t done it earlier- he was so good at it that you were a little scared and had started to wonder if he wasn’t who he pretended to be.

Yunho laughed when you asked him that during your break when you two were alone in the cafeteria. “I obviously needed a partner, right?”

You shrugged, not buying it. “You’re doing just fine by yourself. I haven’t done anything.”

“You, Aurora, pointed me in the right direction,” he told you and you looked at him. “I’m simply preparing a ride so we can go there.”

And the ride was arranged in the matter of a few days when Dr. Choi herself assigned you and Yunho, the most skilled strategists in the department, to help sketch plans for the future course of the war and Halaland’s stance. Yunho asked Dr. Choi why they were doing the planning in the Medical Department- was it to plan the placement of medical camps? Dr. Choi answered that she believed so, but even she sounded unconvinced. So, together with Yunho, you were finally going to the Medical Research Department officially. 

What you hadn’t expected was to be escorted to a storage room at the end of the Medical Research section and to be confronted by the same Dr. Kim who was pretty much in your blacklist now. 

“Your seniors swear you’re the smartest of the bunch so I’m going to trust them and have you sign this non-disclosure agreement,” he began, keeping it simple. You and Yunho met eyes in confusion. “I’ll tell you the details after you have signed.”

When Yunho didn’t move, Dr. Kim scoffed. “Your old friend Kang swears you’re the best strategists, both of you, so I took his word for it. Want me to call him?”

“No, I think we’re good,” Yunho said. “I just need to look at the clauses before I sign. Can I have a moment?”

“Sure,” Dr. Kim relaxed back in his seat and Yunho tapped at your arm in question. You nodded- if Yeosang had really been the one who pulled the strings, you weren’t going to complain. In fact, even if he wasn’t, this was your chance to see just what was cooking here. Yunho seemed to understand that and you both read through the terms and signed.

“Very well,” Dr. Kim got up, taking the documents. “You’re being led to Level 0 of Medical Research- the lab only the selected few know about.” 

Your heart sank in nervousness- this was it. Dr. Kim led you to the stairs and continued. “We’ve recently made a breakthrough and we think it’s about time that we get some input from the strategists. The war could end within days now, do you understand?”

Yunho looked as surprised as you had expected. Dr. Kim unlocked the door and immediately, you were hit with the stench of strong chemicals and cleaning alcohol. Dr. Kim asked you two to wait while he went inside a lab and you turned to Yunho.

“Listen to me- no matter what you see today, you do not react, understand?” You said, realising fully well that you were risking your identity. “Even if you see a familiar face or something inhumane, you play along and make the decisions they would like to hear. You cannot play the hero right now, okay?”

Yunho looked genuinely confused now but he understood that there was a high chance something immoral was going on here. “I’ll try.”

“You will, for your brother,” you whispered. “And I will too. For you.”

He squeezed your hand in assurance and before he could say anything else, Dr. Kim was back. “Follow me.”

—--------------------------

You two had just gotten back to your room from Level 0 of Medical Research, and you were staring at the walls as you tried to make sense of the horrors you had seen.

You were pretty sure it was as much of a blur to Yunho as it was for you- if you tried replaying it in your head, you recalled going inside and Dr. Kim explaining the background of how they got here, but then he led you inside and showed you-

A human experiment.

A man not much older than you, tied to the bed with steel chains as if he could break them apart. What was more surprising was that Dr. Kim confirmed he very well could. He was in a confined space and you watched through the glass.

“This seems to be our first successful prototype. Since a decade, we have been playing with the idea of a specialised human army- better strength, better skills. Quicker reflexes and better impulses. Utopia was our ally back then, and we usually discussed it as a fantasy until one of our doctors made a breakthrough in his research and created a drug he thought could do something similar.”

“So Utopia is doing the same as us?” You had asked casually, putting a hand on Yunho’s back and caressing once to assure him you were playing along.

“The whole reason Utopia and Halaland fell apart was disagreement on this- they have better morals, I’ll give them that,” Dr. Kim chuckled loudly and Yunho seemed visibly uncomfortable but passed a weak smile. “They changed sides. We continued to test our drugs, but we fell back- most of our skilled doctors had been Utopian. We lost many, hence the slow progress.”

“But now- you seem to have succeeded?” Yunho said.

“We’ve almost finished the testing period with this one,” he motioned at the man who seemed to be sleeping right now, looking very normal. “If the trial is successful, we’ll use the drug for others.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Yunho cleared his throat. “Where or who exactly are the others?”

Everything after that was a blur- Dr. Kim had revealed that there were only a few volunteers for this programme right now but they had a few Utopian employees and soldiers they had detained over the past few years. He had asked for strategic advice and you had set the trap for him- if, in case you lost the mission to expose them and they went ahead with their human army, you wanted them at the western front first- you knew Utopia would have something up their sleeve too- but Utopia would never stoop so low. 

Yunho had done his best to play along. You two spent a few hours in that department, even met Dr. Kang who Dr. Kim claimed was one of the researchers for this programme and when you finally got to leave, Yunho followed you to your room.

You turned to him, still not believing what you had seen. “Is this real?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Yunho took a deep breath, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m surprised I didn’t throw up at Dr. Kim’s feet.”

“Glad you didn’t,” you muttered. “What are we going to do, Yunho?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore, Aurora. I now know why my brother is fighting at the enemy lines- so I have no choice but to participate in this… massacre. Massacre of lives is what this is, Aurora. It disgusts me how they’re handling humans there- aren’t they humans themselves?”

“They’re not,” you almost whispered. 

“I don’t know how many unfortunate souls have been wasted because the trial failed. That drug is basically a human-control drug. It could cause so much destruction in the war. What’s the point of winning now, though?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I understand now, why the doctor we went to retrieve didn’t want to go back- death is a better option than becoming a human lab rat.”

“Can’t we expose them?” You wondered out loud. “I don’t know- even to the enemy?” You looked at Yunho but the guarded look in his eyes- he had to think of his brother too. “I could do that, Yunho. I have nothing to lose- you can play along while I expose them and end this inhumanity-”

“You won’t do it alone,” Yunho shook his head furiously. “I won’t let you do it alone.”

“You have your brother, Yunho-”

“And you,” he turned to you and you almost cried, overwhelmed. “I can’t risk losing you too.”

“And I can’t risk losing you, either, please,” you joined your hands and rested your forehead against them. “Please let me do it alone.”

“What are you not telling me, Aurora?”

You looked at him, finding a knowing look in his eyes. You shook your head and he sighed. “You still can’t tell me?”

“Not yet,” you finally muttered and he nodded, planting a kiss on your forehead and you let the tears fall, realising this might be the last moment Yunho would look at you with such love. 

“Why do you cry, love?”

You only hid your face in his lap and he held you as you cried silent tears, caressing your head through it all. When you stopped, he made you look at him as he wiped your face.

“I don’t know why you don’t believe me, I don’t know what you’ve done or at this point, who you are, but I know you’re not as bad as you make yourself to be,” he had the gentlest smile on his face as he ran a thumb over your lips, locking eyes with you. “And I could never hate you, because you’ve saved me so many times now. You don’t even know how.”

“I’m sorry,” you almost whispered and he shook his head, leaning in to kiss you deeply and you responded eagerly. When he broke back, he joined his forehead with yours. 

“No matter where we go from here, I love you, Aurora. That’s the reason why I won’t let you do this alone, and I would hate it if you put yourself in a situation where you get hurt and I lose you forever, do you understand?”

You smiled at that, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him good and tight. “And I love you, Yunho. That is why I’ll still insist that I have to do it alone- because I can’t bear to lose more people.”

“This argument will never end at this rate,” Yunho laughed as he rocked you back and forth. You drew back, pushing his hair away.”

“I know one way it will,” you suggested and he immediately understood, attacking you with an urgent kiss, making you arch into it and soon, he was on top of you on the couch, taking off layer after layer of your clothes, of the mask you wore around him, until you were bare. Until you wished he would call your real name when he kissed every inch of your body and murmured sweet nothings. Until you broke in every way possible, wondering how you could ever recover from this.

You had to do this alone.

—---------------------------

“You’re always alone. And you always will be.”

When the Captain had said those words, you had wanted to tell him he was wrong. Yes, that was the loneliest period of your life, but even then you had a few people who were with you. You had simply nodded and let him believe his words were wrapping around your heart.

However, now that Yunho held Kang Yeosang at gunpoint and looked at you with absolute hatred in his eyes, you couldn’t help but think back to that moment. You could practically feel the Captain’s hands on your shoulders as he whispered it in your ears-

“You’re always alone. And you always will be.”

Before you knew it, you were pointing a gun at Yunho’s head too and Yeosang stopped struggling in his grasp as he looked at you in surprise.

“We don’t have to do this, Yunho,” you said and even though your tone was harsh, your voice still quivered a bit.

“We really don’t, Aurora,” he said, tightening his hold on Yeosang. “I don’t know who you are anymore or why you’re doing this, but I can’t let you take these people.”

Everything had gone horribly wrong tonight. Seonghwa had provided you with the big plan- a distraction that would give you and him enough time to vacate Level 0 with the people trapped in there. Yeosang and Dr. Seo Yuna- a Halaland native who strongly opposed the idea of human experiments- were on duty tonight so all they had to do was sneak you in and show you the emergency exit. It led to a restricted parking area where Seonghwa would be waiting with an ambulance-

An ambulance because the Medical Department would be set on fire tonight. Dr. Kang and Dr. Seo were trained just like the other doctors in Level 0 on the evacuation process in case of an emergency. What the higher-ups wouldn’t expect would be everyone in Level 0 disappearing without a trace. Level 0 and all its data would turn to ashes tonight.

The plan was seamless, however, Yunho’s presence was something you didn’t expect and it caught you off guard when he arrived at the basement. He spotted you transferring his old friend, Song Mingi, on a stretcher and ran towards him, making you freeze momentarily as he examined his state.

“What happened?” Yunho asked you.

“Do you… recognise him?” You were going to play dumb for as long as you could. 

“That’s Mingi- my old friend,” he sounded broken as he brushed the hair off Mingi’s face, finding him all ragged and pale. “What are you doing here, Aurora?”

You glanced around- Dr. Kang and Dr. Seo were not present. You turned to Yunho. “You can’t be here- I was assigned to help evacuate the members of Level 0 because of the fire. Nobody assigned you, as far as I know.”

“And who assigned you?” His gaze was hard and you bit your lips, about to make up an answer when you heard footsteps behind you and saw Yeosang appear from the tunnel, look at you both and take out his gun to point at Yunho, who scoffed in disbelief.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave- you cannot be here,” Yeosang drew closer and for the first time, you couldn’t make a quick decision, only glanced back and forth like a confused child. 

“Why is my presence such a big problem here?” Yunho straightened, gazing at both of his friends long and hard. “I’m authorised with access here, just like Aurora, am I not?”

Yeosang glanced at you and your reflexes kicked in- you knew that look. He was going to shoot Yunho. When his hand shifted on the trigger, you immediately grabbed a tray and threw it at Yeosang, making Yunho duck as he shot. Yeosang gaped at you and you ran towards him but he pointed his gun at you, making you raise your hands.

“Please, Yeosang, not him,” you begged. “He can help- just listen to me-”

“The Captain only allowed you to save his brother,” he whispered. “He said nothing about Yunho.”

You were about to protest when Yunho pushed you to the side- you didn’t even hear him coming this time. He was on Yeosang in a second, startling him and wrestling him until he was in his grasp and Yunho had him at gunpoint.

And so here you stood, pointing your gun at him. You caught your breath and shut your eyes when the tears started to sting. When you opened them, you spoke. “You have two choices, Yunho. You can either let me go and meet your brother at the same cabin the doctor died that day, or you can kill me right now and lose everything you love.”

“I’ve already lost everything I love,” his voice was strangled and you shook your head in denial. 

“You can save your brother,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“Where are you taking them?” He asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” you shook your head, knowing what it would cost you if you told Yunho everything right now- not only your life but Yunho’s as well.

“Is this who you are, Aurora?” Yunho scoffed. “A true Halaland loyal?”

You didn’t respond though his words felt like a stab. “You have 10 seconds to make a decision.”

The sound of those seconds being ticked off echoed within all of you and at the 9th second when you were about to pull the trigger, Yunho let go of Yeosang and you exhaled in relief, but it died down when his eyes met yours, full of betrayal. Hatred. Confusion. And so, so much anger.

“It’s funny, now that I think about it,” Yunho pushed his hair back. “All those times we interacted. Your sole purpose was to use me to get here, wasn’t it?”

This time, the tears did leave your eyes. Yeosang shook his head and asked Yunho to exit the premises and go through the emergency exit unnoticed if he wanted to save his brother. Yunho passed you a sad smile before he left and you sank down to your knees, fisting the ends of your shirt and screaming your heart out. Yeosang patted your back once before muttering that you had already lost precious time. 

You helped transport the members in a daze. When you set fire to the lab, you didn’t feel one ounce of regret. You told yourself you would set a similar fire some day and burn your feelings for Yunho as well. 

But tonight? Tonight you would let them consume you and drive you mad. Only tonight.

So when you spotted the Captain in an abandoned building that you were going to use until you could go back to Utopia, the cracks of dawn illuminating the ruins, you didn’t bow like you would have. You ran to him instead and hit his chest with your fists repeatedly, crying and screaming, not caring who witnessed the moment. The Captain made no move to stop you, raising a hand to stop Seonghwa instead who was pulling out his gun. He let you have your moment until you were tired and rested your head against his shoulder, crying your heart out.

“Who broke you, Aurora? Who melted that ice-cold heart of yours?”

“I hate you for doing this to me,” you cried and he tsk-ed. “I won’t forgive you.”

“I told you, Aurora,” he held you by your shoulders and you looked at him- hair styled an odd way- half bleached and half natural. It made him look fiercer than ever. “I told you that you will always be alone in this field. It is your weakness that led you here. You can blame me all you want, but it’s on you.”

“Just tell me it’s over,” you said, feeling drained. “Tell me my job is done.”

“It is,” he nodded. “When we go back to Utopia… you’re a free bird if you choose to be.”

You looked beside you at Seonghwa and Yeosang, shaking your head. “I’m going to head inside first then.”

—----------------------

Yunho didn’t know what he was expecting when he broke into the cabin, but his brother laughing with someone else looking unscathed and free just wasn’t it. 

He frowned in confusion. “Gunho?” 

Gunho gasped audibly before rushing to hug his brother and Yunho almost cried in relief. Gunho looked at him. “You’re finally here!”

“Were you waiting for me?” Yunho scanned him, making sure he was okay.

“Of course I was,” he patted his arm, drawing back. “Wooyoung here was kind enough to get me- he won’t tell me who he is but apparently he holds the authority to discharge me from the army. I’m free now.”

“No way,” Yunho breathed, looking gratefully at Wooyoung who shook his head.

“I was simply doing my job.”

“Who assigned you?” Yunho dared to ask.

“I think you know that already,” Wooyoung winked, getting up and straightening his army uniform. “I’ll be taking my leave now. My last message for you is ‘don’t go back’. Oh, and I have something else-”

Wooyoung dug in his pocket and produced four bullets, placing them in Yunho’s extended palm. Yunho recognised the bullets- the one he’d given Aurora, but-

“There should be one more?”

“She kept one,” Wooyoung smiled knowingly.

Yunho sighed deeply. “Tell me where to find her- or someone who can give me answers.

Wooyoung considered for a moment- he had seen the way Aurora had nearly broken when she begged him to save someone she knew nothing about except the name. And the fact that this person was here and still looked sceptical…

Wooyoung took out a piece of paper and pencil and scribbled an address. “Seven days from now, you can find us here. I don’t know if Aurora will still be there by that time.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho asked.

“We’re going back home, Yunho,” Wooyoung smiled. “The war is ending soon. There will be no victory, simply a treaty.”

“Home?” Yunho couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Wooyoung simply saluted mockingly before exiting the cabin.

—---------------------

The past week, Yunho had replayed every moment since Aurora came into his life. Every single time he had seen her, had interacted with her or heard about her from someone else.

He realised he had been blind. The answer was so painfully obvious- Aurora wasn’t from Halaland at all. He was pretty sure her name wasn’t Aurora as well. 

She was a spy, he knew. And now that he thought about it, she hadn’t really done much to hide it- at least not in front of him. From always staring towards the west, not at the setting sun but towards her homeland, to almost cracking Utopia’s code so easily- he wondered if she was the mastermind behind the code. The way she questioned every move Halaland made, the way she put a distance between them-

Every night, he held the four bullets in his hands and wondered why she kept the fifth one. It made him so, so restless.

And every night, Yunho always ended his train of thoughts with the same question every night-

Did she actually love him, or was all of it to get to Medical Research?

Was he simply a rung on the ladder to get to her goal? Or was he not meant to be part of the equation at all, a mistake on her part?

Yunho didn’t realise how long he simply stood in front of the cottage until someone creeped up behind him, patting his back and scaring him a little. It was Seonghwa- yet another surprise.

Just how many people in the Halazia Research Facility were spies? Were they only Utopians or were they from other nations as well?

“I almost killed you because I didn’t recognise you,” Seonghwa lit a cigarette, offering him one but Yunho declined. “So you’re finally here.”

“What do you mean ‘finally here’?” Yunho asked. “Were you expecting me?”

“We placed bets- don’t tell Aurora,” Seonghwa snickered. “Yeosang owes me 10 now.”

She was still here.

“Where is she?” Yunho gulped.

“Not so quick, mate,” Seonghwa scanned him. “You’ve been travelling quite a bit, haven’t you?”

“Have you been spying on me?” Yunho scoffed.

“Weren’t you looking for a place to keep your brother safe?” Seonghwa simply said. “Have you found one?”

“Not yet,” Yunho admitted. 

“You could come with us, you know.”

Yunho considered that. “I don’t know who ‘us’ is. I can’t blindly follow you to god knows where.”

“Well then, I guess you should meet the Captain. He specifically asked me to bring you to him if you came. He’s quite interested in seeing the face of the person who broke his dear Aurora’s heart.”

Yunho raised a brow though his heart sank at his admission. “Where is she, Seonghwa?”

“Out on a mission- she’ll be back by dawn,” Seonghwa urged him to follow him inside and took him to a room where Yunho spotted a man with unique hair standing by the fire. Seonghwa knocked on the door and he turned.

“This is Jeong Yunho.”

“This is him?” the man scoffed as he came forward, a cane in his hand that Yunho wasn’t entirely sure was for mobility purposes. Probably a weapon. “I expected something else- I don’t know. I can’t believe this is the face that melted her frozen heart.”

“And who are you?” Yunho countered, watching Seonghwa take his leave. The man motioned for him to take a seat and Yunho did after a moment of hesitation. The man followed, sitting in front of him.

“They call me the Captain around here. Captain of the Crescents- a group of spies who were born for the sole purpose of taking revenge on Halaland after they betrayed us. Betrayed Utopia.”

Yunho let that sink in. “What revenge?”

“I think you know that already,” the Captain sighed. “Honestly, when I learned that Aurora had told you more than you should have known, considering you don’t have an ounce of Utopian blood in you, I was ready to kill both her and you. But, that brat…” he scoffed in amusement. “She got on her knees for you, Jeong. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Yunho looked blank so he continued. “Aurora is one of the best spies I’ve known in my life. I had to break her to make her bend. But you… what did you do? What sweet things did you mutter to turn my strongest spy into such a hopeless mess? All these years of training her into becoming a cold-hearted thinker and assassin, and she melts because apparently you looked, really looked at her with those eyes of yours.”

Yunho looked down, each word hammering a nail in his head. “If she had told me… I would have joined her. I was never in favour of Halaland’s unethical methods, and after I discovered what was really going on…”

“If she told you, you would have exposed her. She understood that, because she would have done the same. You’re only human, after all,” the Captain twirled the cane in his hands. “Why are you here today?”

“To get answers,” Yunho replied. 

“You’ve got your answers now, haven’t you? Scoot off, then,” he relaxed back, glaring at Yunho.

“Who are you, really?” Yunho asked. “How come you knew about the Medical Research Department?”

The Captain’s smirk fell and he looked wistfully into the fire. “Because I’m one of the masterminds behind Level 0, and to this day, I regret being a part of it.”

Yunho was positive his heart actually dropped to his feet. “You’re a Utopian?”

“The only Utopian who escaped at the right time before they turned against us and stole our ideas,” the Captain looked at Yunho. “Kim Hongjoong, in flesh and blood.”

“Kim Hongjoong is dead,” Yunho couldn’t believe his ears. “We held a funeral for you.”

“A good cover up by Halaland, I’ll give them that,” he shrugged. “They needed to do that to take over and turn on Utopia- they’ve been on my tail ever since. I wasn’t sure if they had the brains to continue with the experimentation- testing on humans was never my idea either. It’s why I sent Aurora to finish this once and for all. We’ve met with your higher-ups and we’ve agreed to not expose their dirty deeds if they end this nonsensical war. The official end of the war will be announced soon.”

Yunho definitely felt something like a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders at the revelation. “And where are the members of Level 0?”

“The ones who were actually doing the dirty deeds will be secretly tried in court. The ones who were spies, like Yeosang… they’re going home. I understand you had a few friends there? Mingi, for instance? He was my closest junior- he’s in the next room if you wish to see him.”

Yunho nodded, letting all of this digest before he got up. “Thank you for what you did- I’m not sure I quite understand the gravity of it yet- it’s too much to process right now, but… thank you.”

“No need to thank me, I did what I had to,” Hongjoong looked at him, an unspoken agreement shared.

He needed to thank Aurora.

He needed to see Aurora.

Yunho spent the most part of the night with Mingi, catching up and confirming the facts, learning that the ‘lab rats’ were now being treated by the doctors and realising how brutally his people had treated even their own. His heart felt tight in his chest by the time he was done chatting with him and he went outside for some fresh air.

And a few minutes later, spotted two figures walking towards the cottage.

He could recognise you even from your silhouette, and he thought it was crazy that he did. He recognised the exact moment you saw him and paused for a mere fraction of a second before continuing to move like nothing had happened. He knew your mannerisms, he knew you inside out, and yet-

He knew nothing about you.

He didn’t even know your name.

This time when you met eyes, he waved awkwardly at you and you felt your heart sink again. You wanted to scream at him, shout at him, but you were far too tired. Your companion took leave, disappearing inside and you walked slowly but surely to Yunho.

“You’re here.”

Yunho passed a tight-lipped smile, wondering where to begin. He scanned you as you took off your mask and hat, looking-

Fatigued. 

“Are you- have you been well?” Yunho asked, hating how he sounded.

You shrugged. “Did you meet your brother?”

“Yes. He’s safe now…” Yunho took a step forward but you backed away and he paused, muttering a ‘sorry’.

“Well, I guess that’s it, then?” You began, looking up and scanning him- you had no idea where he had been the past week but he looked the most weary. “You heard everything, I’m assuming?”

Yunho nodded. “I should have seen it earlier. You didn’t really hide it from me, did you?”

A faintest hint of a smile crawled to your lips. “You don’t always see what’s in front of your eyes, Yunho.”

Yunho’s heart tugged at the way you called his name. “What are we going to do, Aurora?”

You passed a weak smile. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m going back. I cannot spend one day longer in this wicked, wicked land.”

Yunho felt the jab good and well. “I’m sorry for what it took from you.”

“Are you?” You sighed when hurt flashed across his eyes. “I’m not even mad at you, Yunho. I’m just… disappointed in myself. I’m disappointed that my love didn’t seem real enough- that you doubted my intentions so quickly.”

“And wouldn’t you have done the same?” Yunho challenged. “If I turned my back on you? Wouldn’t you have questioned every moment that we shared?”

“Maybe not-”

“You could have told me, Aurora,” Yunho almost yelled in frustration but clenched his eyes shut to reel himself in. “All you had to do was trust me. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me who you were. I keep calling you Aurora but that’s not even your name.”

You felt the very familiar sting in your eyes. “I had people to protect.”

“And so did I,” Yunho’s gaze was hard. “And I had you to protect. I would have laid my life down for you, if only you had allowed me to.”

You turned away, wiping your eyes. “I couldn’t allow that.”

“So we’re even then, aren’t we?” Yunho’s voice was also quivering and you dared to glance at him. “Please… look at me.”

You did and this time when he stepped towards you, you didn’t back away. He put his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them just like he used to. “Tell me your name.”

You passed him a sad smile as you told him your name, buried somewhere so deep inside you, uncalled for years. He said it twice, testing it on his lips. It felt right.

“Y/n,” he smiled widely and you laughed through the tears. “I want to know who that is. I want to learn about you again, if you’ll let me. If you forgive me for doubting you and for being an asshole-”

“No,” you shook your head furiously. “You gave me so much, Yunho, and I returned nothing in comparison. I would have lost myself there if it weren’t for your presence always grounding me, even when we were as good as strangers. I- you gave me love when I thought I’d never find it again, when it had become a foreign concept to me.”

“Do you love me still, y/n?” He asked, his eyes expectant.

“I do, you fool,” you laughed, finally earning the grin you so loved to see. “I hope you don’t hate me.”

“How could I?” Yunho’s hand shook slightly as he cupped your face and you leaned into his touch. His gaze was so strong as he caressed the angles of your face- you were positive your knees were actually turning weak and perhaps they were, that’s why his other hand travelled to your waist to bring you closer. “How could I hate you when you look at me like this? Like you could break me? Like you’d break in my touch too?”

He planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering there and you breathed in the scent of him- the scent that was your home now. Yunho didn’t waste any more time, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss that absolutely shattered you the way it was so cautious yet so, so demanding. You brought your arms to wrap around his neck, standing on your tiptoes with your body flush against him as you kissed back, deeper, making him loosen up with every movement until you were simply making out, exchanging all the feelings too deeply buried, all the words unspoken, all the apologies and the promises.

“I missed you so, so much, y/n,” Yunho breathed against your lips when you broke apart for breath, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth that made you dig your nails into his skin. He pecked your lips again. “You have no idea.”

“I do,” you kissed him. “I know all too well.”

Yunho drew apart, tucking your hair behind your ears as he gazed at you lovingly. “Take me with you this time, will you?”

“You want to come with me to Utopia?” You raised a brow.

“I mean… all my friends will be there,” he glanced back at the cottage and you understood who he meant. “Besides… I’m quite sick of Halaland too. Pretty sure they have a wanted poster back in the facility for me.”

You laughed at that. “Basically you want to come with me because you’re dead meat here.”

“I’m dead meat anywhere if I’m not with you-”

“Stop!” You put your hands over your ears, laughing as you ran away because his goofy side was back and he went after you, making you squeal.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stood watching from the window upstairs. Hongjoong tsk-ed. “An absolutely disgusting sight, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Seonghwa clinked his drink with Hongjoong’s and they both cursed under their breaths as they drank-

To love. To victory.

To going back home.

[whatbigotspost]

A lil good 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ news outta the Midwest this week

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Palantir’s NHS-stealing Big Lie

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then SAN FRANCISCO (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

Capitalism's Big Lie in four words: "There is no alternative." Looters use this lie for cover, insisting that they're hard-nosed grownups living in the reality of human nature, incentives, and facts (which don't care about your feelings).

The point of "there is no alternative" is to extinguish the innovative imagination. "There is no alternative" is really "stop trying to think of alternatives, dammit." But there are always alternatives, and the only reason to demand that they be excluded from consideration is that these alternatives are manifestly superior to the looter's supposed inevitability.

Right now, there's an attempt underway to loot the NHS, the UK's single most beloved institution. The NHS has been under sustained assault for decades – budget cuts, overt and stealth privatisation, etc. But one of its crown jewels has been stubbournly resistant to being auctioned off: patient data. Not that HMG hasn't repeatedly tried to flog patient data – it's just that the public won't stand for it:

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2023/nov/21/nhs-data-platform-may-be-undermined-by-lack-of-public-trust-warn-campaigners

Patients – quite reasonably – do not trust the private sector to handle their sensitive medical records.

Now, this presents a real conundrum, because NHS patient data, taken as a whole, holds untold medical insights. The UK is a large and diverse country and those records in aggregate can help researchers understand the efficacy of various medicines and other interventions. Leaving that data inert and unanalysed will cost lives: in the UK, and all over the world.

For years, the stock answer to "how do we do science on NHS records without violating patient privacy?" has been "just anonymise the data." The claim is that if you replace patient names with random numbers, you can release the data to research partners without compromising patient privacy, because no one will be able to turn those numbers back into names.

It would be great if this were true, but it isn't. In theory and in practice, it is surprisingly easy to "re-identify" individuals in anonymous data-sets. To take an obvious example: we know which two dates former PM Tony Blair was given a specific treatment for a cardiac emergency, because this happened while he was in office. We also know Blair's date of birth. Check any trove of NHS data that records a person who matches those three facts and you've found Tony Blair – and all the private data contained alongside those public facts is now in the public domain, forever.

Not everyone has Tony Blair's reidentification hooks, but everyone has data in some kind of database, and those databases are continually being breached, leaked or intentionally released. A breach from a taxi service like Addison-Lee or Uber, or from Transport for London, will reveal the journeys that immediately preceded each prescription at each clinic or hospital in an "anonymous" NHS dataset, which can then be cross-referenced to databases of home addresses and workplaces. In an eyeblink, millions of Britons' records of receiving treatment for STIs or cancer can be connected with named individuals – again, forever.

Re-identification attacks are now considered inevitable; security researchers have made a sport out of seeing how little additional information they need to re-identify individuals in anonymised data-sets. A surprising number of people in any large data-set can be re-identified based on a single characteristic in the data-set.

Given all this, anonymous NHS data releases should have been ruled out years ago. Instead, NHS records are to be handed over to the US military surveillance company Palantir, a notorious human-rights abuser and supplier to the world's most disgusting authoritarian regimes. Palantir – founded by the far-right Trump bagman Peter Thiel – takes its name from the evil wizard Sauron's all-seeing orb in Lord of the Rings ("Sauron, are we the baddies?"):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/01/the-palantir-will-see-you-now/#public-private-partnership

The argument for turning over Britons' most sensitive personal data to an offshore war-crimes company is "there is no alternative." The UK needs the medical insights in those NHS records, and this is the only way to get at them.

As with every instance of "there is no alternative," this turns out to be a lie. What's more, the alternative is vastly superior to this chumocratic sell-out, was Made in Britain, and is the envy of medical researchers the world 'round. That alternative is "trusted research environments." In a new article for the Good Law Project, I describe these nigh-miraculous tools for privacy-preserving, best-of-breed medical research:

https://goodlawproject.org/cory-doctorow-health-data-it-isnt-just-palantir-or-bust/

At the outset of the covid pandemic Oxford's Ben Goldacre and his colleagues set out to perform realtime analysis of the data flooding into NHS trusts up and down the country, in order to learn more about this new disease. To do so, they created Opensafely, an open-source database that was tied into each NHS trust's own patient record systems:

https://timharford.com/2022/07/how-to-save-more-lives-and-avoid-a-privacy-apocalypse/

Opensafely has its own database query language, built on SQL, but tailored to medical research. Researchers write programs in this language to extract aggregate data from each NHS trust's servers, posing medical questions of the data without ever directly touching it. These programs are published in advance on a git server, and are preflighted on synthetic NHS data on a test server. Once the program is approved, it is sent to the main Opensafely server, which then farms out parts of the query to each NHS trust, packages up the results, and publishes them to a public repository.

This is better than "the best of both worlds." This public scientific process, with peer review and disclosure built in, allows for frequent, complex analysis of NHS data without giving a single third party access to a a single patient record, ever. Opensafely was wildly successful: in just months, Opensafely collaborators published sixty blockbuster papers in Nature – science that shaped the world's response to the pandemic.

Opensafely was so successful that the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care commissioned a review of the programme with an eye to expanding it to serve as the nation's default way of conducting research on medical data:

https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/better-broader-safer-using-health-data-for-research-and-analysis/better-broader-safer-using-health-data-for-research-and-analysis

This approach is cheaper, safer, and more effective than handing hundreds of millions of pounds to Palantir and hoping they will manage the impossible: anonymising data well enough that it is never re-identified. Trusted Research Environments have been endorsed by national associations of doctors and researchers as the superior alternative to giving the NHS's data to Peter Thiel or any other sharp operator seeking a public contract.

As a lifelong privacy campaigner, I find this approach nothing short of inspiring. I would love for there to be a way for publishers and researchers to glean privacy-preserving insights from public library checkouts (such a system would prove an important counter to Amazon's proprietary god's-eye view of reading habits); or BBC podcasts or streaming video viewership.

You see, there is an alternative. We don't have to choose between science and privacy, or the public interest and private gain. There's always an alternative – if there wasn't, the other side wouldn't have to continuously repeat the lie that no alternative is possible.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/08/the-fire-of-orodruin/#are-we-the-baddies

Image: Gage Skidmore (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peter_Thiel_(51876933345).jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

[byersbootyshorts]

The accidental dumbification of Spencer Reid

“Ok, where are we going this time?” you ask as the team takes their seats around the round table.

“Rutland, Vermont,” Garcia says, grabbing the remote to switch on the screen which displays various bloody crime scene photos.

“Severed limbs have been discovered scattered all over Green Mountain National Forest,” Hotch reveals.

“Any identification?” Morgan asks while you flick through the case file, absentmindedly placing a hand on Spencer’s leg. He shifts slightly, clearing his throat.

‘None yet,” Hotch continues. “They’re pretty hard to ID when all we have is limb. However, preliminary reports suggest that the various body parts found belong to at least six different people.”

“And there’s probably more we even haven’t found yet,” Emily chimes in.

You move your hand further up Spencer’s thigh and tighten your grip at the thought of how many people could be cut up into tiny pieces and spread all over that huge forest. You’re so distracted by it you don’t even notice what you’re doing to Spencer; a bulge growing in his pants from your touch despite him willing it not to.

He swallows harshly to suppress the feeling but you mistake it for fear and instinctively rub your hand on his inner thigh. This movement only drives him more insane.

“So we have to search the entire woods? It’s a pretty big forest, right Reid?” Rossi asks, but Spencer doesn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. The team stares at him expectantly.

“Hello, earth to Dr Reid.” Morgan waves his hand in front of Spencer’s face.

“Uh, sorry, what?” Spencer snaps out of his daze.

“How big is Green Mountain Forest,” Rossi repeats.

Spencer looks down, trying to clear his head of the problem he was having down there. But he couldn’t gather his thoughts. All he could think of was the hand on his thigh.

“I- uh, I’m- I’m not sure.” he finally stutters.

The rest of the team, including you, stare at him wide eyed.

“Well, would you look at that. We finally stumped the little boy genius,” Morgan laughs. Spencer’s face turns a bright crimson.

The rest of the team giggle but you’re just confused, certain Spencer once recited to you the square mileage of every national forest in the country.

“Oh, give the kid a break,” Rossi says sympathetically. “Like we could do any better.”

The rest of the team go back to discussing the case but you give Spencer’s thigh another quick squeeze to get his attention. He turns to you and you raise an eyebrow to express your question. He understands what you’re asking and shifts his eyes down. You follow them down to where you hand sits on his thigh. A little further up his leg than you imagined. Then you see the swell in his pants and you understand.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, quickly removing your hand from him. “Sorry.”

He just smiled back at you before looking back at his files.

After a while of planning what you’ll do when you arrive in Vermont and the lack of your hand distracting him, Spencer finally collects his thoughts.

“625 square miles,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Huh?” Garcia responds.

“Green Mountain forest. It covers 625 square miles of land.” Spencer states.

“Welcome back, genius,” Emily smiles. “We missed you.”

You look back down at Spencer’s crotch to see that he’s controlled the situation he had going on earlier. You smirk, realising the power you have to dramatically drop Spencer’s IQ with a single touch.

[thechanelmuse]

Kendrick, Drake, and Ethnic/Cultural Identity

One of the most discussed topics during this exchange between the two is if Drake is a culture vulture. In short, yes. He's always been. It boils down to inherited cultural identity and respected history, not the upholding of a social construct of “race.” 

Race is a goofy non-biological caste system that operates in various countries and it’s a dumbass global push to get people to embrace a superior to inferior hierarchy in classifying the globe into 5 broad groups solely based on perceived skull sizes, hues of skin color, and perceived traits and phenotypic features via the teachings of François Bernier, Johann Blumenbach, Carl Linnaeus, and them other hoes. Get race tf outta here.

I’m gonna make this concise as possible, but fleshed out a bit for full understanding.

Kendrick Lamar is Black American on both sides with his roots most likely coming out of Mississippi and/or Alabama to Chicago to Cali by way of the Great Migration. (He may even descend from Duckworths from Louisiana). I haven’t done his genealogy, but now I may out of curiosity.

Black American is a double ethnicity. We’re citizens of America (nationality = US Citizen), and our ethnic group (Black) was created & descends from this land (ethnicity = American) through ethnogensis. It has nothing to do with one’s brown skin color or how the cops see us 🙃, but everything to do with the lineage of one’s parents and their parents, etc. (For info on lineage tracing, refer to my post here.) 

Black Americans are an ethnic group (the largest from this land and largest in this country after Germans), while “white Americans” are a self-identification race to remove ethnic identity and conflate numbers. I can break this down further in another post if y’all want since American history is complex and will explain why Black Americans have been reclassified seven times by the US government 🙃. 

Now.

Culture is largely passed down through your mother, and her mother, and her mother, and so forth for Black Americans (and I’m sure other ethnic groups). No matter if it’s a two-parent or single-parent household, she’s your ultimate teacher in setting the foundation of your cultural upbringing. It’s the same if one is raised by their grandparents. It largely stems from the grandmother. If one’s father is their main parent, that’s a different case of course. 

Drake falls in line with this as someone from a single-parent household. He is half Ashkenazi of Latvian and Russian descent (ethnicity) through his mother and of half Black American descent (ethnicity) through his father. He is a dual citizen of Canada and America (nationality), who was raised in Canada with his Ashkenazi Jewish mother and Ashkenazi relatives with an Ashkenazi upbringing. He went to a Jewish day school and was engulfed in all aspects at home. 

Kendrick is ethnically and culturally Black American. Drake is ethnically and culturally Ashkenazi. He is also ethnically Black American (through lineage), but not culturally Black American. Does that make Drake a culture vulture? No. He just didn’t have the cultural upbringing but could always immerse himself in learning, appreciating, and respecting the other half of his history and culture.

What makes him one is how he operates as an outsider. He participates in an aspect of Black American culture (Hip-Hop) for his monetary gain, adopts a manufactured image for his perception of believability, and disrespects the people of this culture. “…run to America to imitate culture.” It’s like a jacket to him. He takes it off to try on another (like a Jamaican accent) and swaps for another, etc. 

A few examples that’s been touched on: He blackened his face to depict blackface while wearing a Jim Crow t-shirt… That’s specific disrespect towards Black Americans, mocking our history and our ancestors. “Whipped and chained you like American slaves.” That’s specific disrespect towards Black Americans, mocking our history and our ancestors. “[You] always rappin' like you 'bout to get the slaves freed.” Do I even need to explain this? Hopefully it’s understood.

The muthafucka is not like us.

[shibaraki]

THE KIDS ARE GONNA BE ALRIGHT ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: teachers are like bridges, there to facilitate students on their ungainly journey through life. add a war, a new subject, a gaggle of traumatised children and a handsome coworker with an apparent sleeping disorder—see where the bridge leads.

tags: GN reader (referred to as 'Sensei'), coworkers to lovers, reader is a teacher at UA (quirk science), single parent aizawa (adopted eri), some workplace shenanigans, meddling kids (class 2A + B), mutual pining, fluff + angst, learning difficulties, references to PTSD, getting together, first kisses + making out, suggestive content + heavy themes, post war arc (heavily implied spoilers ahead), HAPPY + HOPEFUL END

wc: 19K

From: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: Welcome to UA! Message:  Good morning!  It is my pleasure to welcome you to UA — we are very excited to have you aboard! The files attached to this email are as follows:  

A map of the campus

The UA handbook and Emergency guideline

The Teachers Code of Conduct 

Please refer back to these regularly to familiarise yourself with everything. As we discussed in our prior phone call a place has been prepared in the teachers dormitory in preparation for your move. Your key and security badge are at the reception desk. Please bring identification to collect them. Do let me know if you require a reserved spot in the parking area. 

One last thing to note: 

The staff lounge and kitchen is located in the west wing of the first floor heroics building. It is regularly restocked with snacks and beverages. The coffee machine is also available to you at any time. Feel free to help yourself!

If you have any further questions you can email me or call me. I will get back to you as soon as possible. 

Kind regards,

Nedzu Principal of UA High School  〒123-4567 Ōikuyō, Shizuoka, Musutafu.  Go Beyond, Plus Ultra!

Your new world is bordered by a large imposing wall. 

It towers above your head, reinforced concrete and steel reaching for the heavens, housing weapons you could only imagine. Gone is the classic archway that once welcomed students with open arms. The public walkway leading uphill to the school is cordoned off. 

Even alongside global assistance progress was slow. A large chunk of Musutafu had remained levelled— debris and dust, unrecognisable. After the battle ended, rebuilding the country came first. Hospitals and emergency services were given priority; more shelters followed close behind, and once given the go ahead, individuals confined to UA were able to slowly integrate back into their own communities. 

One step at a time. Life stops for nothing, that is clearer than ever. 

You qualified as a quirk specialist, mainly working with college students, teaching science, history and philosophy of quirks. Principal Nedzu was an old acquaintance. You crossed paths at a conference or two, and you saw his name in citations of papers you read from time to time, but it never grew beyond professional respect. Thus, having him reach out to you through your private number had come as a big surprise. 

After the war a number of the current student’s quirks had evolved at an unprecedented rate, largely due to the trauma and strain they endured. He expressed his wish to include quirk study in the new curriculum and reasoned that having someone with your credentials on staff would not only ease the anxiety of the teenagers, but also that of the remaining teachers, who were inexperienced in dealing with stress manifestation. 

The call ended an hour later with a sixty three page contract in your inbox and a new job. You covered a broad range of subjects but your field of study was an elective, therefore smaller than you are used to. Even so it was your territory now. You tried to own it. The desks have been rearranged into a U shape, charts with interactive pieces affixed to the surface, and you decorated the space with Nedzu’s express permission in hopes of making it inviting. 

Over a month into the term and you can’t yet say you regret taking up his offer.

“Phyletic gradualism and punctuated equilibrium are the two extremes in a continuous model of evolution. The first kind is a far more uniform and gradual accumulation of changes that subsequently generate new species…”

Your mouth keeps moving as you scan the classroom for the fifth time, words muffled by the brief loss of focus. The students don’t notice the lapse; most eyes are still on you, some clouded and others intent on listening. It’s a true miracle that nobody has fallen asleep—though Kaminari is always a close call. Beneath it all is the soft, frantic scratch of Midoriya’s pen to paper and his low mutter, holding the attention of a bone weary Bakugo. 

“…Comparatively, punctuated equilibrium proposes that once a species appears, it becomes stable, showing little evolutionary change until an event triggers a rapid speciation process”.

Yaoyorozu’s hand flies up and startles Shinsou to attention. Her enthusiasm brings a slight smile to your lips. You point to her, “Yes, Yaoyorozu?”

“In that case, Sensei, would that mean that quirks are an example of punctuated equilibrium?” she asks. 

“That is the most agreed upon theory amongst the quirk science community,” you reply, directing the answer toward the entire class. There’s a scarce mix of Class A, B, and support students. Monoma straightens under your gaze. He’s flanked by Kouda, who returns a mousy smile, fingers idly petting Yuwai-chan, his pet rabbit. 

“Quirks are our reality—that much is undeniable. But with that comes a myriad of unknowns. How, why, and when did this happen to us?” Striding toward the board you uncap a blue marker with your teeth and write the phrase ‘theories’ down in large, neat penmanship. You cast a passing glance to the clock. Any minute now. 

“There is still no definitive answer. So for your next assignment I’m going to ask that you research and write an essay on a specific theory about the dawn of quirks,” you are helpless to the wicked grin that pulls across your mouth at their collective groan. “It’s due next Friday. That’s ten whole days to complete it! So generous, aren't I?” 

Overhead, a bell blares out an incessant ring to indicate the lessons end, and in a moment of synchronicity each student rouses from their chair. Bakugo shoves his hands into his pockets and makes a beeline for the door and ignores Midoriya’s aborted squawk as he shoves his notes into his backpack. 

“Thank you Sensei,” he stammers, rushing after the boy. “Wait for me, Kacchan!” 

Nobody calls attention to the seemingly tumultuous relationship. The 2A kids in particular watch their interactions with a trepid fondness. They’re always like that—or so Shinsou told you, once, barely audible over Bakugo’s incendiary growls as he hauled his childhood friend into a headlock. You understood it a little when you heard Midoriya’s bubbly laughter for the first time. And you let them be. 

The others file out slowly, lost in conversation or waiting on a friend. Iida stops at your desk and bows before leaving, bidding you an effusive goodbye, a habit he has steadfastly maintained no matter how much you assure him otherwise. In stark contrast the two subdued support students, Toma and Nakao, throw a simple salute with startling synchrony.

Just when you think you have some peace, a shadow crosses your peripheral vision. “Yo, Sensei,” Kaminari chirped. There’s an edge to his voice that draws your attention. Shinsou lingers nearby feigning disinterest as Kaminari fidgets with his blazer button. “About the—uh. About the essay…”

Blinking away your initial confusion you sit up in realisation. “Oh! That’s right,” Kaminari tenses as you lean across the desk, flicking through your copious bits of stationery. You peel off a cloud shaped sticky note and write down a date and time before handing it to the boy. 

“I scheduled a one to one so we can go over everything you’ve done before the deadline,” you explain gently. Kaminari takes the note between his fingers, grip delicate either end as though afraid it might tear. “Don’t worry if you lose that. I’m going to send the details to your student email, and I’ll remind you again on the day. That sound good?”

Had you been any younger your eyes might’ve stung at the clear wonder unfolding on his face; surprised and happy to be accommodated without interrogation. Now there is only a dull ache beneath your skull and resentment in your heart. His reaction spoke to the copious rejection he faced before UA. 

You’ve come to learn that children are only ever as brilliant as you allow them to be. 

“Y—yeah. That’s amazing, thanks Sensei,” Kaminari steadily brightens. His fist hits his chest with a quiet thump, “I won’t let’cha down!” 

“I’m sure you won’t. And please don’t forget to bring your overlays,” you call to them as they amble out into the hallway. Shinsou holds the door, nodding shortly in acknowledgement. The savoury smell of curry has already distracted Kaminari enough to have him forget your discussion. 

You sigh, hearing their laughter grow quiet in the distance. Another muted pang echoes through your skull. Expression contorted, you wince and gather your things, thoughts latched onto the lacquered bento box that awaits in the teachers lounge to distract from the pain. 

The once stream of bustling students becomes a mere trickle, stragglers hanging by the bathrooms, others cross legged in front of their lockers, grouped tightly together without causing obstruction. They appear wilted. An overarching air of despondency; grey against the brightly painted corridor. 

The muscles in your face twinge. You resolve to greet them all, offering a smile as sincere as you can muster despite the heaviness in your heart. For many of these kids, if not all, life would never be the same. So young, grappling with such unprecedented loss. 

You come to a halt. Lofty double doors loom. Your fingers curl into the recessed handle and you slide them open. Though the walls are bare, the windows are large, and into the staff lounge beams intrepid light. 

You’re met with a chorus of sluggish murmurs, few heads lifting to see who has entered. Of the faces present there are two you’re most familiar with—class 2A’s heroics mentor and their homeroom teacher. 

Yagi is hunched at his computer desk. A cardigan too large for his frame is draped across his shoulders and pools around his wrists. Cradled in one hand is a thermos covered in stickers. Steam pours from the open top, wispy tendrils curling into the air. You inhale and recognise the weak scent of bone broth. 

Those sunken eyes flicker as you approach, striking blue roving over your form. Whatever he sees must be cause for concern. “Are you feeling unwell?”

You had felt an immediate fondness for Toshinori Yagi when you first met him. The presence of All Might hung tangibly in the air, a stifling ode to his service that still unnerved those who did not know him, but you were different. Like his colleagues, you looked back and saw a well meaning, sweet but bumbling older man. 

“No, no,” you demurred. “It’s just a headache”. 

Yagi grimaces sympathetically, furrow etched into his brow. Hips slumped low on the staff sofa, garish yellow sleeping bag at his feet, Aizawa hums a low amused sound that draws your attention. You’re surprised he’s awake. “My kids will do that to you,” he murmurs. 

The Erasure hero’s head is tipped to bare his throat, jawline shadowed by stubble. Dark curtains of hair fall across his shoulders. Aizawa is handsome. This you cannot deny. Before you met you’d heard him described as quite the opposite. Yet here you are, magnetised to him; to his callous humour, and the rough, rare instances of laughter; to the sturdy body hidden beneath baggy clothing and the deep, blasé manner in which he speaks. 

You swallow the sight thickly and pinch the bridge of your nose with a self deprecating laugh. It’s just a silly crush. “Nothing like that,” you assure him. The chair creaks slightly beneath your thighs as you recline. “I don’t think I slept well last night”. 

Admitting it invites a sudden wave of fatigue. Aizawa is no stranger to exhaustion. You think he could probably sleep anywhere—hell, you’ve seen him sleep standing up. He regards you thoughtfully, and the longer he stares the warmer your collar becomes. You feel his scrutiny even as you avert your eyes. 

Incognisant to the tension, Yagi continues to fret. “Ah, that’s no good. Let me make you some coffee,” he insists, brushing off his pants as he stands. Yagi sheds the feeble slope from his shoulders and you blink at the burst of energy. 

“Alright. Thank you, Yagi-san,” you reply, voice dwindling as he ducks into the modest kitchen connected to the lounge. Aizawa clicks his tongue. 

“You’ll regret that,” he breathes, ensuring the other man would not hear. “Unless you’re a fan of drinking tar”. 

“Don’t be mean. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” your trembling lips press firmly together, not wanting to to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. He exhales and shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your funeral’. 

Yagi soon returns holding a cup of coffee and your bento box. “Here. I thought you might want to eat,” he gives a signature toothy grin. You say nothing of the shake in his hands as he sets them down on your desk and bring the hot drink to your mouth. 

The coffee is awful. You hold your breath and smother the urge to cough, swallowing it down with feigned enthusiasm. The astringent taste lingers. A shudder runs throughout your body and you inhale sharply. “That—will definitely wake me up. Thank you, Yagi-san,” you rasp, trying to smile. Yagi looks rather pleased and gives a thumbs up. 

Next you look, Aizawa has shucked the sleeping bag up to his midsection and burrowed into his capture weapon, leaving only bloodshot eyes visible above the fabric. They’re crinkled at the edges and full of mirth—you interlock and he lifts his chin to mouth, “Told you”. 

That shouldn’t be so attractive, you think.

On the next mouthful of your rice you subtly uncurl your middle finger from beneath your chopsticks and pointedly flip it at Aizawa. He snorts, amused. 

“Gesundheit,” Yagi chimed between sips, enjoying the warm broth in his thermos flask. From what you understood he had to follow a strict liquid only diet. He could hardly stomach solids anymore. “Are you getting sick too, Aizawa-kun?” 

Aizawa sighs at the obliviousness, though you think he’s a little glad for it. 

The conversation tapers and the lunch hour crawls on. Your mind drifts to the students as you idly chew, grains ground to mush, vision blurring out of focus. Thankfully it appeared to be one of their better days. Shinsou remained awake for the entire period. Yaoyarozu participated confidently. The shadows under Bakugo’s eyes hadn’t been as severe. Iida’s legs had not restlessly bounced under the table. Midoriya kept his hands to himself and felt no need to feel for his friend's heartbeat. 

However one of your more boisterous spirits, Monoma, had been noticeably withdrawn. Kouda’s rabbit—trained to detect and assist with anxiety—scrambled into his arms on numerous occasions. 

Your skin prickles, alerted to the weight of someone’s gaze on your back. Not a second later you hear the low call of your name. Aizawa slips into the chair opposite, disconcertingly silent in his approach, and leans his chin against his fist. 

“If you keep thinking so hard, All Might really is going to give himself a hernia,” he mutters. 

Yagi’s lighthearted chuckle devolves into a harsh spluttering cough. “Blunt as always, Aizawa-kun,” he jokes, voice muffled by his hand. 

“I’m not sure he could even get a hernia…” you muse, offering him a tissue. Yagi nods in thanks as he wipes the blood from his mouth. “I was thinking about the kids, that's all”. 

Aizawa tilts his head. The sun settles at her highest point and golden pleats stretch across his face. These are the rare instances that his artificial eye becomes observable. Light refracts in the iris, glittering crimson through graphene layers. 

“They’ve really taken a shine to you,” he says, and it comes like an accusation, softened by the slight jut to his lips. You smirk, shutting your bento box and setting it aside. How wonderfully petty. 

“Curious?” 

“Midoriya burst into class last week and asked Tokoyami if he had a twin that he ate in the womb,” he drawls, brow twitching. Yagi splutters. “So yes, I’m curious what it is you’re teaching my students”. 

A fleeting sense of exasperation comes over you. Trust Midoriya to abandon delicacy in his eagerness. “I assume it’s because we covered the genetics of chimerism and how it relates to quirk inheritance,” you say, bemused. Hopefully Tokoyami was not offended. It’s a wonder he didn’t ask Todoroki.

“And how does it?” Yagi blink owlishly as you turn to him in surprise. “I’m curious!” he defends. 

“Oh. Well, genetic chimerism is when an organism has multiple sets of DNA often originating from the fusion of different zygotes,” you recite. Instinctively, your posture straightens as though you were back in the classroom. “This can happen with twin embryos. One absorbs the other and as a result, they have two sets of DNA”. 

“O—oh…?”

“So,” you continue, fingers wrung together in your lap, turning to give him your full attention. Colour drains from the retired hero’s cheeks. “The question I presented was this: would it then be possible for the surviving twin to inherit an additional quirk?”

“I see,” Yagi swallows and his grin strains at the edges as he realises you are waiting for a genuine answer. “Ah, I’m not—”

The lunch bell abruptly begins to ring. You both startle in your seats. Unperturbed, Aizawa pushes to his feet. His hair falls forward as he sways in place and meets your gaze. “As interesting as this is, we need to get to gym gamma for basic heroics,” he says, tone laced with monotony. 

Yagi jumps at the chance to escape. You try not to laugh. He continues to nervously glance over his shoulder, worried that you might be disheartened, but you wave them off happily. 

Coworkers come and go throughout the afternoon. Kurose keeps you company during their free period, later joined by Yamada, who insisted on quizzing you about western rock music. With no classes left to teach you spend the remainder of your day planning quirk counselling sessions, printing worksheets and sending routine emails, headache persisting. 

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From: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  To: Kaminari.Denki@UAedu.jp  Subject: Reminder [High importance] Message: 

Good afternoon,

Please see the two files I have attached to this email. One has a highlighted version of the essay brief, and another detailing how to structure an essay. 

As I mentioned, I have booked a one to one session for us to go over your draft and any concerns next week on [x] September 13:00 — 14:00. However do not hesitate to email me with any questions you have before this date. 

Take care!

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After the final bell rings you linger a while, not wanting to be swept away in throngs of students making their way to the dorms. There are no stragglers as you leave and your footsteps reverberate unsettlingly throughout the main building. 

The sky bleeds into early dusk with disquieting rays of light. Gentle enough that you can look directly into the sun and see the canvas it paints. Standing in the middle of the walkway, balefully watching the far off horizon, the early autumn air makes you shiver. 

Living on campus was a big change. Even so you had little to complain about. The staff dormitories are larger and much more private. You’d been given a studio on the second floor, neighbour to Ishiyama, the rather withdrawn cement hero. While there is a bathroom and kitchenette in each apartment you usually preferred to cook in the shared kitchen, conjoined to an open plan common room. 

Another familiar face greets you as you enter. Powerloader is seated at the dining table, mulling over a mess of blueprints. Quirk science and quirk support often went hand in hand thus you had collaborated before, albeit very rarely. 

He lifts his head at your entrance, face obscured by long, spiked copper hair. Seeing him free of his big excavator helmet—much like with Kurose without their space suit—is still quite strange. “Hey, Maijima-san,” you skim over what looks to be a box buckle belt. “Working on anything interesting?”

“I’m designing an MMF induction system for Tetsutetsu in 2B,” he explained, sifting through the papers to show another preliminary sketch. You notice the ink stain on the heel of his hand. “I’m hoping with the belt and armbands acting as coils we could turn him into an electromagnet of sorts”. 

“Wow. That’s actually pretty cool. There are so many things he could do with that,” you mumbled. Flash bangs. Emergency power. Assisting in triage. The possibilities were endless. Awed, you lean forward to scrutinise the chicken scrawl dotted around the drawings, some characters smudged beyond your comprehension. “How do you plan to measure his tolerance to—?”

“Mochi?!” a small, giddy voice interrupts. 

“…Mochi?” you repeat, bewildered. You look toward the source, gaze falling upon two silvery pigtails. Eri rocks on her heels and excitedly holds out a curved plate full of rice cakes. The height draws her sweater sleeves down her thin, scarred forearms. She makes a droning noise to stress that you take one. 

Aizawa strolls out from the kitchen behind her. A dull clink accompanies his footsteps, slanted to one side. You immediately note the various colourful clips pinning his hair away from his face, tied into a similar pigtail style, though tousled and loose.

“Eri,” he rumbles. “It’s impolite to interrupt private conversations”. 

The little girl wilts a fraction as her expression pinches in worry. She lowers the plate, but before it is out of reach, Maijima stretches across the table to snatch one up. Eri brightens at the exaggerated happy sound he makes as he chews, “This is some good mochi, Eri-chan. I’ll forgive you this once”. 

“Thank you, Maijiji,” she chimes. At that Maijima’s jaw unhinges mid-chew, the corners of his mouth twitching in quiet shock. Aizawa’s nostrils flare. He turns his head from the scene. Similarly, you tuck your chin to conceal your smirk and pluck up a mochi for yourself. 

“These look delicious,” you tell her, diverting the topic from Maijima—who, in your periphery, is mouthing ‘old man?!’ toward Aizawa with some incredulity. Eri’s focus remains on your face. She watches intently as the sticky dough yields under your thumbs. 

You tear a piece away to eat. Softer, smoother on the inside. It begins to melt on your tongue. The red bean paste is sweet with earthy undertones. “Wow!” the exclamation comes warbled, muffled. Eri tugs at the hem of her pink knit sweater, her smile stretching wider. “You’re very kind for sharing these, Eri”. 

“Mhm. S’because Yama-san teached me a quote in English today,” she effuses proudly, “He said sharing is caring”. The foreign enunciation doesn’t quite fit, like the words are choppy in her mouth, but they fall easily from her lips as if she has practised them a hundred times.

“Taught,” Aizawa corrected, bending into view to take the plate from her hands and set it on the table. She blinks at him curiously, and he explains, “You should say ‘Yama-san taught me’, not teached”. 

“Oh,” she says. You watch fondly as he licks his thumb to wipe away a smear of bean paste on her chin. Her face scrunches up, lips pursed and air in her cheeks. 

“And now you’ve been taught a new word,” you add, pulling off a bigger piece of mochi. Eri bounces in place as you offer it to her and she shoves it into her mouth. “Thank you for the treat, Eri. I think I’ll enjoy this in my room”. 

“Ywor lea’win’?” 

Aizawa sighs and concedes defeat to her poor manners. He cradles the crown of her head with his palm, stroking her hair. “I’m a little tired so I really want to take a shower and get in my pyjamas,” you say, hoping to placate her with a smile. “But I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime tomorrow, okay?”

Eri concedes rather reluctantly. Her fondness for you, once a stranger from the yawning unknown, is warming. Though her dejection is short-lived, soon distracted by the late arrival of Yagi and Yamada. 

The soft hair on your neck prickles. Sensing his stare you meet Aizawa’s gaze, heavy enough to feel like touch. It stirs a fleeting sort of hope in your chest. He looks gentle, frame wrapped up in the gauzy evening lustre. You clear your throat, “Did heroics go well in the end?” 

His brow twitches and you get the distinct feeling that you’re being laughed at. “No broken bones. So I would say so,” he deadpanned. 

“If it were anyone else saying that I’d be concerned,” you smiled, knowing class 2A in particular was well renowned for incurring injuries in training. “It was their first one since… everything, right? I’m glad they’re doing okay”. 

He hums, eyes sliding toward his daughter when her laughter breaks the delicate quiet. You shift awkwardly where you stand, overly conscious of Maijima seated nearby, now engrossed in his work. Aizawa levelled his voice, “How’s the headache?” 

“Persistent,” you murmur. Acknowledging it invites another dull pang inside your skull. “Honestly I can’t wait to get in bed”. 

“Hear hear,” he breathes. The corner of his mouth curls as he looks at you and gravity vaults around your stomach, rendering you momentarily weightless. Just a crush, you think, half hysterical. “Get some rest. If you plan on missing dinner then take a jelly pouch or an energy bar with you”. 

Touched by his concern you sway toward the kitchen. Your teeth sink into your cheek, biting down a grin where he cannot see it. “Yeah, okay,” you laugh under your breath. Louder then, “But I’m going to take your favourite flavour”. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he dared. 

You retire to your apartment with a green jelly packet in hand and a clunky wave. Energy seeps out of you like water through a sieve as soon as your door shuts. Fatigue creeps in; the body needing rest yet the mind restless. 

The shower does little to shake you awake. Dragging your feet to your bedroom, pouch uncapped and held between your lips. Tepid air sticks to still damp skin. Your bed yields, thoughts slowing. You crawl across the mattress, cheeks hollow as you lazily suck the jelly until the foil wrinkles. 

Cocooned in plush fleece and linen, you tilt your head and let it loll against the pillow; exhaustion sweeps through you, consciousness waning. The ache behind your eyes lessens as they close. You sleep. 

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From: Kaminari.Denki@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: RE: Reminder [High importance] Message: 

Hi hi

The worksheets really helped!!! You’re the best, Sensei!

I was talking to Mido and he said some ppl think quirks are a genetic mutation from a disease spread by rats?? ? (◎-◎;) super freaky. Can I make that my essay topic? 

Thnx!

Kaminari Denki AKA ⚡️ CHARGEBOLT

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From: Midoriya.Izuku@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: An analysis of the Q-gene theory Message:

Sorry to email so late! Or early haha… I found some articles while I was researching that I think will be helpful to my essay but the journal is not open access. Is there any way that I cannnnnnnnvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvccccccccccccccvvvvvvccccccccccccccccvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Sent from my ePhone 

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Morning comes abruptly. The sound of your alarm cuts out as you stretch across the bed to hit snooze, limbless and heavy handed. You rise with a crick in your neck. Barely cognisant, the floor rises to meet you, cool against the soles of your feet. 

A mottle of pale blue and white blended into a grey low lit morning, flooding the common area. It’s no surprise to you that people are already awake. Snipe is seated on the couch meticulously cleaning his pistol while Kurose is clad in their gym wear, jogging in place where they wait for Yagi to zip up his jacket. 

Upright, he beams at the sight of you, “Good morning! You look much better today”. 

You do not feel much better. 

“Morning,” you return lightly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Snipe tips his hat in your direction with a quiet grunt. “Are the others still asleep?” 

The drooping blonde hair that frame’s Yagi’s face sway as he shakes his head. “Not everyone. I believe Yamada-kun is at his radio station. Ectoplasm is out walking the perimeter with Hound Dog. Though Aizawa-kun may be sleeping…”

“He got back from night patrol a few hours ago,” Kurose adds. They wave both hands at you, spacetime wielding fingers wiggling as though to entice you, “That aside, would you like to join us on our morning run?” 

Your expression immediately shifts, exhibiting strong disinclination. “I appreciate the invite, but I’d rather return to a horizontal position until my work hours start”. 

Kurose laughs warmly. Yagi, however, insists on reciting the benefits to early exercise while he ties and reties his shoes. You send them off, holding the door open to breathe in the morning dew, and spend a minute feeling the cool air prickle your cheeks. 

The day crawls on. You get to your classroom before the first period and review the lesson plans. The third years stagger to their seats. You can sympathise with their dead eyed stares—two hours of quirk regulation law is not exactly the most riveting topic—and take no offense to their spiritless attitudes. 

Third period is spent fostering discussion about politics with the business students. By the time lunch hour comes and goes you have barely left your classroom. Your next set is composed of first year hero students. This academic year both class 1A and B had been mixed into the same group. Hardly six months after a war steeped in blood and sacrifice, Japan’s citizens were not so eager to hand their children over to a hero school. Thus there were few applicants. Nevertheless, Principal Nedzu remained optimistic about their potential. 

Straight away you understood his judgement. In covering the quirk history module you saw first hand their iron willed determination to learn from the past and change the system. Hands are thrown high in the air—eager despite your intention to wind down—as you inquire their thoughts about the quirk classification system. 

“The whole thing is bull—brainless!” one of your more headstrong students, Higuchi, calls out. You can picture the lurid glare behind his blacked out glasses. His classmates murmur in agreement. 

“He’s right, Sensei,” Kaneko, 1B class president, adds quietly. The air distorts around her when she speaks and your jaw clenches, withholding a flinch as your ear pops. “Why are there only three categories? It makes no sense”. 

“I agree. The classification system is simplistic and outdated. Which is what leads me into my final question…” you hold out your hands in mock surrender, brows pointedly arched, and they settle down. In that instant, the door slides open and disrupts the peace. Every head turns to watch Eraserhead slip brazenly into the classroom, and after a pregnant pause, gesture for you to continue. 

Heat rises to the high point of your cheeks. His expression is soft in the artificial light, fixed on you with intent and sincere intrigue. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.  “Ah—What was I saying?” you joked nervously. Sensing your embarrassment the kids begin to laugh under their breath. “That’s right. My question is, if possible, what are some of the categories you would introduce to improve the quirk database? Brainstorm for me. There are no wrong answers!” 

Those eyes nag at you for the remainder of the hour. With another teacher present, heralded as a war hero no less, the motivation to impress increases tenfold. You bullet point their answers on the class board, prompting further explanation or examples and suggesting your own. It’s a welcome distraction—

And the outcome is far more comprehensive than you expected:

Generation describes quirks that allow the individual to create something from their body. Example: Creati. 

Manipulation refers to quirks that control what is pre existing. Example: Poltergeist. 

Users with a Transmutation quirk can change or alter the function of things around them. Example: Mudman.

Augmentation quirks allow the individual to improve their own body in some way. Example: Mount Lady. 

Information quirks classify those that can detect, understand and apply information. Example: Nighteye.

You watch them rush to scribble the list down. Murmurings carry through the classroom as they turn to one another, listing more examples, giving thought to how each quirk should be designated. Pride swells in your chest. 

“I have a question”.

Aizawa remained hunched in the corner, one hand deep in his pocket. The other is raised lazily above his head. This elicits some anticipation from your students. You motion for him to continue, “Yes, Aizawa-sensei?”

“Erasure is listed as ‘Emitter’ in the quirk database. This means I share a category with quirks which are fundamentally different, such as Hellflame,” he speaks with a calm, assertive cadence that holds the kids' attention. His gaze sweeps across the class and they squirm. “Tell me, what would you categorise my quirk as to draw that distinction?”

The long silence is contemplative rather than daunting. Higuchi fakes a cough. He lifts his fist, fingers unfurling as his wrist then falls limp, feigning indifference. It was made no secret that he admired Eraserhead, given their shared ocular abilities. Allure was a powerful quirk. Persuaded with a single glance, inhibited only by the specialised lenses in his glasses. 

Thus you recognise the attitude change for what it is—a preemptive measure in the case that he slips in front of the man he admires. “Higuchi,” you warmly addressed. Aizawa centres his attention on the boy. “Do you have a suggestion for Aizawa-sensei?”

“Y—yeah,” he says. “I thought we could add something like ‘Condition’ to the list…?”

“Can you elaborate on that?” you try to encourage. Aizawa’s posture shifts, his interest piqued. 

“I was just thinking, Erasure doesn’t fit any of the shi—stuff we thought up,” Higuchi continues, his fingers knotted tight on the desk, knuckles white. “Condition would cover people whose quirks enforce a condition on others. Like an infatuation quirk or—or my own quirk”.

Everybody is seemingly waiting with bated breath. You glance back at Aizawa, now carefully regarding Higuchi. You know that look. “Not bad, kid,” he nods, quietly pleased. Higuchi grins. 

Smiling, you move to add ‘Condition’ to the list. 

You’re on edge after the bell rings. Aizawa’s presence brushes you like a breath of balmy air, biding his time while you send off your class, grunting in response to those who bow in his direction. When you finally turn his half lidded gaze is mellowed. 

“So,” you begin clumsily. “Is there any particular reason why you interrupted my lesson?” 

Aizawa hums. A sound so deep, so supple you want to lean into it. “I have a favour to ask. Is the rest of your afternoon free?” 

“The Eraserhead asking me a favour?” you tease, needlessly lining up your stationary before collecting your things. “I’ve got no more classes to teach, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“All Might can’t assist supervising heroics training this afternoon,” he mutters, examining your display boards with absentminded curiosity. 

“You need to give me more than that, Aizawa”. 

He exhales, mouth pressed thin, ducking into his capture weapon. You see a shift in expression, the skin of his cheeks drawing up to crinkle around his eyes. The petulance brings a smirk to your lips. Aizawa had been mildly avoidant and emotionally reserved from the moment you met him, but for someone so motivated by logic he seemed to expect you to read his mind lately. 

“Two people are required to oversee the class”

“And you want that second person to be me?”

“If you’re going to be difficult I can ask Thirteen,” he replies dryly. The tip of his tongue wets his bottom lip, tempting your gaze. You feel yourself consciously resisting. 

The empty threat hangs lightly in the room. Your smirk gentles into a smile. He tracks your movement, standing aside while you tuck in the desk chair. “No, no. I’ll come,” you demurred. “I want to help. Let’s go”. 

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From: Shinsou.Hitoshi@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: — Message: 

Hisorrywoulditbepossibletogetanextensiononmyessay?Myspacebarisbroken. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

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From blue rafters to monochrome stone, the arched structure of Gym Gamma comes into view. Towers over you as you approach. Aizawa’s footsteps are purposeful and his legs carry him forward with a lumbering gait. You’ve changed into shoes befitting the outdoors—a pair of boots that hug your calves tight and keep your ankles warm as the afternoon wanes toward an inevitable cold evening. 

“The students participating today have been previously cleared for training in a controlled environment by their psychiatrist,” Aizawa says, breathing slightly visible in the autumn chill. His hands are buried deep in his capture weapon. “First they’ll start by sparring without quirks to warm up. If I see no risk they can then move on to using quirks”.

Allowing the kids to train again had been a sensitive matter. Not a single hero student came out the war unscathed; the first years especially, given the proximity to AFO, were dealt extensive physical and psychological trauma—a handful even undergoing  forced quirk awakening. Throwing them back into a battle environment, controlled or otherwise, needed to be handled with care. 

Aizawa did just that, and to your knowledge he always had. He exercised caution with his students. Even if it came across as harsh. Even if the chances of danger were nil. He was staunchly protective of his brood. You understood that to be the reason why their parents trusted him to lead them forward—

And you hoped it meant he would be open to your advice throughout the training. 

Your head bobs, nodding in acknowledgment. “During the latter half of the session, if I see signs of a student in distress—?”

“Inform me,” he cuts in firmly. A flash of crimson pools into his irises, gone between blinks, and you’re left to wonder if it was just a trick of the light. “I’ll erase their quirks and stop the spar before it escalates”. 

You ponder that as Aizawa shields his eyes and scans the beyond when a chorus of voices reaches your ears. An amalgamation of 2A and 2B are waiting by the gym doors, with the few that recognise you excitedly waving their arms and calling your name. 

“Understood,” a small smile pulls at your lips. You wave toward the group, donned in their UA tracksuits. “You’re the boss”. 

Iida graciously bids you both welcome, his hand chopping through the air as he speaks over the others and attempts to assuage them. Questions of All Might’s whereabouts are few and far, instead entirely focused on your unexpected presence—all the more surprising that Midoriya visibly brightens, unaffected by his mentor’s absence. 

You allow Aizawa to take the wheel while he makes introductions, rocking idly on your feet, nodding along when prompted. “I’m sure some of you are well acquainted, whether it be through individual quirk consultations or taking quirk science as your chosen elective…”

Yaoyorozu is poised beside a fellow student, Jirou, arms crossed over her midriff. Fingers wiggle by the crook of her elbow in another subtle wave, smile gracing her lips. Bakugo catches the movement and his eyes flicker in your direction. He acknowledges you with a short nod.

“Today is not about analysing the progression of your quirks. We will be observing how you apply them,” he continues. There’s a fleeting emphasis to his voice. It carries an underlying warning, the same way a parent might quietly reprimand a child. The class visibly stands straighter and Midoriya raises his hand. 

Aizawa exhales, a fond sort of exasperation shining through, “…Midoriya”.

“Will we receive individual feedback?” Midoriya eagerly questioned. “And can we get Sensei’s opinion on our own ideas? Because—!”

“Kid,” Aizawa drawls. Colour paints Midoriya’s face pink but he seems bashful rather than ashamed. “Once we move onto sparring with quirks, yes, you will be notified of anything we deem significant. After class”. 

Bakugo, Monoma, Shinsou, Tetsutetsu and Midoriya appear particularly motivated by this. You clear your throat, gaze sliding to Aizawa as you add, “And anyone seeking my opinion or reassurance is free to email me. We can set up a meeting. That’s what I’m here for, after all”.  

The hour wore on. Aizawa was happy to watch in comfortable silence, offering up any thoughts and observations as they passed. There’s a clear sense of pride about him. A softness. Comfortable showing it now he’s a distance from the prying eyes of his students.

Hand-to-hand warm ups progress to quirk use. Some have formed small battle royale type groups while the others chose to pair up. You scan the gym with a keen eye. The quick streak of Midoriya’s red sneakers as his left foot pivots on the mats catches your attention. His opponent, Todoroki, falls into a balanced stance. 

You watch their fight unfold. The intensity swells. Dread prickles down your spine. “Aizawa…” you cautioned. 

Green lightning pulses. One For All activates. A metallic taste sticks to the roof of your mouth. Midoriya’s body twists, and with it his right foot swings up in a singular, upward path. It cleaves through the air, a slice more than it is a swing, and the force lands squarely on the side of Todoroki’s skull—or it would have, if he hadn’t blocked it with his arm, encased in ice. 

There’s a split second in which everything stops. An immense, charged force bore down on your lungs. Your vision blurred. As quick as it came the lightning died out and a deluge of shattered ice fell to the ground. 

“Ouch,” Todoroki says, cradling his wrist. You think that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Aizawa sprinted across the room without ceremony, his hair hung high in suspension and ready to step in. Todoroki interjects first. Presumably to defend his friend and assure them both that he’s fine. While Aizawa scans his forearm for any sign of major injury you watch Midoriya return to himself. Colour drains from his face. Chest heaving. There’s a violent tremor in his legs.  Between rapid blinks you hear the crack in his mumbled apologies. 

Aizawa settles a gentle hand on his shoulder. The rest of the students return to their matches, save for a select few who spare Midoriya a concerned glance—nevertheless, nobody is truly surprised. You can only wonder how often this happens. 

Midoriya broke himself for the sake of others more times than you could stomach, and you’ve been witness to how uniquely adept he is at hiding those splintered parts first hand. With the wound still so fresh, people needed the courageous, forthright, spirited version of him, the one with the beaming smile and the promise of safety. At only sixteen years old that is already his delegated role in life. 

There are not enough words to depict just how catastrophic the war had been. You suffered heart-wounds of your own but in facing the sacrifice these children gave you felt a contrite, shameful hole in your consciousness. This is victory; the only one on the table, and it is painful.

While Aizawa calms Midoriya, your focus returns to the rest of the class. Tetsutetsu is holding his own against Iida. Kuroiro is half steeped in shadow, reflexively sinking into his quirk as he wards off Bakugo’s punches. You note that Kaminari is unsteady on his feet, having already discharged too much electricity. 

Something about Monoma’s hesitance also holds your attention. Of the abilities he’s used there has only been four. Odd, given his ability to hold five at a time, and the plethora of quirks surrounding him. 

You chew your lip and it occurs to you that he must be keeping one on reserve from prior to the lesson. The next thought comes unbidden, inhaling sharply as a sudden, cold sort of clarity slides through you. 

The only quirk you imagine Monoma could still be intentionally holding onto is the one he took during the fight against AFO. Erasure. 

“What’re you thinking?”

You shake out of your stupor and find Aizawa closer than expected. Somewhere in between he had tied his hair up. He tucks a wayward strand behind his ear, eyes squinted and wrinkling the scar tissue high on his cheek. “What?” you ask dumbly. 

“You went somewhere,” he clarifies. You feel his knuckles lightly knock your temple. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Ah,” you smile, abashed, and rub the spot of skin he touched. “Just making mental notes. I wish I had brought something to write with”.

“Well?” Aizawa says, as though his silence was enough of an invitation. “Tell me about them”. 

“It’s obvious the student’s have made incredible progress when compared to their first year quirk assessments. But there are some minor adjustments that I think will help considerably…”

You go on to list ideas for development and support tech. Things like regularly involving parkour into all their training routines. Or having Iida request smaller engines along the front legs of his costume for faster braking, or sharper turns. Or experimenting with Mina’s quirk, testing how precise her control is over her acid’s viscosity and if she could potentially create gaseous forms.

Your awareness wanes periodically, pausing open mouthed to discern the skill of each group, weighing your thoughts. To his credit Aizawa does listen to you ramble, mellowing the longer you speak. Tension seeps from his shoulders as though pulled down by gravity and that look of contentment returns. 

“In terms of wielding their quirk the one I’m most concerned about is probably Kaminari,” you hesitate, chewing your lip as your voice lowers. “I believe he still views his quirk as a final move”.

Aizawa leans forward, attentive to your opinion, and hums. The dulcet melody is warm by your ear—

You become conscious of his proximity. The air retains his heat, the indistinct woodsy notes that always clung to his clothes. 

—and your throat constricts as you swallow.

“Because of that he immediately jumps from zero to one hundred. I’ve seen his files. It results in mild cranial nerve lesions which then induces temporary impairment mid battle,” you continue soberly, staring ahead with lips stretched into strained assurance as some of the students begin to notice your proximity. 

Monoma strikes the back of Tetsutetsu’s leg as he makes a suggestive gesture, making him collapse on one knee. You close your eyes as embarrassment floods your body, “I have to wonder if he ever worked with a quirk counsellor in the first place”. 

Aizawa signals his agreement and moves back a fraction. His expression remained unchanged. He is by no means an unfeeling man, but you can’t help being jealous about how unshaken he is. All the while you probably look like a spring bouquet. 

“So, how do you suggest we help him?” 

His genuine countenance tempered your short lived frustration, and the word ‘we’ echoed in your mind. You knew what he meant, but it still brought a pleasant flutter to your chest. “I think we should start by having support give him a multimeter,” you reply. “Atleast that way we can discern the point that he begins to lose cognition and work upwards from there”. 

“Alright. I’ll ask Maijima-san once we’re done here,” he nods. There is a tentative pause. “Anything else you think needs to be addressed?” 

“There is…Monoma,” you add. His head turns in your peripheral vision, visibly taken aback. 

“Monoma?” he repeated. 

“This is just speculation on my part,” you grimace, sparing a glance toward the students. As the session winds down they’ve gathered in the centre of the mats, talking to one another. “But I have a hunch that he might still be holding onto your quirk”.

Aizawa’s face becomes pinched. The apparent frustration grows as his expression shifts. Mouth twisting, jaw moving with gritted teeth. “I should’ve noticed,” he mutters. 

“Monoma is primarily in Kan-san’s care, not yours. If anything he should be the one to notice,” you say, subtly detailing his side profile as he continues to observe his class. “Between the media circus, your physiotherapy, teaching and being a father—you can hardly blame yourself”. 

The bridge of his nose wrinkles at that. “Shit, sorry. Did I overstep?” you fret. 

Aizawa’s expression smooths out, reluctantly. He exhales. “No. I’m just not used to the idea of being a parent, I suppose”. 

“Guardian, then,” you amended with a flippant wave, hoping to lighten the sullen atmosphere. “Though I guess teaching is like a sub-branch of parenting in itself”. 

“How so?”

“Good or bad, a teacher plays a big part in shaping a child, right?” For a strange, short moment, you’re hyper aware of how closely he watches you as you speak, and you deal with it by finding great interest in the gym floor. “Y’know. Their self confidence, beliefs and ambitions… didn’t you have anyone like that?” 

That gives him pause, and while he thinks you drink in the line of his jaw, angular and shadowed by stubble, the wispy strands framing his face as his haphazard ponytail slowly loosens, and the faint crease formed across the bridge of his nose after grimacing so frequently. 

Aizawa’s brow arches. Caught, you quickly cast your gaze to the gym floor. “Well. There is the man that made me realise I wanted to go underground,” he says, graciously ignoring your ogling. “His purple highness”.

“His purple highness?!” you echo, voice clamouring through the now quieted din, diverting the students attention from their post training stretches. “Fuck, sorry. Of all the heroes I wasn’t expecting you to say him”. 

Nakaoji Tenma, now retired hero ‘His purple highness’, was the polar opposite of Aizawa. Widely renowned for flamboyance and theatrics, his notorious vibrant two piece suit and frilly open chested jacket sporting vibrant epaulettes on each shoulder was particularly unforgettable. 

“You wouldn’t be the first. I thought Nemuri was absurd for recommending Oboro and I during her work study,” he reminisced. 

“Surely it wasn’t that bad”.

Aizawa cracks a rueful grin. “His highness quickly recognised that I would have poor media presence and tried to teach me ‘how to smile’ properly. As you can see, it didn’t work out”.

You weren’t so sure. Aizawa’s amusement always started behind his eyes, a mirth that flashed across a grey midwinter and trickled into his chest to create a brief, reserved huff of laughter; though you sense underlying melancholy as he recounts his internship and lost loved ones, his smile still curled sincerely at the edges. 

“I don’t know. I like your smile. Even if it can be a little…”

“Disturbing?” 

“Disarming,” you return, nudging his side. Without intention your fingers brushed against the rough skin of his knuckles, fine hairs prickling—and then a sudden, shrill whistle cuts suggestively through the mood, shattering it. 

Kaminari stands proud a few feet ahead of his snickering classmates, lips closed around his middle fingers. Aizawa rolls his neck with an indignant sigh. The joint clicks. He raises his voice and impassively announces, “For that you can all do ten laps”.

A chorus of objections fills the gym. One by one, the students drag their feet toward the outer edge and break into a jog. You bite back a smile, “You’re awful”. 

“Never claimed not to be,” he tells you. “All Might has another hospital appointment at the end of next week, if you want to join us again”. 

A nascent fondness unfurls in your chest. “Sure,” you murmur. “I’d like that”. 

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From: Aizawa.Shouta@UAedu.jp To: Maijima.Higari@UAedu.jp Cc: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: Request [High importance] Message:

Our resident quirk scientist has advised us to provide Kaminari Denki [ID: 16XXXX] with a multimeter to assist in his training. Do we have one on campus or am I going to have to do more paperwork?

Aizawa Shouta 2A Homeroom Teacher, UA High School Private number: +81 (03) 1234-5678 Do not call unless you are dying. 

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From: Yagi.Toshinori@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: An email is here! Message: 

My friend,

Young Midoriya informed me that you took my place alongside Eraserhead in training this afternoon. He found your input very impressive, and even expressed the desire to have you look over his notebooks. That is quite the privilege! Ah, but please don’t tell him I told you that…!!!

Thank you for your hard work today. I will see you at dinner.

Yagi Toshinori Heroics Department, UA High School └（★ｏ★）┐ 𝓹𝐥𝔲ｓ Ǘ𝐋ⓣ𝔯𝓐 ┌（★ｏ★）┘

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Something indiscernible has since shifted. 

The work week is long, and when you crawl your way out of the mire of trepidation that decidedly hung over you, the source becomes clearer. 

The kids are being weird. 

Heroes in training, absolutely, but masters in subtlety they are not. Less than innocent, mischievous whispers would reach your ears, and silhouettes duck behind the nearest corner whenever you look back. Above all else they’ve taken to closely observing your interactions with Aizawa—sometimes going as far as forcing them. Kaminari even deems it appropriate to be nosey about your love life—or rather, your lack thereof—during your supplementary one-to-one. 

“That is not your business nor is it relevant to your essay,” you told him, tapping the end of your marker against the desk. The gentle reprimand did nothing to placate him. Scratching his cheek, Kaminari simply laughed and returned to reading the annotations you’d left on his work. 

Aizawa doesn’t bat an eye to any of it. While he presented himself as an extremely private man with clear boundaries drawn between home and work, it was obvious to you that that line had been trampled. He was accustomed to their harmless meddling. 

“Believe me. It’s worse if you tell them to stop,” he said, as if they were toddlers and would eventually tire themselves out.  

You have the pleasure of teaching their final class that Friday. If you’re lucky, come Monday they’ll have forgotten whatever it is they’re hatching.

Their focus wanes with the hour, your lesson structure a little looser to lead them into the weekend. Eri had joined unexpectedly, hidden behind Midoriya’s legs and teetering on her tiptoes to peek around the room. Kouda let’s Yuwai-chan rest in her arms as she sits on her very own chair beside Shinsou, mumbling small delights. 

“Focus, guys. We all have something called a Plus Alpha Mechanism in our DNA…”

Your pen glides along the board. The quiet repetitive sound of Bakugo’s tangle fidget matches your meridian rhythm, and you could almost forget the nonsense that has shadowed you since the training session. 

“…Here. The simplest way to think of it is like this,” following along with a finger, you read the written equation. “For example, if somebody has a tail—”

“Like Ojiro-kun!” Midoriya chirps. Bakugo gives him a sidelong glare, and his cheeks fill with air. 

“Correct, Midoriya,” you smile at his sheepishness. Your finger moves along to the latter half of the equation, “But the mechanism to move and wield his tail comes from the Plus Alpha. Added together, this forms the Quirk Factor”. 

“Sensei, is it then possible that quirklessness can occur when the Plus Alpha gene expression is not activated?” Iida inquires. Midoriya’s pencil stutters. 

“That’s right,” you flash him an encouraging smile, wider as he preens. Bakugo’s hands, too, have notably faltered, the tangle fidget balled up into a knot. “It’s a popular explanation amongst fourth gen members of the medical community. Older generations tend to prefer the whole archaic toe joint theory—but I don’t have time to cover that today”. 

Midoriya and Bakugo exhale in tandem. Monoma observes their behaviour closely, chin cupped in his palm. He seems well rested which alleviates the heaviness in your chest a fraction. You hope Aizawa has had the chance to speak with him. 

“Any other questions before I start to wrap up?”

Shinsou goes to raise his hand, stopping midway. Your brow arches and he indicates to wait. You watch on as he leans down to whisper something to Eri. Her doe-eyed gaze snaps from Yuwai-chan to his face, meeting an expression apologetically soft. And whatever it is he says, she pats his cheek in response. 

Sufficiently reassured, Shinsou once again raises his hand above his head. And as he relays his question a sober atmosphere befalls the class. 

In a roundabout manner—and refusing to name him—Shinsou asks about the Quirk erasing bullets used in the Shie Hassaikai case. You, like him, immediately seek Eri’s permission to speak on it. She gathers Yuwai-chan closer and nods. 

“Despite the name, the quirk erasing bullets did not technically erase any individuals quirk genes. They were engineered to directly attack the Plus Alpha,” the tip of your pen squeaks as you write out the words below the previous equation, underlining them twice. “Therefore the quirk could no longer be activated, making them functionally quirkless”. 

Shinsou accepts this, cheek sunken where he chews the flesh. Between blinks the pensive downturn to his mouth begins to curl into a faint smirk. “What about Aizawa-sensei’s quirk?” he asks, feigning innocence.

Your benevolence tapers as the class titters. Eri giggles, muffled by Yuwai-chan’s fur, and her shoulders hunch to hide in the little neck she has. 

“While I understand why you might conflate the two, Aizawa-sensei’s ocular quirk, Erasure, deactivates the Plus Alpha temporarily,” you answer at the end of a short sigh, taking a step back to lean against the wall. You skim the room with a pointed look, “As I’m sure you have all experienced first hand”. 

A few shudder at that. The whiplash of having the connection to your quirk severed must be alarming. You imagine it’s not something one can ever get used to. 

“Oc-u-lar?” Eri repeats. You feel your expression gentle as you meet her curious gaze. 

“Ocular means it’s connected to his eyes,” you explain simply, pointing to your own. “That is why his left eye glows red when he uses his quirk. Cool, right?” 

Accepting this, Eri’s cheeks swell with her smile and she chirps in agreement, “I like his eyes. They’re pretty”. 

“She likes his eyes,” Kaminari repeats with a faux-solemn nod. “Do you think so too, Sensei?” 

Iida sits ramrod straight in his seat. The abrupt jolt knocks his glasses halfway down his nose, “That is hardly appropriate for the classroom!” 

The electric blonde waves in surrender, “It’s just an innocent question, Prez! Not like I asked if he was United States of sma—”

“Kaminari-kun!”

Something snaps. Yuwai-chan yips. A litany of orange curved pieces spray across the table. Bakugo slumps, wearing a scowl dark enough to silence the chaos, debris from the broken fidget between his fingers. “Who gives a fu—” he spares Eri a quick glance and releases a long, deliberate exhale. “Who cares. Bunch’a nosey losers”  

Worry paints Momo’s features. Somewhat uncharacteristic of her, she readily rolls up her sleeve to offer the creation of another tangle. “Bakugo-kun, do you need me to…?”

“Don’t worry, Yaoyorozu-san!” Midoriya interrupts with a sunny complexion. He lumbers his backpack into his lap, zips it open and pulls out an identical fidget. “Kacchan breaks them a lot”.

You stifle the urge to groan into your hands, or gather them all into an uncomfortably strong hug, or both. For as much as you could tease Aizawa for allowing the students to bulldoze through his work-life boundaries it is becoming clear you're just as guilty. 

Bakugo lingers after the bell rings. The others file out, some with apologetic smiles, and neither of you speak until the classroom is empty. “Is everything okay, Bakugo?” you ask lightly. 

He itches his neck. Shoulder jerking as he shrugs, giving a stiff nod. Looking a little frayed around the edges, Bakugo mutters, “Sorry about the mess. M’staying to pick it up”. 

“That’s not necessary,” you objected. A slight pout works its way onto his lips. You know well enough that for all his posturing, Bakugo respects the word of his teachers. “I assure you it’s fine, Bakugo. But I really appreciate the sentiment”.

“Whatever,” he says, barely above a mumble. He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and motions to leave. “See ya Monday, Sensei”.

“Take care, Bakugo,” you call after him. Your ears latch onto the leaden echoing of footsteps until they disappear down the hallway. Silence creeps in while you pick up the small curved pieces.  The little moment of peace you had sought all week does not arrive. There are still emails to attend to, assignments to mark and future lessons to structure—

Your stomach rumbles and interrupts that thought. Again, evermore persistent while you attempt to ignore it. Eventually you dump the collected orange pieces into your desk drawer and make for the staff lounge, switching off the lights as you go. 

All Might and Present Mic are the only two in the room. Yamada spots you first. He’s yet to remove his costume, and the leather sleeves cream as he lifts his arms, waving loosely. Yagi spins on his axis for the source of the fuss. There’s a spoon in his mouth, and his lips stretch into a smile around it. 

A smile that dims as soon as you land in your chair with a heavy sigh. “I feel that,” Yamada says. His comically tall hair reaches high over your computer monitor, green eyes peering over the frame. “Kiddos run you ragged today?” 

“I don’t know how they do it. It’s not like we’re sparring,” you snort lightly and rest your chin against your hand. The muted scent of Yagi’s greek yoghurt lingers in the air. You wrinkle your nose, “Have either of you noticed them behaving…oddly? I feel like they’ve been scheming”. 

Yagi pauses mid scoop, bewildered. He looks from you to Yamada, who appears infuriatingly in the know. “Odd?” he asks. The shadows around his eyes darken in concern. “Is there anything we should be looking out for?” 

“I wonder,” Yamada titters, tapping a finger against his nose. Green eyes smile at you over the top of his tinted lenses. “Could it have anything to do with Mina asking me about your blood type?”

“Blood type? Whatever for?” 

Covering his mouth, Yamada bends and covers his mouth, amplifying his cryptic whisper, “Romantic compatibility”.

Chewing your inner cheek, you shake your head and insist, “It’s just a popular theory about personality types from the pre quirk era”. Yagi’s expression clears. He accepts the explanation easily. You wished it were that simple. “I’m sure it’s nothing…” your attention wavers as you notice movement out the window. 

A distant black figure grows larger the closer it gets. Eraserhead is coming back from his afternoon patrol. He sweeps up onto the roof of a nearby building and dashes along the eaves before leaping off again. His capture weapon lassos the adjacent dormitory building and he swings in a perfect arc that vaults him upwards. The movements flow into one another naturally, without thought, nimble as he twists through the air. You can’t take your eyes off him. 

“No, you’re right. It’s definitely nothing,” Yamada quips lightly, his voice drawing you to the present. The implication behind his tone rings loud and clear and it shakes you from your reverie. 

Embarrassment sours your expression; it feels like you’ve swallowed the sun. “It’s not like that,” you insist, laughing nervously. Your gaze settles on a heart sticker Eri pasted on the desk. An old coffee stain has blurred the colour, cheap ink smeared into the wood. Your fingers come away stained pink. 

“Young love is exciting! There’s no shame in it. You can be honest with us. With me,” Yagi’s large hand comes down on your shoulder to give a reassuring pat. “I may be old but I’m not that dense. I think”. 

“You’re hardly old, Yagi-san. You’re only fifty”.

Yagi chuckles in that signature All Might fashion, a blush glowing bright on his cheekbones. “Thank you. But that is beside the point,” he says. The laughter mellows into a contemplative hum and you fidget while he watches you closely, warmly, “…It’s just, Aizawa seems a bit more alive when you’re around”. 

Yamada leans forward to rest his chin in his palms, held open like a flower in bloom, and murmurs his agreement. 

“What…do you mean exactly?” you ask. 

Yagi exhales, wringing battle worn hands in his lap. “He has been through a lot,” he begins. “Of course we all have but as I’m sure young Yamada here can attest, Aizawa shoulders more responsibility than he needs to”. 

“Lotta unnecessary blame, too,” Yamada nods. A bittersweet tone pervades the air. “Always has, ever since we were kids. Reckon that’s why he doesn’t sleep”.

“See, there’s the kind of exhaustion that usually just requires a good night’s sleep,” Yagi’s face is sallow, and his gaze flickers to Aizawa’s empty desk. “But there is also another kind that asks much more—and I see that in Aizawa. Like he’s wearing a heavy coat that became heavy bones”.

Despite the clumsy metaphor you feel his words weighing on your heart; notably shared in a way that makes you think that he, too, wore a similar heavy coat of blame. And you thought: such is grief. 

“But!” Yagi suddenly blurts, restoring his former enthusiasm. “Since you started here it’s like…” he gesticulates with his hands then, searching for the right thing to say, stalling as seemingly he does not find it. “All that is to say Aizawa has a fondness for you and I think you should go for it!”

Self conscious, you pick at the skin around your thumb. Yagi’s encouragement was appreciated. With the quintessential All Might optimism unintentionally bleeding through it almost felt like you could do anything. But your head shakes and you laugh breathlessly at the thought, “You’re actually quite a gossip, aren’t you, Yagi-san?”

Yamada’s cackle reverberates around the lounge as Yagi splutters his shock into a tissue. You pat his shoulder. Pressing your lips thin you try not to smirk. 

“What are you doing?” 

Simultaneously, the three of you freeze, voices converging the instant you three blurt, “Nothing!” 

Aizawa frowns, displeasure framed by windswept hair tousled in all directions. He loiters in the open doorway a moment longer and his scrutiny pervades the air. You tightly cross your ankles under the legs of your chair and maintain an innocent look. 

Feigning obliviousness Yagi attempts to redirect the subject, “Did anything interesting happen on patrol, Aizawa-kun?”

Ultimately, Aizawa let it go. He shut the door behind him and the tension slipped from his shoulders as he shrugged and accepted the deflection. “Nothing significant. A bit busier than usual,” he replies.  “Seems like the commercial district has finished being rebuilt”.

Your heart beats and blood rushes to the tips of your fingers—dark eyes do not leave you as Aizawa slinks past to the kitchenette, taking with him a brush of cool fresh air. Yamada ducks between the computer monitors. Mouth puckered, he begins making an exaggerated kissing face at you. Oscillating between flustered and irritated, you reach for the nearest thing and throw it. A pencil bounces off his forehead, clattering to the floor, and he yelps. 

Aizawa returns holding two nutritional jelly pouches. “I don’t doubt you deserved that,” he comments, blasé as he passes you one of the colourful packets unprompted. It takes great effort not to gawk at his fingerless gloves, the once buttery leather now weathered. 

“Wow. Where’d my best friend go?” Yamada laments. He makes a dramatic show of the betrayal, long limbs sagging across his desk. “And no jelly for me, either. For shame! What happened to brothers before lovers?” 

Twisting off the cap to the pouch with his teeth, Aizawa sucks out the gelatinous innards until the plastic flattens. A smile plays on his lips as you stifle your amusement. “Hizashi, you know I flunked English,” he deadpans. 

The voice hero deflates. He turns to wave the previously thrown pencil at you, “Here. You left this knife in my back”. 

“You’re ridiculous”. 

“Et tu, Brute?”

The interaction does nothing to ruffle Aizawa. Like water to a duck's back. He merely saunters over to his desk, discards the empty pouch in the small bin beside his chair, and scoops up a thick binder of papers.  

“And now he flees,” Yamada pouts, holding the pencil between his top lip and his nose. 

“No, I need to wash up,” he dismisses Yamada and indicates toward his prosthesis, then dryly adding, “And I’m not sticking around to listen to you recite Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar simply because I didn’t bring you a jelly pouch”.

“Aw. That’s cold, Sho”. 

You bask in their back and forth. A friendship built on open hearts and feet that bleed. They share jabs, opinions and hardships without worry because there’s unequivocal trust there. Watching them together unearths a fraction of envy; stuck between wanting someone like that at your side, to wanting it to be him. 

Aizawa leaves not long after. He casts you a sidelong glance that you can’t read. One job to another, the work is patently endless, though you can’t help but to notice that it is self imposed—being stagnant is never in the cards. 

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Yagi clears his throat in the prolonged pause. “So. What is your blood type?” he asks with little tact, avoiding your look of betrayal. “If I had to guess, Aizawa-kun must be type B. He is quite honest and unconventional…”

Yamada cackles again. 

You put your head in your hands. This is hell. And it is largely populated by the UA heroics department.

The three day weekend couldn't come any quicker.

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From: Yamada.Hizashi@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: Check this out! Message: 

HEEEEEY 😎

[HYPERLINK: myquirkyintrovert.jp//11-introvert-friendly-activities-perfect-for-a-first-date/] Figured you might need this. ROTFL !

(Rooting for you)

Yamada Hizashi English Department, UA High School Put Your Hands Up Radio 81.3FM QOTD: If music be the food of love, play on 🎵 

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The morning spills over your senses like a heady fog. It obscures your vision, sleep-sand still tucked into the corners of your eyes. Dust fairies dance in the spotlight cast through the room and you turn into your pillow, away from the performance. 

You’re caught in a web—linens tangled around your ankles, anchored to the bed, suffering through cottonmouth and haze. According to the time you slept plenty. According to your body, however. 

The floor is cold against your feet. You yawn, joints clicking as your limbs stretch. Meander through the typical morning routine without a second thought, or a third. Only when your face is washed and you’re significantly more awake do you wander out of your apartment.

Cushioned by a set of fluffy, foam soled slippers, you stumble into the common area, welcomed to a languid, warm atmosphere. Surprisingly, a few people are already there. Yamada is dressed in his civilian clothing, waist length hair pulled back into a braided ponytail that mimics a mohawk. Eri is seated on one of the kitchen stools, squirming as his fingers work through her hair in gentle twists, styling it to match his own.  

She’s wearing a denim overall dress dotted with embroidered cats over a long sleeved shirt, matching the subtle pattern on her white tights. Her legs kick happily under the island. A smile pulled at your mouth as you watched the homely scene. 

A familiar sleep-worn voice murmurs your name and you try to look more alert than you feel.

The smell of percolating coffee reaches your senses. You retreat from the stinging heat that brushes your knuckles as Aizawa nudges a freshly poured mug toward you. “Oh, shit. Thanks,” you mumble. The surroundings are still gossamer soft and blurred at the edges; you’re impassive when your fingers slip through the curved handle and overlap his. 

Faint, coarse hair on his knuckles. Dull nails. Rough skin. You take the mug and bring it to your face. Steam kisses each cheek, billowing as you blow across the tawny surface. Aizawa’s throat bobs. Your stare lingers over the rim longer than appropriate, dragging down his body to take in the rare casual appearance. 

“You look nice”. 

His jaw ticks, eyes fixed on the button of his loose knit cardigan as he rolls it between his thumb and finger. Black, like most of the articles in his wardrobe, but stylish. The hem falls below the hip, hung over a pair of dark slacks. It’s flattering on his frame despite being oversized.

“Contrary to popular belief I can actually dress myself,” he says. 

“Colour me surprised,” you sip the hot coffee in a poor effort to conceal your grin. Even as the remaining dregs of sleep subside you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. “Are you guys going somewhere?”

Before he can respond Eri is bounding over. She crashes into your legs, chin above your knees as she looks up and chimes, “Good morning!”

“Good morning sweetheart,” you say, holding your hot coffee out to the side. Eri’s eyes squint with the force of her smile and sunlight pools through tall standing windows, highlighting the glittery clips in her faux mohawk braid. “Your hair looks beautiful”.

“Thank you,” she delicately pats the top of her head. “I wanted it to look pretty today. We’re going to the com-mer-cial dis…”

“District?”

“District,” she nods excitedly. “Have you ever been to a district? Deku said there are lots of fun things for us to do. Will you come with us?” Then looking to her father for permission, she clutches her dress and asks, “Please?”

You blink. The coffee mug begins to sting the skin of your palms. “We can always use an extra chaperone,” Aizawa offers slowly, eyes sliding over you from head to toe, making you all too aware of the ratty old pyjamas you’re still wearing. “You can accompany us if you want to”.

The next words leave you in an instant.  “Do you want me to?” you asked. They’re clumsy and your voice fractures, bringing with it a flood of warm embarrassment. “Sorry. I think—I’m still half asleep”. 

Shouta suddenly appears to have swallowed a lemon. 

“Of course he wants you to,” Yamada strides over. The absentminded tapping of his phone’s keyboard echoes amidst the awkwardness. A smarmy grin plays on his lips and he tucks his chin to peer at Eri over the rim of his yellow tinted glasses, “Ain’t that right, Eri-chan?”

Eri nods insistently. Aizawa settles his hand atop her crown, careful not to disturb the braid, and stops the bobble head movement. “I don’t need you to speak for me,” He sighs, and the sound is fond more than anything else. “We’re meeting the students by the bus in thirty minutes,” He meets your gaze. A red-gold hue catches the light against the dark limbal ring around his iris. “You should come”.

Your chest flutters and you put his tone down to imagination. “I’d love to,” you reply, patting down your pyjama shirt. “Let me just get ready”. 

Quiet bickering follows you upstairs. You rummage through your wardrobe at a frenetic pace. There’s really no time to spare to worry about what you should wear. Once dressed you cram a water bottle, a lightweight fleece, sun protection, recovery gummies—

You pause, eyeing the unnecessary bulk in your rucksack. No doubt the kids were old enough to bring their own bags. Your tongue smooths over the teeth marks inside your cheek and you set the thought aside. No harm in being prepared. 

The clock on your phone screen blinks. Five minutes to go. You slip it into your pocket and hurry out the door, bag strap drawn over your shoulder. Kurose looks up from the couch as you stumble through the common area, navy hair flattened to one side, a few stray golden strands upright and reminding you of an antenna. 

“Hi Kurose-san,” you huff, jogging past and giving a quick wave. “Bye Kurose-san”. 

“Have fun out there,” they cheered. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That really doesn’t narrow it down by much,” you call back from the genkan, slipping into your shoes. Laughter bleeds through at the faux wounded look Kurose sends your way before you leave. 

The crisp morning air bloats your lungs on a deep inhale. Not a cloud to be seen, the sky a pleasant blue canvas. You descend the steps and follow the path toward the staff car park. Ushered into a single file line, a modest flock of hero students wait beside the minibus. You can’t help noticing how much younger they seem without their uniforms. 

Eri locks onto you instantaneously. Her lips move, and you think she must’ve called for you, but her voice was too small. Still it beckons the attention of the teenagers around her. One by one they shout your name, their clamouring coming together in an ill practised chorus.

Yamada ducks out from the minibus. “Yeaaah!” he beams, leaning against the folded door. “Right on time, my friend. We were just discussing the buddy system”. 

That reminder elicits a quiet groan from the class. Yamada laughs good naturedly, “I know, I know. But safety comes first, kiddos. Have you picked who you’re stuck with today?”

There are various nods and shrugs. Numerous heads turn to Bakugo, including both Midoriya and Todoroki, and he appears indubitably unimpressed that he’s spoiled for choice. Yamada’s focus lands on Eri. “What about you, mini me?” he pokes at the swell of her cheek. “Gonna be my buddy today?” 

Her anxious eyes flicker between you and him. You’re admittedly flattered that she’s torn. But the doubt is short lived, decided by an inconspicuous wink from Yamada. A toothy grin brightens her face. “Okay,” Eri chirps, holding out her hand for him to take. 

“We get to be passenger princesses today,” the voice hero whispers excitedly. You do well to restrain the coo building in your throat as his palm dwarfs her fist and her lips form an ‘o’. 

Suitably organised, the kids begin to climb onto the bus in their pairs. Iida and Todoroki sit in the spaces in front of Shinsou and Bakugo. There’s a soft pout to Midoriya’s lip but he happily joins Kouda, fingers moving in graceless strokes as they sign to one another. Yaoyorozu joins Jirou, taking the window seat. Tokoyami listens along to Kaminari’s aimless rambling; Sero, Mina and Kirishima behind them at the very back. 

Aizawa is already aboard the bus discussing safety policy, capture weapon draped around his shoulders. He pauses conversation with the driver and smiles as Yamada ushers Eri into seats positioned at the very front. Languid, his focus slides to you, the very last to enter. Heartbeat quickening. There’s something there, you feel it existing on the fringes. 

“Enough. Settle down,” he says, voice rough and commanding authority. The commotion dwindles. You nod before shuffling through the aisle to the remaining spaces. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that this trip is a privilege. I am trusting you to behave, follow instructions and stick together. Understood?”

“Yes, Sensei”. 

“Do you all have your phone notifications on?”

Yamada throws up a peace sign and jumps in, “Yes, Sensei”. 

Aizawa rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. With the polite incline of his head to the driver the bus doors whirred on their hinges and began to shut. He tucks a curtain of hair behind his ear, adding, “Any questions before we leave?” 

Shinsou clears his throat. His elbows rest on the back of Midoriya’s chair. He lazily points towards Aizawa and drawls, “Does Aizawa-sensei have a buddy?” 

You immediately become conscious of a tangible weight. Their stares fall to you, his included. Dark eyes like flint to your very core. You grin and bear it—grimace through the tension and hope his sharp intellect does not extend to 

Aizawa pressed his lips thin, “Any actual questions?” 

The figures in your periphery all shake their heads, biting back amusement in the face of their teachers' chagrin. The pressure does not dissipate when Aizawa takes the spot next to you, nor when the engine sputters to life and the looming barrier bordering the school entrance lifts to allow passage. 

The destination isn’t far. A fifteen minute drive at best. Still, as the journey progresses the air grows notably sombre. While much of the city has been restored, ghosts will remain. Skeletons of buildings sit on the landscape. Once a sprawling metropolis now made a uneven scar tissue terrain. 

That twinge of concern has you looking over your shoulder and scanning the bus in a less than subtle way. Everyone seems fine. Kaminari waves when you catch his eye. The only student that gives you pause is Bakugo, who has taken to staring hard out the window, discomfort etched into his features.

Or perhaps it’s your overactive imagination. The frown smooths into contentment and you realise he’s sharing a split earphone jack with Shinsou—maybe it was a song he didn’t like. 

You try to shake off the trepidation hanging over your mood. Aizawa notices but doesn’t pry and you find yourself grateful. 

Your concerns become minor the moment the minibus pulls into the commercial district. Standing prominent against the skyline, the building is sun drenched and unsettlingly clean. Inside, light pours through the high domed ceiling and reflects on the shiny tiled floor. There are three upper levels visible on spiralled balconies, each dedicated to different departments. 

Ground level is rather miscellaneous. Record stores, hobby crafts, tech booths and things of the like. Soothing music plays in the background, gentle melodic notes. Being somewhere that brought a sense of normalcy boosted the students morale. You’re warmed by contagious excitement—Aizawa too, lacking his usual force and a smile in his tone as he tells them. “Remember, you’re not to leave this building. If something happens you contact one of us”. 

They split off in opposite directions with the promise to meet at the food court in two hours. Eri and Yamada linger a few minutes longer. She tugs at her fathers sleeve and when crouched to her height she plants a short kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

You are then gifted a sparkly clip for keepsake, as though she were giving part of herself to take with you. “Thank you sweetheart,” touched, you attach it to your bag strap. “I’ll keep it safe”.

Satisfied, Eri thrusts her hand up for Yamada to take, and she comically leads him to march in the direction of a children’s store. The crowds are unexpectedly thin. Though you supposed a majority of the general public did not yet have the confidence nor the funds to make leisure trips to the mall. You’re only thankful they are respectfully giving your class a wide berth. 

Aizawa puffs an indignant breath, “…I think we’ve finally been set up”. 

Fondness surges deep in your chest and you bite back a grin. There’s urgency to it that you can’t satisfy. “Glad I’m not imagining things,” you wet your lips, moving to match his stride. “Does it not bother you?” 

“Which part?” he asks. He’s looking anywhere but you. There’s a playful lilt in his tone that equally settles and ignites your nerves. You would search his face for answers if the lower half were not obscured by his scarf. 

“The ‘clearly trying to get us to date’ part”. 

“There are worse people to be lumped with”. 

Aizawa’s profession rarely left time for indulgence. You’ve heard him discuss it before. He never thought it sensible to involve another person in what he had presupposed would be a tumultuous relationship. For that reason, you wonder if he has much experience in romance at all.

“Ever the charmer, Aizawa”. 

“Shouta,” he says. You blink, narrowly caught in a stupor. The erasure hero sinks to burrow deeper into his capture weapon. Warmth rises to the tips of his ears in spite of his efforts. “Just call me Shouta”. 

Very eloquently, your response is, “Oh”. 

“Or don’t,” he grunted. 

There’s a wealth of unspoken confessions behind a single name. Your heart feels full, stuttering in a way it hasn’t in a long while. “So. What should I tell my friends?” you pick up speed, giddiness spurring your pace and taking you a few steps ahead. “‘This is Shouta. We work together. He has twenty-something kids and our first date was spent patrolling the Musutafu mall’?”

“I have one kid—” Shouta falters, though fleeting, as if he hadn’t realised he’d begun to walk the perimeter. He arches an unimpressed brow, any scorn decidedly betrayed by the mirth in his eyes. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

An hour rolls into another. You meander various stores together, occasionally bumping into the students and ignoring their suggestive looks. He buys some things for Eri—or so he claims, now in possession of three different cat gel pens—and you pick out new books to keep in your classroom. 

And in the grand scheme of things it’s a paltry affair. You’re looking around a newly built mall with a man you’ve known for close to two months. Simple, comfortable, as most things are with Shouta; yet it feels like a path you’ve walked more times than you can count. Fastened by mattress stitch seams, shoulder to shoulder, you share conversation written in passing glances, so many possibilities etched into a handsome crooked smirk—

Three message alerts come loud and in quick succession. That alone is enough to shatter the atmosphere. They feel frantic, and Shouta’s expression is explanatory enough. 

“It’s Shinsou. Something happened with Bakugo,” he mutters. In one fell swoop he is dashing ahead and you are not long behind. He turns a corner. Your kids are bunched together, seemingly bickering and distraught. Midoriya’s frantic voice can be heard above them all. Civilians have parted, tucking themselves against walls and waiting at security’s instruction. You’re comforted by the fact that they are not rushing out in droves. 

Bakugo is absent. The air smells like smoke but there’s no notable damage. Shouta flashes his hero license and steps into the shoes of a guardian so naturally you wonder if he ever takes them off. The officers standing nearby offer sympathetic smiles, allowing you through, too, after seeing your UA badge. 

While Shinsou is relaying what happened to Shouta you approach the others. A chill spikes the air, colder as the distance lessens, and you realise it must be Todoroki’s quirk. He’s standing at Midoriya’s side, exhaling visible breaths, laying a cold hand on his friend's neck to allay the panic. 

“Hey guys,” you greet gently. “Aizawa-Sensei is just clearing things with Shinsou. Do you know what happened?”

Midoriya snaps to attention, “Sensei—Kacchan, he’s—!”

Kaminari closes in, careful as he drapes his arm across Midoriya’s back. “It’s alright, man,” he murmurs. Todoroki nods. There’s a helplessness in his expression. “Kacchan’s okay. He just needed to blow off some steam. Or smoke, I guess”. 

A repetitive sound loops above your heads. You realise then that there’s a jumbo multi screen hovering in the centre of the ceiling. Clips depicting Gigatomanchia's rampage fade one into a title card, the words ‘twenty city rampage’ highlighted across a sepia backdrop. Your stomach churns at the sight, inhaling sharp between your teeth. 

“It’s that new bullshit documentary,” Jirou interjects. She fiddles anxiously with the jack hung from her earlobe. “They—uh. There were pictures of…”

“I understand. Thank you, Jirou,” you say. They needn’t relive it again—but they had. They will. Bakugo simply raised his head and saw his worst experiences pilfered for television. 

You exhale, taking with it the abrupt anger and frustration. They’re looking to you for reassurance. “I promise we’re going to find Bakugo,” you tell them. “I’m sorry that any of you had to see those images again. Like Kaminari said, I imagine he got overwhelmed and needed some space”. 

Midoriya swallows thickly and he nods. The motion is unsettlingly lifeless. His blank stare passes over your shoulder, and a silhouette of bodyheat settles behind you. 

“Shinsou explained everything,” Aizawa says. His presence visibly untangles the knots in their posture. “Security informed me Bakugo is still in the building. I need you all to wait here for Yamada-sensei—” he holds his hands out in a placating gesture as Todoroki begins to interrupt “—you will wait here while we look for him”. 

“I’ll start heading that way,” you point where the wide walkway narrows towards the southern exit and hard turns left, not wanting to remain still for longer than necessary. Aizawa regards you with a meaningful look and nods. 

You take off. The air retains a faint smokey smell. It grows thicker, more prominent as you pass the various hero merch stores, meeting the eyes of a Edgeshot cardboard cutout. Acrid nausea rises unforgiving in your stomach. 

It guides you to a fire door slightly ajar. Through the door is a dreary stairwell, presumably to be used by customers on the upper floors during an emergency. Bakugo’s hunched figure can be seen through the crack. He’s sitting on one of the steps, head cradled in crossed arms. 

You quickly text Shouta to let him know, and ask that he give you two a little space. You’re hardly expecting him to talk. But where Aizawa-sensei goes his ducklings will follow, and you have a feeling Bakugo is not yet in the mindset for company. 

The door creaks on its hinges as you enter. “Leave me alone,” the Bakugo shaped lump growled. An emotional hurricane in the body of a boy. Your throat swells. It threatens to drag you in. You can feel the sharp winds clipping at your resolve as you lower to sit on the step beside him and he bristles, furiously spitting, “I said fuck off!” 

Another, someone more volatile and disciplinarian, could be tempted to jump in. A person such as yourself, lenient and with less experience, might find it easier to flee; to let the gale propograte northward and weaken on its own. Before being employed at UA your students had always been older, plausibly wiser—but, you suppose, children still. You are honest enough to inwardly admit that you don’t know how to make this better. But you are determined to try. 

So you see your body relax and let your voice flow out calmly, “I’m not going anywhere”. 

Bakugo laughs humorlessly and snaps, “What, you gonna lecture me now?” His hands are wrung tight to stop the tremors. Blood surfaces beneath the pressure and seeps into his nail beds. “Gonna tell me some bullshit about how heroism isn’t defined by success and things will get better if I stick it out?” 

“No. I didn’t come here to lecture you,” you say. He eyes you with suspicion. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. We can sit here as long as you need”. 

What follows is a long, thick silence. The lives of people can be heard muffled through the stairwell walls. Unawares, and in a way, unintentionally mocking. Bakugo’s laboured gasps toll louder in your ears. You don’t speak. You monitor the rise and fall of his chest, gradually slowing until the defensive vitriol clears away. 

“I hate losing control like—” Bakugo’s expression twisted uncomfortably then, as though the confession tasted bitter, and you patiently held your breath. "Fuck. How can I call myself a hero when…" his voice loses strength, reminiscent of an echo. 

He rubs harshly at the spot where his heart rests. You take the young hero by the wrist. You envelop his split knuckles wearing a thin smile, admittedly strained, and squeeze around those shaking fingers while the moment simmers, a gentility not in the absence of violence, but despite it all. 

Bakugo blinks up at you. The movement knocks a tear free, careening down the side of a flushed cheek. The sight lodges something in your throat, thick and hard to swallow; all the words you don’t know how to say. You would never understand what it means to reside in his body—to think of yourself as the scene of a crime. 

Family members, strangers, had visited his hospital room to mournfully listen to that pulse one last time, and Bakugo told them to come by whenever as though he were a living effigy of their lost son. You saw the disconnect he felt from himself. That lifelong debate of what makes a person a person. 

He’s just a kid. 

“Bet you’ve heard hundreds of ‘I’m sorry’s’ at this point, huh?” you murmur. Bakugo snorts. 

“Try thousands,” he rasps. Clicks his tongue to his teeth to save face. “Never know what they’re really apologising for. Rubs me the wrong way”. 

And after being witness to how Bakugo’s mind works you understand what that means. Atleast, you think you might. Teenagers hold enough shame without the weight of another person's life in their arms. You only imagine he hears their regret, guilt, disappointment—hears ‘sorry it was you, kid’ and ‘sorry it wasn’t him’. 

“It’s okay to be angry, you know,” you vowed solemnly. “There’s so much pressure to channel what happened to you into something positive. To make it your strength. And maybe you will, eventually. But you’re allowed to step back and say ‘I went through something scary and traumatic and that changed me forever’”. 

Bakugo grunts. He scrubs under his nose with the back of his hand. “Don’t need you to tell me that,” he says, tone lighter than before. It sounds a lot like ‘thank you’. 

“I’m glad,” you nudge his side and return your hands to your lap. “In that case we should talk about something else”. 

“Like what?” 

“Your assignment,” Bakugo snorts, rolling his eyes. “Hey. I’m serious. Most of the others have come to me with their topics but yours is still a mystery”. 

“‘Cause those losers need help and I don’t,” he says. There’s no malice in it. His cadence is lighter, the burden he carries now far more loose fitting. You watch him pick at the rips in his jeans. “…Mine’s about mythological figures. Some cult wackos out there believe the old Gods had quirks. Hence the animal heads and shit”. 

“That’s a brilliant choice, Bakugo,” his answer brings a sincere smile to your lips. “Gives you a lot more to explore in your discussion. I can’t wait to read it”.

The muscles in Bakugo’s face twitch. Mouth deliberately downturned. A flustered yet pleased blush paints the tips of his ears and the simple praise breathes him to life like a technicolour Oz. It eases the anxiety simmering under your skin. You prompt him to talk further, pleasantly surprised to find that his curiosity extends further than Japan’s own mythology. 

Eventually you need to update Shouta again. Leaving it too long would only worry him further. Bakugo’s eyes track your thumbs movement across the keyboard as you type. “Are you texting Eyebags?” 

“I’m texting Aizawa-sensei,” you correct blithely as a text bubble appears on the bottom left of the screen. “I thought Shinsou was ‘Eyebags’”. 

“They’re interchangeable,” he rebuts. You huff a laugh, screen going dark with a quiet click. Bakugo’s reflection looks back at you where he’s peeking over your shoulder. 

“You two a thing or somethin’?” he asks, not even attempting to hide his interest. 

“We aren’t ‘a thing’,” your fingers form quotation marks around the words. And it’s true. You aren’t. Yet. “I don’t know why you all came to that conclusion”. 

“Probably ‘cause you look at him all googly eyed. And he always shares that shitty jelly with you. Basically his alternative to a proposal,” he smirked. Shouta is still typing—

Your phone vibrates. The message comes through.

—A thumbs up emoji. 

Bakugo laughs. His eyes crinkle. A crease deepens on the bridge of his nose. The brief flash of a toothy grin. No longer a hero-too-soon on two tired feet but instead a teenage boy, poking light fun at his teacher. 

“The hell. He texts like my old man”.

You hum in amusement. “Some people do better face to face,” the ‘like you’ remains unspoken. Shadows pleat across the stairwell as clouds shift, disturbing the dim stream of light. You become conscious of the hour. And it seems so does he. 

“How do you feel about heading back?” 

Bakugo’s stare fixed itself onto his hands. You notice the crescent shaped marks, the skin around his nails fraying, picking at his body like a seam. “I can go back,” he grunts. 

“You can, but do you want to?” you ask, blindly feeling up the strap drawn over your shoulder. The small, glittery claw clip is still there. “Humour me for a sec,” you unclip it and Bakugo frowns as you proffer it to him, rolling in the centre of your palm. “Let it bite you”. 

“Let it bite me?” he repeats dryly. 

“Clip it around your fingers or pinch your hand with it—yeah, like that,” you grin as he blindly follows the instruction. The little claw clip bites into a swathe of the skin from the back of his hand. “Better, right?” 

Lip jutted into a pout, Bakugo eyes the clip dubiously; no longer focused on the anxiety, and you take it as a big win. “I guess. Thanks Sensei,” you tense in surprise as he gets to his feet, dusting off his jeans. “I want to go back,” he says, nothing short of a demand. 

There’s certainly no love lost between you and the cold step under your thighs. You stretch as you stand, shucking the backpack higher up your shoulder. “Alright. Then let’s get you back”. 

Bakugo doesn’t protest when you remain at his side, keeping pace. His finger and thumb work at the clips hinge while he walks, absentmindedly opening, closing, running the teeth over his knuckles. You’re sure Eri would gladly let him keep it. 

Tears are all dried up which Bakugo appears grateful for. The class doesn't immediately rush him, though you can see that they want to. Rather they wait for him to come to them, parting like arms and coaxing him into the centre. 

You branch off to where Shouta is standing watch with Yamada. Eri stands behind his leg, clutching at his pant leg. Her eyes are glassy and wide as she looks up at you. “Bakugo is alright now,” you tell them. “But you know what?”

Eri instinctively pushes up onto the balls of her feet, as though climbing higher to hear a big secret. Lowered into a conspiratorial hush, you say, “I bet he would feel even better if you gave him a hug”.

Shouta’s hand crowns her head. He carefully pats the side of her braid, giving silent permission. Expression tight in a determined pinch Eri ducks between his legs and toddles toward the group. 

“He really doin’ okay?” Yamada quietly asked. 

You murmur an affirmative, shifting in place as you turn to watch the scene unfold. Eri pats Bakugo’s hip. He seems vaguely nervous as he rests on his haunches and allows her to tangle herself around him. 

Shouta’s knuckles knock your own. His fingers twitch, unfurling as though to reach out and then thinking better of it. “Do you think I should talk to him?” 

When you look at him he’s already looking right back. Eyes soft like the sun had made them warm. You mind the small gap and stretch your pinky, brushing the outer curve of his palm and retracting again. “Bakugo respects you. He feels safe with you,” you assure him. “I think it’d be good if you talked”.

“Maybe some extra sessions with Hound Dog, too,” Yamada adds. Your heart staggers, having near forgotten he was there. “For all of them”. 

“I’ll see if he can do another class session during their independent study period,” Shouta says, attention returning to Eri’s antics—she’s now walking Bakugo over, hand in hand, subsequently bringing the other students with her. 

Shouta exhales, clicking his neck. There’s a finality to it. You see the internal headcount he does in their approach, and how the preparation to jump back into action recedes at the confirmation that all his kids are present. 

“We’ve got two options now,” he announces. “I’m sure none of us want to stick around longer than we need to. So either we go up to the food court and eat, or we can head back to campus”. 

Mutterings break out amongst the group. Iida diligently attempts to organise a sensible vote and asks for a show of hands, but his effort is squashed the instant that Kaminari suggests WcDonalds. 

Eri keeps hold of Bakugo's hand the entire way back, and insists on sitting with him. Yamada switches buddy’s without complaint, wiggling himself into the window seat beside Shinsou, happy to pull out his headphones and collect music suggestions from his beloved students. 

Shouta remains at your side. You hear unfettered laughter and think you might be close to tears—the tender kind. Softly, you mumble, “I’m glad I took this job”.  

He exhales slowly, and the loss of tension has him leaning into you ever so slightly. Your shoulders touch. “Me too,” he says. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp   To: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  Cc: Inui.Ryo@UAedu.jp; Aizawa.Shouta@UAedu.jp Subject: Incident report [High importance] Message: 

Good evening,

Attached is my account of the incident that occurred at Musutafu Shopping District on Saturday, [x] September 11:34am. 

Hound Dog and I have also brainstormed a few suggested classroom additions for students coping with anxiety. 

Take care!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sleeplessness is an open invitation to overthinking. 

Everyone has since retired to their apartments and it is long past the hour for Eri to be in bed. Time slips through your fingers. You count the dust bunnies behind your eyes but nothing works. 

Clarity shrikes through you with small cuts. The day wears on your body like a bruise that you cannot ignore now the adrenaline has subsided. You’re processing the fleeting touches, the purposeful looks, the whiplash of panic, the heartache that comes with being helpless—

Your mind is a spinning top with no hands to stop it, not even the clocks. Though it falters at a single thought passing overhead.

There is one man you can trust to be awake at this hour. 

You kick off the sheets, unsteady as you nudge each foot into the wrong slipper. The dormitory is cast in shadow. Your eyes are slow to adjust, shapes and lines sharpening around you. 

Shouta is seated at the kitchen island, dark space doused in the low lighting from the stovetop hood, warm across the contours of his face. Papers are laid out before him in organised piles. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” 

A pen spins around his thumb. He peeks through dark hair curtaining his vision and hums. Your gait is heavy, like wading through waist high water. The quiet clink of melting ice draws your attention to his glass. “I didn’t take you for a gin and tonic kinda guy,” you murmur, leaning your elbows onto the counter. “Regular old sake, maybe”.

The corner of his mouth twitches and he takes a pointed swig of his drink. He smacks his lips. “Gin and tonic keeps me awake,” he explains dryly, nudging the glass in your direction. You fold to his soft suggestion and bring it to your nose. The smell alone is enough to make you shiver. 

Shouta laughs at your grimace. At that point you sense in your gut that maybe, maybe you should have stayed in bed. You’re warm, pleasantly sleepy, and your tongue feels dangerously loose. 

Seeking distraction, your gaze drops to the papers stacked before him. You set down the gin, beaded condensation wet around your fingers, and lean in for a closer look. The grade written at the top is worryingly low. “That’s… not looking so good,” you prompted. 

“This is Todoroki’s,” Shouta clarifies, brow pinched. He gives an empathetic nod to your wide eyed stare. From reading their files you knew Todoroki consistently ranked top five in class A.  “It’s not just him. They’re all struggling in different areas. And I was never expecting things to go back to normal but it’s…” 

“You’re doing what you can,” you say. 

Shouta clicks his tongue, “But is that enough?” 

You cover his hand without thought, thumb outlining the rough dips and peaks of his knuckles as you insist, “Yes. I believe it’s enough”. Somewhere in the spaces between seconds Shouta overturns his wrist, and your fingers are intertwined, and you’re squeezing until your palms kiss. 

You think of that heavy coat Yagi referenced. Of a man wearing his failures as self imposed repentance. “You aren’t the only one here helping them. We’re going to get them across this bridge, and then the next, and the next—” Shouta turns a cheek to hide his amusement as your rambling becomes more exaggerated. 

“You’ll never be rid of them. Not even after they graduate”. You smile softly, “The kids are gonna be alright, Aizawa”. 

Dark eyes smile back, “…You did good today, you know”.

Hundreds of butterflies hatch inside your stomach. “I—I did?”

He huffs at that, wetting his lips. “You’re impossible”.

Something unspoken weaves into the atmosphere—the attraction between you becomes a tangible thread before either of you speak another word. He’s much closer. Every movement he has made you’ve mirrored without meaning to. 

“Impossible?” you repeat, hushed.

He pitches his voice low and says, “I thought I told you to call me Shouta”. 

At what point had you settled into the cradle of his thighs? Your breath catches. Two hands are on your hips, soft flesh yielding under his thumbs as they massage shapes from memory. You clutch at broad shoulders and exhale, settling into the hold and surrendering yourself.

“Shouta,” you echo, charmingly dumbfounded. 

Gentle, Shouta takes your chin and turns you toward him. A large, rough palm cups your cheek. He brings your forehead against his, close enough to hear his breath falter. The air is clammy. Taut, primed to break with another tilt of your head, and he must sense it. There’s trepidation—hesitance to handle something as tender as this when the things he knows best are animosity and bloodshed.

You offer mercy in taking the lead. Your hands slip from his shoulders to his jaw. Shouta lets himself be guided into your magnetism, a contented hum rippling in his throat like the water of a wellspring. 

He kisses you deeply and it feels four weeks too late. It feels like muscle memory. It feels like something you’ve done a thousand times over. Those hands circle around your waist, splayed at the lower back, heat radiating through your shirt. Lips part at the light swipe of his tongue. You taste the faint notes of citrus and juniper, coaxing him into your mouth, swallowing a soft groan. 

Heat flashes through you. Familiar want is coiling low in your belly, so stark that you shake with it. Hands wander. Lips too. Shouta kisses across your cheeks, nipping the delicate line of your jaw. Stubble tickles your throat. He mouths at your pulse and pulls you impossibly close, a desperate edge to it as though he were making up for all the times he wanted to but couldn’t. He outlines a topographical map of your figure, fingers walking the bumps, curves and dimples, tentatively slipping up your shirt to reach your soft stomach. 

The hair along your arms stands on end. Fingertips climb higher toward your chest, and a heart that threatens to leap right out through your ribs. “Aizawa, we can’t—”

“Shouta,” he mutters, continuing his path down your collar. You shudder and his fingers flex, sensing the aftershocks of his touch. 

“Shouta,” you amend breathlessly. “We can’t have sex in the common area”. 

A rare clemency follows. Shouta stops, and your hands come to thread through his hair. Dull stubble tickles the dip of your collarbone. You feel his lips stretch thin into a smirk. 

He leans back to look up and doesn’t take his eyes off you. Half lidded and soft, wrapping you in a gauzy roseate veil that hems the whole world pink. Something about the surety of his desire stunned you. To be wanted by a man who always seemed above such things—it makes your chest pound and your face warm, exhilaration spreading to the very tips of your fingers, restless with the urge to touch him. 

“Who said anything about sex?” he asks, tenor low and deeply amused. It seems any mercy from him ended there. 

“So now you can play dumb?” you mumble, an indignant exhale puffing through your nose. You feel him twitch, heat seeping through the thin fabric. “As if you were going to stop there”.

Shouta merely gives you a crooked grin. The scar tissue around his eye wrinkles. You find him unfairly, preternaturally handsome. You like him so much you’re dizzy with it. 

All at once you are torn apart. Shouta has pushed you into the adjacent seat and turned back to his papers. An ephemeral dread rushes through you—immediately washed away by the sound of a door opening. Two familiar voices follow. 

“I bet he’s somewhere down here,” Yagi whispers. He turns the corner into the kitchen, awkwardly bent to hold a small hand. Swimming in her sleep shirt, Eri shuffled in beside him barefoot and rubbing the sleep from her eye. 

“Look, see. And even…” Yagi’s eyes widened as he spoke your name. They flickered over your dishevelled state and then to Shouta, who is equally unkempt. Luckily for him that is nothing suspicious. You, however—

“I’m here Eri-bug,” Shouta says. His clothes have been smoothed out, hair tucked back over his ears, expression soft and unruffled as he crouched to her height. She stops short of him, laying her palm over his outstretched hand. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” he quietly asks. Eri shifts in place and nods. You look away from their vulnerable moment with instantaneous regret. Yagi meets your gaze, freezing mid step as he backs out, brows arched high on his forehead. There’s a slight blush around his ears. You grimace. He absolutely knows. 

Something small clutches at your shirt sleeve and tugs. The yellow ochre of light dances in Eri’s big red eyes as she studies you from the security of her father’s arms. “Hi there Eri,” you murmur gently. “Are you okay?” 

Her grip doesn’t loosen. She blinks long and slow, “Did you have a bad dream too?” 

Shouta adjusts her on his hip but says nothing. Behind the nonchalant veil lies fond amusement and warmth. “…Not a bad dream,” you tell her. “I couldn’t sleep because I was worrying a lot. But I’m feeling better now”.

A sleepy smile stretches across her lips. Eri is seemingly satisfied by your answer but not by the distance. Without ceremony she leans away from her father’s embrace into your own. You make a short noise of surprise as she wraps her legs around your middle. 

The weight is oddly comforting. You run a hand down her back, “Eri…?” 

“Bed now,” she slurs, rubbing the swell of her cheek against your shoulder. “Sleep safe”.

Shouta moves closer. There’s something in his gaze that makes your throat dry. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. What it is he has been seeing in you all this time—

“You heard her,” he pressed a kiss to Eri’s hair, then turned to kiss your temple. He lingers, and each word leaves another. “Let’s go to bed. We’re alright now”. 

—You can only assume, like for you, it is everything. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: [High importance] Message:  Good morning!

I heard the news and thought it important that you’re reminded of UA’s relationship policies:

There are none! Ha ha! Did you panic?

Much happiness to you both. It is always a pleasure to see love blossom.

Kind regards,

Nedzu Principal of UA High School  〒123-4567 Ōikuyō, Shizuoka, Musutafu.  Go Beyond, Plus Ultra!

[opencommunion]

"The Arab Jews were perceived in two different paradigmatic contexts by the Zionist consciousness. On the one hand, they were seen as Arabs, and hence as an 'other' of Europe and Zionism, and, on the other, as ancient Jews, hence as exalted, holy objects of the Zionist national-religious dis­course. The dichotomy gave rise to a confused and conflicted perception of reality. From the colonial point of view, for instance, the Arab Jews’ religios­ity was seen as superficial; from a national point of view, it was considered an­cient and authentic. ... 'True religiosity' served as a marker of the depth of the Arab Jews’ Zionist commitment and of the erasure of their Arabness. The Solel Boneh emissaries were engaged si­multaneously both in orientalizing the Arab Jews and in marking the differ­ence between them and the Arabs — that is, with establishing themselves as Western Jews. ... The depth of orientalist identification with European colonialism is seen in remarks made by Yitzhak Gruenbaum, a member of the World Zionist Organization executive, at a meeting with representatives of Solel Boneh held at the headquarters of the Jewish Agency in Jerusalem. There were two types of populations in Palestine, Gruenbaum said: 'We, the Jews, are twen­tieth-century people of Europe, whereas the Arab population is still at the de­velopmental level of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.' And, as 'people of Europe, we wish to create a European economy here. We believe that the Mandate government must conduct its affairs based on the point of view that Palestine is a European country like England or its dominions.' Yet, at the same time, as noted, the Arab Jews were perceived as Jews and as an integral element in the Zionist paradigm. As such, they were not considered as 'oth­ers' of Europe but as nearby 'outsiders' of European Zionism. The colonialist and nationalist categories are not mutually exclusive. In the Indian context, for example, as Partha Chatterjee explains, orientalist categories were subordinated to the ideology of nationalism in order to en­hance the glorification of the national past and its ancient lineage. Zionism, too, creates ethnicity within colonial na­tionalism. To constitute the Jewish community as a modern nation, Zionism seeks to reconstruct the community’s 'organic roots,' primordial lineage, and foundational theological narrative. The Arab Jews supplied the tribal and an­cient legitimacy for Jewish nationalism. Thus, for example, Zionism identi­fied the Yemenites as part of the ten lost tribes and as an integral part of the continuity of the nation. At the same time, however, it constituted them as in­ferior culturally, religiously, and nationally. ... In the Zionist context, the question of the encounter between European Jews and Arab Jews becomes complicated, because the encounter, which creates the 'otherness,' does not end there, but seeks also to recruit the 'other' into its ranks. It was here that the European emissaries in Abadan po­sitioned themselves vis-a-vis the Arab Jews and tried to define them as 'other' (Arab) yet also 'one of us' (Jewish, proto-Zionist). It is just here, in the inter­stices between the two categories, that the politics of 'difference' lies. The in­teresting thing is that Zionism (like other colonial enterprises) created a pol­itics of belonging and of difference and spoke in a number of voices, yet, at the same time, declined to acknowledge the cultural ambivalence of its own creation and attempted to enfold it within closed binary distinctions. It was a clear case of Jewish orientalism, where one Jewish group orientalized an­other."

Yehouda Shenhav, The Arab Jews: A Postcolonial Reading of Nationalism, Religion, and Ethnicity (2006)