“Why are you here, Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi's voice is low as he approaches Bokuto outside the entrance to the examination hall, but Bokuto still hears it clearly, despite how loudly he'd just been boasting to his classmates. Akaashi is fairly certain he'd heard something about Bokuto being the first to beat the unbeatable puzzle, to which he is deeply skeptical.

Bokuto turns around to face Akaashi, arms extended in a wide invitation to the world. Bokuto Koutaro always seems to be welcoming to everyone, everywhere he goes – it's part of what has made him an appealing candidate for Starfleet captain according to the Admiral. But it can't be the only trait of a captain, and Akaashi's test is designed to determine whether a cadet is truly suited to the demanding role, and the immense pressure a Starfleet captain will be under.

“I'm here to pass the test!” Bokuto's grin is big, guileless, and pulls everyone around him toward it, as though it had its own gravitational field. He stands tall with his chest puffed out, just a little. Akaashi's eyes narrow as he takes him in.

Akaashi has only spoken to Bokuto a few times – they don't share many classes, Akaashi's focus is engineering whereas Bokuto is on the officer track – but he's heard about the cadet who'd come back to take his test again. The only cadet to attempt his impossible test more than once, to return for a second dose of hopeless, crushing defeat.

But he returned to it because he didn't get it the first time. His desire to repeat the experience proves that, and so he is not ready to graduate, and won't be until he can accept the loss.

That's the point of the test, isn't it?

So why is he here?

“You were unable to pass the test the last two times you made the attempt, and you have changed nothing in your approach to the situation.” Akaashi's tone is clipped, his hands held tightly at his sides. Bokuto continues to smile, entirely unaffected (oblivious?), which only frustrates Akaashi more. “On both occasions you charged in for a frontal assault, and were soundly defeated. What has changed? What will you do differently this time?”

Akaashi's voice is lowered, almost to a growl, as the distance between himself and Bokuto steadily shrinks, Akaashi getting right up into Bokuto's face in his frustration. It's very un-Vulcan of him, but he is only half-Vulcan, so he is only half-embarrassed at his unrestrained behavior. He's not quite sure what he's looking for in Bokuto's face, but he's determined to figure out just what is going through his head.

Bokuto's brows lower a bit in confusion. “It's not like I messed up the first two times I took it,” he says with a shrug. “It was just bad luck. I did everything right – everything I was taught, you know? So why would I do something differently? I just have to keep trying until I beat it, right?”

Akaashi inhales and opens his mouth to reply, but pauses before any words cross his lips, and slowly closes it again.

Bokuto may not be learning how to cope with impossible choices a captain has to face, but he's also not letting impossible choices undo him, or even slow him down. He has shown no talent for strategy or clever tactics, but that was never the purpose of his test, anyway.

Bokuto is... not wrong.

Perhaps it is time he reevaluates his test.

Akaashi looked up at the stars, and as the small campfire crackled cheerfully in front of them, and an owl called from deep in the dark forest around them, Bokuto thought nothing had ever looked more beautiful.

Akaashi sighed.

“Hey, Bo,” he muttered without looking away from the sky, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto squirmed a little bit, brows dropping into a slight frown. He wasn’t used to this tone, he didn’t know what it meant, and it made him nervous.

“What would you do, if we didn’t have to fight tomorrow? If we could just... be somewhere else. What would you be doing?” Akaashi finally turned to look into Bokuto’s eyes, and Bokuto’s heart leapt.

He thought he would do anything if it meant Akaashi would keep looking at him.

“Um. You mean if—if Shiratorizawa didn’t exist?”

“No, I mean if we didn’t have to fight. If you could do anything you wanted,” Akaashi said, his head tilting at an angle as he studied his commander.

Bokuto immediately pictured himself, back before he had an army to command, out training on the grounds of the Royal Estate. He’d been good at fighting from very early, and pretty much always had a weapon of some sort on his hand, and Akaashi had always been at his side. He tried to picture a world that wasn’t on the brink of war, that didn’t need armies training for battle from childhood. It was a struggle.

Silence settled over them as Bokuto tried to imagine a life separate from the fighting. He thought for several minutes, and was still thinking about it when Akaashi interupted the quiet.

“I like flowers,” he said, definitively. Bokuto blinked a few times, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.

“...Flowers?”

“Yeah,” Akaashi says with a soft smile, looking at the trees. “I think the world could use more flowers. I’d like to grow them. All kinds of colors and varieties.”

Bokuto found he could picture it easily—Akaashi with dirt smeared on his clothes, watering and pruning and growing things in a brightly lit shop, with flowers covering every surface in every conceivable color. It was...peaceful.

“So do it!” Bokuto said, standing up, facing his best friend. “After the fighting is over, you can start a shop! You’d be so great at it.” Bokuto grinned, wide and effortless.

Akaashi turned away, his expression falling. “That… would be nice,” he said, without conviction. Bokuto hesitated, frustration building. They were talking about a fun dream, a beautiful goal worth fighting for! Why was it making Akaashi sad?

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto said, leaning into his line of vision. “Why don’t you?”

Darkness flickered over his face, just for a moment. “I can’t, Bokuto, you know that.”

“What do you mean? Of course you can,” Bokuto said. “We’re not slaves, we can leave if we want to.”

“You’re the Commander, Bo, you can’t just take off. Hundreds of people would die tomorrow without an experienced soldier to lead them! Maybe thousands! Could you live with yourself if that happened?” Akaashi was shouting at this point, and Bokuto stumbled back a few steps, shocked.

“I—” His throat closed up, and he felt like the shadows were pressing in on him from all sides. Akaashi was angry, and he wanted to leave. And Bokuto couldn’t, Akaashi was right, Bokuto couldn’t just abandon everyone. Not his friends, or the people relying on him. Not today, and not tomorrow, and then the day after there would be a new battle, a new reason, and maybe he’d never—

Bokuto was their leader.

But... Akaashi wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, Bo, I’m just frustrated, and worried about tomorrow,” Akaashi was saying, his hand on Bokuto’s arm. “I didn’t mean to get so upset, none of this is your fault. I know you’d never give up on—”

“You could,” Bokuto says, maybe quieter than Akaashi has ever heard him speak. “You don’t have to fight, if you don’t want to. I would understand.”

Akaashi socked him in the shoulder. “Asshole. I’m not leaving you."

“But—”

“Shut up, I told you, I’m—scared. I’m not abandoning you to go garden for the rest of the my life because I’m afraid to fight tomorrow, don’t be an idiot.”

Bokuto frowned. “I’m not an idiot. And wanting to leave isn’t stupid. It’s not stupid at all!”

“I didn’t mean—I know. I’m sorry, that was an awful thing to say. I’m still not leaving, and nothing you say can convince me, so don’t bother trying.” Akaashi pressed his shoulder into Bokuto’s side, leaning his weight against him. Bokuto felt just a tiny bit lighter, and the shadows seemed a little less opressive, with Akaashi at his side.

“We just have to win. If we win, then they won’t need us anymore, and we can go grow flowers and not have to fight anymore.”

“Yeah,” Akaashi said with a sigh, resting his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll just have to win.”

“Ooh, look, Iwa-chan! A tournament!”

Oikawa’s character jumped a couple times in the air before raising their hands in the cheer emote. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore how his mouth quirked up in the beginning of a smile.

Oikawa was absolutely not cute. Nope. Not that he’d ever seen what he actually looked like, but you can be cute without looking cute. They were different.

And he definitely was not thinking about this.

“What kind of tournament?” Iwaizumi asked, his character running up to the in-game billboard next to Oikawa that posted announcements for the players.

“Looks like...volleyball?”

Iwaizumi frowned. “How the hell does that even work?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to win it,” Oikawa said, and if Iwaizumi didn’t know better, the weird repetitive sound he could hear over their voice chat sounded a lot like --

“Is that an actual volleyball?” Iwaizumi asked, incredulous.

“Oh sorry, you can hear that?” Oikawa said, laughing. “Guess this headset is shittier than advertised.”

“You keep a volleyball by your desk? That seems like asking for a disaster.”

“So little faith!” Oikawa said, outraged, and the noise stopped, most likely meaning Oikawa had put the volleyball down, to Iwaizumi’s relief. It took forever to log in; if Oikawa got disconnected because he accidentally tossed his volleyball at his computer, they were going to have words. “I happen to have very good control with my hands,” Oikawa was saying, and Iwaizumi had to hold in a sigh.

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t usually have it here, I just dropped my bag by my desk after practice. Some days you’re just too lazy to take it all the way to the garage, you know?”

“I didn’t realize you played,” Iwaizumi said quietly.

“Hmm? Yeah, I guess it hasn’t come up before.”

“What position? Wait, no, let me guess. You’re a setter.”

“Iwa-chan! How did you know?”

“We’ve been playing games together for how many years? You’re obsessive and like to be at the center of everything. Of course you’d be a setter. You narcissist.”

“Iwa, that’s cold! But yes, guilty as charged.” Oikawa giggled, and Iwaizumi tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

“I’m a wing spiker.”

There was a brief pause before the inevitable outburst. “Wait, you play volleyball, too?! How did I not know this!”

“I thought you were smart, Setter-san. Was it not you who just said it hasn’t come up before?”

“Shut up! I just meant, with all the time we’ve spent together, you’d think we knew everything about each other by now. We’ll have to play when we finally manage to meet up in person!”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said, and signed up for the in-game volleyball tournament. “But if you lose this for us, I’m not gonna play with you.”

“Wow, harsh! I better bring my in-game A-game, then. Don’t slow me down with your heavy-armored, tanky ass!”

“Not gonna happen,” Iwaizumi said, smiling, as both of their characters were warped to a big, in-game stadium.

Somehow, Iwaizumi doubted it would feel as good as the real thing, but that would have to wait.

Virtual glory would have to be enough, for now.

"H-Haruna-san!"

He calls out your name, and you feel a shudder quake up and down your spine; you think about what you'd do, if he didn't have a weapon that could easily put an end to your existence, if you weren't shackled to him -- maybe not physically, there are no chains around your wrists or neck, but you are bound to him nonetheless.

And yet, his voice is sometimes the only thing you can hear in a crowded room.

"Get behind me," you say, using your body as a shield. At first, it was strategic; get him to trust you. Show him you're a person, he seems the type to be easily taken in by showing him a little kindness. If you played your cards right, you might have an ally, someone who would fight for you, perhaps even get you out of here some day.

You knew it was a long shot, and quite possibly completely hopeless. It didn't mean you weren't going to try.

You never expected to get...attached.

You almost want to laugh, thinking about it, remembering Takaya's advice months ago: Don't let your guard down, he'd said, with a cruel twist to his lips as he left you behind. You'll regret it if you do.

He'd been your last Inspector, until he was promoted out of the most dangerous unit on the force. Now you had a new Inspector, a tinier, much more timid rookie who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. But he's just so earnest, you almost can't help rooting for him, dammit. He's impressed by everything he sees, and he works so hard to get better.

It's a shame he won't last. Not with how fragile and anxious he is; he can never hack it as Inspector. He doesn't even want to use his Enforcers the way he's supposed to, he insists on doing so much himself, determined not to be any kind of burden.

It's going to get him killed, and at first, you didn't care. You were fine with that, as long as it wasn't your neck on the chopping block. You missed Takaya, and you would give anything to be able to go back to a simpler time, when it was the two of you, when you were both assholes but you both knew each other, how your worked, and could make the most out of the partnership.

Obviously it was even better when you were both Inspectors, and on equal footing, but what can you say? The temptation of doing things the faster and easier way was too much for you, and you fell. Your hue shifted, gradually at first, and then less so.

His didn't.

You preferred his rigid, traitorous ass over this... soft rookie. At least, you did. Once.

Sometimes, now, you find yourself actually admiring the kid -- he puts so much effort into the weirdest things, tries so hard not to slow anyone down, to keep pace, to prove himself worthy. He wants so desperately to be good at his job, to do the right thing.

It reminds you what it was like, before your hue fell out of the acceptable range, when you were treated like a person instead of like a disposable tool.

Of course, he's never treated you like a tool. But you try not to think too hard about that, because it's dangerous territory. Because part of you would like nothing better than to teach him what it's like to give in, to fall down to your level, to be the same. You would love to show him this side of the spectrum, give him a taste of being a criminal.

You wonder if you could, if he would fight you, or if he'd look up at you with wide, trusting eyes if you told him to pull the trigger. If you asked him to commit a crime for you, if you told him it was the only way -- would he do it?

Or would he find another solution? A third option, one you'd missed on your messy, catastrophic tumble from respectable member of society to rotten outcast?

It occurs to you that you've been thinking of him as not as smart as you or Takaya, but that neither of you would have ever thought to try another way, one that didn't involve something illegal. Just because he got away with it, managed to never get caught -- you two were always on the same page.

But Ren, you think, would keep looking. You suspect that he wouldn't give in, and would fight you, whatever you told him, however deep you managed to sink your claws into him, whatever persuasion techniques you used.

And you wonder -- who's the idiot, then? Who's the smart one, and who's the failure?

You may have already fallen, done the things you can't take back, and maybe Takaya will end up here with you someday. But you don't think Ren will.

And that's why you step in front of him, time after time. Wishing you could go back to the day when you didn't know him, didn't do it without thinking, didn't risk your life every day just to protect his.

But here you are, and yesterday is long gone, and it's not coming back.

So you might as well make the most of it.

Kiyoko ran.

She wasn't sure she could make it in time, but it didn't matter. Her pack was in trouble. Her four legs moved without input from her mind; she urged them forward, because she knew every second mattered.

The nearest vamp nest was over forty miles away, but it didn't matter. She knew how fast they could move, especially transformed. If the whole nest decided to violate the treaty, all at once, there was probably nothing anyone could do.

But she knew a few of them... she knew Hitoka, at least, would object, and hopefully she would be able to convince her friends it wasn't worth the cost. She knew vampire allegiances weren't the same as pack loyalty, although she also knew it didn't make them any less strong, especially if a fight over territory was involved.

She knew there was a good chance that they were already at the camp, her home, and had already done irreparable damage.

But she also knew that if she made it in time, she could stop any further bloodshed, and every second she could gain might save lives, on both sides.

And with the coming battle, they would need every single ally they could possibly find.

So Kiyoko ran, faster than she'd ever run in her life, because her famlly depended on it.

She crashed through the gate at the end of the road leading to the house, and it was easy because it wasn't locked, like it should've been. The massive metal gates opened before her easily, swung on their hinges, unobstructed. She kept running.

She could barely breathe, even in her stronger wolf form, from how far and fast she'd been running, but she kept going, pushing herself harder when she detected the metallic tang of blood hanging in the air.

It smelled familiar.

She kept running.

Kiyoko crashed through the front door to a hallway with blood splattered on the walls, streaks of it across the floor, even a few flecks on the ceiling. She howled, but the house was silent.

She kept running.

She checked the kitchen, the living room, the bedrooms, the cellar—all empty, traces of blood scattered in corners, on furniture. The familiar scents of her pack were all over, but she couldn't tell how recently they'd been here, couldn't distinguish between the old and the new.

The vampires, of course, didn't smell like anything, but she didn't need the proof to know where the blood had come from, because some of it didn't smell like her family's.

Kiyoko crashed through the back door out to the rear patio, and sprinted toward the trees. There was only one other place her pack could be, and she soon noticed a drop of blood here and there that confirmed her suspicions.

Too much of it smelled familiar. Kiyoko ran faster.

It took her minutes—too long, an age—to get to the clearing where they'd spent so many full moons hunting, playing, in a pile, together.

Now the smell of blood coated it, a layer of contamination, violence and pain in her sanctuary.

And it wasn't empty.

"Daichi!" Kiyoko called out to him—not with her voice, not in wolf form, but he could hear her anyway. He paused where he was facing off against a vampire, one she didn't recognize on sight. Kiyoko threw herself between them even as Daichi tried to shove her out of harm's way.

"Stop, listen!" Kiyoko used her teeth to tug off the small pouch strapped across her back, tossing it toward Daichi. "Look."

There were several other vampires fighting with her pack in the clearing, and she hated not jumping in to help, but this was more important. This could put an end to all of it.

Daichi didn't take his eyes off the vampire. "We don't have time for this, Kiyoko."

"Make time." Kiyoko glared at him, and Daichi hesitated, then glanced behind her, and Kiyoko knew Suga in that direction, had passed him on her way to Daichi, locked in a wrestling match with a vampire of his own.

Daichi finally glanced down at the bag.

"Trust me," she said, and then the vampire that had been attacking Daichi lost his patience and hissed at them.

"What the hell is going on," he said, and Kiyoko growled at him, and then Asahi dashed in next to Kiyoko and snapped at him as well, and the vampire flinched, taking a step back.

Daichi's eyes were back on the vampire, looking over Kiyoko to watch him, waiting for him get over his momentary retreat and resume fighting. But he didn't for a few seconds, looking from Kiyoko to Asahi and back, so Daichi nosed open the bag with his snout, which had fallen partially open when Kiyoko tossed it from her back.

He pulled out a necklace, and his eyes widened.

"Is this—?"

"Yes," Kiyoko said, and Daichi grabbed it with his teeth and then tossed it to the vampire.

"What the—?" The vampire caught it before he could think better of it, and then his eyes widened as he recognized the pendant, and he tugged open the small envelope that was tied to it, reading the message written there. Slowly his surprise melted away, to be replaced by fury.

"No way. No way is this legit."

Kiyoko growled, and gestured to her bag, and to the necklace in his hands.

"I don't know how you did it, but this has to be a fake. There's no way she orders us to stand down, not now. It's not possible."

"Yes it is," a voice called from the woods, the same direction Kiyoko had come from, and she instantly felt a wave of relief.

"No way. You must be joking, Yachi. We've been planning this attack for months."

"And they've been trying to figure out what to do about the curse for longer," Yachi said, fists clenched at her side as she walked over to stand between Daichi and the vampire. "Kiyoko talked to her, and she agreed to give them more time. You're all to return to the nest, immediately."

She stared him down for a moment, the chaos of a battle still raging around them, and then Yachi's eyes glowed scarlet and she raised a hand.

"Fine, fine!" He whistled, a piercing note that reverberated through the forest, and the fighting ground to a halt. He galred at Yachi, who lowered her hand and sighed in relief.

"Back home now, please. Queen's orders, the fight is over," Yachi said, glancing around the clearing, and slowly, one by one, the vampires stepped back, and then seemed to melt into the shadows, until the quiet shifted from the eerie unnatural stillness back to the standard quiet of the forest in the middle of the night, and then slowly the forest sounds returned, a bird called, the underbrush rustled, and Kiyoko knew the vampires were gone.

"Sorry about that," Yachi said, turning to Daichi, and then glancing over to Kiyoko. "We'll keep them away for a while, so you can keep looking for your—uh, curse-breaking, spell—thing," she finished, fidgeting and shuffling her feet.

"I should... get back," she said, and Daichi barked his thanks, and then she walked into the forest after the others.

"You saved us," Suga said, coming over to nuzzle Kiyoko's cheek. "Again."

"It's what I do," Kiyoko said with a relieved sigh, and they all took a moment to enjoy the peace and lick their wounds in the comfort of their clearing.

"We're not out of trouble yet," Suga said eventually, and Daichi groaned.

"You couldn't even wait ten minutes for the reality check? I was almost asleep."

"It would be more comfortable to sleep back at the house," Asahi suggested quietly from underneath Suga, who was sprawled on top of him. Kiyoko noticed that he hadn't made any move to get up yet.

"We can deal with everything else in the morning, I'm not moving," Daichi said, and his eyes drifted close right there on the ground, and then Suga followed suit with a sigh.

Asahi was snoring almost immediately, and Kiyoko smiled at them happily, warmth spreading from her chest all the way to her paws.

She had made it in time. There were injuries, but they healed fast, and would be good as new by morning, and the full moon would be over.

Then the real fight would begin—the fight to free themselves from their curse, and finally have full use of their abilities. No more headaches, no more waiting until the full moon to shift and then being stuck until the morning, no more taking suppression herbs to dull their senses when they got unnaturally sharp and everything was too loud and too bright and too overwhelming to function. Everything would be so much easier.

But that was a task for tomorrow.