Chapter Text
It’s another today, some time long ago in another world.
Smith is there, clawing at the vaporized remains of the Rising Orthos. His hands are bloody, his vision is clouded, and his heart is beating into his ears louder than he’s ever heard it. Shattered bursts of energy fire assault his ear drums. It wasn’t clear what had hit them. There had been gunfire in all directions, something tipped them over and tore the Orthos apart. He’d tried to shield them from the attack, but the fire threw them off-balance, opening them up to an opportunity hit.
He pulls his way through the dirt with his good hand. His other arm is broken, pain searing through him. Ribs are probably broken too, but he ignores them. The desire to get to him electrifies his nervous system.
He finds his partner, dead in the sand.
His helmet is cracked, thrown off and split beside him, kevlar vest ripped through and burned as easily as paper. There’s blood running down the side of his brow line, off his cheek and into the curves of his neck. Though there’s no obvious, gruesome injury, the unnatural stillness gives it away.
Was it just last month Smith’d had his arm slung around his shoulder, offering camaraderie in the only way he could think of? A friendly competition, an olive branch. Smith just couldn’t seem to let him go. It had grown into something of an affectionate rivalry. Then, out of nowhere, the invasion began. The pairs had dwindled to just them two and with nothing else, they entered the Rising Orthos together. Bound by fate, the closeness came easy. They weren’t lovers, but it was beyond friendship.
A single, tiny speck, given the task of saving the world. It wasn’t the way Smith would have preferred it, but there wasn’t a choice now.
He runs his good hand through Isami’s hair. Pulls him up as best he can into his lap. Cradles him like a newborn.
None of it matters. He’s gone.
He bends down towards his sun, grits his teeth and blubbers over. The cradle becomes a clutch, sending another spark through his broken arm. The crying pounds against his injured head but he’s unable to abate it.
There’s no point in calling for backup, in trying to protect himself. They’d failed.
A shadow looms over him, blocking the laser light and chilling the air.
“Human,” a woman’s voice says, the metal clanking as she walks, “your life is in peril, yet you stay. Why?”
Smith keeps his eyes trained to Isami’s lashes. His lip quivers.
“Just kill me.” he whispers, wincing. “Please.”
The woman laughs, and Smith finally turns to look at her. Her size is difficult to comprehend, but she’s undeniably one of those robotic aliens. She’s sat on her knees to watch him, her long black metallic coattails flowing out from her waist like the unfurled petals of a rose. Her hair is made of trillions of fiber light strands flowing through a helmet-like carapace around her, covering most of her face like a veil. She trails a manicured finger through the dirt, the coy smile on her faceplate unbroken.
“You’re angry.” she states matter-of-factly, head tilting to the side, “I sense the despair in you. Your blood runs hot.”
Smith ignores her. She hums.
“I’ll help you. We’ll get you the perfect death,” she continues, “but you must help me in return.”
She extends her hand to him, palm up and fingers spread. It draws lines through the dirt.
It’s obviously a trick, another ploy to get them what they want.
Even now, the flicker of a spark is within him. Maybe there was a way to fix this. He could play their game up until it came time to serve himself. No matter how small the exit got, he’d find a way to back out at the last second, to slip between the cracks and crawl to freedom.
He sets Isami down gently, laying a kiss against his forehead, and rises to his feet, taking stock of her.
He’d find Isami again. He’d win at any cost. He takes her hand, and the dance begins.
Decades pass that way, assistant to a monster, collared to their wants. The aliens are looking for something, backwards and forwards in time. It’s his job to be the eyes on the ground, to find if it exists in each universe they visit. Sometimes he’s there as himself, sometimes it’s Bravern, sometimes it’s a stranger.
Every visit, he combs through another Earth, searching. The jump always takes a little bit out of him each time. It starts at his fingertips, the burn working its way up his calves and forearms. His hair turns black. The once overly muscular frame, earned from careful dieting and years of training, starts to wane.
He finds himself, he finds his friends. He’s always a second too late. Isami’s either dead, or taken, or just gone. And at the end, Smith dies. It’s never permanent. No matter the damage, he’s back again, an endless cycle of search and abandon. He’s so tired.
His feet land once again in the silty dirt of Mauna Kea. He feels the cool wind against his skin, an electric buzz in the air.
He sees himself, maybe a yard away. Watches as his own arm slings around Isami, as he pulls him close. A Lulu hugs at his side. Isami’s smiling at him, only for him.
Something aches inside Smith, a deep, festering flame. He clenches his fists. He’s finally found it. This ceaseless torture could finally end. He just has to wait for the right time.
Smith brings the three of them to the conference room. Before they enter, Lewis turns to Isami and takes his hands, meeting his eyes.
“Isami...” he starts, soft and low, “We have to tell them everything. If you tell me not to, I won’t.” He looks down and gives their hands a squeeze. “I just can’t see any other way out of this.”
Isami follows his gaze, furrowing his brow. He pulls his mouth into a straight line, blinks hard. Then he pulls a hand free and brings it up to Lewis’s face, rubbing his thumb along the cheek bone.
“Okay,” he sighs, “I love you. We’ll be alright.”
Lewis wants to kiss him. There isn’t any time. He leans into Isami’s hand, eyes closed, and hopes it suffices. It doesn’t matter how long he stayed there, it would never be enough. Pulling himself away from that embrace is the hardest thing he’s had to do in months.
Smith waits until they’ve separated before he pulls Lewis aside. He grabs at the handle and stops.
“You read the note, right?” Smith whispers. It’s impossible to tell what his expression looks like through the sunglasses, but his tone is serious.
Lewis meets his eyes, a bit confused. “What note?”
Another neutral-faced expression, almost one of surprise, then, “Oh. Alright,” Smith drops his gaze to the door, pulling it open. “I’ll save it for after, then.”
He pushes them inside, and Smith gives a weak wave as the door shuts between them. The general and a council of other ranked members watch them as they enter. Whatever conversation had been going before their entrance dies.
“You’re late.” General King crosses his arms, and a chill runs down Lewis’s spine. They were already off to a bad start.
“I’m sorry sir.” Lewis crosses his arms behind his back. Isami clasps his hands in front of him. Lulu mimics Lewis.
The general takes a moment to hold them in a tense silence. He doesn’t move. He keeps his gaze locked on Lewis, brow furrowed and face hardened. Lewis barely blinks. Then, slowly, his hands move to the desk, and he leans forward.
“Admiral Barrow,” he says. “please read the charges.” A woman with short blonde hair rises, clipboard in hand.
“Commandeering a squad-mate's vehicle without express permission, using a non-government sanctioned vehicle, multiple disregards of commands from superior officers, failure to appear at several squad meetings, suspect of treason,” She looks up at him over the clipboard, “suspect of killing several and injuring hundreds of active-duty service members.” She sits back down.
There’s another long, pregnant pause as the general lets her words sink into the space around them. His gaze is unwavering. Finally, Lewis blinks first.
“I should have you court-martialed.” The general beats his fist against the desk with a metallic thud. “Given dishonorable discharge and excommunicated – lieutenant, are you aware how all of this looks?”
“Permission to speak, sir,” Lewis says.
“Granted,” he sits back down, crossing his arms again, “and you better have something damn good to say.”
Lewis chances a glance at Isami. Their eyes meet, and Isami nods.
Lewis closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in. “I can prove beyond reasonable doubt that neither I nor Lieutenant Ao nor Lulu were wholly responsible for the recent onslaught of alien attacks.”
“Not ‘wholly’ responsible?” General King holds his position, looking out at them with disdain. “Sure, let’s cut pieces into it. Let’s mark a percentage of what was you and what wasn’t.” He plants both palms onto the desk. “Countless numbers of my men – your brothers and sisters – are dead, lieutenant. It doesn’t matter whether it was all you, or only partly you, or even just a little bit you. You were there when The Messenger appeared, and you were there when that lizard creature disappeared. It’s all starting to look highly suspicious.”
He leans forward, and then pushes back against the desk. “Next you’ll tell me that you had some kind of involvement with Bravern, too.”
“If I may speak, sir,” Isami says.
The general keeps his eyes on Lewis, tone softening. “I saw something in you, lieutenant. In both of you. You were promoted to Brave Knights One, given control of Rising Orthos, because you showed exemplary abilities in the field, remarkable leadership skills. For you to be mismanaging your credibility like this is unusual, and highly shameful.”
His gaze drifts to Isami, and he points a finger out. “Go ahead, Lieutenant Ao.”
“Sir,” Isami begins, straightening his posture, “Lieutenant Smith and I were only able to form such a close bond due to the actions and involvement of Bravern. The reverse is true as well, because they were one and the same.” Isami looks at Lewis with the same fearful, miserable eyes he had the day he took Lewis’s hand and he pulled him up from that torture room. They’re fuller now, absent from fear, hope underlined with a helping of trust. “He saved me.”
Lewis’s back inside that airy void of space, falling to Earth faster than a bullet. His hands are not his hands, his body pumps rocket fuel, his brain is screaming Isami’s name. There’s the landing, the collision – a spray of energy bounces off his shielding in a circumferential wave, and he’s brand new and so in love.
“It’s true,” he begins, eyes snapping open, deep inside a memory, “I was Bravern.”
A pin drop then would have sounded like an explosion.
“Lieutenant Smith, is this some kind of joke?” The general asks, posture unchanged.
“No sir, it’s the absolute truth. For the sake of everyone, I’ll start at the beginning.” he gestures to the council members around them, all wearing similar expressions of confusion, “Chapter One: The Two Meet and Are Bound Together.”
He continues through the stunned silence, going through all the major events, leaving out a few of the details that would have been more incriminating for Isami. He gets to somewhere around the fight with Segnities when the general stops him again.
“Alright, Lieutenant, alright.” The general rubs at the space between his eyes, very clearly not expecting any of this. He grabs a spare piece of paper and starts taking a note. “This explains your reappearance and your confusing medical data, but not the last few days. And it doesn’t absolve you of your charges.”
“I understand sir. Until recently I didn’t have the answers myself.” He unclasps his hands. “Permission to approach and mark the board, sir?”
The general looks to the white board behind him and says, with a sigh, “Granted.”
He heads up and Lulu follows shortly behind, grabbing a marker of her own and uncapping it. He draws a stick figure, labels it with his name.
“When I was reborn, it was a combination of everyone’s belief, Isami’s love, and Bravern’s courage that brought me back.” He glances to Isami, who blushes, but doesn’t break contact. Lewis draws an arrow from the stick figure running outward to a square. He fills the square with squiggly lines. “The Deathdrives hijacked the return. They split me apart, stuffed the shell with their tracking software, and sent it down.”
“But they were defeated, what would they need with you?” One of the members asks, shifting his glasses.
Isami snaps his fingers. “Paupertipum. When we fed him the planet’s energy, it changed its very structure.”
“That’s right!” Lewis grabs another marker and draws a circle with lines coming off it. “The very way that our Earth functions has been changed down to a molecular level. They notice this massive influx of a strange, unquantifiable energy, and they want it for themselves. But with no military to take it, they use what they have left.” He turns to his audience and gestures outside. Then to the device in his hand. “They force a totality.”
“The end of the world,” Lulu states. She draws a large X through the circle. “They send The Messenger as a warning. Smith’s body was just the portal that it came through.”
“Then, the towers, and the beast you saw on the beach today.” He erases a few of the previous drawings and the gigantic creature forms from his hand in red dry erase. “Desiderias.”
“When we fought it at the tower,” Isami chimes in, “it was...siphoning the energy, or life force out of us. Maybe it’s collecting data for the Deathdrives as well.”
Lewis turns away from the white board and regards the room. “I believe that there are two more on their way.” He sets the marker down. “If you’re going to serve punishment, sir, I will accept the terms, but I ask that I at least still be allowed to work with Sergeant Miyu Kato at Build Burn. If we don’t have an equivalent machine to fight with, the aftermath will be even worse than today.”
All eyes turn to the general, who clasps his hands together and lowers his head into them.
“Lieutenant Smith,” he starts, looking up, “you really are something else.” He makes another note on his paper and returns the pen to its holder. “I can’t waive all of the charges, so for now I will place you under restricted duty. You are not to go anywhere except the barracks and the Build Burn hangar for as long as it takes to build your machine.”
Lewis and Lulu return to Isami’s side. Lewis smiles. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t think this means you’re fully cleared, lieutenant. The council will conduct a few more meetings during your time to discuss if we move to trial.”
The smile fades. “Understood, sir.”
The general sets his sights on Isami. “Lieutenant Ao, as I am not your chief commanding officer I can’t enforce a full punishment, but it’s possible you may face three weeks of solitary confinement. You are to stay in your quarters tonight until further notice. Your commanding officer will decide if there’s any extra requirements.”
“Yes sir,” Isami answers.
“Dismissed.”
Agent Smith meets them outside the door, taking in their dour expressions. He takes them to Isami’s room first.
“What was all that chapter stuff?” Isami asks, leaning against the doorway.
Lewis reddens. “Oh, um, that was…” he runs a hand over his neck, “well, when I was Bravern, I needed a way to, to kind of...condense everything, so…a-and I never thought I’d be back as me, so...”
Isami nods slowly, absorbing it. “So...when does chapter one actually start?”
Lewis meets his eyes again. It was embarrassing that Isami knew the way he talked about him when they were apart, but this one he could answer without a second thought. A smile forms unconsciously across Lewis’s face as he remembers it. “That day at training, when you told me your name.”
“Oh, wow,” Isami replies, suddenly embarrassed. “We’ve come a long way since then, huh?”
Lewis gives him an affectionate smile, bumping his shoulder against Isami’s. Isami bumps back, unable to look away. Something in his expression shifts, becoming a little more desperate.
“Three weeks will be over before you know it,” Lewis starts, placing a hand on Isami’s back, “so don’t—”
He’s interrupted by Isami wrapping his arms around him, squeezing tight. He returns the gesture, burying deep into the crook of his neck. Lulu pats at Isami’s back.
“I promise,” Lewis whispers, skimming against a shoulder blade, “We’ll build Magna Kaiser as fast as we can.”
Isami looks at him, still locked in their embrace. “You named it already?” There’s a hint of a smile shining through his pained expression.
Lewis returns the look, soft and gentle. “If you don’t like that one, I’ve got other ideas: Brave Master, Burning Cerberat, Bravern Uva, Kaiser Centauri...I can keep going.”
Isami laughs fully, breaking away from him. He runs a hand down Lewis’s bicep slowly. “I know you can.” His hand travels back up to Lewis’s shoulder, and he gives it a squeeze. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, a desire to do something else that he’s unable to fulfill. Lewis lays his opposite hand over Isami’s, returning the sentiment.
He’d do everything he could to make those weeks fly by and have Isami back in his arms. And once they got there, he wasn’t going to let go ever again.
“Don’t make a promise.” Isami says, voice wavering. “Just be here.”
Lewis pulls Isami’s hand to his mouth and lays his lips upon it, quick and chivalrous. His last words go unsaid, but they are understood. Isami pulls away and with a final glance backward, he shuts the door to his room.
Two seconds pass and Lewis already misses him.
“Lulu,” Smith says, shifting to face her, “can you find Miyu and get started? Lewis and I need to have a talk.”
She looks at him, then to Lewis. Lewis agrees, eyes still locked to the closed door.
“Go. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She excuses herself, trotting off in the direction of the Build Burn hangar.
Lewis and Smith walk to his room in silence, shutting the door behind them. Lewis picks up the scattered remains of clothes and gunpla models, laying them haphazardly on his desk. Smith finds the note, still tucked inside a spare shirt, and unravels it.
“Alright, talk,” Lewis says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, an action figure in his hands, “you’re not actually NIS, are you?”
Smith shakes his head, mimicking his pose.
“Why’d you lie?” Lewis continues.
He takes off his sunglasses, and Lewis stares at himself. Every dimple, every curve of the nose and dip of cheeks, it’s all exactly the same. The only difference is that Smith’s eyes are a faded blue.
“Could you imagine me coming back to the USMC with this face? It would be question after question with no end in sight.” He spins the sunglasses around his finger, chuckling to himself. “I’m sure they’ve got their hands full with just you.”
“So then...are you in trouble? Why are you here?”
Smith pulls his sunglasses back on, kicking lightly at some of the trinkets on the floor. “They send me, I go. That’s the deal.” He makes his way towards Lewis, slowly closing the distance between them.
“What is it then? Time travel?” Lewis gestures out in front of himself, hands curling into fists. “What are you looking for?”
Smith ignores him, gaze unmoving from Lewis’s eyes. He stops moving, inches away. “Isami said he loved you.”
Lewis scans his face. He watches the furrow form, sees an indiscriminate twitch of the lips. It’s easier to read his own expressions than other peoples, but being an outside viewer does add a layer of difficulty. Is it jealousy? Melancholy?...Heartache?
“He does,” Lewis says, winding his fingers together, “we’re partners.”
Smith looks at him for just a moment, face unmoving, before backing off. With a sigh, he circles back around toward the door, further away from Lewis.
“You’re a lucky man,” he starts, running a hand over his mouth, “there aren’t too many other timelines that go as well as yours.”
Lewis relaxes just a little. Isami was a familiar topic, one he could spend ages rambling about. He just nods, feeling his cheeks flush. Smith pushes the note out to Lewis, into his hands.
K2-54B
Lewis looks back at him, confused.
Smith starts backing up, heading towards the door. Once he’s far enough away, he thrusts a finger in Lewis’s direction.
“You’ve got one month.” he proclaims. “Build your Magna Kaiser and meet me at Mauna Kea. If you win, K2-54B is your final destination. It’s an exoplanet, 541 light-years from here.”
“Wait, just – wait.” Lewis sets the note aside, making his way to Smith. “None of this makes sense. We don’t have to fight, we can...we can face the Deathdrives together--”
“No.” Smith lowers his hand and throws the door open. Lewis stops in his tracks, unable to look away. “There’s no power of friendship strong enough to break the deal I’ve made. You either win or lose, Lewis. If you lose,” he pulls his sunglasses off again, voice low, “I take him.”
There’s a glimmer in his eye, something unspoken in his final pause. It’s almost remorseful.
So don’t lose.
The door shuts softly after him. Lewis lets him go, slumping onto the bed.
The days start to bleed into each other, each the same as the last. There’s a lump at the beginning, where restriction and confinement are momentarily waived so that they can attend the funerals. The bodies are pruny and wrinkled, covered in cloth inside their coffins. Isami recognizes some of them, soldiers who had cheered him on in the beginning, shared beers. He thanks them before they go, doing his best to carry their names with him. It’s a solemn reprieve, too short to give solace. There’s nothing he can say. He can only hope to move forward and make it right.
Lewis doesn’t sleep. He lies awake in bed, night after night, assembling models in his head, turning locking mechanisms and rotor cuffs around in 3D space. Some nights Lulu stays up with him to talk, or she’ll run a note to Isami’s room. “He’s doing well but he thinks he’s losing his mind,” she’ll report back. Lewis could say the same about himself.
Once morning comes, he’s back at the printer at the earliest convenience, still halfway in his pajamas. He works until his body aches, snapping pieces together, drilling rivet after rivet until he’s watching them spin in fatigue-induced dreams. Sometimes Miyu is there, sometimes she’s somewhere else, at Hibiki’s side, tending to her. Lewis thanks her for everything she can give.
He tells Miyu he was Bravern. She takes it well, half the time too excited to even speak. The rest of the week is spent answering most of her questions with, “I don’t know, it just worked,” or, “I don’t know, I never thought to check.”
Magna Kaiser begins as a skeletal pair of legs, heavy metal welded together to mimic human movement. Then, slowly the armor is built around it, tested and re-tested. It’s based off the initial blueprints for the TitanoStriders, modified to be sleeker and more form-fitted with Miyu’s help. It’s not easy, but progress gets further along every day. By the middle of the second week, the interior structure is complete.
It’s late in the night, definitely past midnight but not yet daybreak. Lulu stayed up for as long as she could, but the desire to sleep eventually overtook her and she left. Miyu took her along and went to bed for the night but Lewis stayed, pouring over blueprints and schematics until his eyes stop being able to focus. He’s in the built-out beginnings of the co*ckpit, trying to match up which fiber link serves as the primary communications connection.
“Wow,” Isami says from the floor beneath him, taking in the sight of the automaton.
Lewis leans out and meets his eyes. He blinks once, then twice. Isami’s smiling up at him, dressed in his stolen tricolor shirt and gym shorts. His hair’s down – no need to style it if he never left his room. His expression is so open, so loving, it’s like the sun peeking out after weeks of torrential downpour.
There’s still another week to go, isn’t there? This couldn’t be happening.
Lewis jumps out of the mech as fast as he can, dropping everything to get to him. He takes the stairs two at a time and practically throws himself into Isami’s waiting arms.
“This is real, right?” He asks, breathing in the familiar forest smell of Isami’s cologne. “I’m not dreaming?”
“I’m real,” Isami replies, running a hand through Lewis’s hair, “are you?”
Lewis laughs against his neck, pulling him in closer. “I’m real!”
He kisses along Isami’s collarbone, feeling the warmth of skin against his lips. Isami tugs at his hair, getting him to look up, and then he’s pulling him in, lips parting. Isami cradles his head in his hands, tilting to push in deeper. Lewis paws against his chest, arms comfortably weaving around Isami’s waist, hands feeling along his back. Lewis can’t stop the high-pitched moan that escapes him, and Isami’s laugh vibrating into him in response sets his nerves on fire.
This is real too. God how he missed it.
“Aren’t you still in solitary?” Lewis asks as Isami’s hands drop from his face to the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it up just enough to feel the skin underneath.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Isami breathes into his ear, making Lewis shudder.
Isami’s hands keep traveling up his torso, feeling across every bump and ridge along the way. Just as they’re about to crest over his chest, they change direction, winding instead around Lewis’s back as Isami lands his forehead in the crook of his neck. He breathes out a contented sigh. Lewis brings a hand up to cradle his head, rubbing his thumb against the nape of his neck.
“These two weeks have felt like forever,” Isami says as they sway. Lewis hums.
The two of them stay locked in that embrace, rocking slowly with each other, breathing in the other’s company. Lewis is so comfortable that the week-long insomnia temporarily wanes, and he finds himself closing his eyes into sleep in Isami’s arms. The silence that permeates the space is warm, making the cold expanse of the hanger feel soft and small.
“You’re wearing my shirt…” Lewis says through a yawn, dropping his arms back to Isami’s waist. He feels Isami’s laugh shake against him.
“I’m not giving it back. You’ve got more.” He runs a hand through Lewis’s hair, and it takes everything in Lewis to stay awake.
“I don’t have anything from you,” Lewis answers, leaning into the touch.
Isami’s hand momentarily stops, and Lewis feels him stiffen, just for a moment. Then it’s over, continuing the motion like normal. Lewis keeps his head down, preparing to ask if everything’s okay, when Isami interrupts him.
“How about a ring?” Isami whispers delicately, lifting his head off of Lewis’s neck.
“A ring…” Lewis echoes with a smile. Then the words actually hit him and his head whips up, meeting Isami’s eyes. He looks from one to the other, trying to determine if Isami’s joking or not. More awake, he repeats, “A ring?”
“Yeah, one for both of us.” Isami’s hand moves to his shoulder.
Lewis breaks from the embrace, pushing his hands against Isami’s biceps. He thinks back to the conversation they’d had moments before The Messenger arrived. “But...you said…”
“I did some thinking about it,” Isami replies, gesturing against Lewis’s hold, “we’ve already confessed, and Lulu’s been our kid for months now, so this is the only one left. Being stuck in my room for two weeks has only made it more clear. I can’t see spending the rest of my life without you.”
His hands meet Lewis’s, tracing over the knuckles with his thumb. Lewis can barely focus, exhaustion getting overwhelmed by adrenaline.
“Marry me?” Isami asks, lips curving upwards around the last word.
Lewis nods almost instantly, wide smile bubbling over to excited laughter. He pulls Isami in and then Isami’s laughing too, the two of them spinning around across the floor.
“Mm mmhmm mmm,” Lewis giggles in a sleep-deprived delirium, muffled by Isami’s skin and shirt, “Isami Smith...Lewis Ao...hehehe…”
“You’re thinking too far ahead again,” Isami says, prying Lewis’s face off of him. Their eyes meet, and Isami can’t help himself from smiling when he sees Lewis’s face. “Let’s save the world first and plan the wedding after.”
“I love you,” Lewis answers, “I love you so much.”
Isami kisses him quick on the lips and checks his watch. “I should get going.” He brings a hand up to Lewis’s cheek, looking across his face. Lewis leans into it. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep.”
Lewis nods. “Meet me here when you’re freed?”
“Absolutely.” He slowly pulls his hand away, making his way to the door. He gets there, hand on the handle, and turns back just for a moment, taking the sight of Lewis in again. It takes everything in Lewis to keep his feet planted and not follow Isami back to his room, but he manages it. He meets Isami’s last smile, and then he’s gone.
Lewis makes his way back up to the co*ckpit, shifts the blueprints around a little bit, but his mind’s totally blank for the rest of the night.
Piece by piece the chest is plated, then the arms. Lewis, Miyu, and Lulu work their way up the massive structure, until finally, finally, it’s done. It’s rough and untested, but even this much is enough.
Visually, it’s closer to Rising Orthos than Bravern, but the co*ckpit is wider for two-person or three-person piloting. He kept the signature Spar Kaiser influences, like the red helmet and the long double-pronged horns. Figuring out how to engineer a neuralink from the ground up was the most difficult part, but using what information they could, they managed it, or at least something similar.
The general comes in to observe their progress on the last day of the third week. He watches as they work the arms, point out every point of engagement, every modified thruster and propulsion engine. Miyu covers explanations for the both of them, going way farther into detail than either Lewis or the general could understand. Nonetheless, General King gets it, and Lewis’s restriction is lifted.
He gets to his room and falls asleep face-down the minute he’s through the door. He sleeps into the next day and halfway through it.
When he wakes up, the shape of poor V Gundam imprinted across his face, he makes his way to the hangar by rote where they’ve kept Magna Kaiser. He’s got nothing left to do, but it’s a force of habit to go.
He pulls open the door to find Lulu, Miyu, and Isami, lei around his neck, staring back at him.
Isami – his husband! – gives him an easy smile that makes the processor in place of his heart do a flip. Lewis runs the thought again, and his heart does a double flip with a corkscrew landing.
“Smith!” Lulu shouts, running to meet him. She throws the lei around his neck with a cheer.
“Glad you could make it,” Miyu snarks, “we were just welcoming Isami back to the world of the living.”
Lewis follows Lulu back to the group, bumping against Isami’s shoulder, who returns it. He meant what he said – heaven and earth couldn’t get him to let go again.
“So this is the complete Magna Kaiser, huh,” Isami says reverently, turning to the automaton in front of them.
“A beaut, isn’t she?” Lewis follows his gaze. “Would you like the tour?”
Miyu pumps her fists in front of her chest, practically shaking. “Say yes,” she says excitedly, “please say yes!”
Isami looks from her to Lewis, and gestures towards the stairs. “Lead the way.”
Lulu whoops, buzzing her way up them, excitedly pointing out every bit and detail. They work from the bottom up, from the water gliders to the posterior padding and everything in between. Miyu describes the spring tension alignment with all the excitement of a car salesman. Lewis briefly skips over the co*ckpit to gush over the ancillary thrusters, the minuscule projector wedged into Magna Kaiser’s back that would display their emblem behind them. He already had a graphic drawn up – he wasn’t one to skimp when it came to the details.
Lewis winds back around to the co*ckpit and pulls it open with a hiss, the trifold doors spreading open with ease. It’s a simple set-up, with two pairs of footholds at the front and a third on a raised platform behind them. Each of them have their own pair of ergonomic handles positioned in front of them, loose and wire-laced to allow for maximum range of movement.
Lulu goes to her post on the main level and pulls up the nav screens, showing Isami every detail. Up at the top left of her screen is a small, cutesy vector drawing of a turtle – her insignia.
Miyu pulls up the screen for Isami’s post, showing him his symbol.
“A cat?” He asks incredulously.
“It seemed fitting,” Miyu replies with a wink.
“Isa mi-Ao!” Lulu adds, unhelpfully, curling her hands into paws. Miyu grins over at her. Isami looks to Lewis in desperation, who just shrugs, as if to say I had nothing to do with it!
“Couldn’t I get something more intimidating? I’m not a cat.” He taps at the screen, but the icon doesn’t budge. “How about, like, a wolf?”
Miyu looks from Isami to Lewis, who’s rounding the steps up to the other platform, intentionally avoiding meeting her gaze.
She huffs. “It wasn’t easy to program an entire navigational system in three weeks, your majesty. Normally something this complex takes upwards of six months.” She bumps him playfully with her fist. “The cat stays. You do your job, I do mine.”
Isami admits defeat, raising both hands in front of himself.
“So,” Lewis starts, clearing his throat, trying quickly to change the subject, “Isami, how do you feel about going for a test run?”
Isami grips around the handles, feeling the metal track shift as they move with him. The platform underneath his feet seems to buzz with a quiet hum. Miyu drifts to the side wall, double checking a few of the wired connections. She runs a scanner against them until it dings, then turns back to them with a thumbs up and exits the co*ckpit. Lulu takes her place at the second platform.
“Let’s do it.”
Lewis waits until they’re both ready, feet planted and hands on controls, before he plants himself and reaches out. The moment his grip tightens around the handles, a spark of light flashes underneath them, spiraling out in a circular wave, and Magna Kaiser’s engine comes alive with a lion’s roar.
