Chapter Text
Tamakoma Finds Out
Chapter 1 — The Problem With Small Buildings
The Tamakoma Branch had many problems.
It was old. It was cramped. The plumbing made noises that suggested it was actively unhappy about
existing.
The walls were thin enough that you could hear Jin Yuichi laughing from anywhere in the building,
which in itself counted as a structural flaw.
For Yūma Kuga, however, Tamakoma’s greatest problem was simpler.
There was nowhere to hide.
She sat on the tatami floor of the common room, back against the wall, legs stretched out, trigger case
resting beside her. On the low table in front of her were Osamu’s notebooks—three of them, all open, all
filled with cramped handwriting and diagrams that looked like they’d been attacked by arrows.
“So,” Osamu said, pacing, “if Ninomiya Squad pressures Chika from the right flank, we rotate formation B,
Hyuse anchors the center, and Yūma intercepts—”
“I hit them,” Yūma said.
Osamu stopped.
“…You intercept them,” he corrected.
“With punches,” Yūma added helpfully.
Chika nodded immediately. “That works a lot.”
Osamu sighed the sigh of a man who had accepted his fate.
“Yes. It works. But we still need contingencies.”
Yūma leaned her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.
Strategy meetings were fine. Fighting was fine. Being shot at by trion bullets the size of refrigerators was
fine.
But this quiet, ordinary afternoon, sitting on the floor with people who trusted her, And forgetting always led to mistakes.
(The Things Yūma Does Without Thinking)
[sorry I wrote the chapters way to small so now some chapters have fused together have fun.]
Yūma had a system.
She always did.
She changed early or late, never during peak hours. She used the bathroom on the second floor because
fewer people went there.
She wore loose shirts and zipped jackets even in summer. She sat with her legs
positioned carefully, stood with her weight balanced just so, and never—ever—used the locker rooms at
Border HQ.
None of it felt strange to her.
It was just life.
The problem was that Tamakoma-2 spent an unreasonable amount of time together.
“Yūma,” Chika said suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Do you want some tea?”
“…Sure.”
Chika stood and headed toward the kitchen. Yūma watched her go, then glanced at Osamu.
“You’re staring,” she said.
Osamu jumped. “I am not.”
“You blinked weird.”
“…I’m just tired,” Osamu said weakly.
Jin, who had been lying across the sofa upside-down for reasons known only to himself, laughed.
“You know,” Jin said, “you guys are real fun to watch.”
“No one asked,” Yūma said.
Jin swung himself upright, chin in his hands, eyes bright.
“Yūmaaa,” he sang. “You ever notice how you never complain about the boys’ locker room?”
Osamu frowned. “She doesn’t use it.”
“That’s what I mean.”
Yūma stiffened internally.
“…So?” she said.
Jin tilted his head. “Just funny.”
It was not funny.
But Jin was smiling like he’d just found something interesting under a rock.
(Jin Yuichi, Professional Menace)
Jin Yuichi was dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with combat.
Yūma knew that.
Everyone did.
He noticed things. He said them out loud. And worst of all, he never seemed to understand when he
shouldn’t.
“Hey,” Jin said casually, hopping off the sofa. “Yūma.”
“What.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Yūma looked at him flatly. “You’re going to anyway.”
“True.” Jin grinned. Then, with absolutely no buildup, no warning, and no concern for anyone else’s heart
rate, he said:
.
.
.
.
.
“You’re a girl, right?”
.
.
.
.
.
The universe stopped.
Not metaphorically.
Actually.
Osamu froze mid-step, one foot hovering above the tatami like his brain had blue-screened.
Chika,
returning with a tray of tea, made a small, strangled noise and nearly dropped it. Somewhere outside, a bird
stopped chirping.
Yūma stared at Jin.
Jin stared back, cheerful.
“…Yeah,” Yūma said.
The universe resumed. Because it's sucks.
(Everyone Panics)
“…EEEEH?!” Osamu yelped, flailing slightly before catching himself on the table.
Chika’s eyes went impossibly wide. “I—I knew it!”
“You did?!” Osamu and Yūma said at the same time.
Chika flushed. “N-not like knew knew! Just… you sit like my mom.”
.
.
.
“…That is not scientific,” Yūma said.
Jin clapped his hands together. “Wow, nailed it.”
Osamu rounded on him. “You can’t just SAY that!”
“Why not?” Jin asked. “She said yes.”
Yūma shrugged. “It was faster.”
Osamu grabbed his head. “This is— this is a lot.”
“Do you need a minute?” Yūma asked.
“I need several years.”
Chika set the tea down with shaking hands, then looked up at Yūma, hesitant.
“…You’re really a girl?”
Yūma nodded. “Since birth. Pretty consistent so far.”
Chika’s expression softened immediately. “Oh.”
“…Oh?” Osamu echoed weakly.
Chika smiled. “That’s nice.”
“…What part of this is nice,” Osamu asked.
“That she trusted us,” Chika said.
Yūma blinked.
She hadn’t thought of it like that.
(Hyuse Joins the Conversation) FYI he shouldn't
Hyuse entered the room right as Osamu was halfway through spiraling.
“Why is everyone loud,” Hyuse said flatly.
“Yūma’s a girl,” Jin said.
“Oh.”
.
.
.
That it, then stop making all that noise.
Osamu stared. “That’s it?!”
Hyuse frowned. “Is there more?”
“…You’re not surprised?”
Hyuse looked at Yūma. Looked at her posture, her expression, the way she was very pointedly not reacting.
“…That explains several inefficiencies,” he said.
Yūma squinted. “Name one.”
“You overcompensate socially,” Hyuse replied. “Also you avoid shared facilities. It was obvious.”
“It was not obvious,” Osamu said faintly.
Hyuse shrugged. “Border agents are inattentive.”
Yūma nodded. “I like him, he makes sense.”