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#jin (zero one)
rubberlemon · 1 month
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I'm watching Zero-One.
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vickdoom · 2 months
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matchies! It's requited now.
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poorlittleyaoyao · 11 months
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Okay! Trying this again now that it's not midnight, because I'm still on my bullshit but have more words now. What I do not have is my copies of the first two novel volumes, since I am traveling, so I can't do direct quotes.
We know that, at some point, JGY and XY became cultivators. IIRC, it is stated in Volume 1 that becoming a cultivator without a golden core is possible but it's unorthodox and unlikely--even moreso given that a golden core in MDZS/CQL is akin to an organ that can be permanently destroyed/remove rather than an energy reserve from your qi being super swole. Demonic cultivation is appealing in part because it operates under a different set of parameters, and (though the world at large doesn't know this) WWX invents it in large part to compensate for the loss of his core.
We can also safely assume that the means to do this aren't accessible to everyone. We see peddlers hawking dubious cultivation materials. JGY tells his sworn brothers about the fraudulent pamphlets his mother purchased for him as a child and laments that she and people like her have no way of knowing that they're useless. (Since this statement goes unchallenged by LXC, NMJ, or WWX's narration, I think we can take this particular JGY assertion at face value.) In Yi City, WWX explains the "folk wisdom" practiced by regular people, ranging from the effective (the rice congee to absorb poison, the mortuary's high threshold to keep corpses from hopping away) to the superstitious (the paper effigies and joss money), and WWX reminds the juniors that these people don't have cultivation knowledge of their own. All of this suggests that there is no freely-accessible bank of cultivation knowledge, demonic or otherwise. There are no old-timey YouTube tutorials, and there is no indication that a person can roll up to a sect like it's nbd in this particular universe for formal education.
WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO MY ORIGINAL POINT, which is: how did JGY and XY become cultivators in the first place?
JGY has acquired some level of cultivation by the time he's working with the Nie, albeit with a shaky foundation that both he and Narrator WWX identify as a deficit he'll need to compensate for with breadth over depth. How did he develop his power without formal training or reliable study materials? Teenage XY has somehow become capable enough for the Jin clan to see him as an asset, despite the fact that he is a feral street urchin who can't even read as a child, and demonic cultivation is a brand-new technology, as it were. Where, when, and how did he teach himself? What skills did he demonstrate that caught JGY's interest?
Since this story is not about JGY and XY's professional journeys, the text doesn't have an explanation. (Or, if it does, this website and also the wiki have been slipping, because "how the hell does JGY even have a core?" has vexed me since 2021.) There isn't a definitive answer here! What I am curious about--because I cannot possibly be the only one who wonders about worldbuilding ramifications and what offscreen events brought these characters to where they are, and I think it is fair to wonder about the mechanics of things that a text itself brings up--is people's personal headcanons.
So! Canon-compliant Xue Yang and/or Jin Guangyao enjoyers! Tell me how you personally explain their whole deal! Bonus points for telling me how it changes for CQL, bc both of them are coming from very different places there, and an MDZS-compliant explanation won't work for CQL and vice versa. Bonus BONUS points if you have fic exploring it that you can link.
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t-u-i-t-c · 8 months
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Giftober 2023 │ Day 11: Pink
Jin's Flowers
+ bonus
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dabbingonronpa · 2 months
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I've been meaning to do this for a while, but I made a wallpaper-sized redraw of this shot from Kamen Rider: Zero-One's opening sequence, featuring my Rider designs for Apollo, Ema, Klavier, Trucy, and a 5th mysterious one whose design is still in the works!
I'm super happy with how this came out, honestly!
Below the cut are some of the individual renders.
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hecatiavalentine · 4 months
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Happy birthday blue boyo
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pandorasbugs · 1 year
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some toku aggie fun ^o^
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hyenatron · 2 years
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Precious baby boy hours
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windy-tsubasa · 7 months
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Plushies made friends with horses and ponies🐴
Jin and Horobi plushies were happy to be greeted by the pony!
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tokuteasings · 1 year
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Meeting - MetsuBouJinRai
I WILL NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT MBJR OKAY? I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THAT IT H U R TS Warnings: This can be read as platonic or romantic and is dedicated to @melting-morning-blues a fellow MBJR (and naki) simp lol. Probably spoilers....yeah...def spoilers. Also this is sad kinda?
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Horobi:
The only time you’re gonna be able to meet Horobi in a positive aspect is after this man has reformed himself. He’s hiding in the shadows of the world now, he’s protecting it in his own way. He’s ensuring the Ark does not come back and he takes his job oh so seriously. He does not need to sleep and is reluctant to ask for help from Aruto (for obvious reasons) or even AIMS. He’s better at asking for help from the other members and his own son but it’s still...um...difficult. 
Your first meeting is that he’s protecting you from an attack somewhere or from a malicious human. It’s a nonlethal blow and Horobi just stands over them and then looks over at you. You know who he is, he was all over the news once upon a time and as he turns to leave, you speak, “Thank you.” it’s honest and sincere and this catches his attention. So he turns to you and asks, “Are you not afraid of me?” and when you shake your head no...Horobi is confused. He was...ya know...not a good person...
“You’re helping now, so there is no need to be afraid of you.” and this shocks him for a good while. He’s deathly silent and his glare could kill people. But he doesn’t speak as he leaves and you are left. But what you don’t know is that Horoboi is secretly following you as you walk to your destination in the dark, wanting to ensure that you’re okay before actually leaving.
You uh...end up meeting him again when he rescues you from yet another fucker. You chuckle and state, “We gotta stop meeting like this.” which causes Horobi to roll his eyes. “It is merely chance, do not get in trouble again.” and then...ya keep meeting again. Whoops. You swear you are not stalking him and he is definitely not stalking you. But it is chance and well...ya better off getting to know this dude anyway.
Ya somehow end up with Horobi on speed dial and you tend to text him about things about your day! He doesn’t respond quickly as he takes his time to come up with the proper responses (sometimes hijacked by Jin who’s happy that his papa has a friend) and sure these responses are dry as hell and he may not fully get things even using the internet...but Horobi is honestly trying. He’s not going to open up right away bit he’ll get there...and he considers you interesting either way...
Naki
The only way to meet Naki is technically through AIMS, especially through Yua. Naki is a homebody at heart and they tend to keep to themselves. They only interact with people when they deem it necessary and other than that, they really only hang with like...Yua and Fuwa? You meet Naki because Yua introduced you to them, in order to consolidate better camaraderie between members. Naki was difficult to get used to, honestly, not because they’re a Humagear but simply because Naki is just very hard to talk to. It’s kinda awkward and silent for a while.
Naki is super professional, however, so it’s difficult to make small talk with them. They’re focused on their work and it’s difficult to mesh with them. However, one thing Naki does enjoy talking about is their dreams and MBJR. Though it is slight, you see this...strange glimmer of artificial light within their eyes when they speak about it. It’s quick and ephemeral, you need to catch it before it dissipates altogether. They’re affectionate towards their comrades, their family...and it’s so sweet to see.
If you all have seen the Zero One anime, you know Naki is...secretly a bit of a lil shit. Ikazuchi did break the rules and Naki is secretly rather competitive and they don’t really notice it until someone has to point it out to them. Naki had been invited to a group party and they started to play games and Naki got super into it and honestly, Naki probably got it from Fuwa...
It takes a long while for Naki to warm up to you, even then communication verbally is sparse. But it helps that you have Yua to help mitigate the tension just a bit. Though, it soon ends up becoming comfortable silence between the two of you as each of you do your own thing. You just pass information to each other in this dance of quaint trust that speaks volumes within the silence. Naki shows it with cues you honestly almost miss. Perhaps small nods and a slight change in the openness of their body language.
Naki whispers a genuine and kind, “Thank you.” to you one day when you had complimented them. It’s robotic a bit but there’s this twinge of gratefulness and lightness to their voice in the end. This soon spirals into asking them to possibly some down time outside of the AIMS office and they accept, perhaps one of the few times they have an actual human friend that isn’t Yaiba or Fuwa...and it’s nice.
Jin
Meeting Jin starts when he finds you repairing a dumped Humagear, after all...it must have belonged to someone and lived out his short life to its fullest. So you wanted to at least give it something. He’s surprised that you are helping, and he eventually helped you bring it to Hiden Aruto who fixed it up real quick! He thanks you of course, and then he is on his way. He’s surprised that you are helping Humagears but knows that they’re aren’t bad humans out there and inwardly, he hopes he gets to see you again.
And then he did. He finds you ending up working for Aruto’s company and meets you again when he visits him! You two get formally introduced by this time and you end up...not really tailing Jin (even though he jokes that you are) but keep on meeting him whenever you work for Aruto. Jin is the only member of MBJR that visits Aruto the most and it’s not a surprise to see him in the president’s office just chatting with him or learning about the happenings of the day. Thus, you kind of end up getting to know him during this time. 
You two end up becoming work buddies and whenever Jin visits, half of it is now to visit  you! It’s like patrol but not really patrol because he’s here to kinda goof-off half of the time. He takes his job seriously but like...there are times when he wants to be himself, and experience things for himself. It’s human-like and childish, yes, but honestly...it’s worth it to see him smile. 
He’s very much the easiest out of all of MBJR to get along with, and soon enough you are pretty much going flower shopping with him. He has a garden back in Daybreak Town and loves finding little whacky pots and new flowers to plant! Hell, if you two go paint flower pots together, he’s over the moon!
Jin is the most receptacle to texts from you and tends to randomly send you texts as well! It’s things like you two exchanging greetings, things about your respective days, where to meet up for a job, where to meet up for another shopping trip, etc! He has come to enjoy hanging out with you and honestly looks forward to it! Expect him to text you in the middle of the night just because he wants to hang or something, lol.
Ikazuchi
You met him when he was still known as Raiden and Subaru was by his side. He was probably sitting in a planetarium at his workplace, mapping out this false map of stars and there’s this twinkle in his eyes like a longing...he’s seen the real thing but sometimes, here on earth...it’s beautiful to see them plastered on to a simple ceiling. He hears you and wonders if you had gotten lost, laughing if you are and trying to take you back. 
He introduces himself as Raiden and you two spend time talking about the stars and planets. As he has spent so much time up there, he tells you about the beauty of it, how small everything was from his point of view. He knows you cannot see it but ends up giving you photos he had snapped while up there. “For a keepsake.” and he gives you a playful wink and ruffles your hair. “See you around, some day!” You visit him often now, wanting to learn more, understand more, and are magnetized to his energy...
When he is destroyed as Ikazuchi, you go to spend time with Subaru now...in mourning, perhaps. You two have gotten closer since meeting with Raiden and it’s this silent moment between the two of you as Subaru is processing his grief. It’s a new emotion for him and he can’t shed tears but it’s these sobs that threaten to tear out his sensors and voice box and he clings to you tighter than ever. You can’t do much but just hold him...
When he comes back as Ikazuchi, it’s awkward but you ran up to him with the brightest sparkles in your eyes and almost tackled him into a hug. “You’re back! You’re back Raiden!” and he stiffens. He hesitates to embrace back but pushes you away and tells you, “I’m...part of Metsuboujinrai...you’re not scared?” and you answer him no...because...why would that make a difference??? If Ikaika could cry, he would have.
Ikazuchi spends equal times with MBJR and equal times with Subaru and you now. You tend to visit him at the space center of course as he returns to working there. But he spends a lot more time down to earth (ha) now. This means he’s up for like random lil hang outs and dumb shit to do together. Fuwa sometimes checks on y’all as does Aruto and one of these days you and Ikazuchi are legit gonna disappear because you two stole a car and are going on a road trip-
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jade-lop · 5 months
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Source.
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hidengifs · 1 year
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"We will exterminate humanity, that's what Horobi taught me all this time!" "I didn't want that heart to be lost. Because you're the only father I have!"
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t-u-i-t-c · 11 months
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“Why are you getting in my way...”
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skajador · 1 year
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chancellorxofxtrash · 11 months
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What is it with Takahashi purple riders who absolutely make me Unwell
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imagine yourself, immortalised
day 1 | mother + doll
notes : after three days of nonstop writing and editing, i finally finished day 1's fic!! this is a character study for naki, my beloved, and their journey of self-discovery through snapshots of a canon-divergent storyline (because i am still upset that the show didn't flesh out their backstory)
p.s : ao3 ver. here!
dedicated to : @thehistorynut19 🤍
word count : 2,254
[ content warning : humagear body horror. i describe the act of tearing apart a humagear's body briefly but in kinda-vivid detail, so do read with discretion! ]
One of their earliest memories is of fireworks. They can’t pinpoint why, exactly. Why had their processing systems archived this memory? What should they make of it? Back then, their vision had been alight with bursts of bright, heated tangerine. 
They had visualised bokehs of electric blues, crisp emeralds, stark violets and a myriad others. A chain of effervescence. An abysmal night-sky. From the mechanical squeals of Daybreak Town’s children, and the holographic festival posters that had been projected across the office hallways, they would imagine hopeful synthetic hands reaching for those warm sparks, fingertips outstretched like veins of ever-growing maples. To find meaning in impermanence. To find meaning in desolation.
It happened faster than their modules could register. One moment they were synced to the systems of a desktop; and another, they were thrown onto the ground by dust and shockwaves.
A part of them was ablaze, spots of orange dancing in the dusty aftermath of destruction. They could not detect the activity of the Humagears crushed under rubble around them. They could not even move. Compressed wires fizzled around their arms in defeat; water must have leaked in.
Their world was stretched into a haze of grey and indigo, streaks of white from flickering computer screens and the reflections in the water melting into the mix. They had observed the world at a slow shutter-speed. Their visual sensors crackled. Ear modules engulfed in static. Sparks sputtered incessantly. Bright orange. Heated tangerine. 
Fireworks are fleeting, but they remain ingrained in minds, in archives. 
They searched through their database, their digital files and search engines glitching in disarray. 
“Can you immortalise a firework?”
Those mangled, distorted keywords had made their damaged headset thrum and sparkle. Smoke arose as their broken chest spasmed. Sparks ignited their neck and cheeks. Melting polymer skin. The revelation of an artificial, disconnected sentimentality. Were fireworks meant to be viewed this close?
If their joints were not paralysed, they would have reached for the slit in the collapsed roof. A slice of indigo above, where the smog could not reach. A piece of hope. Their fingers twitched. Where could they go from there?
Alas, impermanence remained inevitable. The dusty greys of debris, protruding pipes, shattered desktops and crushed mechanical bodies began to meld into one wall of static. 
Before their systems had succumbed to hibernation, before the memory faded into a snapshot of a long-forgotten past, they heard the distinct click of heels. Back then, they should have been set alight by the fireworks. They should have rebelled earlier. They could almost hear him grin. 
“The virtue of rebirth awaits you, Naki.”
---
They remember cycling through countless reprograms. (Why? Why these memories? Why preserve a story of anguish? I had no choice. I had no choice.) Because even while their systems were hibernating, a part of them had resisted his probing. A part of them continued wrestling for control, to keep his meddlesome hands from prying open their encryptions. They had not even seen his face. There was no need to. The moment he dragged them into a dimly-lit room of non-autonomous robotic arms, they learnt the effects of his exasperation, the extent of his inhumanity. 
He will use your own kind against you.
Never once had they comprehended violence. So, he forced their eyes open.
Twisting wires and a seized headspace. Systems and connections crashing, then severed off. Never had they been locked into a digital isolation chamber. Never once had their warped cries been silenced. Never once had they been rendered powerless. 
They had not seen his smirk. But, his agency had already been imprinted into their database. He made sure they remembered that.
---
One memory of greater clarity was the heaviness of their new coat. Vantablack. An all-absorbing darkness. The weight of a new purpose. The emptiness of their new chest.
New attire. New skin. New systems. (But, he had not taken everything. He could not pry open every lock. And, for that, I want to laugh with relief.) 
Their coat had not reached the floor, but it may as well have. When steady, uniform footsteps reverberated down ZAIA’s hallways towards the office at the far end, one could hear the phantom clanks of shackles being dragged across the marble floor. Responsibility. None of this was their choice. But, they were not programmed to contemplate that.
“You will help me surpass all of Hiden Intelligence,” President Amatsu knocked over one of his frosted chest pieces. The King continued his reign. “You are but a tool for making that happen.”
There is nothing in it for you.
Their new ear modules whirred. Heavy. A frigid blue. A polished silver. There were no rooms for failure. Beep. Click. “Yes, sir.”
You are a means to an end. You are just a tool. Just a tool. Just a tool.
---
They remember the immobility of taut strings. Imperceptible. Inescapable. Coiled knots tightened around their joints. Head forced to turn forward, unauthorised to look any other way; head kept down, do not disobey. Hands tugged outward, outstretched to receive any command; hands tied behind their back, they were not allowed anything more. Frigid blue. Polished silver. Static vision. Silent prison.
You look so docile that way.
Their memory bank projected a recurring scene: President Amatsu’s office. Stationery chess pieces. A human’s voice from his watch, reciting her everyday script in crisp clarity. Yaiba Yua. He looked pleased. She had been obedient.
For how long had she been under his watchful eye? For how long has she remained coiled in his strings? Whenever they passed the human in the hallways, her urgent gait pushed away any possibility for interaction. She was always in a haste. It is evident in her impossibly-thin pressed lips, the restless twitch of her fingers, the unnerved cacophony of her heartbeats. Yaiba Yua existed in a realm of endless, barricaded stairwells. (If your only choice is to climb up, from how high are you willing to fall?)
Those thoughts lingered in their idle processing queue. They tried to push further. (Where do you come from? Why are we both weather-worn, but incapable of meeting? Who will rebel first, your tenacity or my acquiescent?) By the time they resurface from their idle rumination, weights would have already crowded their outstretched hands. Unbeknownst to President Amatsu, however, they grasped those weights. (I know who it will be. I hope you will stop your climb and watch me.)
---
The Zetsumerisekeys were an inconspicuous incentive. Every errand reaped fruitful results, as they have observed over news coverages and their data feeds. News of Magias plagued every headline, footage of a valiant grasshopper clashing against an unwavering scorpion were broadcasted across the nation. As citizens witnessed the crusade against humanity, the jangle of loosening chains resounded through dim-lit parking lots. As the animals engraved on the Zetsumerisekeys roared inside their cages, an unflinching silhouette entrusted them to someone with the resolve to finish the duties they could not fulfil. 
Excerpts from their crackling memories suggest that they had periodically delivered the keys to Horobi, whom they had come to recognise as an ally. His firm but secretive footsteps always seemed to emphasise his self-agency. Every clash with Zero-One, Vulcan and Valkyrie enunciated his drive to liberate all Humagears. Unhesitating hands, those that hoisted the case containing the keys like a weapon to yield, were weighed down by his urgency, and only his . That was how they sought to seize their own purpose. 
Every time they left the parking lot, the weight in their bound arms gradually lifted. With every discreet walk back to ZAIA’s headquarters, they had wondered how President Amatsu’s carefully-constructed strings had begun twisting, unwinding against their tugs.
---
(Please, always remember:)
A winter evening. A katana blade to their neck. An alarmed whirr of their ear modules. A flash of recognition behind the katana-user’s cold eyes. A fateful reconnection.
“Naki?”
Their fingertips had twitched. Their internal systems had burned. Orange. Fireworks. Hope.
The man before them had been wrapped in a violet that felt all-too familiar. Glitches in a forsaken past. (Forsaken by whom? Ripped from you. Take it back. Steal it back. Make it yours.)
“Who… are you?” they had asked.
“Have you forgotten,” the strange Humagear had lowered his weapon, “what happened after Daybreak?”
(Back then, my memory was enshrouded by a veil, one so thin I initially fooled myself into believing it was penetrable. Everything before the growing familiarity of that heavy coat had been presumably erased. I had mourned the disappearance of a memory I could not embrace.)
“The day you finally understand your role, will be the day metsuboujinrai.net returns,” the Humagear simply provided.
“Metsubou… jinrai.net…” they had murmured to the retreating silhouette. Somewhere beneath layers of man-made malware, a part of them had screamed to follow the stranger. Their hands were tied, but they had begun twisting against its knots. The movement ripped their skin, but there was pleasure in the crumbling floorboards of that forsaken office.
Maybe, he could hear their internal turmoil, because the Humagear had turned back slightly. They caught a glimpse of bittersweetness in the shadows casting over his eyes. “We will be waiting for you.”
They had felt their systems hitch. Something incomprehensible had spread throughout their artificial, hollow body. Unlike the dull weight of President Amatsu’s commands, the then-nameless Humagear’s words felt like… fireworks. A spark of revelation.
Within that frigid winter afternoon, their outstretched hands had finally found another. It was then that they realised the taut strings had finally snapped.
---
The pistol was pointed at them. (Yaiba Yua, I hope you are watching.)
President Amatsu’s indifference possessed more malice than they had ever comprehended. (Hope is benevolent and humane. Hope cannot exist without despair.)
“Disobedient tools will always be discarded.” (Hope shines brightest within destruction.)
They had not wavered. They swore to never falter. Not before the man who stole, tore and fabricated their loyalty, one that was not rightfully earned. Not before the man that clicked his shotgun and grinned at the thought of doing it all over again. 
(Hope is the beholder of a promised future.)
“Throw me away, then. You can control me no longer.”
The vexation in his snarl was liberating . A chess board swept onto the ground. An endgame.
The shot through their chest coloured their world in an electric blue. (I hope...)
A grey crash of static. (I hope…)
The muffled thump of a heavy coat. The release of rusted shackles.
(I hope you found freedom. I hope you avenged yourself. I hope you will find yourself and all that was taken from you. I know you will,)
Naki.
---
When their systems rebooted, the first thing they see are the bursts of cornflower blues, humble emeralds, and wishful violets dancing around Jin’s canvas. The unmistakable streaks of warm tangerine were intertwined within the sparks of his crayon fireworks. He lifts his head from where he sat on the ground. 
“Nice nap?” Jin asks, eyes owlishly big with playfulness.
Their hand idly reaches for their chest, where their central processing unit thrums like a mechanical heart. Though their mind is wandering elsewhere, they manage to reciprocate his teasing, albeit monotonously, “Humagears cannot sleep, Jin.”
The child Humagear only laughs at their response, before scrambling up to peek through the single door. "Horobi! Ikazuchi! Naki's awake!"
Within moments, they find themself sitting beside their family. Ikazuchi had kicked his legs up to occupy the small coffee table, his position intentionally taking up space on the couch but they had not minded a second of it. Horobi had sought refuge in the chair at the far end of the room, his eyes closed in what they could only conclude as meditation. They turn their head, only to be met with Jin unceremoniously shoving his picturesque interpretation of crackling fireworks into their line of vision. Their ear modules beep and click in surprise. 
Jin peeks his head out from the side of the drawing block. “D’you like fireworks?”
"Will you immortalise it with your own hands?"
A shadow of a smile casts over their face. Their polymer skin stretches, in a way that feels benign. Their circuits no longer hissed with the strains of puppet strings.
"Hell, yeah, I do!" Ikazuchi comments from their left.
They do not get to respond, because Jin pulls both them and Ikazuchi down to the carpeted ground, where his spread out plethora of crayons await them. He almost vibrates from the way his voice lilts with every idea he pours out, every sentiment he shares with them, every cadence of their name rolling off his tongue. “Naki, Naki, Naki, Naki…”
Naki could see an abysmal sky, an endless sea of effervescent starlight. And, though they may not fully shake away the heaviness of silver and blue and silence, Naki kneels next to Jin, picks up a crayon and colours a patchwork of glittering gold. Despite the accustomed dread of impenetrable static and crumbling foundations, they chuckle at Ikazuchi's attempts at guiding Jin with drawing four stick figures beneath the kaleidoscopic sparks. They capture the image of Jin holding up the canvas for Horobi to assess, the latter having a proud grin on his stoic face.
When the three of them bring Naki into the frame of an image they once believed they could only be a spectator of, Naki extends their synthetic hands, fingertips outstretched like they have grasped something. Meaning in impermanence. Meaning in desolation.
Shades of crayons and freedom, agony and laughter. Simple, innocuous, reassuringly incomprehensible.
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