Dev walked on down the hall. Her silence made Oni curious.

He came to a stop and said to Dev, "Can I stay in your room for a bit? I know it's taboo to sleep there but I'm tired of sleeping with my back against a wall."

Dev's disappointment turned to concern. "It's cruel of him to make you do that, I know, but he must have a reason for it."

Oni wasn't convinced. Perhaps Dev wasn't either because she gave in. "I guess one night won't hurt."

The time with her after that was nice. Wussing out for fear of rejection felt more tolerable with the prospect of an actual bed—something he hadn't experienced much in life.

When her room door opened, the thought finally occurred. "You so quiet because I shouldn't be in here?"

The question dispelled the trance. "What? Oh. No. I do not care about that at all. Just thinking about something I heard all day today."

"What? That awful singing?"

Once they entered the room, she deposited her matrix on the panel extending from the wall and sat at the chair there.

Oni was far from finished with his complaints. "Till my dying day, I'll never enjoy that song the same. It was a crime—"

"What does EDA mean?" she asked robbing the very breath from Oni's body.

He couldn't answer. That had been the phrase she'd heard. It was going around a lot lately with the cull closing in. Even when Oni'd gotten down from the wall days ago, several enthusiastic cadets from other crews greeted him with the phrase along with a cheer. It was a morbid way to respond. What was even more morbid was the fact that he'd accepted their words with some satisfaction.

Dev asked about it now but there'd be no sense in explaining it to her.

It had been weeks since Oni'd been here last, but he took in the changes—it looked bare. Much more than usual.

Oni flopped down on the bottom bunk—the one he was sure to be using.

"You looking to EDA yourself or something?"

The joking way he said it didn't come off as casual sounding as he'd liked.

"EDA?" Dev swiveled her chair around to face him.

"Everybody Dies Alone," Oni explained. A confused grimace and a blink was her own response but he waited. It wasn't something he took pleasure in elaborating.

The silence ended with a soft gasp. "What?" She scanned the room. "Me downsizing means I'm looking to put my own lights out?"

Never had he heard it put like that. Even the peculiar way she phrased things was kind of sweet. But simpering at someone talking about suicide was unacceptable so he forced himself to straighten up. Somehow, he'd have to explain himself but words failed him.

She came to his rescue by asking, "Is that a common thing in the Outerlimits?"

What a question.

"Not common," he admitted, "just common enough."

Her big brown eyes took interest in the floor. He regretted being the cause.

"It's common in the Inner City—common enough, too, I suppose." There it was again, that distant look as she found interest in the ground. "It was the last thing my father said before he got sick—sick enough that he couldn't leave his bed."

Oni's brain shut off.

In the silence to follow, he tried to turn it back on and search for something useful to convey.

"He stopped training with me. He'd just sit and watched and when I asked him why, he said—"

"Guess my EDA's caught up with me."

Tears shimmered in her eyes when she met his gaze. She wanted to know how he knew but it was easy enough now.

"No. He didn't off himself—"

"I hadn't meant that," she lied.

"Are you sure?" The question was cruel but Oni hoped he could repay her for her kindness these four months. His training hadn't amounted to much, but she'd given him a hand which was more than anyone could do. The way she struggled with something to say now was unbearable, so he showed mercy. "Maybe he stopped taking medicine or something?"

Dev sucked in a deep breath but didn't let it go.

She would breathe easy after this, he was sure.

"There was some gangs way back. They'd move together to overpower one person and take their food. Since the amount is rationed in the Outerlimits to ensure no one get too strong. They grew in numbers and power until the Volunteers took notice of them and went in. They got wrecked but the way they turned on one another was what became famous. The ringleader offed his own crew, stealing their food little by little. To make sure nobody knew, he offed them."

"That's disgusting. Those were his crew—"

"They were his way out of the Outerlimits. When he got strong enough, he legged it from the Outerlimits right to the Inner City."

With a deep grimace on her face, she considered his words. "That seems unlikely. There's no way to get through the jungle."

Oni's face warmed. He'd thought the same now with entering the program.

"Well, legends tend to embellish. Or maybe things were different back then?"

She nodded for him to continue.

There was nothing left to say. "People just use it as a reminder that we're all on our own. So, when you know the end is coming, the same way that gang boss knew the Volunteers were coming in, they sort of get their affairs in order."

He allowed her time to digest the words before adding, "I don't think your father killed himself or gave up. I think it's the opposite. He said he'd put it off for as long as he could. He fought it and now it was time to tap out."

Dev kept her gaze fixed on the floor. "But why alone? He wasn't alone."

She wasn't his kid. So he was. The woman he pined for didn't love him back. So he was alone twice. Oni couldn't think of someone more alone than that man.

The stale air between them softened when she smiled. It was a strange reaction to have given the topic.

"He loved the Outerlimit music. It was the only time Mother'd relax around him. They sat out on the ledge singing and drinking together once."

Relief spread through Oni. This was enough.

"We can sing together sometime if you want. I know tons. Even old ones." Where did those words come from?

All the blood in Oni's body rushed to his face.

She shocked him by saying, "I'd like that."

The genuine way she relaxed brought him some comfort. It'd be better than admitting that today's chorus of, "EDA" being passed around meant a battle cry. Do and say everything before it was too late.

Oni decided to do just that. Failing the program or dying with the last words from her being a rejection wasn't something he relished so instead he tested the waters.

"Do you think we'll meet after the cull? Be on the same crew?"

Dev still watched the floor but met his gaze and said, "Get your stats up and make a half decent shot and we'll see." When he didn't respond, she became serious. "I don't think I'm a good fit for you. I do regret that I wasn't able to keep my end of the bargain and train you well. But at least you can hold your breath so it's not something irreparable."

About that....

Of this, too, he was curious. She had two lifelines at her disposal. Everything in him wanted to beg her for one but equally he was too ashamed.

Desperation drove him to offer someone else up. "You figure Mercy can hold her breath? Will you use a lifeline if she can't?"

"Things get harder from here. We'll be going out on the field. Anyone unable to hold their breaths don't stand a chance. She's got no useful skill I could use going forward. Using one on her would mean sacrificing my entire crew in the long run. After the cull we get armor but only head cadets and only one set so it's not like I could even offer her mine in order to make her body sound for the rest of the program. So no. I wouldn't use a lifeline on someone who can't hold their breath."

The words shouldn't have shocked him but somehow they did. No, Mercy was no saint. Saying that was an understatement but Oni'd convinced himself of Dev's big heart.

Her words now...there was a coldness to it.

Oni told himself it was practicality, but his brain wouldn't listen. When he thought about it and asked himself if he'd risk everything for Mercy—for any cadet who not only had a heart problem but no skill—he came to the same bitter conclusion.

At least Oni had his marksmanship, but it was that same marksmanship rendered utterly useless.

In his deep contemplation, a shadow passed over him. When he picked his head up, he came to find that it wasn't something deep and ominous—Dev stood before him.

She sent his body into a state of alarm when she sat.

"So you've thought about it, too, huh?"

His entire right side burned hot, and it shouldn't have—she wasn't all that close.

It took a moment for him to realize she'd spoken. "Huh?"

Dev, elbows on her knees, stared at the floor. "About what Sen said. About whether or not those letchets can even hold their breaths?"

Oni took great interest in the gray beneath their feet. Now, instead of being aware of her, he became fully aware of his own situation.

Disgust dripped from her voice. "The process says to leave it. Even if they die trying to prove they can breathe when they can't."

She didn't have to say it. It was a process Oni knew well. Lotsu had used it to motivate him each time he hesitated with practicing shooting even once.

There's no safety once you're in that tank. You don't get out and nobody's gonna let you out. It's called a cull for a reason. Idiots die in there, waiting on a lifeline but the commands and agreement are locked in beforehand. Even if they wanted to save you, they can't. So get up and hit that target again. Hit it a hundred times. Make every shot as if your life depends on it, Sonini. Because it does.

The words pounded in Oni's head, making him feel hollow. Was he really willing to try? Would he try?

"It's the process," was all Oni could think to say.

Dev's posture didn't change. She did glance at him, however, smirking, "What do you think Lotsu'd say?"

Oni's face warmed. Was she making fun of him?

"You haven't mentioned him in months. Have you noticed? Yet you repeat Sen's fighting information like it's gospel."

Oni's spirits sank. She was making fun of him. From one mentor to another—maybe Oni really didn't have a thought of his own.

Something in his expression wiped her smile away.

"I sometimes wish I'd chosen him."

A hammer to the chest would hurt far less.

"Instead of me...."

Dev chuckled. "I hadn't chosen you, remember?" After a moment, she shook her head and took interest in the floor again. "And no. I mean because he's just so knowledgeable. And your worship for—"

"I don't worship anyone."

Those big brown eyes turned on him. "For his words. Is sort of similar to my worship of my dad's words. He was someone I admired. But you'll never believe why."

The alarm coursing through Oni's veins calmed in time.

"Because he was compassionate," Dev answered. "He was so dedicated to the division, but his compassion was something else." Elbows on her knees, she watched the interlocking of her fingers. "There's a coldness to Mother. I never understood it. Each time I held my breath and faltered, she'd look at me as if me dying from it was something she was willing to risk. Whenever I tried with her, I felt my actual life was on the line. I never felt that way with my father. But after I found out he wasn't my real dad, everything just sort of clicked and I felt it. The shame." She corrected, "The hate."

Shocked, Oni found himself matching her posture.

"Maybe she just hates me. Considering I came to her against her will, by some faceless monster whose memory keeps her up at nights...." For a long moment, she said nothing. When she let out that held breath, the words came with it. "Does she see him when she looks at my face? Is that why she can't stand to sometimes?"

Oni meant to convey a few words of comfort. That was his intent when he sat up. But somehow, when he touched her shoulder, his hand fell away. It wasn't his fault, but another thing entirely when his palm slid into hers.

Her body tensed in response. His action surprised her, but it surprised him more. In that moment, he felt her pull away.

He'd meant to let go so why did his body disobey him and hold on?

This was bad.

But as he struggled with something to say, her well cared for fingers tightened around his less-than-stellar ones. Her hands weren't as soft as he'd expected. But she was a fighter. They were smaller than his, a fact he took foolish pride in.

Once he concluded that she wouldn't pull away, he calmed as well. His muscles ached from how tightly they'd tensed.

"No one could ever hate you."

Where did those words come from? He forced his lips together before he said anything else.

Dev's eyes remained on their grip for a lifetime. That laser focus cut Oni in two with each breath he dragged in through his nose.

The moment she squeezed his hand in response, Oni became more aware of her. His body trembled. His palm began to sweat.

He cleared his throat and fought past his nervous panic. "Do you think it's coldness and not the way of the Volunteers?"

Her big brown eyes took him in.

"My father—"

"I think your father was an anomaly. I can't speak on your mother. I don't know her. But she's got a high rank, even without the combat. I've heard that in whispers."

Dev looked to where their hands met once more. With each second, Oni waited for her to pull away.

She didn't.

And the fact that she didn't, lit him up even more. He didn't want to invoke Lotsu's name for fear of sounding weak on his own, but she admired her father and he admired Lotsu and she didn't seem to mind.

"Lotsu said, no Volunteer's allowed to show compassion. The ones that do are weak and get picked off early."

Dev argued, "My father—"

"Can I say something that might upset you?" At her silence, he shrugged. "Maybe your father was the same."

She let go.

Oni hurried to add, "Until you."

Her retreat ceased. Their hands still met and he didn't dare pull her back. He only kept it there—using those disingenuous words. This was wrong, defiling her father's memory for something as petty as to keep her near.

In this instance, he felt shame, but then it occurred to him—he was right.

"Each ranking goes with prestige. Your father's number is right in the center. There are nine hundred Volunteers. Ones, threes, fives, sevens for women. Twos, fours, sixes, and eights for men. Nines are a co-ed mix. So let's not count them. Any woman in the five hundred block, one down from seven, earn their rank. That's why the five hundred and fifth sentinel was such a big name when she was exiled. That's a top rank. There's a coldness that comes with it. I think—that's just the way it is with ambitious people." When she calmed, he hesitated but said, "And it's probably the same with the sixes. I think your father was a typical Volunteer and then something happened to change him. Maybe it was having a daughter."

Surprise burned in Dev's eyes but she didn't say or do anything.

Oni risked tightening his grip again, but this time, not for himself.

"He was the anomaly. He was something special and it's something we should cherish."

Dev drifted her gaze to their grip and said, "Then we need to get these girls out of here before they die."