Dev, hands cuffed before her, marched into her room and came to a stop. The head cadets tasked with releasing her, did so fast and scurried away. When the door slid shut, Dev didn't move.

She had nothing to give, nothing came to mind but Pleasant's bloodied face and the satisfaction that cost her more than she could ever admit.

The price confronted her five minutes later when the wall lit up on its own and her mother's concerned grimace took up her world.

"Another lifeline," Mother muttered. Today was the first time she avoided eye contact even when carrying out her job.

Shame came over Dev but she couldn't say why. How she handled herself today would have humiliated anyone, and yet, it was the discomfort in her mother's posture that truly hurt her.

Unwanted. That feeling hadn't come since joining the division.

She felt unwanted, even when Mother leaned in and said, "It's getting dangerous now. Your selected crew's rotten. There's one more chance to leave before the cull. Everyone gets it as a way to run off. But it'll allow for a clean reentry." Mother hesitated then added, "Even for a head cadet." Graying eyebrows knitted together, she begged, "Come home. There'll be other chances. Once you pass the cull, there's no way to come back. Most enter with three lifelines intact. Darling, you're going in with one. Lashing out is unlike you. I cannot imagine my daughter attacking a recruit—and in broad daylight. It's stressful and I'm genuinely worried. Come home. Take a year off and try again. There's no shame in going in older. Plenty do. And it'll be good to have you back—"

"May I be excused?"

The gentle words to roll from her mouth robbed her mother of energy. She sounded like a stranger when she said, "Devie, you don't like admitting when you're wrong. Usually, I admire that stubbornness, but you've racked up so many write-ups that it's nearly a record. I'm putting my foot down. Come home. When I call you again, it'll hopefully be with you securing a fresh ticket on the next transport."

A line crossed her mother's image out then sucked it from view. Even after being alone, Dev barely had the power to turn and sit.

Go home.

Go home and do what?

Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back. The last tear she'd allowed herself to shed came unexpectedly an hour after finding out she had no blood father.

She promised herself they would be the last.

But what was all this? Was trying day and night for the Volunteer program really going to end in such failure?

She hated being left alone with her thoughts and would have continued in her lament if a face didn't appear below the opaque glass of the door.

"Pst."

Dev turned away.

"Come on. You got a few hits in so you can't possibly still be mad." Sen tapped the glass. "I'm gonna override this and come on in. So give up."

At her silent defiance, Sen turned onto his side and curled up on the floor.

"Fine. Then I'll keep you company. Like it or not."

He looked pitiful there. Dev's conscience betrayed her. She stood. It had been Sen to pry her off Pleasant—no one else was fast enough.

Five minutes later, the room door closed, and Sen sat in the chair on her left. Together, they both watched the opaque frosted glass.

"I feel like this place is driving us crazy," Sen said at length.

It was a strange stance considering it was his home, even before entering into the division. Until the age of three, he and his brothers only lived here. After Sento broke down, the remaining two were ordered returned to this building.

Sen would have gone back if some stupid little girl didn't take him by the hand to help her train because Fathere'd said she needed an opponent her own size.

"Why do you take up for them?" Dev asked.

"I wouldn't say I take up for them, cousin. I take up for no one." He held out his hand. "It's just you and me. Like it's always been. Like it'll always be."

Instead of taking his offer, she stared at his palm. Thoughts of Oni flashed in her mind. Holding his hand had been so different. It hadn't felt familiar and safe, but rather unsure and exciting.

Perhaps this was just something that happened with growing up. But after Sen pouted and gave her a nudge, she slipped her hand into his and made a startling discovery.

This was different. Like always, there was nothing uncomfortable about holding Sen's hand—she'd held it for years. So why had Oni's hold conjured up so much insecurity?

"You didn't answer my question."

Once their fingers interlocked, Sen squeezed her hand, his focus solely there.

"Would you believe it was admiration?"

Dev snapped her head up, searching for a smirk.

He'd been dead serious.

"She's kinda like me, no? Stuck looking after so many siblings."

"None of your siblings are trying to kill you," Dev grumbled. As soon as the words left her, her mouth tasted stale. "Sen...."

"It's fine." But the way he took interest in the floor said it wasn't.

"I can't keep my foot out of my mouth."

They sat in companionable silence until Sen's grip tightened then relaxed.

"Your mother called me."

With a sigh, Dev rubbed her face with her free hand. "Don't—"

"We already know how remarkable her even approaching me is, even via vid. She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Dev lied. "She's just...she's acting strange. Her wanting me back home isn't for missing me. Trust me."

"But why not, though? I'll come visit you for a while. We both let these pitiful crews dissolve. Step out before the cull and don't come back. Worst case scenario, we take a year-long break and enlist again the next season."

Dev met his gaze. "You're not coming back here if you leave."

He didn't accept her challenge of denial.

"My mother's memory is in here somewhere. Somewhere in this place of death and violence. It's in here. I was fooling myself into thinking I could stomach it."

Dev found herself squeezing his hand instead. "Have you blacked out at all?"

The question lingered in the air for some time. Finally, he shook his head. "No. That part I've taken care of. He's stopped trying to access my head remotely, but I feel it every time I get in a temper, how hard it is to pull back."

With her right thumb, she made circles across his skin. "You're fine. Have you made your memory backups?"

Sen hesitated then confessed, "I can't make many. That's too big of a risk but...I've got a couple. Hidden safe." Dev opened her mouth to inquire more but Sen cut her off. "So you and the washout, huh? I hadn't seen that coming."

All breath left her. It was a wonder she had enough to utter, "What?"

He waited.

Dev did as well—for him to take his words back or give her a punchline.

When he didn't, she said, "If you'd get to know him, you'd know that he's a nice guy. Shooting skills are lacking but even you couldn't call him lazy. He's—"

"Cousin...."

Dev's mouth snapped shut.

"That was a joke but are you telling me I guessed right? That Pleasant guessed right?"

She blinked at him—nothing else would react beyond her eyes.

Sen slipped from her grip and propped his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled.

"I don't think you should trust him. His actions thus far says as much."

Dev rose to her feet. "Why is it everything I do is coming into question by everyone now?" An urge came over her to dismiss him but that wouldn't be easy at this moment, not with him going into lecture mode. Dev decided to try regardless. When she went to her medicine panel, with the intent of signaling the start of her evening routine before dinner, she made an unexpected discovery. Her pill capsule was gone.

Shock froze her to the spot, and Sen noticed. "What's wrong?"

What was wrong? What was right?

The last she saw it was the previous night...right before.... "Oni."

"Oh, you've finally noticed he's gone?" Sen sat back, right ankle over his left knee. "As soon as you got sent to the brig, he asked permission to head out. He's allowed one before the cull. Good riddance. I'd say I hope he doesn't come back but...you never know."

In the brig. She'd entered the brig five hours ago.

Like a ghost wandering the land of the living, Dev made her way back to her chair and flopped down. She didn't have to check, she knew, but Sen had to say it anyway. "Ten more minutes before he's locked out." He held up his matrix and corrected himself, "Eight more."

Eight. Dev felt foolish waiting. And she felt foolish because she still had confidence in his return.

Foolish.

She certainly felt that way when eight minutes came and went.

"Well, that's one at least." Sen didn't sound as excited as one would expect. "How do we get rid of the other seven and get out of here?"

He wasn't reveling in this victory necessarily but had some satisfaction.

Dev had nothing.

Oni'd taken every single pill.

When Sen stood and offered they go to dinner, Dev hadn't the strength to move.

"What's wrong?" he asked again.

Pulse racing, Dev stared up at him, unwilling to add this to her list of failures. But this was devastating. She didn't even have any regular A-CAN tablets. And even if she did, she was allergic.

Tears swelled in Dev's eyes, but she didn't know wherefrom.

A beep sounded and Sen looked down at his hip. The matrix there buzzed again.

It was the longest ten seconds of Dev's life when Sen picked the matrix up. "Time's up, washout, but it's good that you ran off. If—"

"Can I talk to Dev?"

Dev shot to her feet and snatched the matrix from her cousin's hand. "Where are you?"

Oni hesitated then said, "I'm outside. I missed—"

A tap on the screen cut him off and Dev continued typing.

Sen watched on, appalled. "What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?" He caught her hand. Their eyes met and he pleaded, "Don't. Don't you dare use your last lifeline to bring him back."

The grip was like a vice, but the vice broke with her gentle tug. One tap sent the order through.

Both of them had nothing to say to one another. Sen was shocked but Dev was, too. Never had she felt so strongly about someone.

It took ten minutes more for Oni to arrive, guided by two head cadets. He looked worse for wear. As expected, he had no uniform and was barefoot once more.

In his right hand, he clutched something.

When it was just the three of them, no one spoke. Sen looked between them, shook his head, and marched out.

One shove of his shoulder against Oni almost sent him crashing to the ground.

This was good news. This was a good thing, so why wasn't Oni speaking? She'd just gone against everything she'd been taught and showed compassion. But as the seconds ticked by there with neither of them finding any words for one another, Dev feared the worst.

Her one step forward propelled Oni back. "I have to tell you something...."

The dread in the trembling of his voice wasn't lost on her. Whatever it was, she certain they could weather it. His eyes stayed on the floor but hers remained on that bag. It was too big to hold her little pill container.

When she approached again, he picked his head up. "Don't. I—"

She held his hand. Their eyes met, and he fell silent. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she was unafraid. "What you did for me—you didn't have to do that for me."

Face hot, she lied, "I have one more."

No other words came, and she gripped his fist. Somehow, the bag slipped into her hold. As he gave no protest when she opened it, she hadn't expected much.

She was wrong. "My pills...." Her lips parted and she breathed out, "Hundreds of them."

End