Petals of Titanium -- My Life as a Mecha Setting Bridge Bunny Quest

[Gazetteer]

[ ] Breana Zhou
[ ] Bubbly
[ ] Illegitimate child of a minor aristocrat

[ ] Main weapons

Onboard the HIMS Titanium Rose
En route to Iapetus

The first time you kiss her, you're still high on adrenaline, fresh from a skirmish that you have no idea how you survived. Your head still filled with firing algorithms and data being sent to you by the scans officer, heart pounding with the rush of pulling a metaphorical trigger that destroys lives many kilometres away.

"Hello, Ensign Zhou." She looks up from whatever she's doing, tucked away here in a diagnostic alcove off the mecha deck. A brief glance at her screen shows data pertaining to her Morrigan — not remotely what you're interested in.

"You were really brave today," you say, catching yourself on a handhold inside the enclosed space.

"I was made to be brave," she says, voice inexpressive as ever. She's still wearing her pilot suit in its sunburst colours of gold and orange, a bit of a bright combination for her pale hair and eyes, you think. You've always liked her hair, though — so fair it's very nearly white, bobbed about as long as it can be while still fitting easily under a helmet. Features a more indeterminate Eurasian mix than you yourself. "Lady Perbeck is in the infirmary," she adds, from nowhere.

"I'd heard," you say, solemnly.

"She doesn't like you. She'd ask you to leave if she were here."

The bluntness of it makes you give a helpless burst of laughter. "Well, no, she really doesn't," you admit. "I'm still not glad she got hurt that way."

Guardswoman 1st Class J6 nods slowly, as if processing this information.

"What about you?" you ask, question pouncing on her without warning, drifting one handhold closer in the relatively enclosed space.

"Me?" It's adorable how her confused face is the same as everything other expression.

You grin at her. "Do you like me? Or do you agree that I'm a silly little twit with no sense of decorum that would befit an officer?" You hadn't been meant to overhear that comment, you're quite sure, but it's hardly news that the Titanium Rose's mecha commander thinks very little of your demeanor. Even if no one has ever complained about your combat performance.

J6 stares, as though completely blindsided. "I... do," she decides, finally. "You're getting very close." She freezes in place as you let go of your handhold, letting yourself gently drift into her, hands locking around her shoulders to hold you in place.

"I know," you say. Then, before your nerve fails, you press your mouth to hers. It's not long or involved, but it's unmistakably a kiss. And although she doesn't make any sound, doesn't flush red in the face, doesn't give any particular response right away... you can feel her heart racing against you.

"Why did you do that?" J6 asks, as you pull away.

Doubt creeps in. "Sorry," you say, "I shouldn't have done that, maybe."

She blinks, pale grey eyes scrutinising your face. "You didn't like it?" she asks.

Oh. Oh! "... I liked it," you admit. "I like you. It's... hard to tell how you feel about things, though."

"I know it is," she says, giving the smallest of sighs. "I can't help it."

You think long and hard about that. About the implication that she had enjoyed being kissed by you. Then you smile at her, coy and girlish, the soft beep of the systems she's accessing forming a calm backdrop, the two of you awash in the light of her display. In private, for this brief moment. "You're probably be busy guarding the princess, once we get to Iapetus," you venture.

She looks at you in... confusion, indifference, interest? You're not sure which, although you hope very much it's the last. "Not the whole time."

That's encouragement enough for you to plough on ahead. "We'll probably get some actual leave. I could call you, we could... do something."

She tilts her head. "Something?"

"A date." Sometimes it was time to be blunt.

"Oh." A slow blink, then a gradual nod. "I think I'd like that."

--​

Anchiale station,
Low Gravity Habitat Omega,

You are Ensign Breana Zhou, First Main Weapons Officer aboard the HIMS Titanium Rose. The illegitimate daughter of Baron Ross Hunter — a parent of only intermittent presence in your life — and one Lina Zhou, a high-society journalist of some modest means. A bastard girl chasing a navy career everyone told you you were wrong for. Too silly, too soft, lacking the good breeding or extensive connections you'd need to make up for such character flaws. You'd ignored them, though, initially setting out to be a pilot. Quickly, you realised that you don't actually like flying. What you like is getting to operate very large guns.

Maybe you make a strange match for the personal bodyguard and confidant of an Imperial Princess, but you'd never been one for doing the expected. And she's cute, no matter what Anja thinks.

"You," — you'd jabbed a finger in Anja's direction — "don't get to say anything about anyone else's romantic tastes, after everything you've told me about yours!"

"Ouch, Zhou," she'd said. "Fine, fine, I can take a hint. I get this enough from my mother!" Then you'd both laughed.

Now, you and J6 are occupying a comfortable booth, sitting side by side in the midst of an ice cream shop. Omega Habitat's comfortable-if-floaty gravity and the brightly cheerful colours surrounding you are a nice change from life aboard the ship. The two of you arrived in between station shifts, so there is hardly anyone else here. Which is good.

You watch J6 industriously eat a vegan gelato. Not a single drop lands on the white of her freshly printed blouse. You'd asked her to come out of uniform, and she had, even though you strongly suspect that the top is literally designed after the same cut, for all its plainness. The white garment makes her hair, eyes and complexion even more stark — a person rendered almost in negative. At least the dark blue pants have some colour.

"I need something to call you," you decide.

"My name?" J6 suggests.

"No, something friendly," you say, leaning against her in the booth to emphasise the concept. Your short skirt and sheer top is considerably less professional... but you refuse to act like you're on duty while you're not. It looks good on your small frame, you think. What's the point of a pixie cut if you never show off your figure? "Like how friends call me 'Brea'."

"Oh." J6 considers this, shifting slightly to let you slip your free arm around hers. Your other holds your own chocolate cone. "Her Highness calls me 'Jaycee." Then, she shakes her head. "That's just for her. My sisters called me 'Six'."

"Six," you say, slowly. It's still just half her designation, but it feels immediately more like a name, through the modification. "I like it," you decide. "You have sisters?"

Six Shrugs. "The other J-subjects. We were like sisters, and Twenty-One."

The way she appends this so abruptly, you can't help but giggle. "Why not Twenty-One?"

"He's a boy," she says, firmly.

As you come down from the laughter, you register that J21 is a considerably higher number than J6. "Are there a lot of you?" you ask, more seriously.

"No," she says. "Not anymore."

This does not sound like first date territory at all. "I'm sorry for bringing it up," you say. You can't help but be aware of the cybernetic induction plates under her clothes — along her arms, her sides, down her spine, the different texture standing out while you're this close.

"It's not your fault," Six says. "It's just how things are."

"Everything alright with your desserts?" asks an oblivious employee, passing by the booth. He's not positioned to see your expression, and is presumably just doing his job as required.

"It's great!" you say, pivoting to a bright, broad smile. "We're really enjoying it."

He smiles back at you, then leaves you in peace.

"You're amazing."

Startled, you pull away from Six a little, enough to look her more fully in the face. "What?"

"When you smile like that. It's amazing."

You feel a blush rising in your cheeks. Somehow, her unemotive delivery makes it come across as almost shockingly earnest. "I..." you're tongue-tied, for once. "It's not that amazing!" With a gasp, you realise that your cone is slipping from your grasp, about to land on the floor, low gravity or no. Fast as lightning, Six's hand shoots out, catching your wrist at the perfect angle to prevent this, steadying the towering mass of chocolate-flavoured gelato.

"It is to me," she says. You stare at her, begin to open your mouth... and then she leans forward and kisses you. It's inexpertly done, and you clack teeth a little at first. But it's the first physically clumsy act you've ever seen from her, and that's extremely endearing. "I'm sorry," she says as she breaks off a little too soon. "I've never done this."

"No, it's fine. I'm here because I like you." You give her a bit of a wicked smile. "If you're self-conscious, we'll just have to practise, won't we?"

Six's face doesn't stir. She doesn't flush, despite her pallor. She doesn't break out into a sudden, radiant smile like the sun coming through on a gloomy day. But something about her shoulders, the way she's holding herself, relaxes almost ineffably. "... I'd like that," she says. Then takes a bite of your waffle cone.

--​

Anchiale station,
Low Gravity Habitat Gamma,
Unit B015, some weeks later

"The report said that an ensign had been shot."

"Yes!" you say, struggling to keep yourself under control. To not fall apart again. To not burst into tears. Your eyes burn with the effort. "Yes, I told you, Anja."

"The report said that an ensign had been shot."

You blink at her, confused, if not annoyed at the repetition. You're in the cramped, temporary quarters provided to Six, perched on her narrow bed. Right next to a stack of instant ramen boxes — several weeks' worth of meals. Six herself is standing in the middle of the room, motionless, staring at you. She's in uniform today, jacket unbuttoned. Uncharacteristically ruffled.

"That... an ensign had been shot," she repeats. As though stuck. "That's what it said." And suddenly, heart-breakingly, you realise.

"Oh, Sixxy," you say, and you surge to your feet, going to her. Your hands cup her cheeks, eyes meeting hers. "I'm fine," you say. "It wasn't me. He wouldn't have—" No, you don't want to think about him. The figure from your past, re-emerging as an enemy. You can't handle it. "I'm fine," you say, instead. "I wasn't hurt."

She nods, slowly. "I thought you might be dead," she says. Still standing rigid where she is.

"I'm not. I'm here. I'm with you." You press yourself against her, forehead to forehead. Your own misery has to take a back seat — it's so much easier now that you realise she needs you like this. "I'm here with you."

Slowly, glacially, she relaxes. Unbending, almost sagging into your arms. "Good," she says. "I've never..." she doesn't seem to be able to find the right words. "No one's ever been this to me," Six says, finally. "What you are. I don't want to lose that. Please."

"You won't," you promise. "I'm fine. I'm here with you." You plant a soft, brief kiss on her lips. "I'm here." Part of you knew what you were getting into, jumping into this. For all her stoic exterior, the eerie perfection with which she does so many things, you knew almost from the first that Six is fumbling blind, when it comes to this. To romance and feelings. You're her first, and in many different ways. In the end, though, you're fine with that. She needs this, needs someone... and so do you. "I'll always be here."

--​

Onboard the HIMS Titanium Rose,
En route to Titan

"I wish she were back at Iapetus," Six says, staring at the diagnostic display in front of her in a way that makes you think she's not really seeing it.

"Her Highness?" you guess.

"Mm," Six agrees. You're in that same diagnostic alcove, the one where you had your first kiss. In this brief, stolen moment where you're on the same ship, ahead of the coming battle. There's no one else here... but you don't actually care if you get caught. Not with how things are. "Anywhere but here. Somewhere safe. But... I'll try my best. Whatever happens to me doesn't—"

"Don't!" You startle her with the outburst, the flinch so minute that you're surprised you caught it. You push forward, seizing her by the shoulders, sending you both floating into the far wall of the alcove. "Don't say that like it doesn't matter!" You're shouting. You can't help it.

That flat gaze of hers is deceptive. You know that by now. Behind her eyes, she has as many emotions as anyone. "Brea," she says, slowly. "I'm a woman of the Imperial Guard. I owe her Highness everything."

"Does she want you to pay her back like this?" You shake her shoulders as you demand it. "Is that what she wants? Do you want to die?"

"... what Daystar wants doesn't matter, as long as she lives." Six pauses, closing her eyes. She can't stand to look at you like this, on the verge of tears over something she's saying. "I... it's harder now, though," she admits.

"Harder?"

"Now that I have something else." Something else worth living for.

You go limp, hold on her shoulders relaxing as you slump into her as best you can in zero gravity. She puts an arm around your shoulders, keeping you there. "Please come back?" you whisper. "Please? For me. And for her."

Six looks into your eyes for a long moment, and you're not sure what she's going to say. Finally, as if it pains her, she says: "I'll try."

END