The first thing the boy learned about piloting a reincarnated combat frame was this:
It had *opinions*.
The machine lurched forward with a grace that felt almost smug, blue-white light rippling across its surface as it stepped out into the ruined edge of the city. Buildings lay fractured like broken teeth. Cars were overturned. The sky churned, dark and swollen, as the remnant descended—an asymmetrical mass of blackened armor and jagged limbs, stitched together like a nightmare that had learned how to walk.
The boy's stomach flipped.
*Okay,* he thought. *That is definitely not in the student handbook.*
*Focus,* she said inside his mind, calm but taut. *Let the frame move. Don't fight it.*
"I'm not fighting it!" he protested aloud as the machine sidestepped on its own, narrowly avoiding a beam of violet energy that carved a trench through the street.
*You're panicking,* she replied. *Your heart rate just spiked.*
"Well excuse me for being nervous," he shot back. "It's my first time being shot at by an eldritch skyscraper!"
The cockpit hummed in response, lights flickering.
**"Synchronization instability detected."**
"WHY does it keep announcing that?!" he groaned.
She groaned too. *Because you're loud.*
*You're literally inside my head.*
*Exactly.*
Despite everything—the destruction, the danger—there it was again. That ridiculous, grounding sense of normalcy. Bickering. Teasing. Like they were arguing over homework instead of survival.
The remnant roared and charged.
The frame reacted instantly, leaping forward with impossible speed. The boy felt it in his bones, in his chest—movement translated directly into sensation. No delay. No separation.
*Left,* she said.
He didn't question it.
The frame pivoted, sliding beneath the remnant's swing as if they'd practiced this a thousand times. A blade of condensed light extended from the machine's arm, humming with restrained power.
*Now,* she said.
He struck.
The impact sent a shockwave through the street. The remnant reeled, armor cracking where the blade cut deep.
The boy's breath caught. *We did that.*
*We always do,* she replied softly.
---
They didn't have time to celebrate.
The remnant adapted—its broken form shifting, limbs reconfiguring as dark energy pulsed through the cracks. It lashed out again, faster this time, forcing them back.
The frame staggered.
Pain flared in the boy's side—not physical, but close enough to make him gasp.
"Hey—!" he cried.
*Feedback,* she said sharply. *You're feeling what it feels.*
"That's deeply unfair!"
*Stay with me,* she urged. *Don't drift.*
He clenched his jaw. "I'm here."
Their synchronization climbed again, the machine responding more fluidly, more decisively. They moved as one—dodging, striking, retreating in perfect rhythm.
For a brief, terrifying moment, it felt *right*.
Too right.
And then—
A sudden spike of emotion tore through him.
Fear. Not of dying—but of losing *her*.
The cockpit lights flared red.
**"CRITICAL WARNING: Emotional overload."**
"Oh no," she whispered.
The frame faltered.
The remnant seized the opening, slamming them into the side of a building. Concrete exploded outward as they crashed through a wall and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust.
The boy's vision swam.
*I'm sorry,* he thought, panic flooding him. *I messed up.*
She reached for him—not physically, but deeper than that. *No. You felt too much.*
"That's a problem?!" he gasped.
*In combat,* she said gently, *yes.*
Outside, the remnant began to advance again, dragging its ruined body closer with every step.
They were running out of time.
She took a breath, steady and deliberate, and wrapped her presence around his like a hand on his chest.
*Listen to me,* she said. *Don't push the fear away. Don't cling to it either.*
*Then what do I do?*
*Trust it,* she replied. *And trust me.*
He focused—not on the monster, not on the machine—but on *her*. The warmth. The familiarity. The certainty that she was still here, still choosing him.
The fear softened.
The red lights dimmed.
**"Synchronization restored: 94%."**
The frame rose to its feet.
The remnant lunged.
They met it head-on.
This time, there was no hesitation.
The blade flared brighter than before as they drove it straight through the remnant's core. Energy screamed. The sky seemed to recoil.
With a final, shuddering howl, the creature collapsed inward, dissolving into ash and fading light.
Silence fell.
The clouds began to thin.
The boy slumped back, shaking. "Did we… win?"
*Yes,* she said, relief washing through him. *We did.*
He laughed—half-hysterical, half-disbelieving. "I can't believe my first day back at school involved saving the city."
*Technically,* she replied, *you skipped last period.*
"Worth it."
---
They didn't stay long.
Emergency response drones were already approaching, and she insisted they withdraw before anyone could get too close. The frame descended back into the underground access point, sealing itself away as if it had never been there at all.
Minutes later, they emerged into the quiet, dimly lit shelter beneath the school—two students again, breathing hard, hair disheveled, uniforms dusty.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Then he broke the silence.
"So," he said. "We definitely need ground rules."
She blinked. "For…?"
"For synchronization," he said. "Because apparently my feelings are a hazard."
She laughed weakly. "You're not wrong."
"And," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, "maybe we should talk about the fact that everyone's going to notice we disappeared during a city-wide incident."
She winced. "Ah. Right."
As if summoned by the universe itself, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Their childhood friend skidded into view, eyes wild.
"DUDE!" he shouted. "Where have you been?! The sky went insane, half the city shook, and then you just—" He stopped short, staring between them. "Why do you both look like you ran a marathon and lost?"
The boy opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Looked at her.
She shrugged. "Study group?"
Their friend stared.
"…I hate both of you," he muttered.
---
The next day at school was worse.
Whispers followed them down the halls. Teachers gave them suspicious looks. Someone had already posted shaky footage online—blurry silhouettes, flashes of light, a shape that *might* have been a giant machine.
And then there was *them*.
They couldn't sit next to each other without the room feeling charged. Every accidental touch sent a ripple through his chest. Every glance lingered too long.
At lunch, he leaned in and whispered, "Is it just me, or is the synchronization… still on?"
She nearly choked on her drink. "It shouldn't be."
"Well," he said, "my heart just tried to reenact yesterday."
Her face went crimson. "Stop that!"
"I'm not doing it on purpose!"
She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "We're going to get caught at this rate."
"Caught doing what?" he asked innocently.
She peeked through her fingers. "Looking like a disaster waiting to happen."
He smiled at her—soft, sincere. "Maybe. But we're *our* disaster."
She stared at him, then laughed despite herself.
Across the cafeteria, two unfamiliar students watched them quietly.
A boy with sharp eyes and an unreadable expression.
And beside him, a girl who smiled just a little too knowingly.
"Looks like the rumors were true," the girl murmured.
The boy crossed his arms. "So the old partners have returned."
Her smile widened. "This should be fun."
-