I'd Like a Pint

 Turned out a whole two hours of blissfully dreamless sleep didn't leave him all that awake for the Samurai part of Samurai training.

"Gaijin!"

Slamming straight into the ground and digging a furrow twice the length of his Samurai, he barely avoided taking out Eden, wincing at the burning itch that shredded across his shoulderblades. "Ughf—"

"Could you pay any less attention to your surroundings?"

"'Pologies," he huffed out, planting the barrel of his laser rifle on his knee and popping a shot off at the glimmer construction of an oni currently terrorising them. The shot snapped off a horn, turning its attention back to him instead of trying to flatten Drake. Fantastic. "Ah hell."

Angry and none the worse for wear, it leapt almost faster than he could haul his Samurai out of the way. Half-stumbling through a roll he tried to manipulate but got hung up on the feeling of knees and arms, he still made it, somehow. Barely.

Its landing shook the ground, rattling him even inside inside his core, and his summoned handgun did about nothing. Except distract it enough for Ariake to leap in and stab it through the arm.

It didn't roar. It couldn't. But it made a decent show of it, swinging around to try and snatch the other Samurai's head—

"Nokami!" He snapped.

Surprisingly enough, an inferno actually answered him, crashing into the thing's back in a roaring wave of brilliant light.

No screaming crowds here. No masks and sleek suits. Hissing in a quiet breath, he smiled tight enough to crack, tracking it as it leapt sideways, light streaming through glowing fissures. Half an eye stayed on the rest of his team. "Drake, I'll snipe it, you can catch it with a good hit on the back."

"Sure."

Pulling up his rifle again, he pushed up the power level on both throttles to three, bracing for the wave to hit, and grinding his teeth when it smacked into him anyway. A storm of buzzing wasps trying to drill up his spine.

Goddammit, take the list of things he hated and add that as bastard number three.

"Lachlan?"

"Fine." Sucking air into lungs currently trying to breathe backwards, he let the snap of perfect sync yank his awareness into the Samurai instead. And the oni leaping at Ariake again. Dammit.

His fingers tightened. Clenching his buzzing teeth, he snapped off a good solid hit on its shoulder, making it turn on him. And here comes the hammer....

Wickedly curved swords jutted straight through the chest, tearing it apart in an explosion of sparks. In an instant, the whole thing fizzled, glittering motes winking out as the wind brushed them away.

Bringing the throttles back down to one, he let out a long breath. Second time successful. Not bad.

Dismissing his rifle, he flexed his physical hands—still a weird sensation, having two pairs. "Good work. Barely got any damage this time."

"Yes, a good thing none of us froze, this time," Eden said pointedly.

"I wasn't expecting it to—" Ariake's explosive breath came through clearly. "Would you just drop it?"

"First round was a fluke, don't worry about it."

"Hirano's team managed it perfectly the first time around."

"From what I hear, he knows everyone on campus and has worked with them at least twice," Lachlan pointed out. "We'll get there if we work on working together."

Someone scoffed, or maybe two someones, and he chose to ignore it as he lead the march back to the hangar where the next team was set to come out. They were doing better. A couple hours of drills followed by a little practice session with an "oni", and they'd managed it without killing each other. Not a bad morning.

Kyubi briefed them, pointing out a few mistakes with a clinical knife, before balancing it with praise on how they'd cornered the "oni". Then promptly shuffled them off to lunch.

Where they found out that all that hard work had finally paid off.

"Well well well." He folded his arms, smiling at the leaderboard in the mess and team Juu-roku sitting above team Seven by an entire point. "Christmas came early, lads. Look who's making progress."

"At second-to-last," Ariake scoffed, plonking his tray down at one of the empty tables, the other teams already gone off to afternoon assignments. "We're still losing."

"It's still making progress." He lifted his finger. "And that's something to celebrate."

Drake looked around the empty room and a plate of plain old lunch. "Celebrate how?"

"How else?" He winked. "We're heading down to the pub, lads."

At that he received three blank stares.

"It's a little late for Hanami, gaijin," Ariake pointed out, a sour look on his face. "Half of us have already celebrated."

As if they couldn't go to multiple parties. He waved it off. "It's our own little celebration, nothing to do with the season. We'll make a night of it."

"And if we don't want to go...?" Eden narrowed his eyes.

He smiled. "Your team leader might make it an order."

"Our team leader can take his eminence and drink it to his own health." Ariake pushed back his chair, exhaling harshly and closing his eyes. "I'd rather drink with the pigs, gaijin."

"Even if I paid for it?"

Everyone did a double-take. "You're kidding."

"Nope." He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, still smiling. "It'll be on my tab. You can drink my wallet empty."

Ariake's face did some gymnastics as Eden's eyes narrowed. "And what about the hangover?"

"It's Sunday tomorrow—we get the morning off. Besides, we're obake. We can burn off a little hangover."

"I thought you said you weren't a masochist," Drake muttered.

Ariake leaned back in his chair, folding his own arms. "You'll pay for all of it?"

"Every last drop."

The teen tipped his head back, staring a hole through the ceiling. And sighed, slapping his hand on the table. "Fine. I'll do it. This once."

And he had him. "Nokami, Drake?"

"Sure," Drake put in, Eden taking a moment longer to cave. "Hmph. If only to make you regret paying for it all."

His smile widened into a wolfish grin. "Glad to hear it."