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"Hghf—" His hands convulsed on the handles, air drawn backwards through his constricted lungs as the storm of glitter swam in his vision.

Wasn't good.

Merry hell this wasn't good.

A phantom shadow loomed behind him, black claws and dripping teeth about to reach into his spine, and he squeezed the grips, fighting to hack air into his tight ribs. That one click took it from unpleasant tingle to a buzz threatening under his skin.

"Good! You're fluctuating a bit, but that's better than I expected for someone untrained." Kyubi's bright voice rang from one end of his skull to the other, and he chained a rumble in the pit of his chest with iron locks. "Alright, you can pull back, now."

He snapped it back before she could speak twice, finally able to breathe as the glitters died away and left him panting in a mercifully empty cockpit, the sound echoing back at him like he had his head stuck in a bucket. Damn. Fumbling it off, he massaged his hands into his face, his left stinging with phantom fire ants. Damn.

Part of him could still feel that shadow hiding away in the dark, and he bared his teeth. Get the hell back.

It did, the feeling fading as he sat there for a long moment. Letting out a slow breath, his ran his gloved fingers through his fringe, wishing he could take them off just for a moment. Shite, it'd been a long time since he'd felt that.

Just went to remind him his yuurei wasn't always happy to come and go at his bidding.

Damn.

They had ten of these notches? And that was number three? He huffed a quiet laugh to himself, dragging a hand down his face and massaging at the fingers of his left. It may not have the loopy effects, but it looked like Ki still had its sister's bite.

Maybe he'd made a mistake signing up. To hell with second thoughts now, though.

A knock rang through the cockpit, and he glanced up as the hatch pulled open, the technician's face peering in. Time to leave, it seemed.

The others either watched or ignored him as he forced his rubbery legs to move like they should, Hirano looking at him a little too keenly for his taste, the corner of his mouth ticking up. "So she wasn't quite too much for you, gaijin. Impressive."

He bared a smile, winking back. "She's got a rough touch, but I've played with worse."

Hirano only smirked more openly and hopped out fresh as a daisy once he'd completed his own run. Some people had all the luck.

_________________

The cockpit of their "Samurai cores" weren't much different, really. Apart from missing a monitor or any kind of window.

How're you supposed to control it without some kind of way to see what you're doing? Still lacking a decent breakfast, and slowly despairing of ever getting one, he looked around before slipping his helmet on, spotting only what looked like radio controls and the two levers. "What, are we supposed to fight the oni blind?"

A laugh responded to his mutter, and he nearly jumped. "No. I very much doubt you could even if you tried. This doesn't work quite how you're used to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lights blinked to life on the stems of the levers, and he gingerly set his hands on the grips.

"You'll see. Also a word of warning," she said, her tone turning a tad more serious. "You did well in the simulator, but should you ever start experiencing symptoms of glimmer overload, don't push it. It's not a pleasant experience."

Really. He'd had no idea.

"Okay! Any last questions before you imprint forever on your Samurai and prevent anyone else from using it ever again?"

Hold on. "What?"

"No? Good!"

"Wait a minute—" He cut off as a hum rose to life all around him, with an edge to it the simulator hadn't had, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Flick the first switch on your radio controls to connect with the others of your team so you can speak over comms. There are external speakers, but honestly it's like trying to shout through a megaphone," she said, and he reluctantly did so. "Now, just grip the throttles until they click, push, and all your questions will be answered."

He highly doubted it. But what else was there? So, flexing his hands around the grips and trying to ignore the impression of a tidal wave hanging over his head, he pushed it to one.

The tidal wave came crashing down.

He barely had a moment to suck in a hissing breath as a glittering torrent poured out of the pores in the walls, before he abruptly left his body in a jolt that had him clawing for purchase, his heart pounding, his soul ripped clean out.

He swore in a blind panic, stumbling onto his knees and digging his fingers into solid ground before he could comprehend that he was— that he'd landed on solid ground instead of hurtling through space on a round-trip to the God-core, his clearing vision staring at familiar concrete from a very unfamiliar angle. Am I... taller? As in metres taller?

And had faintly glowing hands covered by the kind of gauntlets you'd find on an ancient suit of armour?

"What in hell's arse is going on?" He pushed himself up, almost falling over again as his balance listed in odd ways, barely managing to steady himself in a half-kneel as he glanced around the rest of the hangar. And the giant suits of armour that'd taken up residence in it where the cores used to be. The giant Ki constructs of armour suits.

"Amaterasu's light and wisdom," he breathed out, watching one fall flat on its face with a crash that shook the floor, a faint leaking glow wisping up. "How the hell...?"

"You really do know nothing," an unfamiliar voice with a familiar level of scathing haughtiness thick enough to make a suit of its own said. "I can't fathom what Kyubi-sama was thinking, recruiting you."

Well, someone was a perfectionist— Lachlan wasn't the only one flailing around and failing at standing with this strange version of projection magic. He turned to look, finding a Samurai standing perfectly with no balancing issues whatsoever looking back at him with a blank helmeted face, a glow pulsing in its chest. Definitely his critic. "Not everyone's as much of a natural as you, whatever-your-name-is."

"I suppose you should know my name if we must be forced to work together. I am Nokami Eden. And You are an embarrassment."

He gleaned two facts from that. One, Eden was apparently not the name of a woman and someone should really tell the Nihonjin to stay away from using Angaelic words for their kids. Two, he was a monumental arse and rude about it, maybe because he'd been stuck with such a cruddy name.

Well, two could play that game. "Arigato-gozaimasu, Eddy. Appreciate the confidence."

Eden sputtered and someone else snorted, or else that was a glitchy crackle.

"Why am I in this team," Ariake muttered, loud and clear. He was probably the one with the epitome of a samurai suit, everything that could be pointy prickling like a cactus.

"Don't be so down on yourself," Lachlan advised. "We can stumble along together to the finish line."

"Unlike you, I wanted to make it to Kaijan at the head of our class," the teen fired back. "Now I'm stuck with two bumbling gaijin instead of in Goudon-san's winning team. So thank you."

He paused. "Kaijan?"

"Of course you have no idea what that is," Eddy sneered.

"Ah yes," Kyubi-sama's voice broke in before he could open his mouth, "You missed that. The team who performs the best overall will be sent straight to Kaijan, the others replacing those on our shores who we're also sending along. Some extra incentive to do well, you could say."

Had she been planning this even before she contacted him? He would've remembered if it'd come up in their conversation. Distantly, he was vaguely surprised to feel his hands curl around something while his projected ones remained as carefully still as he forced them to be. Somehow he'd assumed they'd all be winding up in Kaijan. Apparently, he'd been mistaken. "Interesting. Good to know."

"I thought so," she said blithely. "Now, we'll mostly be doing exercises today, starting with the basics of standing and moving, before breakfast at eight. It's a strange schedule, I'm afraid, but better than potentially having to clean yourselves up afterwards."

It turned out alright, as hungry as he was by eight. Apart from the bit where she casually threw out who was leading which team as they all filed up to head off to the dinner hall, at least. Hirano was, unsurprisingly, leader of team One, but when it came to their oddball group, well....

"You'll be the leader of team Sixteen," Kyubi said, looking straight at Lachlan.

He threw a casual glance behind just to check before cocking an eyebrow at her. "You want to put the ignorant gaijin you picked up off the street of a dirt-poor fishing village in charge?"

Ariake looked like he was about to throw a fit.

"Yes." She grinned. "You'll be a perfect fit."

He looked at big and tall attempting to disappear into the floor despite his height, Eddy the white-haired owl-hawk watching him unblinkingly with an expression like he'd just licked a lemon, and Ariake silently grinding his own teeth into fine powder. "Well... hurrah."

This would end well.