#whatever guys you're just gonna need to trust me here and be foggy on everything following the movie
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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Obiyuki AU Bingo Post-Apocalypse AU
There is no worse sound than the sirens.
Science agrees: every day, papers pile up in her queue, every last one of them tagged with the word kaiju and trauma. Everything from former Rangers to survivors of those first attacks to the children who still live in the cities along the coast, growing up in the looming shadow of the kaiju threat -- every single one of them has a lasting, ingrained reaction to the noise. Siren Anxiety, some papers call it, sanitized from the PTSD of other papers. Worse are the epigenetic ones; the endless articles speculating about what the alarms have done to the human psyche, calling it the next great epigenetic event in human history, not tired to any one ethic group or restricted region, but instead the entire coast line of four continents, none of them able to bear the whoop and moan of the evacuation siren.
Shirayuki isnât sure how much of that she believes; she believes in science, not divination, and the plasticity of the human mind is far beyond their understanding. Still, itâs a sound that certainly has a starring role in her nightmares.
Along with, sheâs coming to realize, the Marshal wants to see you.
âDoctor.â His voice is clipped, terse, but still polite as he stands, gesturing for her to take a seat. Heâs a busy man by any standard, but no one can say his mother didnât teach him his manners. âIâm glad you could take the time to see me.â
Itâs not as if she had much of a choice; she might be one of the few civilians here, but as far as the Pan-Pacific Defense Corp is concerned, heâs her boss. Garack might be the head of K-Science, but in the shatterdome, the Marshalâs word is law.
Someone else might not know the extent of that power, might think that a summons sent to the civ division of the dome was just a polite ask, but Izana --
Well, if there was anything like royalty left on this coast, it would be the Wisterias. Three generations of Marshals since the first kaiju ransacked San Francisco, and it could be said, with little exaggeration, that his grandfather practically built the PPDC from the ground up. If anyone knows the power behind that title, itâs him.
âItâs no problem,â she chokes out, sinking into a chair. Beside it sits a steaming mug -- her mug, she realizes with a jolt -- filled with green tea and muddied up with cream. Just the way she likes it. âI had time.â
He nods, hand hooked over the back of his chair, gaze fixed to the wall. The one that would look out over the Pacific, if they werenât underground. Sheâs been here six months, and training up to take Garackâs place hasnât left her much time, but --
Sheâs been in this office a few times, in an official capacity. And every time she canât shake the feeling that he shouldnât be here. That he belongs in some high-rise, looking out a fortieth floor window, surveying his domain, crunching numbers and worrying about stocks. Not down here, half-buried beneath whatâs left of LA, talking to her about monsters.
None of them should be here, really, but thatâs just the way things have panned out. For now. Thereâs no accounting for who they would have been, if not for --
âYouâre settling in?â
Shirayuki nearly scalds herself on her tea, only just clamping her lips around her teeth to keep it from spilling out. She take a moment to swallow, liquid burning all the way down. âAh, yes. Itâs been...slow, but I think the rangers are acclimatizing to the shift.â
Finally, she wants to add. And only because of your brother.
Itâs a mistake to say any of that. Bringing up Zen, here, right now --
Probably not career ending, but sheâll certainly approach the limits of Izanaâs current goodwill. She may be the psychologist in this room, but he is the one who could sit back in his chair with that enigmatic smile of his and flay her alive. Thereâs no amount of insisting that will get him to believe that Zen is only her patient, and --
And, with the way Zen acts, she canât say she blames him. Sheâs a professional, but no matter how much she swears to herself that she would never cross that line, would never make a patient more than that --
Well, sheâs read the papers. Everyone living under one roof like this, never a dayâs rest when kaiju donât believe in filing for paid time off, civilian and military alike -- itâs a recipe for disaster. Zen wouldnât be the first ranger to read something more in his sessions.
And she wouldnât be the first PPDC psychologist to encourage it, if she did --
Which she doesnât. Sheâs told Izana all this before, shoulders straight and stance stoic. But heâd only smiled that infuriating smile of is, and asked, but if he wasnât your patient...?
She didnât have a good answer to that. And the Marshal wasnât one to miss a detail like that.
Theyâd been...at an impasse since then. Zen still takes his sessions with her, and she keeps her distance.
Well, as much as he allows. Which is quickly trending towards not enough and also too much.
âGood.â His fingers tap idly at the leather of his chair, expression uncomfortably thoughtful. âGarack speaks highly of your skills, you know. Best investment Iâve forced you to make.â
Itâs useless to hide her blush. She knows sheâs well-regarded -- thereâs not many psychologists clamoring to get into the PPDC, and even less rangers wanting to talk to one -- but still. Garack practically invented the idea of trauma therapy for pilots. Itâs not only a compliment -- itâs a reinforcement of her whole lifeâs work to date. Thereâs no point in hiding that sheâs happy about that.
âAnd my brother, of course,â he mentions mildly. âNot a day goes by where he doesnât sing your praises.â
Oh, so -- so he is going to bring this up.
âStudies have shown that having a mental health professional available to pilots has decreased the likelihood of risk behaviors as well as nearly all forms of self-harm.â Her cheeks heat, and oh, how she wish they wouldnât when she talked about this. âA-and it isnât unusual for pilots under stress to believe theyâve formed and intimate bond with support staff. As long as the professional--â
Izana holds up a hand with a huff of a laugh. âYou donât have to preach to me Doctor. I think we are both tired of that particular conversation.â
Her fingers tighten around the mug, and she grimaces at the pinch. âThen I must admit that Iâm at a loss for what we need to discuss.â
She only just manages to bite off, if Iâm not here to defend my professional credentials. By his look, he still hears them, loud and clear.
His eyebrows raise, but sheâs not one of his rangers; there is no pressing need, in her mind, for her to call him sir. Some of the other civilians here might fall in line -- lord knows Suzu trips over himself to do it -- but sheâs not some lab scientist, taught military hierarchy in a dayâs orientation. Oh no, sheâs written papers about the long term effects of the military complex under martial law, and --
âI have need of your expertise, Shirayuki.â
All her protests dry up in her mouth. She hadnât expected that.
âOh,â she replies eloquently. She lifts the mug to her mouth and takes a long, meditative sip, trying to buy herself some time to come to terms with -- with this. âI, uh, well...â
âIâm bringing in a new ranger,â Izana continues, graciously ignoring her sudden inability to form coherent sentences. For once, itâs a mercy she can appreciate. âI think he might present a...unique challenge for you.â
âA ranger?â The room feels off-kilter now, tilted. Izana may make this announcement so casually, but a shatterdome is a complex ecosystem of egos, an exquisitely delicate biome that can collapse into total anarchy with a single breath. And now he wants to upset that balance. âWhen?â
âSoon.â His mouth quirks, gaze distant. âIâm flying out today, in fact, as soon a weâre done here.â
Pressure pulses threateningly just behind her eyes. âWho would you--?â
Her mouth shuts with a click. Most of the pilots here were experienced teams, working together for years, but there was one -- one -- jaeger that has been lying in wait for half a decade, stuck in shatterdome purgatory until his single pilot managed to find a partner --
And it just so happened to be the single ranger that Izana Wisteria, prince of the Pacific, would burn half the world for, if it meant finding someone drift compatible.
She twists the mug in her hand, anxious. âDoes he know?â
A stupid question, when she already knows the answer.
âNo.â An easy answer for a complex situation. âAnd he wonât.â
She bridles in her seat, mouth pulling thin. âYou called me in here to ask me to lie? Is this some sort of test of loyalty, because I donât appreciate mind games, Marshal.â
âNo. I asked you in here because I have...concerns.â He grimaces, as if it physically pains him to admit it. âAbout...reintegration.â
âYou should be more concerned about what this will do to the dynamic of your pilots,â she tells him, setting aside her tea. âYou should be telling him that --â
âDoctor, you have been here long enough -- and privy to my brotherâs thoughts long enough -- to know there is only one copilot he will accept.â Izana looks at her now, and he seems so -- weary. Not even thirty, and here he is, shouldering the hopes of the world. âWe donât have the luxury of waiting for him to be reasonable about this. I would rather he had less time to plan his objections than make a misguided attempt at trying to appeal to his logic.â
Her lips press together, annoyed. She wants to fight on this point, to tell him he needs to prioritize Zenâs comfort --
But unfortunately, she agrees. Were this a mediation between two brothers about a family legacy, she could counsel caution, could recommend respect -- but this is a dispute between soldier and commander, and in this, sheâs loath to say Izana has the right of it. It had taken hardly a handful of sessions to see where, precisely, Zenâs hang up lied in regards to the drift.
Itâs her job to provide support, to empathize, but oh, sometimes she wishes it included telling someone they were being belligerent, ridiculous. That they were risking lives for pride, for a reward that had never been promised and would never come.
âI still think he should know,â she insists stubbornly.
âOf course you do.â Izana mouth curls in that infuriating grin of his, too knowing. âYou are eminently fair, even to a fault. Itâs part of why you are so good at your job.â
She frowns at the compliment. Kind words, but she knows the Marshal too well to believe a kiss wonât come with a sting.
âHowever,â he drawls, âyou wonât tell him.â
âNo,â she agrees begrudgingly. âI wonât.â
âI wonât lie to you, Doctor,â Izana says, suddenly serious, fixing her with a look so intense that itâs almost a burden to bear. âThis is a very...unorthodox situation.â
âI think youâll find that Iâve seen nearly everything the PPDC has had to show me,â she said, forcing a smile. âThereâs very little left that can surprise me.â
His mouth twitches, smile turning to something almost self-deprecating. âSo you might think.â
Her office is empty when she returns to it, dark. The offices along the entire hall are empty, probably for dinner.
Good. Sheâd rather do this without anyone around to see.
Itâs not as if this isnât in her purview; Zen is her patient, and this, inarguably, will have a direct impact on his current mental health. Itâs only...
Thereâs a difference between hearing trauma from a patient, freely given, and finding it out through a dispassionate report that is more date than substance. Sheâd sworn she would wait -- Zen was neck-deep in trust issues, and if flying blind would make him feel more comfortable, make their relationship seem more natural, it was a small price to pay.
But now with Izana talking about a new ranger, about reintegration --
Shirayuki may not be fluent in the Marshalâs particular dialect of doublespeak, but sheâs able to read between the lines: heâs bringing someone back, someoneâs from Zenâs past, someone no one will be happy to see. She only knows one ranger that fits the profile.
She flips further in Zenâs file than sheâs ever let herself: far past his current benching, far past Kikiâs unexpected and upsetting arrival at the dome, even flipping through Mitsuhideâs all-too brief tenure as his co-pilot --
Right to the hole in Rex Tyrannisâ pilot history, to the year that every ranger talks around: Atri.
She doesnât have access to his file, so sheâs only gets half the story -- an endless string of appeals filed by Zen, insisting that some unexplained petty crimes could not have been perpetrated by his co-pilot. A run of misconduct charges that are strenuously sanitized. A laundry list of official complaints lodged at about Izanaâs enthusiastic reprimands, Zen passionately insisting Atri was being singled out by the Marshal because of his background. And then, finally, the removal of Zen from the duty roster.
Absence of Drift Compatible Personnel, it reads. A simple way to name the gaping wound he still carries with him.
She knows the specifics of this part at least; Mitsuhide kept Zenâs past close to his chest, but heâd slipped on this, tongue lubricated by a few after hours beers. Court Martial In Absentia was what it would read on Atriâs file, since heâd been long gone with his stolen goods before Zen had caught wind of his plan. Mitsuhide had recovered the parts before they went to market, but Atri himself had never been found.
And now here he was, about to waltz back into Zenâs life, complicating the peace sheâs worked so hard to maintain.
Shirayuki sits back, rubbing at her temples. If only that would be the worst of it. Having a man most of the pilots thought of as a traitor slink back under the shatterdome would be hard enough, but --
But if Izana could find Atri, that meant he knew where he was. And no matter what the Marshal would say about it, Zen would never believe he hadnât known the whole time, that Izana hadnât just let Atri get away with some awful proviso where Atri never contacted Zen again.
Her head tips back with a sigh. Knowing the Marshal, he probably had, too.
She reaches out, grasping to catch the handle of her mug, meaning to take a sip of the tea she inevitably had cooling in there, but --
But her hand swipes at air. It isnât here, itâs back in Izanaâs office. Or rather, in the kitchen, where he doubtlessly sent it after she left it there with half a cup of cold tea.
Shirayuki rests her head in her hands and groans. Thereâs nothing she can do about this now -- the Marshal will do what he thinks is best. Thatâs his job.
And itâs hers to deal with the fallout.
Thereâs only one room in the dome with windows: the mess.
Curved glass wraps around the rounded outer wall, gazing fearlessly out over the Pacific, as if daring the kaiju to come, inviting them. Itâs PPDC pride at itâs finest; making a grand show of defiance when it was all just an illusion -- the glass was engineered at Shao Industries, able to withstand anything just short of a nuclear blast.
Itâs always easy to tell who is new in the mess; no one but experienced personnel ever sit facing the windows. It was a game the rangers played sometimes, making the newest recruit sit on the bench opposite the window, waiting and watching for them to break, for the anxiety to overcome them and send them bolting out of the room, meal wasted.
Shirayukiâs mouth thins. Those had been some of her first patients here -- the recruits who couldnât stop shaking long enough to eat their food.
âItâs the math.â
She jolts out of her reverie, gaze scrambling up to meet Suzuâs, hoping he hasnât noticed that her attention drifted. Heâs always been a bit sensitive about things like that, about being dismissed. A common problem, when your thesis is about trying to apply algorithms to kaiju attacks.
Thereâs no need to worry, of course; she tries to look attentive, but heâs too busy attempting to eat the sloppy joe spilling out over his fingers to appreciate it. âItâs worrying me.â
Yuzuri lets out a groan load enough to make a kaiju rethink an approach. âAre you on about this again?â
âWhen am I not on about this?â he snips around his bun, circling around for another bite. Ground meat drops down to his tray, splattering sauce everywhere. Shirayuki has met a lot of people, but until she met Suzu, sheâd never known one with a splash radius. âItâs important, even if you donât think so--â
âMe, Marshal Wisteria, everyone with a brain--â
âHey,â Shirayuki murmurs. âDo you hear that?â
The Formica shakes under her hands, gentle at first, and she can feel the collective breath of the mess stop, every body going tense. The rangers two tables over are half out of their seats, heads twist over their shoulders.
Shirayuki follows suit, watching the waters churn at the edge of the flight deck, ripples slapping hard against the metal. Kaiju donât typically come this far down the coast -- just the once, just that first time when Yamarashi rose up on Long Beach. The most recent, most deadly attacks have been on the other side of the rim, Russian and Japan and China, all fighting off more kaiju every month --
But that doesnât mean it canât happen here. That things canât change. They all learned that lesson well, after the kaiju came.
âChopper,â Suzu says with a sigh, settling back into his seat.
Heâs the only one; already thereâs bodies crowded along the windows, faces pressed eagerly to the glass as the helo swings down to the flight deck, skids bouncing once, twice before settling flat.
âI guess His Majesty had returned,â Yuzuri observes dryly, mouth ticking up in a grin. âI wonder who heâs with.â
Izana alights from the chopper first, hair whipping out in a golden banner behind him. Itâs no wonder everyone is jostling to see; he cuts a striking figure on the tarmac, Marshal blues neatly pressed, golds stars shining along both shoulders. Angel of the Pacific, theyâd called him right out of training. The name had stuck, though it came out with more irony now.
He half turns, gaze swinging back to the helo as a man slides along the seats. Shirayuki holds her breath, jaw clenched tight. His head is ducked, hair a wild black hedgerow, but for a moment he looks up, and --
Ah, thatâs -- thatâs not Atri at all.
She refuses to run.
Shirayuki is a professional, a doctor. Unless her life is on the line, she walks briskly, with purpose. Her pace this time might leave her breathless, might leave her feet aching in what she would have called sensible flats this morning, but itâs still not a run.
She gets there just in time to see it happen.
Zenâs waiting in the hangar, Kiki and Mitsuhide flanking him to either side. This is an ambush, she knows; Izana couldnât have has enough time to officially page him, but the rumor mill works fast inside the dome. It wouldnât have escaped him what purpose his brotherâs guest would serve.
The man himself is calm, preternaturally so for a one walking into a room with hostility so thick itâs practically a wall. His mouth is curled up at a corner as he looks around, taking in the view, hands hooked in his pockets, casual. Cocky, even.
She hesitates as she draws closer, as she finally able to see his eyes, and she amends her assessment. He mimics calm, exudes it, but his eyes are half-wild, darting around the deck like he thinks the jaegers might come off the wall and stomp on him. Theyâre nearly all pupil, she can see it even from twenty paces away, but as they stop, as they catch on her --
She could swear his eyes are gold.
His gaze jumps away, and by then Izana has rallied, that heâs already started to speak. She canât hear a thing, close as she is. With the whirring of drills and growls of machinery, sheâd have to be nearly on top of them, part of the conversation itself. She wants to be, she should be, but --
Itâs too late. Zenâs jaw sets with just one look at the man, and she knows -- thatâs it. Heâs done. There wonât be any drifting with whatâs washed up on the deck.
No matter how angry he is, Zen keeps his head, giving Izana a tense nod as he makes introduction, as he clearly tells him this manâs purpose in the dome. She knows the exact moment it happens; Zen clenches his jaw so hard sheâs surprised he doesnât crack a tooth. His gaze shifts to the other man, forbidding, but --
But the pilot slips one broad hand out of his pocket, holding it out to him. A peace offering.
Zen stares at it like heâs been offered trash.
The manâs smile goes sharp as he pulls it back, hooking his thumb on the loop of his jeans. He doesnât seem surprised, just -- amused.
Zen spins on his heel, stomping away, Kiki and Mitsuhide trailing behind him. The manâs mouth slants into a smirk.
âWell,â he says, easy to hear over the sudden lull, âI think that went well, donât you, Marshal?â
No one knows who this mystery man is, but it takes no time as all for them to divine why heâs here -- another ranger for Zen Wisteria to fail to drift with, another pilot to be shown the marvel that is Kain Wisteriaâs legacy and fall short. There used to be a betting pool about how long it would take to find someone compatible, someone Zen would accept, but itâs long since dried up. No one thinks Rex Tyrannis will be coming out of its box anytime soon.
Shirayuki wants to believe it will, that Zen will find someone to be his copilot, even if no one else does, but --
She doubts it will be this one.
âHeâs a jackass,â Zen grumbles, head tilting against the back of her couch. A mug steams in front of him, filled to the brim with a coffee more cream than bean. âHe keeps on showing up everywhere, saying âdonât forget, master, we have a drift to fail.â Last time he followed it up with, âcome on, I want to get home already.â Just, you know...asshole stuff.â
Shirayuki nods, sympathetic, and sips at her tea. Sheâs good at that; itâs her job to listen, to withhold judgement. Zenâs comfortable with her like this, with a drink in front of both of them, pretending this is a social call and not an appointment, pretending that sheâs the one person in his life that doesnât need to give her opinion on every thought that passes through his head.
Itâs easy to do, mostly. She has practice at non-interference, at knowing the precise time to chime in with an observation that will be heard, instead of dismissed. Trust is the most important bond she can forge with a patient; if she needs to voice a scathing remark, she can always save the impulse for her actual friends, for when she steps out for dinner and listens to Suzu talk about numbers with steadily increasing incredulity.
After all, she doubts Zen would appreciate being told that he is making this man wait, that his whole life has been put on pause until Zen gets over himself enough to decide heâs ready to try.
She presses her lips together, biting down on the impulse to speak. Itâs easy to forget that he isnât a friend, most of the time, that he isnât some handsome ranger that she just happened to meet at work and hit it off with. But sometimes --
Sometimes itâs not.
His eyes roll up to the clock, and he starts. âAw, sh--oot,â he mutters, throwing a wary glance at her. âOur timeâs up.â
âI donât have anyone after you today,â she says lightly, busily straightening her notes. He doesnât have to know thatâs how she usually plans it, just so she can make this offer. âYou can linger, if you want.â
âNah, I have to go.â His cheeks flush ruefully, and he gives her a shy glance from the corners of his eyes. âIzana wants to meet with me. You know, about this guy.â
Of course he does.
âOh, go ahead then,â she tells him with a smile, swirling the last dregs of tea in her mug. âI can finish up alone.â
He hesitates, and this is the problem, this moment here, where he looks like he was to protest, like he wants her to never feel alone, but --
But instead he just nods, giving her a tense smile and a murmured see you before walking out the door.
The tea goes cold.
Shirayuki sticks out her tongue at the sour taste. Sheâs been working a while, knee deep in catching up on the papers weighing down her queue, but sheâd thought -- only for an hour, maybe two.
Her stomach growls. Okay, maybe four.
She gets up, wandering down to the mess with a limp in her walk, foot still half asleep from being tucked under her for so long. She takes a step through the doors -- and blinks.
Itâs nighttime. Well, she certainly didnât mean to read that long.
Dinner sits in chafing dishes, rubbery and unappetizing, but itâs better than the nothing sheâll have if she turns her nose up at it. She takes a plate in hand, picking what seems the most edible and taking it to a table by the window.
Itâs quiet this time of night; everyone is on-shift or sleeping. She has nothing to do besides go over her notes and eat, looking out over the Pacific and wondering about Suzuâs numbers.
âAnyone sitting here?â
She blinks, and suddenly thereâs a man in front of her, mug of coffee steaming in one hand, and an equally unappetizing plate in the other. Itâs the new ranger -- Obi. The asshole.
Heâs not wearing the uniform. Sheâs not sure he ever has.
âAh, no!â She moves her papers, stacking them on the seat next to her to make room. âJust -- thinking.â
He smiles, the kind that doesnât bare teeth, and -- well, itâs not a bad look on him. âThanks. Didnât think Iâd find a place to sit down. This place is packed.â
She turns, taking in the ocean of empty tables, and when she looks back, heâs grinning, trying to hide it behind a sip of his coffee.
âI havenât seen you around,â he says, and for a moment, she wonders if he remembers her, remembers that moment their eyes met on the deck. He doesnât seem like the type. âNot part of the jaeger crews, I take it?â
���No.â Itâs annoying how her cheeks flush under that stead gaze of his. This close, she knows for certain: his eyes are gold. Even if she canât seem to manage to meet them. âIâm mostly...below decks.â
âAh,â he hums, eyes lighting. âScientist?â
âPsychologist.â
His smile pulls tight, eyes crinkling with strain. âYou donât say.â
Ah, she should have known. Military personnel arenât usually...fond of her position. Not at first, at least.
âYou know,â he says, voice still thin, âI think His Majesty is going to tell me to see--â
âWhat are you doing here?â Zen demands, just over her shoulder.
â--you more often,â Obi finished, taking a long drag from his mug. âJust having some coffee, taking a break. Making friends, since youâre so happy to keep me here.â
âOh, I see. If you canât bug me, youâll come bug my -- Shirayuki?â Zenâs cheeks flush an angry red, like heâs been slapped on both cheeks. Still, he keeps up is glare. âCanât you just go away already?â
Obiâs eyebrows twitch, the rest of his body going still as he looks at him. âLove to. Just set the date, master.â
The flush spreads all over his face, eruption immanent. âI--â
âDid you need something, Zen?â she asks, pointed. Itâs more than she means it to be, but still less than this sort of behavior deserves.
She takes a breath, calming. Sheâs not here to take sides.
âYeah, I--â Zen casts a nervous look around the room, and that when she sees Kiki and Mitsuhide lingering at the door with amused and concern expressions, respectively. âI left my jacket here. After dinner.â
âIt is over there?â She points to another table, one with a vest slung around the back of a chair.
âOh.â He coughs, scooping it up. âYeah.â
Still, he lingers.
âIs that all?â she asks innocently. âWe were just going to finish up dinner.â
âYeah. Right,â he bites out, glare sweeping in Obiâs direction. âSure. See you.â
Itâs silent as he walks out, as Kiki and Mitsuhide fall in behind with only a lingering look. Shirayuki sighs, heavy, and turns back to her plate.
Obiâs mouth bows with concern. âYou didnât have to do that.â
She sits, staring at her food, barely seeing it. She really, really didnât. It was a mistake, a trip-up that might have cost her some of her hard-won trust with Zen, but --
âI know,â she says, spearing a noodle. âBut I did.â
She doesnât add, and weâll both have to live with it. By the steady gaze he sets on her, he hears it anyway.
âYeah,â he coughs after a moment, eyes skittering to look anywhere else. âYou did.â
#obiyukibingo2019#obiyuki#akagami no shirayukihime#snow white with the red hair#pacific rim AU#my fic#ans#guys i am not even gonna lie I'm not sure when in the Pac Rim timeline i'm placing this#i mean i think i want to keep it 2024 but clearly there's a lot of rangers here#but also I used Shao industries#whatever guys you're just gonna need to trust me here and be foggy on everything following the movie#i mean clearly since i actually put a psychologist in here#though i think there's mention they exist in the domes?#i forgot#whatever you all know you want psychologist shirayuki
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