86 - Volume 2 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 

BENEATH THE TWO-HEADED EAGLE 

The 177th Armored Division’s headquarters’ large conference room was dimmed, with only the holo-screen’s light illuminating the faces of the gathered unit commanders. The Eintagsfliege’s jamming, blocking all efforts to observe the depths of the Legion’s contested zones, was as true for this room as it was for anywhere else in the Federacy, but the Federacy’s military wasn’t so incompetent as to neglect its reconnaissance duties. 

There was something to be gained even from what fragments of information they could pick up. Fluctuations in the traffic. Noise signatures picked up by the self-propelled, unmanned reconnaissance probes, their numbers and bearing. The reports of the recon squads that ventured into the contested zones, risking life and limb. 

“—In accordance with our findings, the integrated-analysis team has surmised that there is a high probability that the Legion are preparing to launch a large-scale offensive within the coming days.” 

The major general in charge of the 177th Armored Division, seated in a leather chair at the back of the room, sighed at this report. 

“We’d figured as much, and yet… The time is finally upon us.” 

They had predicted the Legion would eventually stage an offensive to break through each of their fronts. 

A shadow suddenly rose from the darkness. A young female officer—her blond hair cut short, her eyes a shade of purple, and her red lips smeared with refined rouge. Officers died one after another in the Federacy’s military, which sent them frequently out into the field, and yet, the rank insignia of lieutenant colonel—unusual for her age—glinted off her collar, and she wore the research division’s armband and a pilot’s medal on her chest. 

“What is it, Lieutenant Colonel Wenzel?” 

“Major General, sir. I’m sure the 177th Division will reorganize in preparation for this large-scale offensive. I would like to ask that you release my squadron on this occasion.” 

The conference room buzzed with doubtful whispers. The air filled with a needlelike enmity, and the major general sighed as the beautiful woman before him beamed with a fierce confidence. 

“The Reginleif is still in its testing stages. Whether or not they can withstand deployment on their own is still unknown, and as such, we will continue deploying them along with Vánagandrs.” 

“But if I may, sir, the Nordlicht squadron holds the highest number of downed hostiles not just within the 177th Division, but within the 8th Army Corps as a whole. I believe this achievement stands as sufficient justification for their individual deployment.” 

“And their number of casualties is equally high… I’m afraid a Feldreß that had half its forces killed in action upon its first deployment is simply not trustworthy.” 

“Think of it as a sort of screening process. The rate of casualties since then has been decidedly low.” 

A voice from somewhere in the conference room cut into her words. 

“That’s a shameless enough thing to say, given that you’re relying on the Eighty-Six’s experience… Only a rehabilitated weapons dealer like you would ever send those poor children into battle again.” 

The voice was steeped with far too much indignity for it to be banter, and the woman’s expression froze for a moment. Her eyes wavered, as if holding some emotion in them, but she restrained it the next moment and opened her mouth to speak again. 

“My XM2 Reginleif’s mobility far surpasses the Legion’s, and depending on the strategy employed, its combat capabilities are in no way lower than theirs, either… If we are to prepare to intercept the Legion’s large-scale offensive when they far exceed our numbers, the group strategies we’re employing right now will not be effective. As such, we should go against conventional strategies and employ groups of select elites in few-versus-many combat.” 

Having finished her statement, the beautiful woman flashed a softer smile. Her purple eyes were fixed on the major general before her. The commanding officer narrowed his eyes as he returned her gaze. She was his junior in the military staff college, and he could tell what this woman was thinking even without her having to say it. 

Cut the bullshit and just say yes already, you stupid drone beetle. 

Goddamn spider woman. 

“In the name of the safety of our Federacy and its civilians, do properly consider how to best utilize my Reginleifs and the Nordlicht squadron, Major General, sir.” 

The Legion’s forces successfully pushed into the second defensive line the following night but were pushed back by a counteroffensive staged by the Federacy army. 

“—That’s fine and all, but can’t you do something about how they’re treating us…? They send us appeals for reinforcements left and right, but once they’re done with us, they just dump us into a hangar or a warehouse. Do they think we’re dogs or something?” 

“I think the bases just aren’t equipped to accommodate us. Those are special reinforcements appeals, you know?” 

They were sitting in a corner of a spare hangar that FOB 13 had provided for them as lodging. Raiden sat on a canvas that served as a makeshift bed, and Shin answered his question, sitting nearby on a substitute chair. 

It was an early army morning. The sounds of this advance base’s personnel clamoring and the combatants getting ready to set out could be heard from outside the hangar. The base was coming alive, but they—who weren’t part of this base—didn’t have anything to do. 

The Nordlicht squadron would usually be stationed at the rear division’s headquarters. But having been sent out to act as mobile defense personnel, they were in a somewhat peculiar position, as the base didn’t have a headquarters building for the rear forces. 

To be specific, any base that sent appeals for reinforcements was in charge of providing them with supplies and lodging for their next sortie, and they were to operate from that base until they were summoned elsewhere. Those appeals were on a platoon—and not a squadron—level, and so the squadron was scattered across different bases. This had been their situation ever since they were assigned to Nordlicht. 

Fortunately enough, advance bases would often welcome troops that weren’t assigned to them, depending on the results of battle, and had no shortage of makeshift beds and rations. The base did provide them with some lodging in the residential block, but that was allotted to their female members, Frederica included. 

“The Reginleif is still considered to be in temporary trial usage, so they might not be willing to outfit them for us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t have the leisure to do it anyway.” 

“Yeah, we got hit hard yesterday, after all… So according to your predictions, they should be coming soon, right?” 

Shin shrugged at Raiden’s fleeting glance. The ability his brother had cursed him with remained active, even after he’d achieved his goal and defeated him, and still alerted him to the state of the army of ghosts. The situation wasn’t simple enough to sum up with “coming soon.” 

“It’s more like they could attack at any moment… They’ve been ready for a long while now.” 

But the base’s morning clatter drowned out the ghosts’ commotion, and it felt somewhat far away to Shin. 

“—Our squad only ended up losing two members, Fabio and Beata from the second platoon. It wasn’t even such a dangerous situation, but an infantry unit was attacked by Grauwolf types, and there were some friends of theirs in there, so they rushed to defend it.” 

They were walking through the residential block’s hallway, their footsteps squeaking against the floor. The Nordlicht squadron, which had no headquarters on the front lines, of course had no office for the squad’s captain or his vice captain to use. As such, Bernholdt followed half a step behind Shin, simply giving the report he normally would have delivered in the office on the go instead. 

“This reduces the squadron to twenty. We’ve sent a request to have new members sent in, but the normal armored division got hit considerably hard, so I doubt they’ll have anyone to spare for us. We do technically belong to the research bureau and are a gathering of mercs… Plus, our head honcho is a weirdo even by military and research-bureau standards.” 

Lieutenant Colonel Grethe Wenzel, commanding officer of the 1,028th Trial Unit. They’d seen her once, when they were appointed, but they hadn’t actually spoken to her. 

“I’d bet people don’t think too highly of her, seeing as she developed the Juggernaut.” 

“It’s the famous pilot killer that sent ten people to the hospital when it was only in its testing stages, after all. And she’s an heir to a long-running family of military-industrial-complex owners. Thanks to that, we have plenty of spare parts and rigs, but people like to call her an arms dealer for a reason.” 

Shin replied to Bernholdt’s words in an indifferent manner. 

“We’re used to not getting resupplied, be it equipment or man power. But it’s good so long as we still get spare parts.” 

“I’ve already told you this, but the Republic was messed up for doing that. Please don’t judge us by your Eighty-Six standards of good and bad.” 

Nonetheless, when Bernholdt had heard Shin was an Eighty-Six, he’d seemed mostly convinced. At the time, the Nordlicht squadron had only enough personnel to make up a battalion and had a regular army captain serving as its leader. He hadn’t been very capable, to put it mildly, and his lacking command had led to the death of many squad members, himself included. 

The fact that Shin, who had been only the vice captain of a platoon at the time, had ended up taking over the role of captain was seen as an act of desperation. A green recruit straight out of the special officer program couldn’t fill this role. 

But be that as it may… 

“…You’d have had it easy in a standard armored unit. Why’d you come to such a wreck of a unit?” 

“It’s easier for me here. A normal unit’s chain of command and combat regulations make it hard to move.” 

When he was piloting the Republic’s “drones,” there were no combat regulations to uphold and no commanding officers to breathe down his neck—with the exception of their last one. He was too used to moving by his own judgment and taking responsibility for his own actions, and the Federacy’s standard military’s method of abiding by a commander’s judgment and obeying orders wasn’t one he could get behind. 

Bernholdt scoffed. 

“I can’t believe I’m hearing ‘it’s hard to move’ from a damn teenager… Well, I guess we’re not complaining so long as your orders don’t get us killed. Even if you are a stone-faced reaper and a snot-nosed brat who keeps rushing to the front despite being the commander and literally driving us insane with that noise if we Resonate with you.” 

Ignoring the sarcasm steeped into Bernholdt’s words, Shin turned his gaze to the window. Outside, an open-top truck stood there on the paved road, surrounded by clouds of dust. In its trunk were black body bags, piled on top of one another like sacks of potatoes. Those were probably the remains of the soldiers who’d died yesterday. 

The thought came to mind, suddenly, that Eugene had probably been collected by now. He’d been his contemporary, who’d said he fought for his family. 

I could ask you the same thing. 

Shin knew what Eugene was going to ask, but…how would he have answered if Eugene had asked him back then? 

“Second Lieutenant? Second Lieutenant… Are you listening?” 

Shin came to, realizing Bernholdt was looking at him dubiously. 

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.” 

“Yeah, well, I guess I can understand. You brats actually sleep at night, and fighting through the night’s starting to get to you… But that’s, er, a bit of a problem, though,” Bernholdt said abruptly. 

He stopped walking and looked ahead, visibly dumbfounded. Adjusting his gaze to match Bernholdt’s, Shin realized exactly what was bothering him. His eyes fell on the sight of Frederica, who was apparently suffering from lack of sleep. About several nights’ worth. She was waddling around barefoot in her pajamas, dragging her stuffed bear with one hand, and her hair was a mess. 

Although it was a clear violation of army regulations, Bernholdt was originally a Vargus who put very little emphasis on discipline, and Shin, who originally piloted a drone, didn’t care at all. But she was wearing a blouse in place of pajamas, and its three top buttons were open. It was sliding off her right side, exposing her thin shoulders all the way down to her chest. She may have been ten years old, but it was still a problematic sight. 

“Frederica, either go back to your room and change or go back to bed.” 

“Uuuh. Kiri, comb my hair…” 

Shin sighed once. 

“Frederica.” 

Her red eyes blinked once and then opened wide. 

“Shinei… Pardon. I mistook you for…” 

She gave him a proper response but kept on walking, which prompted Shin to grab her by the scruff of her neck. Anju had fortunately just come out, so Shin decided to let her handle things. 

“Sorry, Anju. Could you handle this?” 

“What’s wrong…? Ah, Frederica?! Look at yourself! Come here, quickly! Theo, can you go get Frederica’s uniform?” 

“You’re dropping this on me? Aaah, fine.” 

Theo, who happened to be passing by, changed directions and walked toward Frederica’s room. Watching him retreat, Bernholdt opened his mouth to speak. 

“What was I saying, again…? Ah, right. We got another ‘package.’ HQ contacted us about it the other day.” 

“Package…? Oh…” 

Realizing what Bernholdt meant, Shin sighed. Six months or so after being rescued by the Federacy, they began receiving letters and goodwill packages from “well-intentioned civilians.” Even though Shin and the others weren’t small children, some included plush toys and picture books and letters filled with excessive emotion. Ernst didn’t disclose their personal information, so the Eighty-Six would be able to live peacefully in the Federacy. But that only cemented their image as “poor children who were persecuted by the terrible Republic.” 

It didn’t matter much to Shin what people thought about him, and he didn’t care whether he was the subject of selfish goodwill and pity, but being made into a spectacle didn’t sit well with him. 

“You can dispose of it all, as always… And having to deal with this every single time is annoying, so could you tell HQ to just get rid of them every time?” 

“Inspecting ’em every single time is as much a bother to them, and they feel bad for you being the subject of cheap sympathy, so the boys at HQ would love to do that. But some people would make a fuss over embezzlement and criminal negligence, so they still want me to let you know.” 

Looking back at him, the young sergeant who was nearly twice his age shrugged. 

“It’s all about formality, Second Lieutenant. An army is an organization made up of people, after all. And since people are irrational and inefficient, the army is full of irrational and inefficient procedures.” 

And well, that was at least originally true in the Republic as well. That reminded him of a certain voice, as clear as a silver bell. At first, he’d found it annoying, as the owner of the voice would pester him about filling out his combat reports and sending out his patrol reports, but… 

Bernholdt’s hoarse voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“And that’s about it. That concludes my report, Captain. Please sign this document.” 

Shin heaved a sigh. 

“So…” 

As they had breakfast, Theo feigned a foul mood. 

“Don’t you think sending someone to bring your clothes, then calling him an ‘insolent fool’ the second he opens the door, is cruel and unusual treatment? She even threw her stuffed toy at me. And if that wasn’t enough, she started hitting me afterward.” 

Theo summed up the events that had happened after he’d gone to get Frederica’s uniform at Anju’s request. And while he didn’t actually care much, he still made it out to be a big deal so he could keep teasing Frederica about it. Anju, who had witnessed the whole matter unfold, covered her mouth to hide her lips twitching up into a smirk. Raiden and Kurena were more astounded than amused, and Shin was, as always, stoic and apathetic. 

Even though they were all part of different platoons in the Nordlicht squadron, this was the first time in a while the five of them had gathered. As they were in charge of mobile defense, they were continually sent out to battle. The western front’s defenses were pressing enough that the Federacy had no qualms about working a trial unit—that focused on implementing a new, suspicious weapon system without many achievements under its belt—to the bone. 

Frederica hung her head, a blush creeping over her face. 

“We fixed your blouse, but for some reason, you took it off again.” 

“You weren’t so much half-awake as you were still in dreamland. If you were that tired, you could have just gone back to sleep.” 

“Aaaah, silence! Be quiet, I say!” 

The girl brushed them aside, failing to notice the casual consideration behind Theo’s words. 

“To be clear, it is your fault for not knocking and walking in on a lady as she was in the middle of changing her attire! Don’t you agree, Kurena?!” 

“He did knock. Also, you’re no lady.” 

“Why did you take off your pajamas before he came back with your clothes anyway?” 

“The biggest problem is that you were streaking around the hallway half-asleep and half-naked, Frederica.” 

“I did no such thing! And who told you about that?! You weren’t present to see it, Raiden!” 

The answer was obvious. Everyone’s gaze fixed on Shin, but the boy himself proceeded to ignore this. Frederica fell to her knees. 

“…I never knew you could be so malicious…” 

“All I said was that if you can’t be expected to put on your clothes or hold a conversation properly, we can’t expect you to join us on sorties. It might be better to send you back to HQ.” 

Frederica pursed her lips in displeasure. As Shin met her red eyes, which were looking up at him grumpily, he continued. 

“You can’t force military regulations on a Mascot, and you have no obligation to join us when we sortie. I won’t call you useless, but if we can’t guarantee your safety, we’d be better off if you went back to the rear.” 

“I cannot do that… I have come here to see things through to their conclusion.” 

Raiden smirked. 

“So I hope starting tomorrow you won’t be streaking around half-asleep.” 

“Can’t you put that matter to rest?!” 

Frederica howled at him, her face turning red again. The five of them decided to drop the subject, as teasing her any further would just make them feel guilty. 

“Well, then. I guess our itinerary is mostly cleanup duty.” 

Once battles end, soldiers on the front lines have plenty of work cut out for them. Repairing, maintaining, and rebuilding defensive positions. Recovering the wreckage of downed enemy and friendly units. And of course, recovering the corpses of dead soldiers. They may have pushed back the enemy offense, but the 177th Armored Division took massive losses. In all likelihood, every place they’d go would likely be understaffed. 

“It’s either that or patrolling the contested zones… The armored units got done in hard in yesterday’s fight, so it’ll probably be patrols.” 

“I know we can’t say we won’t do it because there’s no need for it here, in a standard army. But having to patrol when we know there’s no point in doing it is kind of annoying.” 

“On the other hand, Anju…” 

“I know…” 

Snapping shut a schedule book with an illustration of an adorable cartoon character on the cover, Frederica sighed in a tone unbefitting a young child. 

“Everyone’s been working you to the bone, and yet, you have grown so accustomed to it. However…” 

Everyone gazed at Frederica apathetically. While Shin and the others were in the special officer academy, Frederica had already been enlisted in the trial unit and had actively taken on the role of coordinator between the squad’s captain and the research bureau. 

“Grethe has summoned you. As such, we will be returning to headquarters today.” 

The 177th Armored Division’s headquarters’ base was built on an old Imperial air force base, which granted it an abundance of hangars and maintenance stations, as well as large runways that were currently only good for receiving transports from within the country. One such hangar had a barracks attached, with one of its rooms turned into a control room. This served as the 1,028th Trial Unit’s headquarters. 

“—Before we begin, I would like to thank you all for your fine work in your constant reinforcement missions.” 

The 1,028th Trial Unit’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Grethe Wenzel, welcomed them with her rouged lips curved in a smile. They were in a briefing room with a glass window overlooking the hangar, located one floor below the HQ room. The people in charge of the research section and maintenance section were gathered there, along with the squad captain and all the other Processors—in other words, Shin and the other Eighty-Six. 

Looking over the combat unit’s commanders, who lowered the room’s average age by quite a bit, Grethe smiled wryly. 

“Our roster has changed since you took on your new post last month… It would seem the Reginleifs were most compatible with the Eighty-Six and the mercenaries.” 

Twenty of her “creations” were lined up behind the soundproof glass, receiving thorough inspections and maintenance after having returned to their usual roost for the first time in a while. The first high-maneuverability Feldreß in Federacy history, the Reginleif. It put emphasis on speed, with the concept of “maneuverability that does not give the enemy the chance to lock on.” It was the manifestation of Grethe’s ideals and extensive theorycrafting. 

The Vánagandr was powerful with its 120 mm cannon, but if it got hit anywhere other than the turret, it would be destroyed all the same. In that case, forgoing armor and focusing on speed should ensure the pilot’s safety. A month ago, this hangar was filled with the impressive sight of a battalion of fifty brand-new Reginleifs. 

But now the wreckage of these creations lay in a despondent heap along with vast quantities of containers of 88 mm shells, leaving a conspicuous void where the others once stood. Less than half the units remained, and their pilots were these young officers, still in their teens. And yet, it was too soon to pass judgment. Far too soon… 

“Before we go into directives, I have some good news. The other day, we confirmed the survival of the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia and the Alliance of Wald. One of our patrol units picked up a wireless sound signal.” 

Those were respectively the last autocratic monarchy to the north of the Republic and the Federacy (the Empire at the time) and the armed neutrality nation that neighbored them to the south. With the Legion’s jamming, it had been impossible to ascertain their survival, much less communicate with them, but now they knew both of them at the very least seemed to still be intact. 

“It appears they’ve both managed to somehow erect a defensive line and maintain enough space to survive. The United Kingdom seems to be gradually advancing to the south, so we should soon be able to send people over there. We may yet be able to begin collaborative strategies with them. However, we are still unable to get in touch with any of the other neighboring countries or the Republic of San Magnolia…” 

She stole a glance in the Processors’ direction, smiling wryly at Theo, who hung his head with his cheek pressed against the table, and Kurena, who lowered her gaze apathetically. They neither worried for the Republic as their homeland nor reviled it for persecuting them. They were completely and utterly indifferent about it. 

And that only made Grethe realize how deep the wound ran. Shin and Raiden listened carefully, but they seemed worried about something—or perhaps someone—else. Anju turned her gaze to them, perhaps thinking the same thing. 

The maintenance-team leader, a man with a mane of red hair streaked with gray, opened his mouth to speak. 

“So I’m assuming the directives are going to be bad news, Lieutenant Colonel?” 

She nodded at his jesting question. 

“I’m afraid so… We’ve received predictions that the Legion may be preparing for a large-scale offensive in the near future.” 

The research-team leader, the only civilian in the room, gasped. And at the same time, the platoon leaders, who’d seemed bored until now, gave her their complete attention. Grethe didn’t like the metaphor, but it was like seeing dogs rise from their sleep in a doghouse at the sound of a hunting horn. 

“In accordance with this prediction, the western front’s army will be reorganized to maximize its fighting potential. The 1,028th Trial Unit will be attached to FOB 15 as an armored squadron. We will be subordinate to the 151st Regiment, and I will be assuming direct command… You will not be divided into platoons and passed around different units any longer. We will concentrate all your strength into a single squadron. The time has come to show the Reginleif’s, and the Nordlicht squadron’s, true worth. Any questions?” 

“—What scale will the offensive be?” 

The reorganization and change of their assignment was either something Shin had assumed would happen or something he didn’t care about. Grethe smiled at Shin’s indifferent words. 

“We’re predicted to be capable of pushing it back with our current forces. We will have reinforcements prepared in case the worst happens… Which reminds me. I’ve received the report you submitted regarding this situation, Second Lieutenant Nouzen.” 

Raiden sneaked a glance in Shin’s direction. Shin completely ignored the gaze coming from his side, which was something Grethe caught on to. She didn’t know what it meant, though, and decided to let it slide. 

“I found it quite fascinating. Both your analysis as a field commander and your opinion as the captain of an elite unit in the Republic are quite valuable. But still, you only have the perspective of a battlefield under the jurisdiction of one division. Don’t you think predicting a large-scale offensive of the entire western front was a bit too daring?” 

Shin’s reply came immediately, as if he’d predicted this would be her retort. 

“Had the 177th’s sector not been a unique battlefield, even within the western front, I would not have had enough material to make such a conjecture… During the last battle, it felt to me as if the Legion pulled back. Like they had no choice but to pull back.” 

They weren’t pushed back. Nor were they lured out. Grethe’s smile suddenly vanished. 

“The more territory we take back, the longer and thinner the front line becomes. You probably still haven’t finished building the fortifications and frontline bases from when you made progress three months ago… This situation doesn’t strike me as a favorable one.” 

“…You’re sharp. You know, you’d be cuter if you acted your age a little more.” 

Shin didn’t even twitch an eyebrow at her jest. Grethe sighed. 

“Your words have merit, Second Lieutenant. And HQ acknowledges that. But if we’re simply content with maintaining a defensive line, the Federacy will eventually fall. The Legion won’t disappear if we simply wait. We have to advance, even if little by little, and exterminate them as we do.” 

“…” 

“And if the Legion’s aim is to draw us out so they can stage an all-out attack, your prediction assumes their numbers are simply too great. Far beyond what the integrated-analysis room estimates.” 

It even exceeded the theoretical limit of the Weisel’s presumed output. It was the kind of number that would put the western front’s defenses in a state of utter inferiority, even if you added all possible reinforcements. 

Looking at the reports submitted by this usually taciturn boy made it clear that, given his environment, he had a staggering amount of knowledge and cleverness. Perhaps it was his long service in the Republic. Maybe being forced to fight the Legion in such a defective weapon system instilled in him a tendency to overanalyze the enemy. 

That seemed to align perfectly with his penchant for ignoring orders and strategies if need be and acting on his own accord (which was something Grethe was covering up for him, in light of his achievements)… But that served to prove that the Republic had inflicted deep wounds on him as well. 

“You’ve nothing to worry about… The Federacy is not the Republic. We would never think that turning our cheek from the threat in front of us would make it go away. We’ve put effort into gathering information and performing thorough analyses and are making whatever preparations we’ll need. And more than anything, the Federacy will never abandon a brother-in-arms.” 

You don’t have to fight alone and unassisted, like you did on the Republic’s battlefield. You won’t have to fight a lonely war in a state of utter inferiority, without information or support, ever again. 

“…” 

Without seeming convinced, but also without stirring whatsoever, he closed his bloodred eyes. Grethe smiled as she watched him. It was probably still too soon to earn his trust or respect. 

“Furthermore, new members will be joining the squadron. I will be introducing them, so please try to maintain cordial relations with them.” 

Having been instructed to follow her, Shin and his group followed Grethe down the hallway as her high-heeled shoes clicked loudly against the floor with every step. Only Shin and the other Eighty-Six followed her; they’d bidden farewell to the familiar maintenance-team leader and the research-team leader, who was always dumbfounded at their odd conduct during inspections. 

“What’s your opinion on the Reginleif, Second Lieutenant? Do you like it better than that aluminum coffin of yours?” 

Grethe smiled deeply as Shin stared back at her. 

“I was in the base that took custody of you back then, too. I was in charge of counterintelligence and disease control, so we never got to speak… But I have your old partner in my lab. Want to see it?” 

“…No, thank you.” 

He had changed units frequently since he often wrecked his rig beyond repair, so he hadn’t actually piloted it all that long. And besides, it was an old unit of his—a partner that was defeated and finally allowed to be laid to rest. Shin didn’t want to do something that would equate to digging up its grave. 

“…I believe I’ve been submitting my reports on it and the Para-RAID in time.” 

The 1,028th Trial Unit was established in order to test the Juggernaut and the Para-RAID technologies. One of his duties was to submit periodic reports on them and their influence on the human body. 

“Yes. But I want to hear your opinion—as someone who piloted a Feldreß of a similar system in the Republic.” 

Shin sighed once. 

“If you’re asking about the Juggernaut—” 

Grethe cocked an eyebrow. 

“It’s called the Reginleif.” 

“Juggernaut.” 

“Re-gin-leif.” 

“Juggernaut.” 

“…Whatever. Well?” 

Grethe shook her head in displeasure, and Raiden coughed awkwardly in an attempt to stifle his laughter. Shin ignored them both and continued: 

“It’s an aluminum coffin that’s made much better than the Republic’s.” 

Grethe fell into a full ten seconds of silence, unsure whether she should take offense. 

“…Really?” 

“What, she hasn’t noticed?” 

“What he’s saying is that it’s nothing more than a pilot killer.” 

Grethe was probably too shocked to hear Kurena’s and Theo’s whispers. The Reginleif’s maneuverability was too high for ordinary people to pilot. It was, after all, developed with the explicit intent of giving it a mobility that matched the Legion’s, so safety apparently wasn’t a factor. 

And as a result, its Operators all retired during the test stages, having sustained injuries all over their bodies. And when it was deployed into real combat, it devoured any ordinary Processor that piloted it. Shin, Raiden, and the others managed to pilot it only because they were Eighty-Six. During their childhood and into their adolescence, they were forced to pilot the Juggernaut, which was also built without regard for the safety of its pilots, and their bodies matured so as to adapt to that strain. 

“That’s a very…shocking impression. That weak…or rather, brittle…failure of a Feldreß, that makes me question the sanity of the person who made it…” 

This wasn’t something one would usually say in front of the Processors, but Shin didn’t mind. It was the sad truth, after all. 

“…How on earth did you ever fight in that wreck of a Feldreß back in the Republic?!” 

“That’s all we had.” 

“Yes, that’s right…” 

She seemed to mumble something inaudible. Probably cursing the Republic and its arsenal. 

“…I don’t think it’s a bad rig. It may pick its Processors, but its speed is a boon. And for how fast it is, it brakes well, so it’s got some flexible maneuverability. The Vánagandr’s as much of a metal coffin, after all. The Juggernaut’s still preferable to that one.” 

The Republic-made Juggernaut’s thin defenses were mostly there for peace of mind, and the Eighty-Six didn’t place much trust in armor. This new Juggernaut, which was developed with mobility that wouldn’t allow it to get hit to begin with, was, in their eyes, preferable to the slow, armor-reliant Vánagandr. 

“I see… For some reason, that doesn’t feel like a compliment.” 

“…He wasn’t trying to compliment you…” 

Grethe seemed to ignore Anju’s jibe. Sighing heavily, she said: 

“And you chose to become Processors despite this?” 

“I’ve heard you were the one who asked to have us Eighty-Six added as prospective Operators, Lieutenant Colonel.” 

“As test personnel and nothing else. I didn’t think you’d volunteer to join the combat unit. And while it’s true your experience and skills have been a great help to us…I was honestly opposed to sending young soldiers to the front lines. Much less you, the Eighty-Six.” 

Grethe shrugged at Shin’s gaze. 

“I was an Operator, too. Ten years ago, when the war with the Legion first began. I was just about your age… A young flight cadet, but the Legion stole the sky away from us.” 

The Anti-Aircraft Mobile Cannon type, Stachelschwein, and the Eintagsfliege’s jamming still held the Republic’s and the Federacy’s aerial superiority in check to this day. 

“I volunteered along with other cadets… Many of us died. They surrounded us while that blasted Vánagandr moved at a damn crawl. I kept thinking over and over: What if we had a faster Feldreß? That’s what led me to develop the Reginleif.” 

Having lowered her gaze in recollection, Grethe looked up and smiled faintly. 

“…I appreciate your honest opinion, Second Lieutenant. The rest of you, too… I’ll try to improve it for our next retrofit, so I look forward to a more favorable opinion, okay?” 

Crossing the base’s gate, they paced down a newly paved asphalt road. Even after that road ended, they kept walking, entering the summer grasslands. Shin’s eyes stopped when he noticed a familiar set of rusted rails, divided in eight, under the grass. 

“Last time you all came through here, this place was still under Legion control.” 

Grethe turned toward them, her red lips curved in a proud smile. 

“But over the last six months, we’ve managed to reclaim our land, pushing back as far as here.” 

Shin could hear someone heave a sigh behind him. 

In the middle of the summer grasslands, surrounded by white flowers, five Republic mobile weapons—four Juggernauts and a lone Scavenger—lay enshrined in a casket of glass. 

“We found them when our front line expanded. I know you may think it unpleasant, but we had to run some inspections on them. The same holds true for the names on the monument… We put the plates back where they were after we finished recording the names on them. You can rest easy.” 

Grethe laid a hand on the solemn stone monument beside the glass case. It was built in the Federacy’s style, which Shin recognized from the military graveyard he visited once before. 

“I don’t know how the Republic sees it, but the Federacy considers those who fell in defense of their country as heroes to be revered. And that’s why the names of the fallen are preserved on monuments in the military graveyards… But since they were your companions, we decided to leave them here, in this place you reached. This is where they belong, and this is where they’ll stay.” 

“…” 

They didn’t really want this, Shin thought dryly. Neither he nor they wanted to be forever memorialized through this kind of pretty little monument. All he wanted was for someone he knew to remember him, even if just for a moment… 

…I wonder if the major still remembers us. 

That was all he’d wished for on that night, when flowers of flames bloomed in the sky. 

“…Second Lieutenant?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

He shook his head lightly. 

It seemed the people of the Federacy saw things differently from them in this regard. He didn’t expect to be understood… But still, he was a bit grateful for their attempt to be considerate. And with this monument, or even a single document that listed their names, these plates were no longer needed to prove his comrades existed. 

Shin turned his gaze to Fido’s remains sealed in the glass case, thinking that this was one long-term mission he’d ordered the Scavenger to complete. 

May you carry out your duty until you crumble into dust. 

The Legion had their own units to collect wreckage, the Tausendfüßler. Fido was to keep watch until it was eaten away by one of those or until the rain and wind made it crumble away. All it had to do was last even a bit after they used up what little strength they had left… 

He could hear familiar footsteps approaching and stopping behind him, the four legs making a clattering sound as it paused. Shin turned around, only for his gaze to fall on the giant form of another Scavenger, standing there silently. It had a squarish body, four short legs, and two mechanical arms. It was an old type, the kind you hardly even saw anymore in the Republic’s Sectors. 

Another sound of footsteps, this time of a pair of small army boots rushing toward him, belonging to Frederica, who was running his way, cutting by Raiden’s side. 

“Hey! While your impatience is relatable, there was no need to run so quickly that I fell off, was there?!” 

Frederica stood there gasping with her hands on her knees, and Kurena reached for her long hair from the side, brushing off leaves, petals, and various bugs that clung to it. 

“Where have you been, Frederica?” 

She’d shown up to inform them about the meeting but was gone before Shin noticed. 

“I—I was off at the laboratory…overseeing this one’s…activation. Grethe and the researchers…had been working on this…‘surprise’ for a while now.” 

“Surprise?” 

“Wait, did you just run here all the way from the lab? Are you okay? You’re not dying, are you?” 

“I…rode this one…most of the way here. But as soon as it saw you…it accelerated, and I fell off.” 

“Catch your breath first, Frederica. You can tell us everything afterward.” 

“…So what’s the deal with this thing?” 

After taking a moment to calm her breathing, Frederica took a step back proudly. 

“I’m glad you asked, Raiden! This is…” 

“—Fido?” 

Shin whispered, cutting into her words, or rather, having not listened to her at all. Raiden eyed him wearily. 

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start calling all your pets Fido now.” 

“That’s not what I mean…” 

Frederica smiled with satisfaction. 

“I was sure you would notice. But you are correct—this is indeed the same Fido that fought alongside you in the past.” 

There was a moment of silence— 

““““Huh?!”””” 

—followed by four voices overlapping in one exclamation of shock. 

Looking up at Fido, Shin’s eyes were uncharacteristically wide with surprise as he was frozen in place. 

“When we inspected the grave markers you left, we also took the chance to analyze this one. Its interface was ruined beyond repair, but the core unit had somehow remained intact. That allowed us to replicate it. Oh, we upped its machine performance to an extent that it could provide adequate support, so you can look forward to it being a much more reliable ally the next time you sortie.” 

Frederica added that it still looked as clumsy as it ever did, as a sort of humorous quirk of the research-team leader who’d put its frame together. He realized that if they’d left it behind with their prized partner units and the memories of their lost comrades, this machine must have been a faithful attendant to them. So he believed that leaving its appearance as is would make them happy. 

“This one did think itself to be ‘dead,’ however. Even when we put it into a new frame, it would not boot up, initially. It only started moving when…” 

Frederica suddenly smiled bitterly. 

“…when it heard your name, Shinei… It truly adores you.” 

Was that a hint of jealousy in her voice? Shin, at least, didn’t notice. To be honest, he had stopped listening to Frederica’s words shortly after she began speaking. He walked up to Fido, who stood still before him. He stopped an arm’s length away. 

“…Pi.” 

The Scavenger’s optical sensor swerved to him, looking at him timidly. Shin sighed lightly. 

“I thought I ordered you to carry out your duty until you crumbled to dust. What about your mission?” 

“Pi…” 

Seeing Fido hang its head shamefully (its optical sensor and the whole of its frame leaned forward, lending it that appearance) made a small smile play over Shin’s lips. The fuselage of this large metal unit no longer had any of its old scars, and yet. 

“Still… I’m happy to see you again.” 

“Pi—” 

It seemed even trash-collecting machines got overwhelmed with emotion at times. Fido’s optical sensor flickered, as if welling up with tears. 

“Pi…!” 

In a gesture that was probably equivalent to a human being clinging to someone in an embrace, Fido rushed its body—all ten heavy tons of its weight—toward his master. Predicting the Scavenger would do so, Shin stepped aside, avoiding it just in time. Fido kept on rushing, crushing the grass beneath it as it was thrown forward by momentum, before crashing into the wreckage of a Löwe with a magnificent, comical gong sound. 

“Well, can’t say I didn’t see that coming.” 

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned?!” 

Frederica alone seemed to be panicking. 

“Eh, don’t worry—Fido won’t break that easily.” 

“I meant Shinei, you fool! He may have avoided it, but he could have died just then!” 

“Shin somehow always knows how Fido’s going to move.” 

He didn’t know, or much care, whether it was the result of five years of battle together or the fact that Fido gradually learned to move in accordance to him. Shin smiled, thinking it was probably both, as he watched Fido wobble back to him dejectedly. 

*   *   * 

Grethe watched the whole affair with a smile of relief. 

Thank goodness. 

“…You finally smiled, Second Lieutenant.” 

The Nordlicht squadron’s Processors were given rooms in the 177th Armored Division’s headquarters’ barracks, but due to how they were assigned, they spent most of their time performing reinforcement duties for assorted frontline bases and, as such, hadn’t been in them for a while. 

Shin was lying down in his relatively unfamiliar, small, modest room, totally absorbed in a philosophy book, when a reserved knock on the door roused him. They were allowed to do as they pleased between dinnertime and lights out. The sound of the hangar didn’t reach the barracks, but the sound of soldiers making merry in the cafeteria was the same as it had been in the barracks back in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. 

He opened the door to find Frederica. Her expression was tense, and she let out a surprised breath. 

“…Tch, when will you do away with that habit of walking without making audible footsteps…?! It is bad for my heart!” 

But habits weren’t something you could change just by wanting to, and Frederica knew full well that Shin had no intention of changing his ways. 

“How do you even silence your footsteps while wearing military boots, to begin with…? There was nary a creak from the floor just now!” 

“I’m not really trying to do it.” 

On that subject, Daiya, Kaie, and Kino would always say he was creepy because he sometimes just showed up behind them like an actual reaper. Frederica nodded in understanding as he moved aside to allow her to enter. Sitting down on his hard bed, she looked around the bare, unadorned, almost prison-cell-like room with a frown. 

“Such a dreary residence… Put up a picture or a painting or at least some books you enjoy for decoration. The decor is far too bleak.” 

“It’s just a place to sleep. Having lots of stuff just makes cleaning up more of a chore.” 

He wasn’t reading because he enjoyed it that much, to begin with. It just allowed him to keep his mind off other things—for example, the incessant voices of the ghosts. He had put up a makeshift shelf in his room back when he was in the Spearhead squadron, but that was just because he couldn’t be bothered to put them back in the library he found in the ruins. And in the year or so since the Federacy had found them, Shin had remained as disinterested and unconcerned with his surroundings as ever. 

Frederica frowned, as if she had seen through him. 

“This is more than just a place to sleep in, fool. This is a place you can return to. Even if it is naught but temporary lodging… You should not leave it empty.” 

She sighed, saying it might have been acceptable in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. The Eighty-Six of that land could have died any day. 

“Eugene’s room was full of pictures, I’ll have you know.” 

“You cleaned it out?” 

“There is no shortage of places that need more helping hands. I merely helped sort through his personal articles… It was all pictures of his younger sister. His parents left no pictures behind, so he probably cherished his last family member all the more.” 

“…” 

When Shin thought of Eugene’s photos making their way back to his younger sister, his heart throbbed with a faint pain. He recalled seeing her once, in the capital’s library. A little girl, younger than even Frederica. Shin was eternally parted from his parents and brother at roughly that age, and even though the countless days of battle that followed were to blame for it, he hardly remembered them. The thought that Eugene, who’d fought for his sister’s happiness and died thinking of her, would go on to be forgotten by her…was a somewhat miserable one. 

“…Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his name.” 

Frederica’s ability wouldn’t work on people whose names she didn’t know. Only once she spoke to someone and asked for their name would her eyes let her see their past and present. If Frederica hadn’t spoken to Eugene that morning, she would not have had to see him die on that very same day. 

“That isn’t the case for you and your fallen comrades, is it? I am the same. Even if death parts me from another…I prefer to have met them than to have never known them at all. I can still hold them in my memory, after all.” 

Shin blinked once, slowly. 

“You’d be a lot better off not having fallen comrades, if you can help it.” 

Shin had known loss after loss. At first it was his family, and once he’d been sent out to the battlefield, his comrades were killed off, one after another. Those words were his honest, true feelings. He never regretted the oath he made with his first companions. And he had decided to carry his fallen comrades with him ever since. 

But that’s not to say he didn’t feel pain every time he lost someone… And this girl carried the weight of her knight becoming a ghost. She shouldn’t have to endure any more suffering. 

But Frederica only scoffed. 

“Are you really one to talk? …Kindhearted Reaper?” 

“Anyway, what did you come here for?” 

Surely she didn’t come here just to criticize his sense of interior design. Blinking in surprise, Frederica seemed to have remembered what she came to do, and her eyes began to dart about nervously. 

“Well, you see, the matter is…” 

After a long moment of hesitation, she mumbled on, still refusing to look directly at him. 

“…Forgive me…for this morning. Mm…” 

Ah. Shin nodded plainly. This morning, huh? 

Come to think of it, she never did tell us the name of her knight. 

Kiri. 

“Am I really that similar to him?” 

“I wouldn’t say you’re mirror images. But your physiques are identical. You do draw half of your blood from his clan, after all.” 

Frederica smiled mischievously at Shin—who was taken aback by her revelation—like a child who had pulled off a successful prank. 

“My knight, Kiriya Nouzen, is a descendant of the Nouzen clan, just as you are… Has your father not told you of your genealogy?” 

“No.” 

No one had ever told Shin anything like that. And even if his father had said anything to that effect, he couldn’t remember it. 

“These are your roots, whether you are aware of them or not. You should be interested in them… The Nouzens were a warrior clan of Onyxes dating back to the dawn of the Empire. Their bloodline excelled at combat, and they served as guardians of the emperor for generations… Those of noble birth were born with unique powers and skills, and some descendants of these old nobles still exhibit such powers on rare occasions. It is the desire to preserve these abilities that made the nobles abhor mixing their blood with other races… That was likely why your parents left for the Republic, Shinei.” 

But hearing this did not stir any particular emotions in Shin, after all. Neither his parents’ genealogy, which tied him to the Federacy, nor the circumstances that led them to move to the Republic. He couldn’t remember any of that— No. 

It’s all your fault. 

Whenever he tried to recall his past, that was the only memory that came to mind. Even if he knew it wasn’t his fault. 

Mom dying, that I’m going to die—all of it—it’s all because of your sin! 

Frederica had sunk into her own reminiscence and didn’t notice how Shin had stiffened. 

“Kiri was not a direct descendant of the Nouzen patriarchy and wasn’t closely related to you. He was four years your senior… When I last laid eyes on him, he was roughly your age.” 

The revolution had occurred shortly after her coronation, and having been driven out of the palace, Frederica hid in a remote fortress with the rest of the dictator faction and the royal guards for as long as she could remember. It was the last stronghold of the Imperials: Rosenfort, where the blood of the barbarians was spilled during the dawn of the Empire’s rule. 

In a fortress full of adults, Kiriya, despite being ten years older, was closest to her in age and was her sole playmate. He would comb her hair, pick flowers for her from the garden, and follow her every whim without so much as a frown. 

With the memory in her eyes telling as much, Frederica suddenly chuckled. 

“But that one, too, had an overtly serious, unbending nature. The kind Raiden would surely call a stick in the mud… If you two were to meet, Shinei, I’m sure you would be very much at odds.” 

That having been said in jest, Shinei scoffed. He had no way of knowing the personality of this knight he had never met, but from what he’d heard so far: 

“Yeah, he doesn’t sound like the type I’d get along with.” 

“I can imagine it vividly. He would pester you to look up from your books when people speak to you or to obey military regulations and conduct, and you would ignore it altogether, which would just anger him further… Such a wistful sight.” 

Frederica smiled faintly, envisioning those two boys speaking, who despite the blood that tied them together never met each other alive or even learned each other’s names. 

“He once told me…that he wished he could meet his relatives in the Republic.” 

The patriarch of the Nouzen clan never officially pardoned his son for fleeing the Empire, but Kiriya believed he did. When he learned that his grandchildren had been born, he’d secretly sent them a certain picture book. And he never truly threw away the letters his son sent him. When Kiriya told her this, his hands were shaking despite his smile. 

During the fighting at the start of the revolution, Kiriya’s family was killed. So were his friends from other noble families. But in actuality, Kiriya’s father, Sir Nouzen, was on bad terms with the dictatorship and gave up his rights quickly to join the civilians’ side, and even after the Republic’s founding, the clan still maintained its status and was allowed to live. But that was something Frederica learned only after coming under Ernst’s protection. 

Kiriya, who’d been trapped in a distant fortress, surrounded and isolated by the civilian army, had no way of knowing that. He’d wanted to meet the rest of the clan and make them his family. Being alone was far too painful. 

“…” 

Shin couldn’t comprehend that feeling. He’d lost his family. Even the memories of them were vague, and he had no place to call his homeland. But he didn’t think having no one to depend on and living by your own strength was inconvenient. For the Eighty-Six, who made that their way of life, needing someone else to help you maintain a grasp on your sense of self was something they couldn’t understand. 

“How did he become a Legion?” 

Frederica fell silent for a moment. 

“…Rosenfort’s defensive line was a fierce battlefield. The Federacy army thought that by capturing us, they could shut down the Legion.” 

True enough, the prime minister and the royal guards had had the authority to command the Legion and had sent them to guard their defensive position. But the Legion, who were developed as weapons of annihilation that couldn’t take prisoners or tell civilians apart from soldiers, didn’t have the capacity to understand complicated orders. The fact that there were many situations that required deploying the royal guards with the Legion, coupled with the fact that deploying man power with the Legion was forbidden, led to the death of many a royal guard in battle. 

And Kiriya, who was the youngest royal guard and Frederica’s personal knight, was sent out to battle often. And true to the blood of what was once considered the greatest warrior clan of the Empire, he killed many of the Federacy’s soldiers. 

“And before long, Kiriya’s sanity began to slip.” 

He’d lost his family and friends to the revolution, and the homeland he grew up in was now enemy territory. His fellow royal guards gradually fell in battle, and the sword of their offensive was being slowly chipped away. Kiriya had probably lost too much… 

Defending Frederica became everything to him, and he devoted his entire being to fighting for her safety. He would often smile at Frederica, standing beside a bloodstained Feldreß after snuffing the lives of Federacy soldiers. His smile was always so sunny and calm. 

Princess. 

“And the sight of that smile…frightened me.” 

That was why Frederica fled the fortress. 

She fled—and was soon captured by the Federacy army. The fact that Ernst happened to be on that battlefield was sheer luck. They professed the death of the empress, hanging her red-and-black mantle as proof. 

And Kiriya saw that. The power to know the past and present of those she knew alerted Frederica to the fact that he saw it. It happened when the fortress was consequently conquered, and the Federacy’s forces pulled back to the ruins of the garrison. The soldiers who captured her were injured. As such, her mantle was dirtied with blood. Having fought and fought to save his mistress, the then-sixteen-year-old boy saw that bloodstained mantle. 

Frederica’s power couldn’t discern what Kiriya thought at the time. But a Tausendfüßler happened to be prowling nearby, creeping about in search of matter to recycle for their war effort. Unlike the Republic’s Scavengers, the Tausendfüßler weren’t forbidden from collecting corpses, and they’d long since learned they could assimilate the biological neural networks of humans and use them as central processors. 

And so the giant steel centipede closed in on Kiriya, seeking to claim this wondrous “prize”… And Kiriya, who stood stock-still, didn’t flee. 

“It was I who made Kiriya into that monster.” 

Shin didn’t know what kind of “Kiriya” Frederica was looking at right now. He couldn’t see the same things she did. The Federacy’s Sensory Resonance allowed users to share only the sense of hearing. But he’d encountered the Long-Range Artillery type twice and knew its lethal ferocity. It was only natural—painful as it was—that Frederica, who’d once cherished him, would call what he became a monster. 

“You’ve said the Legion will soon be upon us… Kiri will probably come then. And when he does…” 

“I know.” 

He responded to the girl’s insistent pleas with a wry smile. But the only smile she could offer in response was a sad one. 

“You do not… When he does arrive, do not place yourself at risk and avoid him if you must.” 

Frederica averted her gaze from his. 

“I may have forgotten that people perish ever so easily. As desperately as they may strive for the future.” 

Just like Eugene had died yesterday. 

“…It is as you said earlier. I loathe to touch on the death of others—on the death of those I know. If you or Raiden or any of the others were to die just so I could put Kiri out of his misery, the scales would remain forever unbalanced. You all have futures ahead of you, and you must not lose them.” 

Futures. 

“A future, huh…” 

Frederica’s expression turned astonished and somewhat worried. 

“You really haven’t given the future much thought, have you…? I do not much appreciate the comparison, but you should take a leaf out of Eugene’s book. Consider where you would like to go on your next leave, or some such fancy. Even a minor thought like that would be fine. But just…consider it.” 

“…” 

Have you put any thought into what you’ll do once you’re discharged? 

For a second, he thought he could hear that silver bell of a voice again. It was shortly after Kujo died, before they knew each other’s names or even felt a need to know them. 

Anywhere you’d like to go? Anything you’d like to see? 

At the time, he’d thought the question to be nothing more than bothersome. He’d cut the idea down, saying he’d never thought of it, and that answer remained unchanged even now. But if he’d have asked her the same question, how would she have responded? What did she feel, in that Republic that forgot how to do battle? What did she think, and did she try to fight on, as a Handler…? 

Night came early in the battlefield. 

War was a machine that consumed massive amounts of labor and supplies every day to sustain itself. The supply division and, indeed, the Federacy itself had no spare energy to supply, and turning on lights on the dark battlefield could make one a target for bombardment. With the exception of the bare minimum of posts that required light, most of the base was in a state of blackout. This held true for both the Federacy’s western front and the eighty-five Sectors. 

“Shin, have you seen Frederica? Ah.” 

It was a bit before lights out. Frederica hadn’t come back, and Kurena sent Raiden to look for her. Knocking on the open door to Shin’s room, he stood still. It was a small, cramped room, like a coffin or a cell, furnished only by a single desk and a bed. Shin was on the bed, reclining against a pillow as he had in another barracks Raiden could remember, caught up in his thoughts. And next to him was Frederica, sleeping as she entrusted her full weight to him, leaning against him. 

“Heh, so that’s where she was. She sure does like you, Big Brother.” 

“…She just sees someone else in me.” 

There was an odd pause before he said that. Apparently, being called a big brother rubbed him the wrong way. Raiden then remembered there was once someone like that for Shin, too. It was something Raiden, who had neither an older nor a younger sibling, couldn’t help but think was inconsequential. 

“Ah, right, that knight of hers… But aren’t you doing the same? Seeing someone else in her.” 

He saw her like their fellow Eighty-Six…and like their last Handler, though that was a different sort of pity. Those words made Shin sink into contemplation. 

“Yeah… Maybe I am… Because she’s the same as I was back then.” 

“Is she?” 

Confronted by those red eyes, Raiden tapped his fingertips against his own neck. The girl’s neck wasn’t visible over the collar of her uniform, but her knight never left a scar on her neck. As if to say that Shin’s brother, who inflicted that scar on him, was completely gone by now. 

Raiden then activated his Para-RAID, informing Kurena that he’d found Frederica, and shut it off after asking her to come get her. Before long, Kurena walked into the room and after shouting a brief “What are you doing here?!” picked up Frederica like a piece of luggage and walked away. 

Seeing them off, Raiden pulled the desk’s chair and sat on it without asking for permission. Shin’s RAID Device was thrown haphazardly on the desk. Apparently, he didn’t pick up earlier because he was lying down. 

“…So you submitted a report, did you?” 

Shin probably hadn’t forgotten how Raiden had warned him about revealing his ability when they’d just arrived in the Federacy. 

“I figured I would tell them what I could. The more fighting power we have, the better.” 

“Cut that out. There’s no point in telling them because no one believes you until they hear it for themselves. You’re the one who said that, remember? And even if they do believe you, who knows what that’ll cause? All it takes is for someone to Resonate with you once in battle… You haven’t forgotten what happens then, have you, Reaper?” 

Back when they were in the Republic, no one who Resonated with Shin and heard the ghosts’ wails ever connected again, with the exception of their last Handler. They all loathed Shin as a reaper. The other Eighty-Six Processors withstood it, but that was because seeing their comrades suffer gruesome deaths was an everyday routine for them. They were used to screams of pain. 

But among them, quite a few shirked Shin’s presence, and those who couldn’t endure Resonating with him ended up dead. They would disconnect from the Sensory Resonance and forfeit the protection of the Reaper, the one with the power to overlook the Legion’s battlefield. And many hated Shin for this. 

And once it knew the circumstances, would this Federacy be able to accept Shin’s ability to hear the voices of every single Legion? Raiden didn’t think it would. It didn’t stop using the Juggernaut, despite its tendency to kill untrained pilots, and continued examining the effects of the Para-RAID in what was essentially human experimentation. The Federacy was coldhearted enough to do that. 

“The Federacy ain’t as lofty as it might think it is, and when all’s said and done, we Eighty-Six aren’t equal to the Federacy’s natives… For all we know, everything would be the same no matter where we went.” 

Pity and scorn weren’t much different in terms of being looked down upon, and one-sided sympathy was nothing but forfeiting the will to understand the other side. There was no telling when one who offered goodwill would show their true colors, flipping over to reveal stark hatred. No telling when someone might call him a monster. And even if they decided he was useful despite that… 

“The Legion aren’t the only ones capable of picking apart people’s brains. You’re welcome to become their guinea pig if you want, but I ain’t getting dragged into it and becoming a hostage for them to dangle over your head. Don’t fuck this up.” 

Those weren’t his real feelings, of course. But he knew Shin would care more about the people around him getting involved than his own well-being. Shin closed his eyes faintly and sighed. 

“…Sorry.” 

“Telling them as much as you did should be enough… It’s up to the Federacy if they want to believe you or not.” 

It wasn’t a bad country. They didn’t want to see it destroyed. But they and their comrades had no obligation to defend it to the death. That was all. And Shin wasn’t the kind of person to avoid making those kinds of cold judgment calls. 

“Are you all right?” 

“…What do you mean?” 

“I’m asking if you’re thinking of something pointless… Did Ernst’s words actually get to you?” 

Silence. 

“Frederica told me to consider it… Not that I ever have before. I’ve never needed to.” 

He would either die fighting his brother or perish in the Special Reconnaissance mission. Those should have been the only outcomes available to him. The very fact that he was still alive went beyond any possible future he had seen for himself. So thinking of what came next was an especially daunting task. 

Raiden shrugged when asked how he felt about it. 

“I think it’ll work out, one way or another. Got no clue as to what I’ll do, and I kinda doubt the war will even end. But working at something so I can earn enough to eat… That’s easier than fighting the Legion, at least.” 

He may not have thought of it, either, but Raiden didn’t think it was that hard a question. Working to stay alive just because you didn’t want to die was probably the same everywhere, be it in the battlefields of the Eighty-Sixth Sector or some unknown future where the war ends. And putting their all into living until the final moment was the Eighty-Six’s way of life, and this didn’t clash with that idea. 

But… 

Raiden pondered, gazing at Shin’s downcast red eyes. The near-decapitation scar, the proof of the terrible atrocity his brother had inflicted on him, was barely visible behind the collar of his uniform. Even after he gunned down his brother’s ghost, Shin was still haunted—as if by a curse. People like him were different from Raiden. They needed something more to stay alive. Something to restrain or maybe counteract the curse. 

At the edge of his vision, he saw something lying haphazardly in the room. A ridiculous philosophy book on the corner of his bed, with a piece of paper closed into it, serving as a bookmark. 

If they were in the Republic’s first ward’s barracks, now would be when their last Handler would Resonate with them. What was she thinking right now? Or rather… 

…what was she waiting for? 

“…Do you think the major’s doing well?” 

Sparing Raiden a fleeting look, Shin shrugged silently. 

Raiden sighed heavily. Be a little honest with yourself, man…