86 - Volume 4 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 

IDENTIFICATION: FRIEND OR FOE? 

The refugee shelter was a collection of prebuilt, short-term dwellings. They were weatherworn, with colors faded by the sun. They were sold cheap to the Republic, a hand-me-down from the Federacy’s old barracks. Simple, crude structures meant to provide shelter on the battlefield. 

The refugees were treated like livestock, forced into these structures on the edge of the battlefield, and never given any choice of the food, clothing, and supplies they received. In exchange for this minimal support offered to them by the Federacy, they were forced into labor-intensive restoration work and mandatory combat training. 

The Republic of San Magnolia did have an existing interim government, but in truth, it was under the Federacy’s heel. These Imperialist dogs who’d ceased being an empire in name alone walked all over the Republic, which valued peace and equality, under the false pretense of protection. 

The sight of young boys and girls still in their midteens meandering about with listless expressions was a knife to the heart. At that age, they should have been under the care and protection of their parents and society, attending school, dabbling in fashion and hobbies, hanging out with their friends. But instead… 

Amid the ruins of what had once been a magnificent palace that had served as the military’s headquarters was now a newly built barracks meant to house the new unit dispatched here this spring. The Eighty-Sixth Strike Package, the unit made up of those disgusting Eighty-Six. Once again, those stains try to befoul this beautiful country with their filthy colors, as if they own the place. 

But they are mistaken. For this is our proud Alba country. 

“Colonel Vladilena Milizé and Captain Shinei Nouzen. As part of our operations to retake the Republic’s northern administrative Sectors, I assign you to a top-secret mission.” 

They were in the integrated headquarters’ base, in the chief of staff’s room, which for some reason had its lights turned off. Sitting with his back to the sunlit window, with the backlighting obfuscating his face, the chief of staff, Willem, leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk while he covered his mouth as he spoke. 

The question Lena asked Shin with her eyes was all too obvious. 

This is rather strange. Is this how they give orders in the Federacy military? 

But Shin unfortunately remained as expressionless as ever, meaning he probably thought nothing of this, as was usually the case. Or maybe he was simply too aghast to speak. Lena couldn’t tell. 

But just as those thoughts crossed her mind, Willem straightened his back in what looked like a bored, disappointed gesture. 

“…What, aren’t you excited? I thought kids your age would be over the moon at the idea of a top-secret mission.” 

“What’re the mission specifics?” 

The chief of staff scoffed at the way Shin ignored his jape with his own deadpan reply. 

“You really are a downer, Captain Nouzen. I’ll give you some recordings of those cartoons that were popular when you were young, so do try to enjoy some childish entertainment, even this late in the game… Now, then…” 

An aide entered the room and switched on the lights before activating a holo-screen and piling a stack of media filled with cartoons and movies on the chief of staff’s desk. 

“…let’s get back on track. I have a mission for you, my dear officers. As part of our operation to retake the Republic’s northern Sectors, the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package will be dispatched on a takeover operation of the Republic’s northern secondary capital of Charité’s underground central station terminal.” 

Lena stiffened. It was finally time. 

“Let’s begin by explaining our current status. There is a large force of Legion stationed to the north of the First Sector, the Republic’s capital of Liberté et Égalité. Since December of last year, the occupying forces have been judged insufficient for retaking the Sector and forced to give up on advancing farther in—although I’m sure there’s no need to explain this to Captain Nouzen, who can trace the enemy’s movements.” 

The chief of staff smiled thinly at Lena, who looked back at him. 

“The Federacy military is aware of the captain’s ability to track the enemy and is making use of it to stay abreast of their activities over a large area. Unlike your country, which clung to some shared delusion of common sense, the Federacy doesn’t have the luxury to throw a precious warning device like him onto the battlefield.” 

“I doubt things would have ended well for me had the Republic acknowledged me as a warning device.” 

In the Republic, the Eighty-Six were considered a subhuman race with no rights to speak of. Had they recognized him as a promising research subject, he’d likely have been dissected and preserved in liquid… In the past, when Sensory Resonance was still in development, countless children had been taken from the internment camps and killed in human experimentation. 

Lena recalled her friend who had been tormented secretly for years by the thought that she had abandoned a childhood friend to that fate. Major Henrietta Penrose, head of research for the Sensory Resonance technology. Shin’s forgotten childhood friend. 

“Yes, indeed… The Charité underground central station terminal you are to suppress is a large-scale production base for this detachment of Legion. According to our recon, it’s presumed the fourth underground level houses an Auto Reproduction type—a Weisel—and the fifth underground level houses a Power Plant type’s—an Admiral’s—control unit.” 

With a wave of the chief of staff’s hand, a holo-screen appeared before them, presenting a three-dimensional holographic model of the underground terminal. It had fourteen routes and twenty-five platforms and lines, as well as a large-scale commercial facility attached to it that spanned seven subterranean levels. It had an extremely elaborate, convoluted structure with some of the establishments extending as far as their adjoining stations. 

Even looking at its three-dimensional model from above, one could easily get lost, earning it the infamous name of the Charité Underground Labyrinth. 

Shin narrowed his eyes as soon as he’d scoured the model. Lena realized why a moment later. 

It was narrow. 

The smallest tunnels were a mere four meters in length and width. The unit that constituted the main bulk of the Federacy’s army, the Vánagandr, was utterly incapable of moving in them, and one wrong move could even get a Reginleif stuck. The topography didn’t allow the Legion to deploy their own main forces, the Löwe and the Dinosauria, but since they were on the defending side, they could burrow into the floor and brace for impact. This battlefield, where they could hide the weak points in their armor or make it so their heads were hard to aim at, could actually be the worst possible setting for the Reginleif and its low firepower. 

“The objective is the elimination of these two Legion. In addition, we ask that you do it with as little damage to the units as possible. We have very little observational data on these two types. We want to study them, if possible… But don’t make it a priority. If doing so would result in extra losses, you may forfeit this secondary objective.” 

There were few observational records of the Admiral and the Weisel lurking in the depths of the Legion’s territories. Even the Republic had encountered them only a handful of times, early in the war. Thankfully, there had still been active soldiers from the ground forces on the battlefields at the time, so they’d been able to give fairly detailed reports of what they’d seen. With that thought in mind, Lena raised a hand. 

“May I ask a question, sir?” 

The chief of staff gave a gentlemanly smile. 

“Of course, Colonel Milizé… It’s pleasant to hear some respect for one’s superior officers, unlike a certain dreary captain I won’t mention by name.” 

Lena regarded Shin with a sidelong glance, and he pretended not to notice. 

“The Admiral is a type of Legion that produces energy packs by converting solar energy into electricity. How does it generate power underground, without access to sunlight?” 

According to reports, the Admiral was a massive butterfly-like Legion with solar panel wings, accompanied by flocks of palmtop-size Edelfalter: the Generator Extension types. It couldn’t spread its massive wings underground and didn’t have sunlight to generate power to begin with. 

“To be exact, they typically rely on solar generation. According to a report we’ve received from the United Kingdom, among the Legion they fight against, there’s an Admiral that uses geothermal power to generate electricity. The ability to adapt themselves to the situation is a well-known trait of the Legion, characteristic of their high learning capabilities… Moreover, according to our estimates, this Admiral is using nuclear fusion to generate electricity.” 

“Nuclear fusion…? But that’s…” 

“It’s only in trial stages even here in the Federacy, which means it’s perfectly possible for the Legion. Much of the technology prided by our Empire was inherited by the Legion, after all… This is another reason why the Morpho was heading for the Republic during last year’s large-scale offensives. The more electricity provided to the railgun, the higher its initial velocity, its power, and its range. If it not only sat encamped within the walls but also was given access to a nuclear fusion generator’s endless power supply…at the very least, our Federacy, as well as the surrounding countries, would have been one-sidedly reduced to ashes.” 

“…” 

Shin was the next to speak: 

“Commodore.” 

“Yes, my dreary captain?” 

“The Eighty-Sixth Strike Package’s commanding officer isn’t Colonel Milizé, but Colonel Wenzel. Why isn’t Colonel Wenzel here?” 

The chief of staff smiled faintly as he shrugged. 

“Why, isn’t it obvious? This kind of operation doesn’t require briefing, and usually we’d just send you the data files. There was simply something else I wanted to show you aside from the directive for this operation.” 

““…”” 

Okay, this guy can’t be trusted, thought Lena. Shin, standing next to her, likely had the same thought. 

The chief of staff rose to his feet, saying he’d escort them as a way to stretch his legs after all the desk work. Lena followed him down the integrated headquarters’ base’s corridor, when she suddenly realized something and looked around. They weren’t walking the way they’d come from. She turned her gaze to Shin, who surveyed his surroundings with narrowed eyes. 

“Sir…” 

The chief of staff, Willem, didn’t spare her a single glance as he walked up to a door at the end of the corridor. The door’s ID lock deactivated, and he pushed it open. He then looked back at the two of them, who were standing stock-still, and motioned for them to come in. 

It was a room with such a high ceiling it appeared as though the upper floor had been removed to accommodate it, and they were on its second level. Below the guardrail were offices filled with soldiers wearing the information-analysis team’s armband, going about their work. Several of them were looking at a holo-screen projected in midair—likely their analysis subject. 

The holo-screen showed some kind of meeting room created with the oppressive design scheme of the Empire’s late years. Ernst’s voice boomed from the room, but there was no sight of him. He was out of the camera’s range. 

“—Another complaint regarding the Eighty-Six’s treatment, Representative Primevére?” 

His tone sounded exceptionally cold and stiff. On the screen, the woman called Primevére smiled gracefully. She had an Alba’s silver hair and eyes and wore the emblem of the five-hued flag that designated her as someone with a post in the Republic’s interim government. 

“Yes… As we’ve mentioned several times already, the Eighty-Six your country seized from us are all weapons belonging to the Republic of San Magnolia. They are the rightful property of our country. We ask that you return them to us immediately.” 

“What…?!” 

Lena inadvertently cried out, and the chief of staff raised a hand to silence her. Looking up at him, she saw him smirking faintly below his regulation cap. Lena finally saw the truth behind his cruel smile. His real reason for summoning them here today… 

…was to show them this… 

The woman in the footage—the one called Primevére—continued her one-sided demands: 

The Eighty-Six are a lesser species—livestock in human form. The Federacy has no right to seize them. To begin with, the Federacy has no basis to leave their military within Republic territories. So they are to return the Eighty-Six, order their military to retreat, and return sovereignty of the Republic to rightful Alba hands. 

Ernst seemed to have scoffed. 

“We had been planning to entrust defense to your military as soon as we were done retaking the northern Sectors. But do you really plan to hold back the Legion with methods that, aside from being atrocious, failed you six months ago?” 

“Of course. We Alba established the greatest form of government in the history of humankind: a system wherein the superior race stands above all other races on the continent. We would never lose to the Legion, as they are the creation of an inferior race.” 

Her eyes indicated she was entirely serious. 

Even the Federacy, which had the largest territory and military strength on the continent, needed to change its strategies to oppose the Legion, but she had practically declared victory already. She was that confident in the Alba’s superiority over others races in every field. 

This person—this…fanatic—actually said that. 

“Our retreat six months ago can be attributed to the Eighty-Six’s incompetence. We gave them superb weapons, better than mere livestock could have ever hoped for, yet still they failed to achieve victory over the course of a decade. And from our inspections, the Gran Mur’s collapse during that pitiful Legion attack was due to several structural flaws in the design. It was sabotage at the hands of the Eighty-Six who built it. Those feebleminded, slothful degenerates… This time, we will have them fight under our superior, efficient command.” 

The footage ended. Lena stared at the blacked-out screen, biting her lip. 

Again. 

People who think this way are leading the Republic again… 

“So they want to have the Eighty-Six handle the Republic’s defense again after the Federacy’s army leaves. It’s truly incorrigible how little they seem to understand the war situation and how warped their sense of justice is.” 

The chief of staff’s scoffing, scathing laughter felt terribly distant to her. She couldn’t even look Shin, who was standing right next to her, in the eye… No, she didn’t want to look at him. He was probably looking at Lena with the same cold, coolheaded gaze he would direct at the other Alba. 

Shin spoke plainly: 

“…So if we’re not useful, you intend to abide by their demands?” 

“After the civilians’ petty sympathy runs out, and if we find we have no further use for you, it’s a possibility.” 

The chief of staff didn’t flinch away from Shin’s cold stare. 

“There’s no reason to act peevish at this point, Eighty-Six. Aren’t you guys living proof that this is what all people eventually boil down to?” 

Shin gave a small sigh. 

“…Yes.” 

“Anyway, that woman is rapidly gathering support among the old Republic’s citizens and building up her position within the interim government. She’s the leader of the Holy Magnolian Order of Pureblood, Pure-White, Patriotic Knights, and their demands are, well, as you’ve heard.” 

“…Is that some kind of code name within the Federacy military?” 

“I merely called them what they call themselves.” 

“……” 

Shin let out a heavy, disgusted sigh. 

“And how are these…knights related to our mission?” 

He cut their name short. 

“You can view this as a warning and nothing more… Let us hope this is all just needless fear on my part, shall we?” 

But the Patriotic Knights’ demands remained thrust into Lena’s heart like a thorn. With the personnel files of 139 newly appointed Processors projected in the air before her, Lena sat lost in thought. 

The Eighty-Six were born and raised in the Republic, but it was the farthest thing from home for them. And yet, someday, they might yearn to return to their birthplace. But if this was what the Republic would be like when that time came…they would likely never return. 

How can the Republic…? My homeland, even if I can no longer pride myself on it… 

TP the black cat let out a needy meow. 

“Colonel… Colonel Milizé.” 

“Eep!” 

She looked up to see Grethe. 

“My apologies. What is it, Colonel Wenzel?” 

“‘What,’ you ask. Major Penrose and Second Lieutenant Jaeger are arriving today, and it’s also the first Processor group’s starting day in their new posting. The major and second lieutenant should be arriving any minute.” 

Anxiously checking the holographic calendar and watch on the desk, she quickly rose to her feet. 

“I—I have to go welcome them.” 

Lena had intended to go greet them herself but had been so swamped with paperwork that she’d forgotten. Grethe smirked, stopping her with a hand. 

“I’ve already sent someone to greet them. They’ll be shown around the rooms, so you have time to get yourself dressed… Major Penrose is a girl, too, after all. We can’t have her making any appearances before she’s had the chance to wash off the exhaustion of her trip.” 

“I’m sorry… Thank you.” 

“No need for thanks. This is part of my job.” 

Just as Lena was about to sit back down, she suddenly realized something and stiffened halfway through sinking into her seat. 

“Who did you send to greet her…?” 

Grethe tilted her head curiously. 

“Captain Nouzen, since he happened to be free… Why do you ask?” 

“Shin…?!” 

Shin regarded the Republic technical officer dubiously as she stood frozen in place on the runway, his name escaping her lips in an anguished cry. Bernholdt, who was holding her luggage, also wore a puzzled expression. The technical officer—Major Penrose—went pale with shock and confusion, paler than he’d ever seen a person go before. As she gradually recovered from her surprise, she said through quivering lips, “…Captain Nouzen, there’s something I’d like to confirm.” 

Her voice sounded as if it was squashed under a lump of emotion. 

“Was Colonel Milizé the one who sent you to greet me…?” 

“No, Major Penrose, it was under the instruction of Colonel Wenzel, the unit commander.” 

He answered her question, wondering all the while what the point behind it was. The difference in rank between a major and a captain was absolute, and while Shin himself didn’t care about the rules one way or another, he followed them so Lena wouldn’t have to lose face over his actions. He thought he’d realized what the reason for her attitude was. Citizens of the Republic saw the Eighty-Six as pigs in human form. 

“If you find being greeted by an Eighty-Six unpleasant, I apologize… Since you’re appointed to the laboratory, I doubt we’ll have to see each other after this.” 

“If that bothered me, I wouldn’t have volunteered to come here in the first place.” 

Major Penrose spat out her reply as if she’d been stabbed by a knife. 

“…And besides, I’m a technical expert in the Sensory Resonance field. I’ll have to closely interact with you Processors anyway…” 

“Annette!” 

A panicked voice echoed down the runway. Turning their gazes, they spotted Lena dashing toward them. She’d probably sprinted the entire way, because when she approached them, she had her hands on her knees and was panting heavily. Seeing as she had neither her regulation cap nor her medals on, she’d probably come over without a moment’s delay. 

“Captain Nouzen, I’ll handle showing Major Penrose around. Master Sergeant Bernholdt, please take care of her luggage.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Shin’s dubious gaze followed Lena as she left. It was as if she were trying to tear away from the place—from him. As they were leaving, Bernholdt extended a hand, as if asking for something, and Shin handed him his regulation cap. Raiden, who’d just happened to pass by, watched them go and asked, “…What was that about?” 

“Beats me.” 

Shin didn’t have any idea what the problem was, either. He then asked Raiden in turn, “What’s up?” 

“Came here to meet some of the newbies. This one kid who got left behind…” 

He gestured with his chin toward a Celena boy who was idly looking around, apparently having missed his chance to leave with the rest of the group in time. 

“…and that guy there.” 

Raiden then turned his gaze to the second transport plane’s rear hatch, which had just opened. The small-framed Eighty-Six boy who rushed out stopped in his tracks when he noticed Shin and Raiden. His jaw nearly hit the floor before he murmured: 

“Huh? C-Cap’n Nouzen?! Vice Cap’n Shuga!” 

He was acting as if he’d just witnessed two dead men walking, but from his perspective, that wasn’t too far from the truth. This boy, Rito, had been Shin and Raiden’s subordinate in the unit they’d served in before joining the Spearhead squadron two years ago. For all he knew, Shin and Raiden were dead. Shin was likewise surprised to find an acquaintance from two years ago who had survived, but Rito responded thus: 

“Whoa, Cap’n, don’t tell me you actually croaked and changed your job to a real reaper?! Are we actually all dead already?!” 

Raiden burst out laughing at the absurd idea while Shin heaved a deep sigh. 

After the Gran Mur’s fall, there were Republic citizens, however few, who joined the ranks and piloted Juggernauts. And there was one who chose to forgo protecting their homeland directly and volunteered for the Strike Package. A single soldier. 

“Second Lieutenant Dustin Jaeger. I’ll be under your command as of today. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

As the Celena boy saluted clumsily, clad in his deep-blue Republic uniform, an uncomfortable air passed among Shin’s group of five seniors. They’d been told about him ahead of time, but still… A Republic citizen. They couldn’t help but feel some resistance. Sensing the dark atmosphere settling over his comrades, Shin asked, “You weren’t originally a soldier—why volunteer? You can skip the formalities—we’re all the same as you here.” 

And therein lay the difference between treating someone like a human and treating them like a drone. 

“Affirmative, sir… Er, pardon! Yeah, I was a student before the large-scale offensive happened.” 

Flustered, Dustin reworded his reply when he saw Shin’s crimson eyes narrow slightly. As was demanded of him, he spoke before the Eighty-Six while omitting all formalities. 

“…You see, a lot of my classmates were Eighty-Six who died in battle with the Legion. And all I could do was watch. So I thought it would be obvious for me to carry that stigma. But I don’t want my children and grandchildren to have to bear it, too. So to break the cycle, I… The Republic citizens have to fight.” 

“Whatever happens after you die in battle doesn’t concern you anymore. Are you still sure about that?” 

Dustin pursed his lips. 

“Even if I die, the influence of my actions will remain. And that will affect the future. So it does concern me… If you’ll have me, I’m determined to do this.” 

“Eighty-Sixth Strike Package Second Lieutenant Shiden Iida, captain of the Brísingamen unit, in charge of defending headquarters. A pleasure to finally meet ya, Captain Nouzen, sir.” 

The unit that had gone on to be known as the Queen’s Knights ended up having fifteen members survive the large-scale offensive. Shin watched her, Second Lieutenant Shiden Iida, aka Cyclops, as she gave a messy salute with her back to the five female Processors standing at the core of the group. Lena had to stifle her laughter at Shin’s anticlimactic reaction. 

Shiden’s voice was a husky alto that made it hard to distinguish her sex. Her unkempt red hair was cropped short, she had light-brown skin, and she was as tall as the average man. In contrast, her ample bust, larger than that of most women Lena knew, bent her Federacy uniform’s tie at a sharp angle. 

Her eyes were likely the inspiration for her Personal Name. Her right eye was a dark indigo, and her left was as white as snow, giving the impression that she had only one eye. They narrowed as she bore her sharp canines, smirking like a wild animal. 

Yes, Shiden Iida was a woman. 

Lena had never mentioned it, and it seemed Shin had never expected her to be a woman. It was said that the survival rate in the Eighty-Sixth Sector was higher for males. In a field of harsh combat, a difference in endurance and stamina significantly influenced survival rate. And as female soldiers typically didn’t have as much physical stamina as male soldiers, they had a shorter average life expectancy. 

In a briefing room, with all the Processors gathered in one place, Shiden spoke from the center of the group. 

“By the way, did you get your toy back, Lady-Killer? The one you dropped in that flower field six months ago?” 

Shiden smirked as Shin narrowed his eyes. She really was tall for a girl. She stood eye to eye with Shin, who was taller than the average boy his age. 

“I don’t know the specifics, but don’t go ventin’ your anger at a woman who coulda been a total stranger for all you knew, dumb ass. That was beyond embarrassing.” 

“I won’t deny that… But what right do you have to say that to me?” 

Shiden scoffed and cocked her chin up haughtily. 

“Every right. I don’t care if you’re the Reaper of the eastern front. You got no right to diss Our Majesty, got it? ’Sides, weren’t you supposed to die two years ago? At least know how to stay in the grave, dammit.” 

“…You’re all bark, aren’t you?” 

Shin replied with blatant provocation, leaving the no bite bit unsaid. With her odd eyes glistening as if in laughter for a moment, Shiden launched her tall form forward. 

“Take that!” 

As soon as she shouted, a diagonal kick bore down on Shin like a hammer blow, which he evaded by bending his body half a step back. He then narrowly dodged the next attack and, using the gap between her strikes to find an opening, swiped at her with a swing of his arm. Strands of her short red hair danced through the air like a splash of blood or embers fluttering in the wind. 

Reflecting that color, her snow-white eye narrowed with bestial ferocity. 

Lena was flustered by the sight of this sudden scuffle, and her eyes and powerlessly outstretched hands wandered to and fro. 

“Ah, er, p-please, please stop it…!” 

“Ah, leave ’em, Lena. Let ’em duke it out.” 

So said Theo, sitting backward on a chair, the backrest serving as a chinrest while his hands, folded atop it, cradled his head. 

“You know how lions, wolves—hell, even stray dogs—fight for dominance in the pack? Yeah, this is that. Just let ’em settle things their way.” 

“They’re not stray dogs—!” 

Lena noticed the surrounding Eighty-Six were moving chairs closer for a better look, blatantly placing bets on who they thought would win. No one was planning on stopping this. Kurena, Anju, and Raiden were watching the violence unfold without a care in the world. 

“What, the bets are fifty-fifty…? For real…? Shin’s got this, nine times out of ten.” 

“Yeah, well… He might be the Reaper of the eastern front, but that story’s two years old now…” 

“I guess most of them don’t know him that well. Anyway, I’d say Lena was right on the money here, if anything.” 

“M-me…?!” 

“Like, look at ’em. They’ll both stop after a while.” 

After all, they’re not dogs. 

One girl assumed the role of bookie (the Brísingamen squadron’s vice captain, appallingly enough) and made the rounds, taking bets. Raiden and the others all placed a few small bets on Shin winning. 

“In the Republic, the Eighty-Six didn’t really care for ranks. So we’d decide on the positions of captain and vice captain by ourselves.” 

…Is that so? 

Lena couldn’t help but feel disgusted for having been so detached from what happened outside the walls that she hadn’t even known that, despite being a soldier. 

“But Name Bearers have their pride and won’t follow anyone weaker than them into battle.” 

“Our lives are on the line here. Like hell we’re gonna die because we let some no-skill moron order us around.” 

“Usually the strongest person gets picked as captain. It’s one thing when you have a unit with only one Name Bearer, but when you get a bunch of ’em in one place, things usually get decided like this: with a fight.” 

As uncomfortable as the phrasing might have been, it really was like animals fighting for dominance. 

“Was it like that for the Spearhead squadron, too?” 

On that last battlefield in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. 

“At the time, Shin’s name and skill were already well-known, so we all unanimously agreed Shin would be captain and Raiden would be vice captain.” 

“…And you’ve been pushing all your dirty work on me ever since.” 

“Well what’d ya expect? The rest of us suck at reading and writing, and besides, you’ve been with Shin the longest.” 

A squad captain had to fill out paperwork as part of their role, and should anything happen to the captain, the vice captain was to take over for them. Both Shin and Raiden had been blessed with guardians and given a better education than most children in their position, so it made sense to let them handle those duties. 

“But yeah, we had these kinds of fights for dominance in the squads before that. There was Kurena and Daiya and Kaie and me… There was also this guy before you were assigned to us, Kujo. He was the biggest, thickest guy in his squad at the time, but seeing the smallest girl there, Kaie, beat the shit out of him was insane.” 

Apparently, she’d taken advantage of Kujo’s size and used his knees as footing to deliver a flying kick to the nape of his neck. 

Kurena scoffed at Lena, who still watched the scuffle with a flustered, panicked look in her eyes. 

“It’ll be fine. Shin doesn’t go all out against women. He’s holding back a lot right now, actually.” 

“Yeah, Shin starts kicking when he gets serious. He usually aims for the jaw, too.” 

“You took one to the jaw once, didn’t you, Raiden? I always wondered how the hell he moved his body when I heard he could kick a taller person in the jaw while locked in a stalemate, but Shin really does pull it off, doesn’t he?” 

“I think Daiya got knocked out by one of those. Why does he always aim for the spots that’d usually kill someone…? Oh!” 

“Whoa. She’s not bad. She got Shin to block.” 

Using a spinning kick as a feint, she suddenly switched her pivot leg midrotation and shifted to a high kick. Unable to dodge the blow to his temple in time, Shin took the blow with the upper part of his right arm, causing a small tear in the sleeve of his uniform. The angular corner of her combat boot’s sole cut him. That was her getting back at him for that slash with his arm. A few drops of blood flicked into the air from beneath the torn steel-blue fabric. 

Shin’s bloodred eyes grew colder, something even Lena, who wasn’t used to seeing physical violence yet, noticed. 

“…Uh-oh.” 

“She got him in that mood…” 

The moment Raiden and Theo whispered that exchange, Shin moved. As Shiden tried to retract her leg, he pushed it aside with his right arm. At the same time, he took a sharp step forward to close the gap between them, and as Shiden hopped on one leg as he intended, trying to keep her balance, he used the tip of his foot to trip up her pivot leg and lift her up. 

“Ah, whoa…!” 

Shiden was completely airborne for a moment, before Shin caught her by the neck and slammed her back down toward the floor. 

“…?!” 

If this had been a fight against a true enemy, he really would have slammed her into the ground. But halfway through, Shin let go of her, and abiding by her animal instincts, Shiden curled up and covered her head, allowing gravity to pull her down the remaining distance. She then crashed against the wooden floor. 

She may have been a girl, but she was the size of a boy and had a physique tempered by the battlefield. A heavy crashing noise echoed throughout the room, and Shiden was silent. 

None in attendance made so much as a squeak. 

Silence. 

Silence. 

And more silence. 

Suddenly, Shiden twitched. She kicked up and, using the momentum, got to her feet, switching from her previous sprawled-out position, and jabbed her finger at him in complaint. 

“…Asshole! That woulda killed me if I didn’t brace myself!” 

“You’re assuming I care if you live or die.” 

“Why’d you click your tongue just now?! Were you actually trying to kill me, you son of a bitch…?!” 

“Tch…” 

“Ohhh, you piss me off…! See, Your Majesty? This guy’s the kind of bastard who can raise a hand to a woman without a second thought!” 

“You’re the one who snapped at me like a rabid dog. Now shut up and stop being a sore loser.” 

Shin snapped back at Shiden, who was quite literally pointing fingers at him, with a voice that was 10 percent colder than usual. It really did look like a pair of ten-year-olds bickering. As she looked over this heartwarming(?) exchange, Lena wished from the bottom of her heart that they would leave her out of it. Raiden and Theo were gripping their sides and roaring with laughter. 

But still, a loss was a loss. Shiden walked off, grumbling all the while, leaving Shin in the center of the group. 

“Now then…” 

His crimson eyes scoured the briefing room, full of resolve, making even the battle-hardened Eighty-Six divert their gazes and flinch away. Until now, Shiden had been the Processor who’d served as Lena’s—their superior officer, Bloody Reina’s—direct subordinate. She had been acknowledged as the strongest Processor. And he’d effortlessly dispatched her as if it was child’s play. 

“…if anyone else has a problem with me taking command, step right up.” 

Not a single hand went up. 

No. 

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I’m up next…!” 

There was, in fact, one who raised his voice. Crossing through the crowd, Dustin removed his uniform’s blazer enthusiastically. Anju, who happened to be next to him, stopped him in his tracks. 

“Listen up, Second Lieutenant Jaeger.” 

He turned to face her, only to be met with a pair of eyes slightly higher than his own, looking down at him as an adult might look at a child talking nonsense. 

“You can talk a big game after you beat me.” 

“Uh, no, I mean, I can’t fight a girl…” 

Anju smirked. 

“Come at me.” 

The briefing room erupted once more as everyone scrambled to make back what they’d lost in bets. Shin returned to Kurena’s and Lena’s side as Raiden and Theo waved lightly. 

“Good work out there.” 

“Yeah… By the way,” he said, turning his gaze toward the corner of the briefing room, “what are Anju and Jaeger doing?” 

“Um. Discipline, I guess?” 

And just as Shin glanced in their direction… 

“—Yah!” 

“Whoaaaaaaaaaa!” 

…Anju easily threw Dustin over her shoulder, and he unfortunately went on to deliver a passionate kiss to the nearby table. 

“Annette, I’m sorry. I never intended for you two to meet like that.” 

“It’s okay.” 

It was after nightfall. In her room in the barracks, Annette gently shook her head at Lena—who apologized profusely—and then looked out the window. The officer’s cafeteria was bustling with over a hundred Processors enjoying their free time. By the window was Shin, sitting a short distance away from the chaos and reading a book. Watching his shadow flip through the pages, Annette said with a whisper: 

“I couldn’t tell it was Shin at first, either. He’s so…” 

She trailed off, but somehow Lena knew what she was going to say. 

…So different. 

April 2150. 

The Federacy’s relief expeditionary force had finally finished its three months of preparation and was ready to go on the offensive. The operation to retake the Republic’s northern regions had begun, and as a result, the Strike Package was placed under the relief expeditionary force’s jurisdiction and was dispatched to its garrisoned headquarters in the capital of Liberté et Égalité. 

But when the 168 Eighty-Six who made up the majority of the Strike Package’s seven squadrons got to the base, they were greeted with… 

GO BACK TO THE EIGHTY-SIXTH SECTOR, EIGHTY-SIX! 

RETURN THIS PURE-WHITE COUNTRY TO HUMAN HANDS! 

…countless such banners, hanging and fluttering off the tall burned buildings surrounding what was once the Republic’s ground forces’ headquarters and now served as the garrisoned base. 

Yesterday, the MPs on patrol had removed the banners, but looking out the briefing room’s window, Lena could see they were once again flapping about in the same spot. 

Not again, Lena thought as she furrowed her brow. It was the same thing again today. Go away, Eighty-Six. Give us back our pure-white country, and so on. The relief expeditionary force had its hands full with holding the line and retaking the northern Sectors and couldn’t shift any resources toward maintaining public order. And since no investigation was done on the matter, some of the civilians continued their ceaseless acts of bigotry against the Eighty-Six. 

Starting from the day they put up the banners, they began singing derogatory songs from the safety of their hiding places. At night, they would hand out incendiary flyers. More and more graffiti rife with vilification covered the surroundings of the base, and the airwaves were filled with pirate radio stations. 

Despicable, they said. Get out, they said. It’s your fault that things have come to this. They repeated their words of malice and ill will without end, never once realizing they’d brought their fate on themselves. 

When Shin came to her office to confirm some documents, he asked her, “What’s with all the commotion over bleach and detergent?” 

“…Bleach and detergent?” 

“They keep saying, ‘Give us back our pure white.’” 

Lena burst out laughing. Sure enough, when taken out of context, it did sound like something out of a commercial for laundry detergent. But she soon slumped her shoulders. 

“…I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s nothing you need to apologize for, Lena,” Shin said without a hint of displeasure, a wry smile on his face. “It doesn’t matter what we say—those people won’t listen. They’re like dogs who are all bark and no bite; you lose the moment you pay them any mind. All they can do is be loud, and you can always just laugh them off like you did just now.” 

Shin shrugged at her returned gaze. 

“So don’t let it bother you, Lena… It’s not your fault, so don’t make that face.” 

Lena smiled bitterly. She realized he was worrying about her, and that made her happy, but… 

“But I can’t help but be bothered by this. I… I’m a citizen of the Republic, too.” 

Even if she couldn’t be proud of it, even if she was incapable of loving it anymore, the Republic was still the homeland that had given birth to and raised Lena. And as one of the Republic’s citizens, seeing her compatriots conduct themselves so despicably made her feel ashamed and pathetic. And leaving those things as they were before the eyes of the Eighty-Six was unacceptable. 

“Leaving such things as they are even when you know they’re wrong is tantamount to supporting them. Not correcting their actions is…shameful, as a fellow citizen of the Republic.” 

Shin fell silent for a moment. She thought she saw a flash of what looked like anger or indignation in his eyes. 

“…You’re different from them, and we all know that… Whatever they say or do has no bearing on you.” 

“…Even so, I find it intolerable. Isn’t there something we can do, Colonel Wenzel?” 

“Well, yeah, it’s certainly not a pleasant sight…” 

Lena voiced her complaints during one of their scheduled meetings, and Grethe knit her brows in annoyance. 

“Headquarters has relayed our complaints to the interim government, and we’ve increased the area of the no-trespassing zone, as well as the frequency of patrols. Anything more than that would be difficult to pull off.” 

“…Yes, I supposed as much…” 

“I understand your irritation, but the military police can only act within Federacy military regulations.” 

Maintaining civil order within the base and its surroundings was the military police’s role. And since this matter deliberately lowered the soldiers’ morale, the MPs were actively trying to prevent it. And still, there was no stopping the radio broadcasts traveling through the airwaves or the chanting and flyers riding the wind. 

The other day, as a squadron was on its way back to base after an exercise, they found acorns littering the road. The Federacy soldiers didn’t seem to mind, but Lena, a Republic citizen, understood the meaning behind it. The Republic’s industries were originally agriculture and stock farming. And acorns were traditionally…fodder for pigs. 

The Eighty-Six may have been born in the Republic, but they’d never learned its culture and history, so thankfully, the malicious, disdainful meaning behind this act was lost on them… But as they sat in the transport, Shin sighed lightly, and Raiden scoffed. Lena felt the anxiety squeeze her heart like a vise. If nothing else, the two of them knew. They simply kept quiet, pretending to not notice the spite directed their way. She wanted to find a way to stop it… 

“We can’t say we don’t care, but…the Eighty-Six aren’t bothered by it, right?” asked Grethe. 

“…Indeed…” 

Lena nodded vaguely. She found it odd, or at the very least unpleasant. It wasn’t as if they were all as indifferent to it as Shin was. There were some sparse reactions to it here and there, but they were all within the scope of jokes. 

Every time a banner was erected, the Eighty-Six tied a stuffed toy of a white pig to one of the unused flagpoles and sentenced it to an execution by hanging. Every time the obnoxious chanting started, it was turned into a vulgar parody the next day. The Eighty-Six would scribble cutesy caricatures of a white pig on the backs of flyers, and every day the cafeteria boomed with exaggerated imitations of the Republic citizens. 

The fact that they weren’t hurt by this was certainly a positive note, but Lena felt that they should have resented it further, opposed it more openly. After all, the Republic that had persecuted them and taken away their rights no longer existed… 

“Laughing in the face of adversity is another form of resistance… I doubt it’s anything that would phase them at this point.” 

“But mistakes cannot go uncorrected. And the Republic citizens are unfairly venting their frustrations at them; there’s no reason they should have to go along with it.” 

Her voice was now tinged with anger. 

“The Eighty-Sixth Sector no longer exists. We’re not ruling over them. They should be allowed to openly oppose this hatred…” 

Grethe frowned. 

“…And how exactly do you suggest they go about doing that?” 

Lena blinked at the sudden question. 

“How…? What do you mean, Colonel Wenzel?” 

“This is my impression from knowing them… From knowing Captain Nouzen for a year now.” 

Meeting Lena’s gaze, this officer, who was ten years older than she was, spoke in a pensive tone. Her lips were meticulously coated with red lipstick, and unlike Lena’s, her uniform’s chest was full of ribbons and medals from achievements she’d racked up. 

“Those kids, they aren’t strong. They simply understood that they had to be strong to survive, and in the process of trying to become strong, they instead cut off anything that made them weak.” 

It wasn’t that they weren’t hurt. It was that they hurt so much they had to cut off anything that allowed them to feel pain…? 

“What you’re talking about… That was just another aspect of weakness for them. Experiencing that blatant hatred day in and day out cut it all away from their hearts and made them numb. Telling them to stand up for themselves in the face of senseless adversity might seem like the natural response, but…isn’t that the same as asking them to feel pain again?” 

While they weren’t using live rounds, mock battles in which Juggernauts weighing over ten tons engaged in high-speed maneuvers and tried to shoot at one another’s flanks and rears were harsh on those who weren’t used to it. Dustin dragged himself wearily to the shower after the debriefing, only to be passed by Rito, who shouted, “Dibs!” 

Watching their backs recede in the distance, Shin furrowed his brow. Since he was the captain, the decision of which troops to assign to which squadron was in his hands, and he mostly chose based off their grades in the special officer academy and their battle record in the Republic. It ultimately resulted in pretty much the same squads they had in the Republic, but there was one problematic soldier. 

Anju had been leaning against the wall, waiting for Shin to come out. 

“You’re not sure what to do about Jaeger’s post, are you?” she asked upon seeing him. 

“…Yeah.” 

Despite being three years younger than Dustin, Rito was a Processor who’d served in the squadron Shin had belonged to before joining Spearhead. Two years of combat history was fairly short for a surviving Processor, but it was still much more than Dustin. That two-year gap of experience handling a Juggernaut was all too apparent. Their win-loss rates in training and the way he was exhausted after a match told the story all too clearly. 

“His spirit is admirable, though, and it doesn’t seem like he wants to die. He just lacks resolve and actual skill.” 

“I was thinking of benching him as a reserve… But we don’t have that kind of luxury with the next operation.” 

“…Could you let my platoon have him?” 

He looked back at Anju, who responded with a faint, bitter smile. 

“I mean, you were thinking of taking him either way, right? It’s out of the question to put him in yours or Theo’s platoons, since you two are vanguards. Raiden ends up working with you often, so he’s on the front line all the same. But you can’t attach a rookie who’s easily spotted to Kurena, who’s focused on espionage and sniping… Putting him in my platoon, which is in charge of suppressing fire, would be safer for both of us.” 

He had his apprehensions, but Anju was right… Having her deal with him was the best course of action. 

“Thanks… But if you feel it’s hard on you—” 

“It’ll be fine. It’s the same for everyone else. That’s just what the white pigs are like… Right?” 

There wasn’t an Eighty-Six alive who didn’t know what it was like to have the Republic walk all over them. 

“Yeah.” 

“And it’s true for the colonel, too.” 

Shin blinked as if he hadn’t expected Lena to be mentioned, and Anju simply smiled and shrugged. 

“If the colonel thinks that way, too…she’ll end up turning her back on the Republic soon enough. So you don’t have to feel anxious over this, okay?” 

He looked into the azure eyes of the girl who worried constantly for him, to an almost irritating extent. 

“…Okay.” 

All the Para-RAID data accumulated during training sessions and the results of the Processors’ periodic inspections were gathered by Annette, who was currently bringing the information up on holo-screens and confirming it. There was no unusual behavior for the time being, nor were there any irregularities with their individual physiologies. That much was to be expected, since they had used this technology for years in the Republic, but it was best to err on the side of caution. 

She’d volunteered to do this because she thought that this could be helpful for him—a way to atone for her sins. As she scrolled through page after page of electronic documents, her hands stopped when his name popped up, accompanied by a mug shot. 

“…Shin.” 

Her inadvertently extended hand froze in midair. She found herself biting her lip. 

“—Captain Nouzen.” 

Responding to her voice with a formal nod, the person standing nearby turned to face her. 

“What is it, Major Penrose?” 

His bloodred eyes. His pale face that hardly ever showed emotion. He’d gotten so much taller in ten years, and his form was slender but tempered by seven years of fierce combat. He was like an old, whetted sword, stuck in the ground of an ancient battlefield, bathed in moonlight. 

He was all too different from before. And he looked at Annette as he would a stranger. 

“Shin. You actually do remember me, don’t you?” 

Lena had already told Annette that Shin had never spoken of her, back when they left for the Special Reconnaissance mission. He’d never even mentioned her name, and he likely didn’t remember her at all. 

But she thought that was a lie. How could he forget how she’d called him a stain when it was such a terrible act of betrayal for him? Having Annette, one of his closest peers, call him that slur was probably the worst thing in the world. And in the end, she’d abandoned him. She’d been stupidly indignant when the chance came to save him, and she had Shin and his precious family…cruelly sent to the internment camps. 

Shin had lost his family and been forced to spend what was probably five years fighting in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. A veritable hell on earth. And Annette was at the root of it all. How could he not resent her for it? 

He had to resent her. And when he came to greet her, he must have had to hold his emotions in check since they were in an official setting. Or perhaps he treated her like a stranger because he couldn’t forgive her. But now they were living in the same barracks and had plenty of opportunities to speak without others getting in the way. She thought he would say something soon enough… But the days came and went, and he never brought it up. 

It couldn’t be… It couldn’t really be, could it…? 

“It’s me, Henrietta… Rita. From the house next door… You remember me, right…?” 

There was no way he would forget… 

But Shin merely looked at her with slight confusion in his eyes and shook his head gently. 

Ahhh, he really did become taller. The inappropriate thought crossed her mind as she looked up at him. The little boy in her memories was always the same height as her, back then. 

“…My apologies.” 

And he replied to her as such, with a glance one would only cast at a complete stranger. 

Annette had told Lena ahead of time that she would speak to Shin today. She’d said that if anything were to happen, it would all be her own fault, and she’d implored Lena not to punish Shin no matter what happened, her eyes shining with grim resolve. 

Lena figured nothing would happen. Shin’s dignity as an Eighty-Six would forbid him from acting like one of the Republic’s white pigs… And he probably didn’t even remember her to begin with. 

It was after sunset, and despite it being before lights-out, the room was dim. The light from the corridor rushed over the figure squatting on the floor. 

“…Annette.” 

“…He…doesn’t remember me.” 

“…” 

I knew it… 

“He really doesn’t remember anything. How we played every day. Our houses in the First Sector, or how we went on expeditions in the yard… He really doesn’t remember anything before he was sent to the internment camp.” 

In the ten years since they had last seen each other, Shin—the boy who had fought long and hard until he earned the name of the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s Reaper—had had so much stripped away from him by the intensity of battle. 

To temper and whet a blade is to chip away at it. And to become a sharp blade that cut through the Legion, Shin had had everything that wasn’t beneficial for combat whetted away. Annette had likely realized for the first time what it meant to survive five years of war with the Legion on the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefield. There was no way to survive while remaining the same person you had been going in. It was that kind of hell. 

Annette covered her face with both hands. 

“…But what am I supposed to do now?” 

She sounded like a lost child with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. 

“I knew he’d probably never forgive me. But I was fine with that; I still wanted to apologize. But I can’t do that if he doesn’t even remember. So how am I supposed to make things right with Shin now…?!” 

Lena looked at the floor as Annette spoke, her voice a muted scream. She’d thought once before that Shin’s forgetting everything would likely be a curse for Annette. Sins required punishment. Even if a sinner was never forgiven, they could atone by apologizing. But if the sin was forgotten, even that would be rendered impossible. Annette’s sin would never be wiped away, even if it was only a one-sided, exceedingly selfish act from the side of the perpetrator. 

He may not have remembered, but Shin did have his own thoughts about the situation. Unlike their headquarters’ base, which had rooms for everyone who was of officer rank and above, this base they were stationed in had multiple Processors share rooms. Being alone was hard. His search led him to the hangar, where he reclined against his rig’s armor with an open book. He wasn’t reading, however, but rather seemed to be lost in thought. 

Noticing the sound of clicking heels, he turned his gaze to Lena and shook his head somewhat powerlessly. 

“…I hope you’re not too upset.” 

“I’m not.” 

It wasn’t Shin’s fault he didn’t remember Annette… That he didn’t remember his days in the First Sector. 

“But do you really not remember anything? Er… Even if you don’t, maybe talking about it could help some of the memories return…” 

“Hearing I had a childhood friend made me feel like maybe I did, but that’s all… I can’t remember a name or a face.” 

Naturally, when the last memory they had of each other was that of a fight… 

“…After we took over the First Sector…,” he muttered, his dejected expression akin to that of an orphaned child, “…I had heard they’d located the house my family used to live in, so I went to see it. The Processors’ personnel files should have been deleted, but they were somehow intact, and we found the house that way.” 

“…” 

Lena knew about that. The records of those lost in battle were preserved in an underground warehouse below the ground forces’ headquarters. It was actually Lena who’d told the Federacy military to check there since there should have been something down that area, though she didn’t know what was hidden in that spot until it was opened. 

Two months after the large-scale offensive, a soldier told her about it over the wireless comm in the midst of battle. A predecessor had entrusted him with the task, which he himself supported, of recovering and hiding the records of the fallen. He was originally a Handler himself, who’d lost his job to the war and enlisted in the military to make a living. 

Eventually, he was unable to bear seeing child soldiers die as the processing units of “drones.” After his squadron, led by a captain in his early teens, had been decimated to the extent that there was no point in leading them to battle anymore, he asked, and was approved, to be transferred to the personnel division. 

But you know, Lieutenant Milizé, in the end, people can’t escape the sins they’ve committed. 

When he said it, Lena thought she could hear him crying on the other side of the wireless transmission. 

I met that captain again. In the barracks of that same Spearhead squadron you know, Lieutenant. 

I was the one who took his final picture. 

I thought I might go mad at the time. The child soldier I abandoned back then still lived only to march to his death six months later. And there was nothing I could do to help him. No… I never even tried to help him. 

Now’s my time to atone. I… The Republic will die here. It’ll die and be forgotten. But as for them, maybe someone, someday… 

Perhaps someone had heard his solemn prayer. The pictures of all the Eighty-Six who should have had their very existences wiped away had been preserved, and some of the Eighty-Six lived on, like Shin. A path through which that forgotten past could be traced was carved. 

And she would remember him: that timid, kindhearted soldier from the personnel division, who gave up his life in exchange for that path. 

“And how was it…? The house?” 

“Unfamiliar.” 

Even seeing it with his own eyes hadn’t jogged his memory… 

“…I’m not really…” 

It sounded more like he was talking to himself. 

“I’m not really all that bothered by the fact that I can’t remember the past. I can fight even without that. I can defeat the Legion even if I can’t recall my family and hometown. If anything, trying too hard to remember might end up distracting me and getting in the way.” 

Having something to lose would just be a distraction. Having something to hold dear would just cause him to hesitate. If he didn’t cut away all the things that were unnecessary for battle…he would never survive. 

“When all I could think about was killing my brother, I had a reason to live. But when I looked back and realized that I couldn’t even remember what he was like, it…it just felt a little lonely.” 

I could never remember him, myself. Yes, he had said that back in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. That was why he’d been happy when he’d found out that Lena remembered Rei. 

“…I’ve heard your grandfather is still alive.” 

He was a high-ranking noble, a leading figure in the old Imperial senate and a supporting pillar of a warrior family—Marquis Seiei Nouzen. Like Rei once told a young Lena, the name of Nouzen was reserved for their clan alone and was rare in both the Empire and the Federacy, which followed it. More precisely, no one but members of the clan was allowed to use it. 

Of course, as soon as Shin had been given protection by the Federacy, the marquis had requested a meeting with him through Ernst, since he was convinced Shin was the child of his eldest son, who had eloped. The marquis had since made repeated requests for a meeting to Ernst, to Shin’s superior officers Richard and Grethe, and recently, even to Lena herself. 

I want to meet him, he’d said. Let me see him. 

But Shin himself didn’t consent, so Lena was in no place to say anything. 

“Your grandfather might remember your brother and family… He might have pictures of them. Maybe you should meet him.” 

Shin gave a faint, almost limp smile. 

“Why would I want that? I’ve never once met this old man who calls himself my grandfather. I don’t remember any stories of my father that I’d be able to tell him. What would I even say…? What good would meeting him now do me? It would be a hollow meeting for both of us.” 

It would just be a grim reminder that what was once lost could never be compensated for. 

It was then that Lena realized. Shin said he didn’t remember, that he couldn’t remember. But maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t remember, but rather… 

“At this point, I don’t really want to remember, so I don’t want to meet him, either… The same goes for Major Penrose.” 

The girl who claimed to be the childhood friend he couldn’t remember. 

“If she wanted to apologize…to make it like nothing happened, she would have been better off forgetting herself and never coming to me about it.” 

He was better off not knowing what he’d forgotten—what he’d lost. That was Shin’s stance. 

“Well, I’d like to think I outdid myself this time. Feel free to praise me, Lena.” 

Upon being appointed tactical commander, Lena was granted a personal command car. Its call sign was Vanadis. It was Bloody Reina’s royal carriage, equipped with state-of-the-art Para-RAID monitoring and command equipment. As Lena visited the hangar to receive it, she was dumbfounded at the sight of the brand-new armored vehicle and the sight of Theo fastened to its flank. 

Emblazoned on the side of the vehicle was the silhouette of a woman clad in a crimson dress. Bloody Reina’s—Lena’s—Personal Mark. 

Theo regarded his work with a satisfied smirk. 

“Cool, ain’t it? Like a logo for some perfume or cosmetics. I figured we’d be redoing everyone’s Personal Marks anyway, and I’ve studied up on drawing since I came to the Federacy.” 

Like he said, it was a pretty classy illustration. In addition, it had a sort of similar feel to not only Theo’s own Personal Mark but also Shin’s, Raiden’s, Kurena’s, and Anju’s. She’d always thought the five marks were drawn by the same person but hadn’t known it was Theo who drew them. 

Lena smiled, a ticklish sort of feeling swelling inside her. The fact that she was counted among their ranks made her heart swell with pride, and the fact that he’d arranged such a surprise for her made her so happy. 

“You could have drawn a white pig in a red dress, you know.” 

A smile came over Theo’s paint-stained lips at her playful remark. 

“Whaaat? No, no way. I dunno why you’re bringing white pigs into this… You still bothered about the Bleachers?” 

At some point, it had been decided that the nickname for the order of something-something knights would be the Bleachers. That was probably why the stuffed pig toy they always hanged to death was stored in a detergent crate. 

“Hmm, yes… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.” 

“You’ve got nothing to do with it, so don’t let it get to you. We’re used to them by now.” 

“But…if you ever feel like you can’t take it anymore, please tell me. You now have… No, you always should have had the right to do so.” 

“What? That’s such a drag. Just forget about it—it’s fine. 

“Besides,” said Theo as he looked up, “if I paint a white pig on your Personal Mark, I don’t wanna think about what Shin would do to me. I don’t wanna die just yet.” 

“…Why mention Shin?” 

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“What, are you serious? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” 

“Noticed what?” 

Theo heaved a deep sigh from the pit of his stomach. 

“Holy shit, you’re dense… I mean, at this point, all I can say is Poor Shin. It’s, like, blatantly obvious.” 

“…?” 

“Eh, never mind. If you don’t get it, you don’t get it. Explaining it feels like trouble… Or more like…,” Theo said, crossing his arms. 

There was something about his expression that annoyed Lena a bit. It was the same as… Yes, just like Shin’s expression yesterday, when he said he didn’t care about the Bleachers’ behavior. 

“Didn’t Shin tell you to stop making that tortured face? He’s right, y’know. Nobody’s blaming you for anything, which makes your twenty-four-seven one-woman pity party especially paaainful to watch… You can stop now, okay?” 

As he fired three rounds into the fourth self-propelled mine, he ejected the magazine. A 9 mm double-column pistol was capable of carrying fifteen bullets. He ejected the magazine when there was one bullet in the chamber and two in the magazine and loaded the next one in while standing up and firing. 

That was a technique called tactical reloading. An automatic pistol took advantage of the recoil of firing to load the next bullet, so should the chamber be empty when exchanging a magazine, the first bullet would need to be manually loaded. The point of this technique was to prevent the loss of crucial seconds in a firefight. Against the Legion and their superior swiftness, the time required to reload could make the difference between life and death. 

After the slide stop rose up following the final bullet fired, the self-propelled mines—or rather, the hologram projection of them—turned off. Shin retracted his pistol’s slide into place as he watched the targets rise up, presenting the results of his firing. 

He was at the base’s firing range. Not even bothering to check the results, Raiden, who sat nearby, looked at the countless bullet marks concentrated on the holographic self-propelled mines’ control units on their chests. 

“What, are you pissed or something?” 

“That’s—” 

Shin almost denied it on reflex but instead fell silent. He was rather reluctant to admit it, but… 

“…Maybe I am.” 

“It’s not about that one-eyed woman, is it…? So that leaves…” 

Raiden pretended to ponder it for a while. 

“Is it Lena?” 

“…Yeah.” 

He’d confirmed it since Raiden had gone ahead and said it, but it was still…an unpleasant thing to admit. It wasn’t anything she said but rather the things that bound her heart. 

“I never wanted to blame her, but…that harassment business has been bothering her.” 

The Bleachers’ harassment truly didn’t bother Shin. They were as unpleasant as a fly buzzing in one’s ear and nothing more. It wouldn’t bother him… Not this late in the game. After dealing with Republic soldiers—very few of whom were decent human beings—for years, the Eighty-Six had grown used to this. Everyone understood that much. All the Eighty-Six were the same in that regard to varying degrees. So not one of them was bothered by it—much less thought this was somehow Lena’s fault. And despite that… 

Raiden made a rather exasperated expression. 

“Hmm.” 

“…What?” 

“Nothing… I was just wondering. If all you did was dwell on the thing that pissed you off most, how much more pissed off could you possibly get? That’s all.” 

There was an insult between the could and the you that he didn’t put into words. Shin looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. He’d never admit it out loud, but he’d hated the height difference between them ever since the day they’d met. Raiden simply scoffed. 

“‘I’m a citizen of the Republic,’ she says… Is she really so attached just because she was born in a specific place or happens to be the same color as those people?” 

The Eighty-Six only faintly remembered their hometowns and the families that raised them, and the concept of a homeland was one that didn’t quite feel real to them. The internment camps and the battlefield weren’t environments that invoked the feeling of kinship, so the idea of someone being kin just because they were the same race as you didn’t really register with them. 

If they had a homeland, it was the battlefield they chose to fight on to the bitter end of their own wills. If they had brethren, they were the Eighty-Six who chose the same way of life and fought beside them. So the notion of holding a sense of belonging to a nation because of a land or a race you never chose to be born to was foreign to them. 

People shaped themselves by their own hand, through their own flesh and blood and the comrades they relied on. That was the way of life the Eighty-Six thought was right. 

“It’s just as true for Major Penrose and the Federacy, too. I don’t understand why they’re so fixated on our pasts.” 

“Yeah, that, uh, old friend of yours… What’s the deal with that anyway? Do you really not remember her?” 

“Not a thing.” 

Shin was the squad’s captain, and Annette was the Para-RAID technical adviser. Even without any private business, he’d talked to her a few times in a professional setting, and no memories had surfaced. Though maybe that was simply because he wasn’t trying to remember. 

“‘Three things make a man: the homeland he was born into, the blood running through his veins, and the bonds he forms.’ …It was Frederica who said that, wasn’t it? I still don’t get it.” 

“Wouldn’t you remember that sort of stuff more…?” 

Unusual for an Eighty-Six, Raiden had been sheltered within the eighty-five Sectors until he was twelve years old, so there had been relatively less time for the internment camps to wash away his memories. 

“It wasn’t like the old hag’s school was that close to home… And after becoming a Processor, that honestly stopped mattering… Before I knew it, I forgot my parents’ faces, and I couldn’t remember where I grew up, either. I think it’s the same for you.” 

“…Do you ever want to go back?” 

Would he still want to return to a homeland he’d forgotten? Raiden’s lips twisted into something resembling a smile, but the feeling it gave off was more disgust and aversion. 

He’s the same as me, then, thought Shin. When it came to that, the two of them truly didn’t even want to think about it. 

“…Nah.” 

As soon as the strategy meeting ended, Shin got up and left. As Annette once again watched him walk away without a word, a young voice spoke out. 

“Make those lovey-dovey eyes at him all you want, Weißhaare. That man has no obligation to guess at your feelings as he is now.” 

The word Frederica used was a derogatory term in Giad’s slang that meant white hair. It referred to the Alba and specifically to those of the Republic. 

“…Yes, I suppose your power holds monopoly over that field, doesn’t it, all-seeing witch?” 

“It’s easy to see when it’s the only thing on your mind. Your remorseful eyes keep chasing Shinei with that longing gaze… It would bother me even if I were to try to ignore it.” 

Frederica nearly spat her retort as she looked up at Annette. 

“If he says he does not know you, then that’s the end of it. All that remains is for you to come to terms with it.” 

“But…but if I don’t apologize, I’ll never be able to move forward.” 

Frederica scoffed with blatant disdain, even enmity. 

“What you fear is not being unable to move forward but being unable to go back. All you wish is to return to the relationship the two of you had in your youth, when you were happy. You wish to make it so your sin is undone… Even as you say you’ve hurt Shinei, all you wish is to find peace without once seeing the scars inflicted on him.” 

“…” 

Annette froze in place, and Frederica glared at her with eyes like fire. A Pyrope’s crimson eyes, the same as Shin’s. 

“Shinei…and all those you people have whetted down to nearly nothing have their hands full with protecting themselves. And if you intended to make their load any heavier, I shall stand in your way as your enemy.” 

Lena invited Shin to take a trip through Liberté et Égalité during their time off with the intent of helping Annette in some small way. Perhaps just talking about it or seeing it once wasn’t enough to remember, but the right trigger might jog his memories. 

Liberté et Égalité’s main street’s restoration work had been progressing nicely in the six months since it had been retaken. The buildings had burned in the fires of war, and the charred roadside trees had been left as is, but the rubble had been cleared away, and the streets were bustling, those with silver hair intermingling with those in steel-blue uniforms. Witnessing this sight beneath the unchanging azure sky of spring made Lena’s heart skip a beat. 

“…It’s a bit far, but would you like to go to Palace Lune? There was little fighting there, so the structure remained intact.” 

“Palace Lune?” 

“That’s where the fireworks for the Republic’s founding festival are held. You went to see them with your brother and your family… We promised we’d go see them sometime, remember?” 

“Right…” 

Hastening his gait to match Lena’s, Shin paused as he searched his memory, and then he smiled bitterly. “The fireworks… We said we’d see the fireworks all together.” 

“Ah… Yes, you’re right. In that case, we can’t go with just the two of us. When it’s time for the fireworks, we can all go see them together.” 

“By the time the festival rolls around, we’ll probably be back at our home base… Though with things as they are, wouldn’t setting off fireworks be a little much, assuming the festival was held at all?” 

“True. But…someday. The next chance we get.” 

She stepped forward and then stopped and looked up. This was a real promise, one they could keep. It wasn’t like the last promise Shin had made to see the fireworks, knowing all the while that it would never happen. Sensing the implicit meaning behind those words, Shin nodded gently. 

“Definitely. Someday.” 

“Is there something you want to see right now, Shin? Somewhere you’d like to go? Something you’d like to do?” 

These were words she’d asked him before, without knowing there was nothing he could wish for, since he was scheduled to die six months later. But things were different now. He could afford to wish for things now. And he was able to make those wishes a reality. This time, when he looked to the future, what did he see…? 

Shin thought about it for a short while. 

“What about you, Lena?” 

“Well, let’s see…,” said Lena, smiling inadvertently. “For now, I would like to go hunting and fishing in the village behind the Rüstkammer base after this mission is over. And maybe see Sankt Jeder. Oh, and the ocean, too. I’ve never seen it.” 

Shin’s smile suddenly deepened. 

“That sounds nice… One day, for sure.” 

“Yes. For sure.” 

The truth was, even this…just walking through town like this with him was one of the things she had always wanted. But she kept that a secret. Seeing Lena quicken her pace from embarrassment, Shin suddenly said, “…Did you want to take a walk all of a sudden because of the matter with Major Penrose?” 

He’d seen through her. Lena stopped awkwardly. 

“Yes… I know this isn’t something I have any right to comment on, but…Annette is a friend of mine—and so are you… Er, but I thought it would help you remember not just about Annette but about your family, too…” 

She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head. 

“I’m sorry. Am I being unpleasant?” 

“Not unpleasant, but…” 

Shin tilted his head gently. After a hesitant pause, he said resolutely: 

“I do think it’s strange… Why are you so fixated on this?” 

Lena seemed surprised by this unexpected question. 

“What do you mean, ‘why’…?” 

“Lena, if both you and Major Penrose are that tormented by the past and the Republic’s deeds, why aren’t you cutting it all away? To hold on to it is… Why are you asking me to remember when you can’t even bear to face the past yourselves?” 

That was a terribly foreign question, the kind only a monster would ask. One’s homeland and past were parts of one’s identity. At least, that was how it was for Lena. So she looked at Shin, who so easily told her to throw it all away, with a chill running through her. She shook it off shortly afterward. 

But the doubt remained. How could they be so unconcerned with it? Did the Eighty-Six, who had lost not only their homes and families but even their memories of them, not find it to be sad? Surely some part of them wished to reclaim even a bit of that. 

“That’s because… Well, my past and my homeland are part of what makes me who I am. And I can’t cut part of myself away. I think the reason not remembering is less painful for you is…because they’re a part of you, too.” 

“I can be myself even if I don’t remember my home or my family. And I think those memories are unnecessary for me, the way I am now.” 

“But didn’t the fact that you couldn’t remember your own brother make you lonely?” 

“That’s…” 

Shin fell silent, as if he was perplexed or confused. For a moment, his crimson eyes wavered with insecurity. Like he was afraid… Frightened. 

“It’s true—I didn’t want to forget him. But if I were to remember him, I would—” 

At that moment, the high-pitched voice of a child rang in their ears. 

“Mommy, why’s that thing got those weird colors?” 

The tranquil afternoon air froze over in a second. The speaker was an Alba child, walking down the street, holding hands with their mother. The child’s finger was pointing at Shin. 

“Its hair is all black and dirty, and its red eyes are creepy. How come no one’s gotten rid of such a scary monster? Don’t get close, ’cause it’ll get us all dirty!” 

The mother tried to quiet the child down in a panic. 

“S-stop that! What are you—?!” 

“There’s so many! I’m scared! We gotta get rid of those things. They shouldn’t be here!” 

“Enough!” 

The fact that she didn’t even try to correct the child made it clear just how hypocritical of a performance this was. It was as if she wasn’t telling her child off, but merely keeping up appearances so she could claim she’d tried to stop them. 

Shin looked down at the mother and child with a cold… No, the kind of gaze he might give a pebble on the roadside, and he said, as if to himself, “I see. This could definitely…cause problems later on.” 

He said it as if it were entirely someone else’s business. It shocked Lena, and she held her breath. He may have been born there, but for Shin—an Eighty-Six—the Republic wasn’t his home anymore. That was something she thought she understood. 

The mother bowed her head time and again in apology, forcibly covering her child’s mouth as they continued to state how scared and disgusted they were. 

“I’m so sorry! Children don’t know any better, but please forgive us…” 

“…Mm-hmm.” 

Shin waved the mother off, as if to say he couldn’t care less one way or the other. The mother continued bowing her head and then scooped the child up into her arms and walked off as if fleeing the scene. But the moment she turned around with the child in her arms, the words that crept from her mouth and the stabbing glance of scorn she threw their way told all there was to tell. 

“…What does that subhuman filth think it is?” 

Lena felt the blood instantly go to her head. 

“S-stop right there—!” 

She was about to take off after the woman, but someone grabbed her arm. She looked back only to find that it was Shin. 

“Ignore it, Lena. Don’t waste your breath.” 

“Wha—?!” 

Shaking him off, Lena turned to face him. Shin still had a ten-centimeter height advantage on her, even when she was wearing heels. Undaunted by the gap in their heights, Lena glared at him. 

“How do you expect me to ignore it?! She just openly insulted you! Even now—and all the way up to now, too! You came to save them! One could say you even fought for them!” 

“I’m not fighting for the Republic, and I never have.” 

He sounded slightly displeased. Perhaps realizing the seriousness in his tone, he sighed as if trying to vent his stress and continued, still with a hint of irritation in his voice. 

“I’m used to the Republic citizens saying whatever they want. I don’t particularly see it as an insult… And no matter what I say, they’ll never listen. Would you take a pig’s squealing to heart, Lena? It’s the same thing to me. As far as the Republic citizens are concerned, the Eighty-Six are just livestock.” 

His tone was now so calm and collected that it almost bordered on cruelty. Lena clenched her fists. 

“Shin. I’m a Republic citizen, too.” 

Shin fell silent for a moment, looking displeased. 

“Right… I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t think of you as livestock… But I’m still a Republic citizen.” 

“You’re different from them.” 

“I am.” 

She finally realized what Shin meant. Lena was different from them. 

“The white pigs of the Republic are just human-shaped garbage, unlike me… That’s what you’re trying to say.” 

The Eighty-Six didn’t take offense to the behavior of the Republic citizens, nor did they try to correct it. They were just white pigs, after all. They could pretend to speak in the human tongue, but they would forever lack comprehension. They simply didn’t know good from bad. That was about all anyone could expect from the pitiful white pigs. 

There was no point in being offended by pigs. Even if you demanded common sense out of them, there would be no way for them to understand you, and you couldn’t even blame them. It was natural for the oppressed to see their oppressors as base and detestable, but that incredibly callous division was still…sad. 

“So by calling them pigs, by thinking of them as fundamentally different from yourselves…you all feel the same way as them, don’t you?” 

It was likely different from the Alba’s discrimination, but that just went to show that there would never be mutual understanding between them. And it was only natural for them to never see eye to eye. But even if Lena didn’t expect anything out of her homeland or its citizens anymore, seeing that nothing had changed even now saddened her. She had finally come to terms with the fact that the cold wrath and despair the Eighty-Six had harbored since their time in the Eighty-Sixth Sector hadn’t healed in the slightest… 

For a long moment, Shin stood silent. And then he plainly, calmly nodded. 

“…Yes.”