86 Eighty-Six

That realization left her reeling in utter disbelief. He was right. She didn’t know their names. She’d never asked. Not anyone—not even Undertaker, who was always the first to answer her calls. Not Kirschblüte, always the one who talked to her the most. And of course, she’d never told any of them her name. Handler One. She’d presented herself as their supervisor, with just the title that role granted her and only ever in that capacity. It might have been acceptable if it had been by mutual agreement, but otherwise, this was a terribly disrespectful way to treat a fellow human.

And she had done just that, without batting an eye. Without ever realizing. You should know to treat livestock as livestock. Yes, just like her mother had said with her composed expression. Was the only difference between her and Lena that Lena simply never put it into words—?

Tears welled in her eyes. Words wouldn’t come, but she could feel a wail of shame clawing its way up her chest, begging to be let out. She clamped her hands over her mouth to suppress it. She’d only just become aware of it. But now she was so terribly afraid of how ugly she could be, of the way she could trample and look down upon someone else as if it was a matter of course, not once feeling shame for it.

Wehrwolf—no, the Colorata boy whose face she’d never seen, whose name she’d never asked for, interjected into the conversation with a low voice.

“Theo.”

“Raiden! Are you going to defend this white pig—?”

“Theo.”

“…Fine, I get it.”

Laughing Fox clicked his tongue once, and his presence disappeared from the Resonance. Heaving a deep sigh, as if to rid himself of the feelings filling his own chest, Wehrwolf turned his attention to Lena.

“Handler One. Close the Resonance.”

“…Wehrwolf, I—”

“The battle’s over. You have no reason to command us anymore, do you? …Laughing Fox was out of line, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the mood to chat with you.”

His tone was cold, but the lack of even a sliver of condemnation in his voice felt even more inhumane and detached to Lena. He didn’t judge her for her faults, and he didn’t blame her, either, because he was completely resigned. Resigned that he was speaking to someone who would never listen to him no matter what he said or did—someone who was only pretending to talk but didn’t understand what others were saying. Maybe not even what she herself was saying. A pig in human form.

“…I’m sorry.”

Barely managing a shaky reply, she closed the Resonance. Not a single voice had answered those words.

Everyone else gradually cut the link with the Handler, and Theo remained there, feeling terrible. After a while, Anju Resonated with him.

“Theo.”

“…I know, okay?” he answered gloomily.

Hating how childish his own voice sounded, Theo sneered in self-loathing.

“I get how you feel, but you went too far. Even if what you said is true, putting it like that was too much.”

“Yeah, I get it… Sorry.”

He knew that. They’d all decided together that was how it should be and all realized as much before even putting it into words. Which was why, up until now, that was what they’d done. Saying everything on his mind in the harshest possible manner didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it only left him irritated and on edge. He didn’t have an outlet for his frustration, and he felt like the precious friends he’d lost would snap at him at any second for his behavior. It was a precious promise, and he’d broken it because of that stupid white pig. But still, the reason he couldn’t hold back his anger was definitely…

“…Your old captain?”

“Yeah…”

He could still remember his back, broad and reliable.

He’d been the captain of the first unit Theo had been posted in, back when he’d enlisted at the young age of twelve. The captain had been cheery and jovial, and everyone in the squad had hated him. Theo had hated him, too, at the time. He’d inherited the Personal Mark of a laughing fox from him. And back then, he hadn’t known how to draw yet and had tried his best to replicate the drawing of the fox that had always laughed beneath the captain’s canopy. But he only ever managed a deformed caricature with an artificial, stuck-on smile.

Theo couldn’t forgive that white pig girl who wore the same expression as that captain, who acted like she was some kind of saint for mourning Kaie’s death. He couldn’t forgive her, but in lashing out at her, all he’d achieved was…

“I’m sorry, Kaie…”

He cast down his eyes, looking at Kirschblüte’s burned wreckage. He was used to this by now, to this being the sole remains of friends they weren’t permitted to bury or bring back.

“I acted like one of those pigs and dishonored your death…”

You, Kaie. Proud, noble Kaie, even after all the things you went through, not once did you ever put your grudge to words, even at the very end…

On the nights after a death, everyone in the unit would isolate themselves or perhaps stay with one other person, each of them grieving in their own way. So that night, no one came to hang around Shin’s room.

The moon and stars shone brightly, so Shin kept the light off. Leaning against his table illuminated by a pale-blue glow, Shin opened his bloodred eyes at the sound of a modest knock against the windowpane. Looking down from the window, he found Fido standing outside the barracks, extending its crane arm. Pinched between the manipulator at its tip was a thin piece of metal.

“Thanks.”

“Pi.”

Having made its delivery, Fido flickered its optical sensor once as if blinking before turning around and returning to its regular duties. A Scavenger’s usual job consisted of carrying a container full of scrap metal and salvage from the battlefield to the automatic factory’s furnace for recycling.

As Shin placed the piece of metal on a cloth he’d laid out beforehand, the Para-RAID activated. Stopping his hands for a moment as he unwrapped a piece of cloth containing a few simple work tools, Shin furrowed his brow. He was the sole recipient of this Resonance, and its sender wasn’t someone from the base.

“……”

Shin sighed as the other side remained silent despite having initiated this call. He opened his mouth to speak to the dejected presence on the far end of the collective unconscious.

“Do you need something, Handler One?”

The presence wavered, as if a surprised shiver ran through it, but still remained silent. Shin waited out this noticeably reluctant pause, waiting for the caller to speak. A considerable while after Shin had resumed his work, the Handler girl finally opened her mouth. When he heard her voice, feeble and faint, as if afraid of rejection, his hands stopped.

“…Um…”

She’d thought that if he spurned her, she’d obligingly end the call, right there and then. And it was exactly because she was prepared to do so that hearing Shin’s calm voice respond to her as always made her lose her nerve all the more. After a few rounds of attempting to speak and catching her choked breath, the words finally came out.

“…Um, Undertaker. Is now a good time to talk?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

His plain reply came quiet and serene, without a hint of emotion. But Lena realized for the first time that this detached, unchanging tone came not from his composed disposition, but rather from his complete lack of interest in or feeling for her.

Rebuking her heart, which had been on the verge of curling up in fear, she lowered her head. This was probably cowardice, too. She knew she should be saying this to everyone, but she couldn’t muster the courage to contact Laughing Fox and Wehrwolf, who probably wouldn’t be willing to Resonate with her.

“I’m sorry. For what happened this afternoon and everything I’ve done until now. I’m truly sorry… Um…”

She clenched both her hands in her lap.

“My name is…Lena. Vladilena…Milizé. I know this might be coming too late, but…could you please tell me your name?”

There was a short pause. Fear weighed down on Lena as she listened to the static noise and the heavy silence on the other side.

“…If what Laughing Fox said is still bothering you…” He sounded indifferent, his words being thrust out curtly, as if he was merely stating the facts. “…Then it shouldn’t. What he said doesn’t reflect the opinions of everyone else. We all know you didn’t personally put us in this situation and that you don’t have the power to undo it, either. You have no reason to feel guilty just because someone blamed you for not doing something you can’t possibly do.”

“But…not even trying to learn your names is terribly disrespectful!”

“You didn’t ask for our names because you didn’t need to. Why do you think we’re obligated to use call signs when the Legion can’t tap into the Para-RAID? Why do you think Processors’ personnel files are never disclosed?”

Lena pursed her lips bitterly. That unsettling answer easily came to mind.

“So Handlers wouldn’t have to see Processors as humans…right?”

“That’s right. Most Processors don’t live to see a year after drafting. Whoever’s in charge probably thought the weight of all those deaths would be too much for a Handler to bear.”

“But that’s cowardly! I’m…”

Her voice had begun fading before she even noticed.

“…I was a coward…and I don’t want to stay that way. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble to give me your name…please tell me.”

Shin sighed again. This girl can be so obstinate…

“…Kaie Taniya. That’s Kirschblüte’s—the Processor who died today. That’s her real name.”

“!”

He could feel happiness coming from the other side of the Resonance, but it died down swiftly when she realized it was the name of the girl who’d been killed. In contrast to that, Shin gave her the names of his companions matter-of-factly.

“Vice Captain Wehrwolf’s name is Raiden Shuga. Laughing Fox is called Theoto Rikka. Snow Witch is Anju Emma. Gunslinger is Kurena Kukumila. Black Dog is Daiya Irma—”

He named his twenty squad members, and the Handler added her name to the end.

“And I’m Vladilena Milizé. Please call me Lena.”

“I heard you mention it earlier. What’s your rank?”

“Oh, yes, of course. It’s major. I’ve only recently been promoted, though…”

“Then I’ll refer to you as Major Milizé going forward. Is that acceptable?”

“…Honestly…”

Hearing Shin insist on standing on ceremony and treating her as a commanding officer, Lena smiled wryly. She then noticed something and asked:

“It doesn’t seem like anyone’s with you today… What are you doing?”

Shin was silent for a second.

“—Her name.”

“Huh?”

“I’m taking Kaie’s name… Since we Eighty-Six aren’t allowed to have graves.”

He held up the small piece of metal against the faint-blue moonlight. Painstakingly carved into the rectangular shard of aluminum alloy was Kaie’s full name, as well as an inscription in black-and-red paint. It was an etching of a five-petal sakura flower and the symbol for cherry blossom—Kirschblüte—written in her people’s language, to signify her Juggernaut’s Personal Mark.

“When I was still with my first unit, I made a promise with the rest of the folks there. We would etch the names of those who fell in battle on the remains of their Juggernauts, and whoever stayed alive the longest carried these fragments with them. That way, the survivor would be able to take everyone with them to their final destination.”

The truth was that, at the time, even retrieving a shard of a dead Processor’s unit was often impossible, so they would just use whatever piece of metal or wood they could find and carve the names with a nail. It wasn’t much, but it was proof their comrades existed. Shin had only been able to consistently get his hands on the units’ debris after Fido learned how to do it. They always tried to gather the piece directly below the canopy, where the Personal Mark was etched onto the armor.

They were all kept together in the equipment compartment in Undertaker’s cockpit, since the deaths of his first squad mates right up until now. All so he could fulfill the pact they’d made together.

“I was the last one left back then, and that’s how it’s always been till now. That’s why I have to take them with me. I’ll take everyone who fought and died alongside me to my final destination.”

His serene voice gouged at Lena’s heart. He was different from before, from that unfeeling impression she had of him. She suddenly felt very ashamed. He had carried so much death—all these lost lives—with him, silently shouldering the burden. Bearing everything without letting even a single word of lamentation rise to the surface, shouldering it all as if that was to be expected.

In contrast, she couldn’t even properly face one person’s death this afternoon, only mourning but not truly coming to terms with it. She finally understood how terribly she must have offended them: the ones who bore the weight of their dead comrades in silence.

“How many have died so far…?”

“Five hundred and sixty-one Processors, including Kaie.”

The immediacy of his response made Lena bite her lip. She couldn’t even remember how many people had died under her command. Even though the tally was far fewer, if asked, she’d have to consider and count.

“…Is that why they call you Undertaker?”

“That’s part of it, yes.”

He who silently buried his myriad comrades. In place of the graves they were denied, he carried those little pieces of aluminum and countless memories. It made sense that everyone liked him so much. This boy known as the Undertaker must be kinder than anyone else— But just as that occurred to her, her thoughts ground to a halt. With a gasp, Lena opened her eyes wide.

“Um… Undertaker?”

The fact that he still hadn’t realized she’d called him by that name stood as evidence of Shin’s fundamental lack of interest in everything that went on around him.

“You…still haven’t told me your name…”

Shin blinked absently a few times. She seemed to be asking whether he didn’t want to give her his name, but that wasn’t the case. He’d simply forgotten.

“Pardon me. It’s Shinei Nouzen.”

As far as Shin was considered, his normal name and his Personal Name were both nothing more than codes to specify him, and he didn’t particularly mind which one people used. He intended to say as much, but— Hearing Lena gulp in surprise made him raise his eyes quizzically.

“Nouzen…?!”

Before Lena could even finish repeating his name in astonishment, a loud THUNK! rang out as something heavy slammed against the floor. Apparently, she’d jumped from her seat, knocking down the chair in the process.

“Could you possibly be related to Shourei Nouzen?! He was a Name Bearer called Dullahan and piloted a unit with a Personal Mark depicting a headless skeletal knight—”

Shin’s eyes widened, ever so slightly.

“We’re going to see the battlefield, Lena. To see everything that happens there, with our own eyes.”

That day, the Republic Armed Forces’ Colonel Václav Milizé had boarded a reconnaissance plane with his then ten-year-old daughter, Lena.

“Aren’t they fighting there, Father?”

“Yes, that’s right. But the Republic… We are doing something even worse than a war there.”

Václav was one of the Armed Forces’ few survivors, and while he and his comrades fought to defend their family and friends, their beloved homeland had enacted terrible laws that dealt a horrible blow to their dignity. They had marked a portion of the citizens they were supposed to protect as subhuman and had driven them out of their homes, imprisoned them, and forced them into war. An incident that had happened at a certain small town still refused to leave his memories.

In place of its ruined army, the Republic hurriedly scraped together young conscripts, the majority of them being uneducated fellows who had lost their jobs due to their own sloth and violent tendencies. On top of that, for their first mission, they had guns shoved in their hands and were then ordered to drive out their fellow citizens. Their morale, which was low to begin with, plummeted quickly, and acts of violence and oppression ran rampant among all units.

Václav could still remember the sight of two children watching as the soldiers beat their parents to death, laughing all the while. He would never forget one of the girls, presumably the older sister, and her cold eyes, refusing to shed a single tear. Those eyes would never leave him. Those girls would probably never forgive the Alba or the Republic for as long as they lived.

“…We have to end this… We have to end this as soon as possible.”

The reconnaissance plane sailed across the sky silently, all so Václav could show his daughter what lay beyond the walls.

Those who lived in the First Sector rarely traveled outside the walls. Beyond the outer Sectors’ production plants’ hills and the solar/geothermic/wind-energy plants’ grasslands and forests, the Gran Mule looked down upon all with the solemn majesty of a mighty mountain. When she saw the massive walls for the first time, Lena’s eyes had lit up with excitement. But her expression had darkened, and she fell silent as the minefields and the internment camps surrounded by barbed wire fences came into view. Watching his daughter’s meek expression as she looked out the plane’s window, Václav smiled. Lena was a smart girl. Even without him having to say a word, she learned and understood on her own.

Deploying a military aircraft for personal use and letting an unauthorized civilian board it were both explicit violations of military regulations, but Václav couldn’t have cared less. The Republic military at the time was manned by soldiers in name only, the kind of scum who were only interested in spending their working hours playing games and gambling, changing to alcohol and women at the end of the day.

“Go a bit farther after we finish with the frontline bases, all right? I want her to see the battlefield,” he told the pilot gripping the control stick.

This cheerful pilot was a friend of his and seemed happy to have gotten the chance to fly a plane after being stuck in the eighty-five Sectors for so long. He nodded happily and said:

“Roger that, Colonel… But didn’t the boys over at Transport set that area as a no-fly zone?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. We’re not going into the contested zones, and besides, it’ll be night by the time we get there. The Legion won’t move.”

The Legion fundamentally operated during daytime, since they ran off electricity. Ordinarily, they would remain in the areas they controlled and receive energy packs. Once those ran out, they would deploy solar panels and recharge that way. Since they couldn’t charge at night, they ran the risk of running out of power midcombat and, as such, tended to avoid nighttime engagements.

If Václav were to be brutally frank, he did want to show Lena just how ferocious fighting against the Legion could become, but…looking at that small back, Václav once again realized he couldn’t put his daughter’s life at risk for that.

But Václav had forgotten. Perhaps without noticing, he himself had assumed that only the Eighty-Six could die on the battlefield and there was no danger to people like him. There was a reason they were cut off from contact with other countries and why they never attempted to attack the Legion from the sky.

The Stachelschwein.

They had scattered throughout the Republic’s sky shortly after the fighting had begun and annihilated their air forces. Hiding between the flocks of communication-jamming butterflies were the Anti-Aircraft Mobile Cannon–type Legion.

The battlefield’s dark night sky, far from the artificial lights of civilization, suddenly flashed with light as red flames fell from the heavens with a deafening roar. The reconnaissance plane plummeted, its burning tail leaving a blazing trail in its wake as it rapidly descended toward the earth—

A certain squadron’s captain, who was out on night patrol, happened to catch sight of the crashing plane.

“Hey. I think I just saw a reconnaissance plane—”

“Huh? Oh. Forget that, Dullahan. It’s probably just another stupid pig out sightseeing. A white pig or two dying is cause for us to celebrate more than anything, don’cha think?”

Ignoring his comrade’s words, the captain closed his unit’s canopy. He had bloodred hair and jet-black eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“Yo, Dullahan, what’re you—?”

“I’m going to rescue them… You guys continue the patrol.”

When she awoke, she was surrounded by a sea of flames.

Using both hands to straighten herself into an upright seated position, Lena looked around with eyes wide open. Everything was burning. Her father, too, was being roasted by the flames. Everything from his chest up was already gone.

She could hear an odd, loud wailing from outside as she crawled out of the hatch. A huge monster—so large that she was forced to look up at it—waited off to the side, the scarlet of the flames reflecting off the silvery sheen of its body as it looked down at her.

A single red eye that shone like glasswork scrutinized her. An all-purpose machine gun hung from its shoulders, the light glinting off its gray luster. Its arthropod, insect-like legs did not seem to move in sync with one another, creating the disgusting illusion that it was sliding her way.

She could see the pilot a distance away. He was shouting something and desperately firing a machine gun from his waist. Most of his shots missed, but a few hit and were deflected by the monster’s armor, merely giving off sparks. The Ameise drew close to him, undisturbed by the bullets, and casually mowed him down with its front legs. The pilot’s upper half was severed with almost comical ease, and a pillar of blood gushed out of his now-abandoned lower half.

The Ameise’s composite sensor unit then flickered as it turned in Lena’s direction. Just as she shrank her body down helplessly—

“If there’s anyone still alive, plug your ears and get down!”

A loud voice bellowed at full volume from a speaker. Bursting through the veil of smoke and fire, a quadruped spider leaped in their direction, the night sky and crimson flames as its background. The symbol of a headless knight’s skeleton carved into its flank etched itself into Lena’s memory.

Both its grappling arms aimed heavy machine guns at the monster and opened fire. The thundering sound of the machine-gun fire tore into Lena’s eardrums. The heavy weapons, which made an antipersonnel assault rifle seem like a peashooter in comparison, sprayed the Ameise with bullets capable of easily tearing through concrete walls and blowing armored vehicles to pieces. The lightly armored Ameise took the barrage as if dazed and then collapsed. Lena timidly looked up as the mechanical spider approached her with noisy, heavy footsteps.

“Are you all right?”

It spoke to her with a human voice and human words, but she was terrified. As she curled up in mute terror, the spider’s abdomen opened, and a human figure rose from its rear. His hair was a bloodred color, and he wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He was a slender, intellectual-looking young man who seemed to be roughly in his twenties.

The man who’d saved her introduced himself as Shourei Nouzen. He took her to a place called a base, a building where lots of mechanical spiders stood. It was completely different from the First Sector, with stars filling up the sky and illuminating everything. There were a lot of other people at the base, but the man said she should stay away from them, and they didn’t come closer, either. She did feel them glaring at her from a distance, and that frightened her.

Either way, when she heard his name, Lena blinked in surprise. She had never heard that name, and its ring was terribly unfamiliar.

“…What a weird name…”

“Yeah. Even in the Empire, it’s a rare family name only my father’s clan used. Same for my first name, too.”

The man smiled wryly and shrugged.

“You can just call me Rei. My full name’s a mouthful, isn’t it? It has some history to it, but the Republic is pretty unfamiliar with it.”

“You’re not from the Republic?”

“My parents were both born in the Empire, but my little brother and I were born in the Republic… Right, I have a little brother. Should be about your age… He’s probably gotten bigger by now.”

Rei’s smile became terribly lonely when he said that. There was a bitter, nostalgic look in his eyes, as if he were gazing out into the distance.

“You can’t go see him?”

“…No. I can’t go back yet.”

Lena still didn’t know yet that Eighty-Six who enlisted didn’t get a single day’s leave until they were discharged.

He asked if she was hungry, and though she hadn’t had dinner, she wasn’t. She shook her head, and Rei made an uncomfortable expression. Perhaps assuming she might be more receptive to sweets, he brought her some chocolate melted into hot water. Even the young Lena realized how precious chocolate must be here.

“Father said…”

“Hmm?”

“He told me we’re doing something really bad to the Colorata. You’re a Colorata, mister, so why did you protect me?”

Confronted with that direct question, Rei’s expression took on a visibly bothered shade. It was the same face adults always made whenever Lena asked complicated questions, questions they always tried to dodge and not answer.

“…That’s right. You’re right—some pretty terrible stuff is happening to us right now. Our freedom was stolen from us along with our dignity. Those are unforgivable things, things that should never be allowed to happen to anyone. People are doing those horrible things to us, saying we’re not civilians or even human, but subhuman pigs.”

Deep, cold anger flickered in his dark eyes for a moment. He took a sip from his mug, as if trying to stifle that emotion.

“Still, we are Republic citizens. We were born in this country and raised in this country.”

Those quiet words rang resolutely and passionately in Lena’s ears.

“Even if no one acknowledges that anymore, that’s exactly why we need to prove it. Protecting the motherland is a Republic citizen’s duty and pride. That’s why we fight. We fight and protect to prove that we can defend this country… So they can never belittle us and assume we’re like the scum who can only talk and never act.”

Lena blinked quizzically. To fight. To protect. To prove. But they were fighting things like that horrible monster from earlier…

“Aren’t you scared…?”

“We’re terrified. But if we don’t fight, we can’t survive.”

Shrugging with a smile, Rei raised his eyes to the starlit sky. It glittered with stardust and looked like it should be making noise, but the fact that it was ever so silent struck Lena as terribly eerie. Between them and that flickering brilliance was an endlessly vast, endlessly deep void of pitch-black darkness.

The smile he’d worn on his lips to that point faded. Rei spoke resolutely, as if making an earnest oath.

“I won’t die. I can’t afford to die. I have to survive and go back. I have to go back to where my brother is waiting.”

The now sixteen-year-old Lena could still remember Rei’s earnest words and determined expression clearly, even years later. That was why, when she heard his family name unexpectedly, she couldn’t contain her excitement and rose to her feet. She didn’t even notice she’d knocked over her chair or that her teacup had fallen to the floor and shattered.

Rei had said his family name was unusual even in the Empire, and indeed, Lena had never heard of any other Nouzen aside from him. If they were from the same family and he was the same age as Lena, was it possible—?

Shin eventually spoke, answering that question. His voice sounded like he had suddenly awakened from slumber, with a dumbfounded tone Lena had never heard from this boy.

“…That was my brother.”

“Your brother… Then that means…”

The little brother Rei said he couldn’t meet again but wanted to see. The little brother he swore to return to—

Shin was that little brother.

“He said he wanted to see you and had to return to you… Do you know where your brother is right now?”

In contrast to Lena’s voice, which was filled with excitement and elation, the emotionless coolness returned to Shin’s words as he spoke.

“He passed away. Five years ago, on the eastern front.”

Oh…

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

His curt reply sounded as if he really didn’t care one way or the other. The contrast between the coldness of his voice and the warmth of Rei’s when he’d spoken of his little brother left Lena feeling confused. There was something different about Shin’s silence that could not be explained by him having grown accustomed to seeing death. Lena struggled to find something to say to break the silence, and eventually, Shin spoke up.

“Do you remember when you asked me what I wanted to do once I was discharged?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

“I still don’t have anything I want to do in particular, even after I’ve been discharged. But there is something I have to do… I’m looking for my brother. For the past five years, it’s all I’ve been doing.”

Lena tilted her head. If Rei is already dead, and Shin already knows it, how…?

“Do you mean…his body?”

She could feel him smiling faintly.

Smiling…but not truly laughing. It was similar to a sneer but much colder. Like how a blade’s lurid, glistening edge could captivate one’s gaze… It was like madness.

“—No.”

The next day.

The rest of the squadron heard the gist of their conversation from Shin, and when the Handler Resonated with them that night, they all joined in. She apologized and then asked each and every one of them for their names. Theo seemed particularly awkward.

“…Why’d you have to go and do that, Shin?”

“You regretted it, didn’t you? You felt bad about the way you said it, even if you meant every word.”

He was pretty observant, considering he never seemed to be looking at them. It annoyed Theo to know how transparent he was. Daiya was smirking, and Anju seemed to be looking over at him warmly, and God dammit, Kurena, why are you looking the other way like you’ve got nothing to do with this?! You were just as pissed off as I was, and I know for a fact that if I hadn’t snapped at her, you’d have been yelling at her instead!

“Wait a sec, uh, Major Milizé, was it? Didn’t Shin tell you our names already?”

“I asked him, yes. But I haven’t heard them from all of you yet.”

Even though she knew their names, she still wanted them to tell her themselves… What a pain.

Shin wouldn’t say anything, and the Handler seemed to be shrinking in fear like a child awaiting punishment for knowing their names ahead of time. Observing this uncomfortable situation, Theo realized he was just about over it. He was never good at staying angry or stubborn enough to stay put out for long.

“…I remember this one guy. He was my captain in the first squad I was assigned to.”

Lena seemed to have been taken aback by the sudden change in topic, but Theo continued without minding her.

“The dumb ass always had this cheery smile on his face, and he was a former soldier, so he was pretty strong… And he was an Alba.”

He could feel that her breath had caught in her throat from the other side of the Resonance.

“Dude was a total weirdo. Even though he survived the first defensive battles at the start of the war, he thought it was messed up that only the Eighty-Six did the fighting, so he returned to the front lines on his own. We couldn’t say anything to his face, but the whole squad trash-talked him like crazy behind his back. We all hated his guts. I mean, how couldn’t we? He called himself a Processor like us, but the captain chose to be here. We never got that choice. And sure, he came here, but whenever he got tired of it, he could just drop everything and go back to living inside the walls. Whenever he acted like he was one of us, it pissed us off so much. We’d place bets on when we thought he’d get tired of his pity game and hightail it back home.”

“…”

“But it turns out, we were wrong. The captain never went back home until the very end. He never went back, and then he died. He stayed behind to defend other Processors and got himself killed.”

Theo was the one to hear his last words. He was closest to the captain when he told everyone else to retreat, and the captain sent him a radio transmission telling him he could hang up if he wanted, but he had something he wanted him to hear.

Then the line suddenly filled with noise, and the transmission was cut off. That was when Theo realized the captain chose to send a radio transmission instead of Resonating because he knew what was coming. He’d returned to this battlefield of certain death with a warrior’s resolve, willing and prepared to never return.

Theo regretted not talking to him more and still carried that regret with him to this day.

“I’m not saying you’re the same as the captain. But so long as you’re an Alba sitting on the other side of that wall, we can never be equals, and we will never think of you as one of us.”

Having said his piece, Theo stretched his back once. Everyone else knew this story, and he’d told and reflected on it so many times that touching on it didn’t hurt him anymore.

“Right, so stupid story time is over… I’m Theoto Rikka, by the way. You can call me Theo or Rikka or your cute little piggy boy or whatever stupid name you want.”

“There’s nothing stupid about your name… I’m sorry. For everything I did up until yesterday. Truly.”

“Forget about that already, you stick in the mud.”

“So that nice person Kaie talked about…was that Captain, correct?”

“It wasn’t just him. Everyone here has someone who fought hard in one way or another.”

They fought against this fabricated world created by their brethren.

“…”

Raiden was the next to speak.

“I’m the vice captain. The name’s Raiden Shuga… I gotta apologize first. When you started Resonating every night, we mocked you and thought you were some patronizing hypocrite, a gullible idiot who didn’t realize how much of a pig she really was. So I apologize for that. But on top of that…”

His iron eyes narrowed.

“…just like Theo said, we don’t see you as an equal or a comrade. You’re a moron who spouts lip service while walking all over us. Nothing will ever change that, and we’ll never see you differently. If you’re fine with that, we’ll kill some time talking to you. Not that I recommend it. You’re not fit to be a Handler… You’re better off quitting.”

“If you’re willing to kill your time with me, I’ll keep Resonating.”

Raiden smirked wryly. His masculine, wolf-like face took on an amicable shade.

“You’re one serious idiot, you know that…? Oh, and send that map over already. You were so busy crying your eyes out yesterday, you forgot to send it.”

Lena laughed this time.

“You’ll have it before you know it.”

As Shin half listened to that exchange, his thoughts wandered to the talk he’d had with Lena the day before.

Shourei Nouzen. A name he hadn’t heard in a long time and one he’d thought he’d never hear again. He’d been on the verge of forgetting that was even his name. Right, yeah. That’s what he was called. Until the very end, Shin had never called him by his name. Not once. Without noticing, Shin fastened the scarf around his neck.

Brother.