CHAPTER 5

FUCKIN’ GLORY TO THE SPEARHEAD SQUADRON

There were many Black Sheep in the battle that day as well, and once the fighting ended, Lena took long, hard breaths, desperately fighting the urge to vomit. With the battle concluded, the Processors gradually shut down their Para-RAIDs as they made their way back, but Lena was surprised to find someone still connected.

“If it’s that hard on you, just quit already.”

Kurena’s voice was curt, making it abundantly clear she wasn’t speaking out of concern.

“We don’t care one way or another if you’re here, and you commanding us doesn’t change much in the long run. If anything, having you freak out over the line when you’re not even here is just distracting.”

That she was right annoyed Lena, but she was happy Kurena spoke to her, even if it was just to hurl that bit of abuse her way. Coming to her senses, Lena asked:

“Isn’t it hard on you, too…?”

Kurena and the others never cut the line, even if the voices were agonizing. Shin’s infallible ability to always know where the Legion were and where they’d strike was invaluable on the battlefield, but that didn’t have to extend to the rest of the squadron. She felt Kurena shrug.

“Not really. We’re used to it, and even without Shin around projecting them, Processors like us get to hear plenty of screams of agony.”

In contrast to her indifferent attitude, there was a definite shiver of emotion in Kurena’s tone. It wasn’t fear, but anger, regret, and bitterness… Dark sentiments.

“Blowing up along with your rig and dying an instant death is probably the best way to go that we can hope for. We’ve all seen too many friends have their limbs ripped off, or their faces scraped off, or every inch of their bodies burned to ash, or their stomachs ripped open so their guts spill out. Compared to that, the voices really aren’t anything special.”

But Lena could tell that, contrary to what she was trying to project, Kurena was suffering. As if holding back pain. As if holding back tears. She could tell this girl was standing on that distant battlefield, biting her lip in frustration. She could feel her teeth grating.

“It’s just as true in the first ward… No matter who dies, none of us can see it as unusual anymore.”

“…Right.”

Though the Spearhead squadron had originally had twenty-four members, they’d lost someone else the other day, cutting their ranks to thirteen.

Raiden tossed the broken radio, which would probably never get repaired, into the factory’s recycling furnace.

While they all hung around the room as a group, Lena connected via the Para-RAID as always, in the same hour, gently bidding them a good evening.

“We’re hearing you loud and clear, Major… Sorry in advance for the sausage fest.”

Lena seemed rather surprised, which was understandable, given that it was Raiden—not Shin, the usual suspect—who answered her first.

“…Hmm, did something happen to Captain Nouzen?”

Theo scoffed at her words, his sketchbook in hand.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re as stiff as a board, Major Milizé? You know our ranks are pretty much just for show.”

The squadron’s leader was a captain, followed by his vice captain, who was a lieutenant; the platoon leaders, who were second lieutenants; and then the platoon members, who were ensigns. They were given ranks in order to clarify the chain of command in the squadron, but no one received the authority, treatment, or salary their rank should have afforded them. All the Processors in the squadron were Name Bearers who were captains and vice captains in their former squadrons, so depending on their assignment, many were “demoted” from captain to lieutenant to second lieutenant, all the way down to ensign.

Lena’s answer, however, was cut-and-dried. Raiden was amused by how brazen she’d become lately.

“You and Lieutenant Shuga still call me Major, don’t you, Second Lieutenant Rikka? I don’t see what’s wrong with me referring to you the same way.”

“…True enough,” Theo said with a smirk.

She had said they could call her Lena, but no one did. Realizing the reserved intention behind that, Lena insisted on standing on ceremony, addressing them as her subordinates, as well. Even if they were talking, theirs wasn’t the sort of relationship where they could call one another by name. It was an unseen line they’d agreed to draw, because any attempt at appearing friendly would be a farce, since no matter what, their relationship was one of oppressor and oppressed.

“…So did anything happen to the captain? Don’t tell me something happened during today’s battle…”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.”

Raiden found his gaze wandering to the wall separating his room from the adjacent one. Everyone except Anju and Kurena had gathered with him. However, it wasn’t Shin’s room as usual, but Raiden’s. Not a single sound could be heard from Shin’s room, which was one thin wall removed.

“He’s just asleep. He’s exhausted.”

He’d already started dozing off by the time they had dinner, and when Raiden finished cleanup duty and checked his room, Shin was sprawled out on the bed. Raiden had simply picked up the kitten, who mewled its discontent; placed a thin blanket over Shin; and left the room as quietly as he could. Shin may have said he was used to it, but hearing the Legion every waking—and non-waking—moment did weigh on him.

Since they Resonated with him at a minimal synchronization rate, what they could hear didn’t match precisely what Shin was hearing, so Raiden and the others had no way of knowing what kind of hell Shin was living in. All they knew was that there had once been a Handler who’d Resonated with Shin with the synchronization rate set to maximum who’d committed suicide immediately thereafter.

Said Handler had been the kind of scum who enjoyed torturing his Processors by giving them absurd orders that would end up getting them killed and fooling inexperienced newcomers, sending them to their deaths. Shin had said he was annoying and a nuisance and told everyone else not to Resonate with him during the next battle, so the only one connecting to him would be the Handler. The Handler never connected again after that battle, and the next day, the MPs arrived and told them he had killed himself. Whatever had driven that Handler to suicide, that was the world in which Shin lived. To top it off, recent events within the Spearhead squadron had been hard on him, too.

“…I’m sure it’s the same for the captain, but the burden on all of you has been increasing lately… And with you going on one mission after another, more and more of you have been dying in action…”

“…Yeah.”

He could only utter a brief affirmative to Lena’s lamentation. It wasn’t just Shin. The whole squadron was exhausted as battles had become more frequent and much harsher. The Spearhead squadron had numbered twenty-four Processors when first established and had since lost eleven members. It had already been reduced by nearly half, and any other squadron would have been considered annihilated and had its members reassigned to other units by now.

The frequency of their sorties against the Legion weren’t decreasing, but the number of units they had was, which meant the individual strain on each and every one of them was gradually growing. They were rapidly approaching a state where they didn’t have enough hands on deck to handle the enemy forces’ size, and fatigue was causing them to make blunders and misjudgments. It was a vicious downward spiral where the lack of personnel was only causing further deaths.

And in spite of that, they still hadn’t even received replacements to fill in for Kujo’s group, the first three who’d died in February. Lena bit her lip and said encouragingly:

“I’ll have them hurry up with the reinforcements. I’ll do anything I can to have them prioritize this place when it comes to sending in new Processors.”

Haruto threw a glance in his direction. Raiden exhaled heavily.

“Yeah. You do that.”

“This squadron is guarding a crucial defensive position. We should have a right to be prioritized when it comes to restocking and personnel. For the time being, I’ll petition for other nearby units to give you reinforcements… So please just hold on a little bit longer.”

“…Yeah.”

He gave her a vague, noncommittal nod. At the edge of his vision, he could see Theo and Haruto shrug despondently.

“Hey, Anju… You know…”

Only Kurena and Anju were in the shower room. Kurena’s prompt came as she poured hot water over Anju, who was diligently washing her silver hair.

“Hmm?”

“I think we should stop talking to her already.”

Anju glanced at her happily for some reason.

“Are you that worried about the major?”

“Tch.”

Kurena shook her head, flustered. What the hell was she saying?!

“As if! Why should I care about that woman?! …I just thought we owed her that much because she wasn’t afraid of Shin.”

She grumpily mumbled that last line in a whisper. She still hated her. Her platitudes still made Kurena sick to her stomach. But if nothing else, she could at least respect the fact that she hadn’t treated their friend like a monster.

“Shin and Raiden, neither of them want to tell her. No one does. And if someone told her, she wouldn’t bother Resonating with us anymore. We’d all be better off for it.”

“That’s right… Kaie did say that, remember?”

You’re not a bad person…so you shouldn’t be involved with us.

“But I think that’s why Shin and Raiden aren’t telling her. They probably think it would only hurt her.”

“…”

Kaie was gone now. She would always get embarrassed over her curveless physique in the shower, and the other girls would poke fun at her. That small girl, lithe as a cat. The other girls who always squealed over topics they could never discuss with boys. They were all gone. And now they were the only two left. At first, there had been six girls in the squadron, but everyone except Kurena and Anju had died in battle.

Suddenly realizing something, Kurena lifted her gaze.

“Say, Anju…”

“Hmm?”

“Is it really okay…?”

Anju’s hands, which were busy tending to her hair, stopped. She shrugged. It was the first time Kurena had showered with Anju in the year they’d known each other. Anju had never let anyone in the squadron see her naked, not even other girls.

“Yeah. After all this time, it should be okay… I figured there was no hiding it now, when we’re the only two left.”

Her white, exposed skin was visible through the wet, transparent gauze. While both her and Kurena’s flesh had no shortage of scars, old and new, there were several conspicuous scars on Anju’s back that didn’t seem to be the result of combat. Kurena averted her eyes from a scar that looked like letters etched into Anju’s back, which peeked from where her long hair parted, but could still make out the words whore’s daughter.

Anju had thick Alba blood running through her veins. Meanwhile, her Caerulea blood came from a distant ancestor.

“You know, Daiya, he… When we first met, he said my hair was pretty. He could tell I was growing it out to hide something, but he said it was pretty and that I should let it grow.”

Serene at first, halfway through, her voice cracked, despite all her efforts to maintain her composure. Her pale lips quivered like some helpless creature as she tried to force a smile onto her face.

“And now Daiya’s gone. So I thought that worrying about this any longer would be pointless…”

Kurena thought she would cry, but Anju kept it together. She combed her wet hair back, and by the time she turned to look at Kurena, her usual gentle smile graced her kind face again.

“What about you, Kurena? Don’t you want to tell him?”

She didn’t say what or specify whom. There was no need. Kurena cast down her gaze.

“…Yeah. I just don’t think I have the right to say it.”

When she was first assigned under him, she was honestly afraid. She’d always heard the rumors about the headless, red-eyed Reaper who dominated the eastern front lines. Name Bearers were those who lived while their companions died around them, as if they were drinking the blood of their fellow soldiers to survive. That’s why when someone received this dreaded second name, it was usually one that stressed this dangerous, terrifying nature.

But even among other Name Bearers, Shin’s stood out. The Undertaker. A name fitting the one who always stood closest to death but never died, always burying someone. The Reaper who knew the battlefield better than anyone. Rumor had it that any who fought in the same squadron—except the one who went by the name of a werewolf—would inevitably die. Perhaps he summoned death, just like his name implied. Or perhaps he used his comrades as shields.

The fact that he had always fought in the contested zones, where the fighting was fiercest, ever since his first squad assignment, was something Kurena only learned many operations later. One of her comrades had their lower half blown off by a self-propelled mine. They were in terrible agony but didn’t die, and no one could think of what to do. Only Shin knelt down next to them. Kurena had tried to go, too, but Raiden stopped her.

Kurena had watched blankly as Shin pulled out a pistol. They carried guns for self-defense and on the off chance that suicide would be necessary. It was only then, though, that she learned there was another reason.

I know it’s hard, but you have to do it. Try remembering a time when you were happy.

A smile played on their dying comrade’s agonized face. Their lips shivered as they whispered, Hey.

Promise me… You’ll take me with you, right…?

Yeah.

Shin caressed the poor soul’s face with a hand slick with blood, viscera, and debris, his expression as stoic and composed as ever. It was the single most beautiful yet solemn sight Kurena had ever seen. She finally realized why Raiden and some of their squad mates sometimes called him “our Reaper.”

He would carry them. The names of their dead companions, their hearts and souls. Never neglecting or leaving anyone behind, he would carry them with him until he reached his final destination. It was the most noble, irreplaceable salvation the Processors could ever hope to receive. They who lived on a battlefield where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, knowing a grave would never be prepared for them. She yearned for him. From the bottom of her heart. Even if she died, knowing that he would take her with him made her happy and washed away the terror.

It was then that she began polishing her skill with a gun, which was already considerably above average. So that the next time something like that happened, she would be strong enough to do that by herself. And also, because even if she was destined to die someday, she wanted to be able to fight even just a bit longer.

But…

Twisting the faucet to turn off the shower, Kurena looked up. She knew, at the very least, that it could never be her. So long as they were on this battlefield, she could never do that. She could never be like their Reaper, who would take them and all their fallen comrades, their hearts, to his final destination.

But if Shin would take their hearts, who would take his…?

“Hey, Eighty-Six. Over here, too.”

Once a month, goods that couldn’t be made in the automatic factory or the production plant were delivered to them via airplane from beyond the wall. The transport personnel, who accompanied Shin as he signed the receipt and compared the inventory list with the container’s contents, raised his haughty, arrogant voice.

This officer, who was visibly scrawny and seedy-looking even despite his uniform, was accompanied by two soldiers armed with assault rifles, which they likely carried only to intimidate and threaten him. That was fine, but one soldier in the back still had the safety on his rifle, which probably wasn’t even loaded to begin with. They were all standing too close to Shin, who could probably have disarmed them all before one could even think of pulling the trigger. Not that he would do that, though. There was no point.

“It’s from your Handler. She said it’s some special warhead you requested. To hell with her, making us go through this much trouble for a bunch of pigs…”

Behind the officer stood a sturdy munitions container, rigorously sealed and bearing warnings alerting that it was filled with explosive ammunition. Shin raised an eyebrow, confused. He didn’t recall asking for anything like that.

Seeing Shin’s silence, the officer’s lips curled in a vulgar smirk. There were a lot of filthy, rebellious Eighty-Six who didn’t know their place, but this one was surprisingly docile. He wouldn’t bite, no matter what you said to him.

“Your master’s a chick, right? How’d you butter her up? Probably didn’t take more than a few words to get that dainty little princess wet.”

Shin’s gaze suddenly fixed on the officer.

“Shall I demonstrate on your wife? I’m pretty sure she’s bored stiff at night anyway.”

“You mother—”

The officer was consumed by rage but froze up once he locked eyes with Shin. Those red eyes were perfectly sedate, without so much as a hint of a threat, but a pig who’d spent his life in the safety of his sty had no chance of beating a beast with skills honed on the battlefield. Slipping past the stiffened officer’s side, Shin approached the munitions container. Sure enough, its number appeared on the inventory list, and Lena’s signature, with which he had grown familiar over the last several weeks, was scrawled over its delivery stamp. Below that, two words had been inscribed with a pen.

“Palace Luñè…?”

And after a moment’s reflection, Shin’s eyes widened with surprise.

Parties were a social gathering, which, in other words, meant they were a place for gathering information and making contacts. And while she was aware that not all the interactions there could be reduced to such refined, trivial subjects as music, art, and philosophy, the fact remained that this boring place was undeniably…well, boring.

Escaping the countless greedy whispers that filled Palace Perle’s luxurious banquet hall, Lena sighed in relief as she took refuge on a starlit terrace. She wasn’t usually one for these kinds of parties, and tonight the place seemed almost deliberately rife with conversations appropriate for her age as well as young men with ulterior motives. The Milizé family was originally a house of wealthy nobles, which meant quite a few had their gazes fixed on her pedigree and wealth.

However, none was brave enough to approach Lena today, it seemed. While her black silk dress wasn’t exactly against the party’s dress code, the combination of a black dress and white ornamental flowers was more befitting a funeral than a social gathering. And to top it off, she refused to drink or initiate conversation and was generally ignored by the other ladies in the hall save for the occasional annoyed glance thrown her way. The only ones who spoke to her other than Annette, who approached her with an exasperated expression, and Karlstahl, who engaged her with a somewhat worried look in his eyes, were a few older ladies with flowers blooming on their heads (quite literally) who complimented her on her lovely choker—her RAID Device.

Admittedly, she was aware of how rude she was probably being, but that didn’t mean she had any intentions of playing along. They were all closing their eyes to reality in this small world they’d built for themselves, distracting themselves in the pursuit of pride, lust, and riches. It was all too shallow and far too foolish. Especially after countless Processors had died one after another to make this possible…

Suddenly, her RAID Device activated.

“…Major?”

“Captain Nouzen… What is it?”

She replied in a whisper, pinning her RAID Device’s earpiece against her ear immediately. They weren’t scheduled for any sorties at this time of day, but was it possible a force so large that the second squadron wasn’t able to handle it had emerged…?

But there was no hint of stress in Shin’s voice.

“I Resonated since you didn’t connect at the usual time. Was that all right? If now isn’t a good time, I can call tomorrow—”

“Now is fine. What’s up?”

Come to think of it, this was right around when she’d usually be talking to the Spearhead squadron. She turned her back to the party, as she would when talking on the phone.

“I received the special warhead you sent us, so I wanted to contact you about it.”

Flowers of sparks and flames bloomed brilliantly, helping the stars illuminate the dark night sky. Beautiful shades of chemical fire sparkled in transient light before raining down as glittering embers like snow from the sky. Then the next flower took to the skies, whizzing in the opposite direction with a thunderous bang.

Each time one took to the air, it was accompanied by cheering filled with the kind of elation normally reserved for children. It was only natural, since the majority hadn’t seen anything like this since they were kids. Their figures were mesmerized by the firelight for a brief moment, but soon enough, their shadows began dancing in the afterglow.

Doing this in the base was, of course, prohibited, so everyone moved to an abandoned soccer stadium in one of the ruins. The troops and maintenance crew had scattered across the stadium overrun by weeds, with the Juggernauts casting their shadows solemnly around them. Fido had carried the maintenance crew over and then gone on to diligently set up the launching tubes, bustling to and fro as it used a burner meant for cutting through metal in place of a lighter to ignite the fuses.

Observing from the periphery inside Undertaker, which stood on standby, Shin looked up as yet another firework zipped into the air.

“—Thank you for the fireworks.”

The synchronization rate was a bit higher than usual, allowing Lena to just barely make out the cheers of the other squad members. Realizing he’d increased the rate so she’d be able to hear them filled Lena with joy.

“It’s the Revolution Festival, after all. You watched it once with your brother and parents, didn’t you? I’m sure everyone else has their own memories.”

It had been a short while since she sent them the fireworks, which she’d bought in town. As the festival approached, shops would sell these skyrocket fireworks in bulk. She’d had to send the commissary official a bottle of expensive wine and fake the label on the container she’d loaded them in. These were, after all, combustibles that would be carried by plane, so she’d registered it as a munitions container. She’d never had a high opinion of bribery, but considering how she’d managed to force everything to go her way, she was certainly impressed with its effectiveness.

“This was Revolution Festival tradition, right…? Can you see any of the presidential office’s fireworks from there?”

“Let me see…”

She walked across the terrace, facing in the presidential office’s direction. It seemed they had just started. The Republic’s anthem was playing from loudspeakers, and beautiful flowers in five colors adorned the sky. Looking up at the expertly crafted fireworks, Lena smiled sadly.

“I can see them, yes, but the sky’s too bright.”

The lights from the town’s parties and festivities were simply too strong. The air of the town, which consumed electricity without any qualms, was far too polluted. These beautiful fireworks, which stood to represent the Republic’s dignity and honor, were terribly hazy.

There was probably no one in this party’s vicinity who even bothered to look at the display. Even though they were prettier than the ones sold in the market and no doubt made by the hands of skilled craftsmen, no one in this city could appreciate how rare this sight was.

“I’m sure the fireworks over there are beautiful. The night is dark, and the air must be clear, too.”

Indeed, the night was dark, the air was clear, and so many people were gazing up at them intently. The fireworks in that small corner of the battlefield must have been so beautiful. Lena had to stop herself from wishing out loud that she could be there with them. It wasn’t a sentiment acceptable for her to express.

In truth, if Lena wished it, she could go there as often as she pleased. But they, on the other hand, never wanted to be on that battlefield in the first place. And she couldn’t take Shin and the others back with her. Any time spent with them would be a fleeting illusion, so it wasn’t a desire she could share. Instead she said: