"──AaaahhhAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
"──MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
.
.
.
.
The enemy aircraft's bullets pierced through the front armor of the main battle tank, protected by composite armor.
Several crew members, including the tank commander, emerged from the burning interior, rolling on the ground as human torches, emitting agonizing screams.
"──Send more rounds! Hurry up!!"
"──Can't do it anymore!!"
Originally designed to attack low-flying aircraft, the anti-aircraft machine gun, due to its advantages in range and large caliber, is now recommended for use in various situations, such as against ground targets. It has become one of the effective means to destroy enemy aircraft.
However, its drawback as a non-self-propelled weapon is that once the firing stops, it becomes a perfect target. The rapid transformation of positions is challenging. Scenes where enemy aircraft attacks concentrate and swiftly destroy the weapon are no longer uncommon.
.
.
.
.
----
"──Just kill me already!! Please, just kill me!!"
"──Pull yourself together! Show the spirit of a soldier!!"
The hastily assembled field hospital had long exceeded its capacity.
Despite the shortage of personnel, the medics and military doctors dealing with the wounded soldiers carried out their duties diligently.
Simultaneously, they cursed the seemingly bottomless resilience that humans possess.
While it's not uncommon for a person to die instantly when hit by debris, there are also those who, despite having half their body crushed, manage to cling to life.
The screams of pain from those who survived halfway through death dominated the entire field hospital. The environment had turned into a crucible of incessant screams, day and night. It was more than enough to drive even soldiers with seemingly minor injuries to madness.
"──How many casualties today?"
"──This is the sixth one."
Without any sentiment, a few medics carried out the bodies of soldiers who had shot themselves in the head, a sight that had become routine in the field hospital.
Next to the corpse being carried out, another medic rushed to assist a newly injured soldier being transported on a stretcher.
"──You're going to make it! You'll survive!!"
A medic, notified that the patient's breathing had stopped during transport, quickly secured the airway. When realizing that the heart had also stopped, the medic desperately attempted cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
But a hand reached out to stop the resuscitation.
"──That's enough. They're already dead."
"──They're still alive! They moved just now!!"
Despite repeatedly compressing the sternum to restart the pulse, the medic, who refused to give up on resuscitation, noticed blood overflowing from the mouth of the injured soldier who had lost both left legs and right arms.
The military doctor sighed and pulled out a thin flashlight from his chest. He lit it up, opened the eyelids of the wounded soldier with his fingertips, and confirmed the pupils.
"──They're already dead. Give up. We treat those who can still fight."
Dispassionately, a mark was placed on the forehead with a black magic pen. Death or immediate treatment offered significantly low chances of survival. The mark signified triage - the selection of lives itself.
This had long become routine. The military doctor, who had seen off many wounded soldiers, no longer felt a clear boundary between life and death.
"──The late stages of total war... this is what they call it, right?"
"──...Maybe. Are you ready?"
"──Anytime. Please."
Pierced cleanly from the back to the abdomen by the large-caliber warhead of an enemy aircraft that penetrated the body armor, the non-commissioned officer nodded while enduring constant excruciating pain.
Treatment for those who survived halfway had a predetermined course.
The sun, stained in a color like blood, sank to the west.
He, who had removed the body armor worn by the squad leader, gripped a knife in his right hand, embraced his comrade's shoulder with his left hand, and──while holding the blade horizontally, aimed the tip directly above the heart.
The supplies of medical drugs were running out.
Ammunition was also dwindling.
Even when carried into the field hospital, they could only wait for death, which was slowly approaching.
In that case, why not──
"...I wanted to hear your guitar again."
"Haha... I won't play it anymore... it was one of my few skills... Squad leader, go ahead."
The non-commissioned officer reached out the remaining arm on his shoulder with a smile. As a signal──he thrust the knife into his own heart. The blade, inserted smoothly through the gap between the ribs, pierced the heart.
"──Ugh...!!"
The non-commissioned officer, with bloodshot eyes wide open, exerted his last strength.
He firmly grasped him with the remaining arm extended to the shoulder and, with the force of colliding bodies, embraced him.
Feeling the coldness of the blade, thrust under the skin up to the base of the knife, unwillingly, the non-commissioned officer experienced unparalleled happiness.
──Good...
Playing the role, meeting his end on the battlefield──rather than that, he was escorted by his own hand. With overwhelming happiness, satisfaction, and gratitude, the non-commissioned officer's heart fulfilled its duty and came to an end, still open-eyed.
He closed the eyelids of the non-commissioned officer who died with wide-open eyes with his fingertips and searched his chest. He tore off the identification tag, without wiping his hands wet with backflowing blood, stuffed it into his pocket, and pulled out all the magazines that the non-commissioned officer had carried. They were put into pouches belonging to him and his comrades.
"...Only 13 more to go..."
The expeditionary force, exceeding the total strength of the senior unit with over 80,000 soldiers, might now be reduced to the remaining 13 who were still alive. Simultaneously, the squad, which had a total of 135 members, was on its deathbed. And just now, another one had completed his final duty, and departed to an unreachable place.
He entrusted the handling of the bodies to his comrades who had witnessed the end, and he stood up.
He served not only as their commander but also as a squad leader in the original unit. The days of wearing two hats were filled with hardships.
That's not all. He was now the highest-ranking officer still active in the platoon, meaning he held the rank of second lieutenant through a field promotion from a non-commissioned officer. It was a heavy responsibility for a second lieutenant who had not undergone specialized officer training.
"...Even so... there are days when I find even this nostalgic..."
It would likely never come. While thinking about it again, he left the surviving comrades to watch over the battlefield that had calmed down and headed to another front──to where they were.
The loss of morale was imminent.
Surgery at the field hospital was carried out in poor conditions, and there were rumors of a shortage of medical supplies──they were performing surgeries without anesthesia. Passing right next to the field hospital, the constant screams and shouts seemed to confirm that the rumors were not false.
The sector they were assigned to had not faced the Rapture's offensive for the past five days and remained relatively stable.
Considering that there were three offensives a day before, it seemed calm. At least for now.
"...This is probably the time when they're planning a concentrated deployment for recovery."
The Rapture might be learning from the entire campaign. Even from a tactical unit perspective, it felt like they were learning "tactics that humanity dislikes being subjected to."
Initially, they might have continuously attacked, identifying the area with the thickest defense on the human side. That area was the sector they defended.
Seeing sporadic offensives occurring in other sectors, it might be that they were still looking for a breakthrough to break the defensive line──but that's just his intuition and not certain.
"──Commander."
When the night began to fall, a voice called from above. The head wearing a helmet with a torn camouflage pattern cover tilted, and when he looked up──
"──Snow White."
He recognized his subordinate who was on alert in the observation tower, her silver hair swaying in the dry wind. He squinted his eyes. Dorothy had volunteered to act as the temporary leader, and he had temporarily delegated command to her while he undertook the mission in the main unit. It felt strange that even though he had only been apart for five days.
"...It feels strangely nostalgic."
"──I see. Commander, are you okay? You seem tired..."
"...Yeah. No problems."
There were no problems. There were no problems at all. Watching friends die, seeing them off ─ this was not the first time. He had already become accustomed to it.
"...Shall we switch?"
"No. You have your job. Leave this to me. Dorothy and the others are in their usual place."
"...Got it. I leave it to you."
"You have my trust."
"...Haha..."
This exchange also felt nostalgic. Even though a change in thinking had occurred, he hadn't forgotten this conversation. The casual banter put him at ease.
They could only consume rations once a day, and the water purification unit responsible for the supply of clean water had lost more than 80% of its equipment due to enemy shelling.
Without drinking water, a military force would immediately turn into a disorderly crowd. What has kept the military force somehow maintaining its structure is the fact that somewhere in the brigade, someone with good foresight had a supply of water purification tablets as part of the military supplies.
Filling a water bottle with river water and adding one of those tablets makes the water drinkable.
It's fortunate in a way, but on the flip side, it merely granted a reprieve until the military force loses its coherence.
He stepped into the interior of a partially collapsed building.
Thinking that their usual room was where they would be, the commander advanced.
As the destination approached, he recognized a figure standing aimlessly in front of a door across the hallway.
It was the only surviving mass-produced Nikke deployed in this operation.
Her name was certainly──
"──Pina."
"──Commander...?"
The mass-produced Nikke, clad in olive drab combat gear with thick bulletproof armor attached, recognized the tall figure approaching down the corridor and tried to straighten her posture. Just before she did, a voice echoed from behind the door.
"──Then, Rapunzel, be on guard too."
It was Dorothy's voice that involuntarily conveyed a sharpness to it.
"──With that staff that can't even snipe and has its trajectory changed by humidity, you can at least be on guard."
"──...Are you saying that I'm useless?"
Responding to Dorothy's words, Rapunzel did not hide her frustration.
Her words seemed to have been enough to throw cold water on Dorothy's heated head. After a few seconds of silence, a faint apology was uttered.
"──I'm sorry... I said too much."
"──Well, let's leave it at that."
It seemed that Scarlet was also indoors. She intervened, and the atmosphere between the two could be inferred──
"──It should be fine not to eat for a few days, right? Since we're Nikke, this much is nothing... Hic!"
The hiccups were heard even through the wall and the door undoubtedly came from Scarlet.
"──Oops... got me there... Hic!"
The hiccups continued. This meant──
"──No, this is, well... um..."
"──Alcohol is detected from the liquid catalyst."
"──I drank a little instead of food. It's made from grains. Hahaha."
"──What are you thinking...! Drinking alcohol in a situation like this...!"
Immediately, a tense atmosphere leaked from the room.
──They are also reaching their limit.
In a situation on the verge of loss of morale, there are few ways to break through. Their group of smelly men, if it were them, could be settled with one or two punches, but it's impossible for him to have that kind of realization for them. It may not be impossible──or maybe it is, but it's extremely challenging.
Taking off his helmet, he leaned his back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, which had large cracks.
──What should I do, Lilith?
He, addressing those who were not present, clenched a cigarette between his teeth.
As he caught a glimpse of Pina involuntarily opening the door and entering the room, he aimlessly shook the unlit cigarette.
── Having a major commanding a squad is quite an unusual situation.
"I don't want to see the Goddesses fighting like this."
"We are not here for your entertainment."
"No. You are an exhibition."
"...Shouldn't you choose your words more carefully?"
The verbal exchange between Pina and Kurenai leaking from the room, even if through the wall, involuntarily resonated in his eardrums.
After all, this war, the Goddess Unit, or even the Squad itself── depending on how you looked at it, could be something like a freak show sideshow booth.
Step right up, come and see. The admission is just watching, and there's no return policy──
"...Hah..."
There were things that were quite tasteful as sideshows.
When he softly snorted, the clear voice of Pina, heard from inside, strangely struck his eardrums.
"We've been watching you all the time. From the moment you first appeared on the battlefield until now. ──The hope of humanity, the Goddess of Victory. Is there any title more fitting for you all?"
While her voice echoed in his ears, he loosely crossed his arms, holding the helmet he had taken off in one hand, and bowed his head.
The moment he bowed his head, it was a movement that could also be interpreted as a nod.
"──So please continue to let us dream."
That dream── surely, probably, would be so fleeting that it would disappear in an instant, but it would emit a brilliant and dazzling radiance.
"──Please don't fight. If you are going to fight... please do it where we are not."
"──We don't have the luxury to consider such circumstances."
"──No. If you don't have it, then please create it."
"──You... Cut it out...!"
Attempting to silence her ceaseless talking. Scarlet's voice trembled, and faint footsteps, familiar in their rhythm, echoed.
"──The mass-produced Nikkes here, including myself, volunteered to fight alongside you! We're not here risking our lives next to you just to see this kind of appearance!"
Pina's painfully passionate confession, which seemed like it could tear apart, was more than enough to stop Scarlet, who, despite her usual carefree demeanor, seemed to be on the verge of taking impulsive action. The sound of her swallowing could be sensed even through the wall.
"──My fallen comrades... I want them to be proud even in heaven... Please."
Eventually, leaving the room that fell silent after saying she needed to rest, Pina moved away.
The door opened, and as she appeared in the corridor, her tightly pressed lips seemed to indicate that she was trying to endure the sobbing that leaked out.
Leaning away from the wall and putting the helmet back on, he approached Pina. Extending his left hand, he placed his palm on her head, adorned with a slightly reddish-tinted pale yellow hair, and gently stroked it with a soft brushing sound.
"…Com…man…der…"
"…Thank you…"
─I couldn't say it even if my mouth split open.
As one of the big people conducting a war with the goal of prolonging the existence of the human race, he expressed words of gratitude to her who had replaced him with words of criticism and admonition that he could not utter.
And he expressed gratitude for the courage that had inspired him to fight alongside her and the others.
After stroking the soft pale yellow hair several times, as he lowered his left hand, illuminating flares and numerous tracer rounds launched from the hole in the broken wall began to shine like a constellation. The thunderous sound of cannons and gunfire echoed in the distance.
"...It's starting again."
"Is it an offensive...?"
"...I have to go..."
Wearing two pairs of shoes, or rather, considering the imitation of the squadron leader, it might be three pairs. When wearing them, it is not advisable to stick to either one.
"...Pina."
"...Yes, what is it?"
"...There are plenty of people who can die without causing trouble. Right now... what's needed are those who can survive. If there are no survivors... there's no point in us dying. So... I want you, no, all of you, to survive."
"...What does that mean..."
Before asking for clarification, he tightened the chin strap of the helmet against his skin and walked away down the corridor.
His departing back seemed somehow lonely to her eyes.
"──AaaahhhAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
"──MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
.
.
.
.
The enemy aircraft's bullets pierced through the front armor of the main battle tank, protected by composite armor.
Several crew members, including the tank commander, emerged from the burning interior, rolling on the ground as human torches, emitting agonizing screams.
"──Send more rounds! Hurry up!!"
"──Can't do it anymore!!"
Originally designed to attack low-flying aircraft, the anti-aircraft machine gun, due to its advantages in range and large caliber, is now recommended for use in various situations, such as against ground targets. It has become one of the effective means to destroy enemy aircraft.
However, its drawback as a non-self-propelled weapon is that once the firing stops, it becomes a perfect target. The rapid transformation of positions is challenging. Scenes where enemy aircraft attacks concentrate and swiftly destroy the weapon are no longer uncommon.
.
.
.
.
----
"──Just kill me already!! Please, just kill me!!"
"──Pull yourself together! Show the spirit of a soldier!!"
The hastily assembled field hospital had long exceeded its capacity.
Despite the shortage of personnel, the medics and military doctors dealing with the wounded soldiers carried out their duties diligently.
Simultaneously, they cursed the seemingly bottomless resilience that humans possess.
While it's not uncommon for a person to die instantly when hit by debris, there are also those who, despite having half their body crushed, manage to cling to life.
The screams of pain from those who survived halfway through death dominated the entire field hospital. The environment had turned into a crucible of incessant screams, day and night. It was more than enough to drive even soldiers with seemingly minor injuries to madness.
"──How many casualties today?"
"──This is the sixth one."
Without any sentiment, a few medics carried out the bodies of soldiers who had shot themselves in the head, a sight that had become routine in the field hospital.
Next to the corpse being carried out, another medic rushed to assist a newly injured soldier being transported on a stretcher.
"──You're going to make it! You'll survive!!"
A medic, notified that the patient's breathing had stopped during transport, quickly secured the airway. When realizing that the heart had also stopped, the medic desperately attempted cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
But a hand reached out to stop the resuscitation.
"──That's enough. They're already dead."
"──They're still alive! They moved just now!!"
Despite repeatedly compressing the sternum to restart the pulse, the medic, who refused to give up on resuscitation, noticed blood overflowing from the mouth of the injured soldier who had lost both left legs and right arms.
The military doctor sighed and pulled out a thin flashlight from his chest. He lit it up, opened the eyelids of the wounded soldier with his fingertips, and confirmed the pupils.
"──They're already dead. Give up. We treat those who can still fight."
Dispassionately, a mark was placed on the forehead with a black magic pen. Death or immediate treatment offered significantly low chances of survival. The mark signified triage - the selection of lives itself.
This had long become routine. The military doctor, who had seen off many wounded soldiers, no longer felt a clear boundary between life and death.
"──The late stages of total war... this is what they call it, right?"
"──...Maybe. Are you ready?"
"──Anytime. Please."
Pierced cleanly from the back to the abdomen by the large-caliber warhead of an enemy aircraft that penetrated the body armor, the non-commissioned officer nodded while enduring constant excruciating pain.
Treatment for those who survived halfway had a predetermined course.
The sun, stained in a color like blood, sank to the west.
He, who had removed the body armor worn by the squad leader, gripped a knife in his right hand, embraced his comrade's shoulder with his left hand, and──while holding the blade horizontally, aimed the tip directly above the heart.
The supplies of medical drugs were running out.
Ammunition was also dwindling.
Even when carried into the field hospital, they could only wait for death, which was slowly approaching.
In that case, why not──
"...I wanted to hear your guitar again."
"Haha... I won't play it anymore... it was one of my few skills... Squad leader, go ahead."
The non-commissioned officer reached out the remaining arm on his shoulder with a smile. As a signal──he thrust the knife into his own heart. The blade, inserted smoothly through the gap between the ribs, pierced the heart.
"──Ugh...!!"
The non-commissioned officer, with bloodshot eyes wide open, exerted his last strength.
He firmly grasped him with the remaining arm extended to the shoulder and, with the force of colliding bodies, embraced him.
Feeling the coldness of the blade, thrust under the skin up to the base of the knife, unwillingly, the non-commissioned officer experienced unparalleled happiness.
──Good...
Playing the role, meeting his end on the battlefield──rather than that, he was escorted by his own hand. With overwhelming happiness, satisfaction, and gratitude, the non-commissioned officer's heart fulfilled its duty and came to an end, still open-eyed.
He closed the eyelids of the non-commissioned officer who died with wide-open eyes with his fingertips and searched his chest. He tore off the identification tag, without wiping his hands wet with backflowing blood, stuffed it into his pocket, and pulled out all the magazines that the non-commissioned officer had carried. They were put into pouches belonging to him and his comrades.
"...Only 13 more to go..."
The expeditionary force, exceeding the total strength of the senior unit with over 80,000 soldiers, might now be reduced to the remaining 13 who were still alive. Simultaneously, the squad, which had a total of 135 members, was on its deathbed. And just now, another one had completed his final duty, and departed to an unreachable place.
He entrusted the handling of the bodies to his comrades who had witnessed the end, and he stood up.
He served not only as their commander but also as a squad leader in the original unit. The days of wearing two hats were filled with hardships.
That's not all. He was now the highest-ranking officer still active in the platoon, meaning he held the rank of second lieutenant through a field promotion from a non-commissioned officer. It was a heavy responsibility for a second lieutenant who had not undergone specialized officer training.
"...Even so... there are days when I find even this nostalgic..."
It would likely never come. While thinking about it again, he left the surviving comrades to watch over the battlefield that had calmed down and headed to another front──to where they were.
The loss of morale was imminent.
Surgery at the field hospital was carried out in poor conditions, and there were rumors of a shortage of medical supplies──they were performing surgeries without anesthesia. Passing right next to the field hospital, the constant screams and shouts seemed to confirm that the rumors were not false.
The sector they were assigned to had not faced the Rapture's offensive for the past five days and remained relatively stable.
Considering that there were three offensives a day before, it seemed calm. At least for now.
"...This is probably the time when they're planning a concentrated deployment for recovery."
The Rapture might be learning from the entire campaign. Even from a tactical unit perspective, it felt like they were learning "tactics that humanity dislikes being subjected to."
Initially, they might have continuously attacked, identifying the area with the thickest defense on the human side. That area was the sector they defended.
Seeing sporadic offensives occurring in other sectors, it might be that they were still looking for a breakthrough to break the defensive line──but that's just his intuition and not certain.
"──Commander."
When the night began to fall, a voice called from above. The head wearing a helmet with a torn camouflage pattern cover tilted, and when he looked up──
"──Snow White."
He recognized his subordinate who was on alert in the observation tower, her silver hair swaying in the dry wind. He squinted his eyes. Dorothy had volunteered to act as the temporary leader, and he had temporarily delegated command to her while he undertook the mission in the main unit. It felt strange that even though he had only been apart for five days.
"...It feels strangely nostalgic."
"──I see. Commander, are you okay? You seem tired..."
"...Yeah. No problems."
There were no problems. There were no problems at all. Watching friends die, seeing them off ─ this was not the first time. He had already become accustomed to it.
"...Shall we switch?"
"No. You have your job. Leave this to me. Dorothy and the others are in their usual place."
"...Got it. I leave it to you."
"You have my trust."
"...Haha..."
This exchange also felt nostalgic. Even though a change in thinking had occurred, he hadn't forgotten this conversation. The casual banter put him at ease.
They could only consume rations once a day, and the water purification unit responsible for the supply of clean water had lost more than 80% of its equipment due to enemy shelling.
Without drinking water, a military force would immediately turn into a disorderly crowd. What has kept the military force somehow maintaining its structure is the fact that somewhere in the brigade, someone with good foresight had a supply of water purification tablets as part of the military supplies.
Filling a water bottle with river water and adding one of those tablets makes the water drinkable.
It's fortunate in a way, but on the flip side, it merely granted a reprieve until the military force loses its coherence.
He stepped into the interior of a partially collapsed building.
Thinking that their usual room was where they would be, the commander advanced.
As the destination approached, he recognized a figure standing aimlessly in front of a door across the hallway.
It was the only surviving mass-produced Nikke deployed in this operation.
Her name was certainly──
"──Pina."
"──Commander...?"
The mass-produced Nikke, clad in olive drab combat gear with thick bulletproof armor attached, recognized the tall figure approaching down the corridor and tried to straighten her posture. Just before she did, a voice echoed from behind the door.
"──Then, Rapunzel, be on guard too."
It was Dorothy's voice that involuntarily conveyed a sharpness to it.
"──With that staff that can't even snipe and has its trajectory changed by humidity, you can at least be on guard."
"──...Are you saying that I'm useless?"
Responding to Dorothy's words, Rapunzel did not hide her frustration.
Her words seemed to have been enough to throw cold water on Dorothy's heated head. After a few seconds of silence, a faint apology was uttered.
"──I'm sorry... I said too much."
"──Well, let's leave it at that."
It seemed that Scarlet was also indoors. She intervened, and the atmosphere between the two could be inferred──
"──It should be fine not to eat for a few days, right? Since we're Nikke, this much is nothing... Hic!"
The hiccups were heard even through the wall and the door undoubtedly came from Scarlet.
"──Oops... got me there... Hic!"
The hiccups continued. This meant──
"──No, this is, well... um..."
"──Alcohol is detected from the liquid catalyst."
"──I drank a little instead of food. It's made from grains. Hahaha."
"──What are you thinking...! Drinking alcohol in a situation like this...!"
Immediately, a tense atmosphere leaked from the room.
──They are also reaching their limit.
In a situation on the verge of loss of morale, there are few ways to break through. Their group of smelly men, if it were them, could be settled with one or two punches, but it's impossible for him to have that kind of realization for them. It may not be impossible──or maybe it is, but it's extremely challenging.
Taking off his helmet, he leaned his back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, which had large cracks.
──What should I do, Lilith?
He, addressing those who were not present, clenched a cigarette between his teeth.
As he caught a glimpse of Pina involuntarily opening the door and entering the room, he aimlessly shook the unlit cigarette.
── Having a major commanding a squad is quite an unusual situation.
"I don't want to see the Goddesses fighting like this."
"We are not here for your entertainment."
"No. You are an exhibition."
"...Shouldn't you choose your words more carefully?"
The verbal exchange between Pina and Kurenai leaking from the room, even if through the wall, involuntarily resonated in his eardrums.
After all, this war, the Goddess Unit, or even the Squad itself── depending on how you looked at it, could be something like a freak show sideshow booth.
Step right up, come and see. The admission is just watching, and there's no return policy──
"...Hah..."
There were things that were quite tasteful as sideshows.
When he softly snorted, the clear voice of Pina, heard from inside, strangely struck his eardrums.
"We've been watching you all the time. From the moment you first appeared on the battlefield until now. ──The hope of humanity, the Goddess of Victory. Is there any title more fitting for you all?"
While her voice echoed in his ears, he loosely crossed his arms, holding the helmet he had taken off in one hand, and bowed his head.
The moment he bowed his head, it was a movement that could also be interpreted as a nod.
"──So please continue to let us dream."
That dream── surely, probably, would be so fleeting that it would disappear in an instant, but it would emit a brilliant and dazzling radiance.
"──Please don't fight. If you are going to fight... please do it where we are not."
"──We don't have the luxury to consider such circumstances."
"──No. If you don't have it, then please create it."
"──You... Cut it out...!"
Attempting to silence her ceaseless talking. Scarlet's voice trembled, and faint footsteps, familiar in their rhythm, echoed.
"──The mass-produced Nikkes here, including myself, volunteered to fight alongside you! We're not here risking our lives next to you just to see this kind of appearance!"
Pina's painfully passionate confession, which seemed like it could tear apart, was more than enough to stop Scarlet, who, despite her usual carefree demeanor, seemed to be on the verge of taking impulsive action. The sound of her swallowing could be sensed even through the wall.
"──My fallen comrades... I want them to be proud even in heaven... Please."
Eventually, leaving the room that fell silent after saying she needed to rest, Pina moved away.
The door opened, and as she appeared in the corridor, her tightly pressed lips seemed to indicate that she was trying to endure the sobbing that leaked out.
Leaning away from the wall and putting the helmet back on, he approached Pina. Extending his left hand, he placed his palm on her head, adorned with a slightly reddish-tinted pale yellow hair, and gently stroked it with a soft brushing sound.
"…Com…man…der…"
"…Thank you…"
─I couldn't say it even if my mouth split open.
As one of the big people conducting a war with the goal of prolonging the existence of the human race, he expressed words of gratitude to her who had replaced him with words of criticism and admonition that he could not utter.
And he expressed gratitude for the courage that had inspired him to fight alongside her and the others.
After stroking the soft pale yellow hair several times, as he lowered his left hand, illuminating flares and numerous tracer rounds launched from the hole in the broken wall began to shine like a constellation. The thunderous sound of cannons and gunfire echoed in the distance.
"...It's starting again."
"Is it an offensive...?"
"...I have to go..."
Wearing two pairs of shoes, or rather, considering the imitation of the squadron leader, it might be three pairs. When wearing them, it is not advisable to stick to either one.
"...Pina."
"...Yes, what is it?"
"...There are plenty of people who can die without causing trouble. Right now... what's needed are those who can survive. If there are no survivors... there's no point in us dying. So... I want you, no, all of you, to survive."
"...What does that mean..."
Before asking for clarification, he tightened the chin strap of the helmet against his skin and walked away down the corridor.
His departing back seemed somehow lonely to her eyes.
