"─ Now, please sign here."
In a small store located somewhere in Ark, the female attendant handed a tablet and a stylus pen to Captain Moore, who was dressed in military attire, seated on the waiting room sofa.
Displayed on the screen was a consent form.
Various precautionary notes regarding the upcoming procedure were meticulously outlined. He had to read and acknowledge all of these points before signing.
After carefully reading through everything, he grasped the stylus pen and signed his name in the designated space.
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Shaw Moore
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After completing his signature in cursive, he returned the tablet to the attendant, who confirmed the signature with a nod.
"Thank you. ...By the way, your first name is... unusual."
"Is it?"
"Yes. Normally, it's the family name. Oh, I apologize."
"No, don't worry about it."
In the current world, where the blending of skin and blood had advanced, the concept of distinctive names based on the old era's "race" seemed obsolete. The reason the attendant found his first name unusual might have been due to the sound resembling something from the ancient Far East, while the spelling deviated from the family names commonly seen in English-speaking regions.
"...Let me confirm once again. Lettering on the right arm, tribal design on the left arm. Is that okay, as discussed earlier?"
"Yes, please proceed."
"Understood. Follow me, please."
The procedure was about to begin. Prompted by the attendant, he nodded and stood up, following her guidance towards the back of the store.
----
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─ Sunset was approaching.
In the outskirts of the devastated city, self-propelled multiple launch rocket systems (MLRS) and self-propelled howitzers (HSP) were neatly lined up, undergoing resupply of shells, propellants, and fuel.
It was the Goddess of Victory, Nikke, operating the battlefield goddess field gun. Unyielding and reassuring.
This area was the gathering point for various units that would be deployed in tomorrow's early morning operation, marking the zero hour of the mission.
Helicopters on perimeter alert took off from a makeshift heliport and headed towards the darkening eastern side. Amidst this scene, an armed vehicle arrived at a campsite set up in the outskirts, raising clouds of dust.
Stepping out of the vehicle was a group from the Special Counter-Terrorist Unit "Counters."
A mass-produced Nikke rushed over to them after completing the weapon inspection. She recognized Captain Moore as the commander and saluted crisply.
"─ We've been waiting for your arrival!"
"I appreciate the welcome. It's a bit of trouble, but make sure the vehicle has enough fuel."
"Understood! I'll guide you to your accommodations!"
─ She's quite an energetic young lady.
Thinking such things in his mind, Moore was led by them along with the mass-produced Nikkes to what was referred to as their accommodation.
They arrived at a single house. Among the surrounding scenes dominated by half-collapsed or completely ruined buildings, this one was relatively intact.
"I'm sorry... this was the best we could find..."
"No, it's more than enough. Being able to rest for tomorrow's preparations is more than appreciated. Thank you once again."
"─ N-No, not at all! Well, then, I'll take my leave here! Leave the nighttime watch to us!"
"Thank you. Please report and stay in touch if anything happens."
─ Ahh...Commander-sama's Nikke natural seduction is in action again.
Was this the first time the mass-produced Nikke had met a commander who wasn't condescending? Perhaps it was due to his gentlemanly demeanor, or maybe it was because he had expressed gratitude and appreciation.Initially flustered, she eventually left with a slightly ecstatic expression.
Seeing this, Anis let out a wry smile as she looked around the interior of the house where they had been accommodated.
The sleeping arrangements seemed to have been prepared in advance. The debris from furniture and such that might have been there in the living room had been removed, and instead, four outdoor beds were arranged in a row.
"...Commander, are you going to sleep here too?"
"...It's too late to change that now."
During their missions, they often ended up sleeping in the same space. Moore sighed as if to say he couldn't afford to complain anymore.
"...If you really don't like it, I can rest in a different place..."
"...Isn't that a bit sneaky? It sounds like I'm being selfish."
"Huh? Isn't it anything but selfish?"
"...Commander, please go ahead and rest. When you change, please let me know beforehand."
"...I'll take your word for it. When I change, I'll ask you to leave the room."
Thanks to the covering fire from Neon and Rapi, he managed to secure a place to sleep. Carrying his backpack, assault rifle, body armor, helmet, sunglasses, and other gear, he approached the outdoor bed placed nearest to the exit, sat down at the edge of the bed, and set his gear down beside him.
It seemed to be for Nikke. Even with Moore's weight on it, the bed didn't creak.
"Oh, that's right. Master, congratulations on your promotion."
"...Thank you, Neon. ...Well, I can't honestly say it's a happy occasion..."
"The day before the operation—oh, is it on the day of the operation? You got promoted on the day of the operation."
Anis seemed to have chosen the outdoor bed assembled in the farthest location. She sat down there, took off her coat and the beret she was wearing, and as soon as she became unburdened, she lay down on the bed with her shoes still on, facing Moore with just her face.
It wasn't the attitude one would usually have towards a superior officer, but it was too late for that. Moore returned the nod and took off the hard knuckle gloves he had been wearing on both hands, placing them on his backpack on the floor.
"...Is it okay if I take off my coat? I want to be a bit more comfortable."
"Go ahead."
While watching Neon sit down on the outdoor bed next to Anis, Moore asked for permission, which was granted. Moore expressed his gratitude, removed his shemagh, took off his combat jacket, folded it lightly, and placed it on the bed.
Now he could finally take a breather. With a somewhat exaggerated gesture, Moore took a deep breath. Meanwhile, Rapi, who had sat down beside him, noticed the presence of a solid black tattoo peeking out from both sleeves of his black short-sleeved shirt.
"...Did you get it done?"
"Huh? Oh, I didn't mention it, did I? I had it done before returning to the forward operating base."
"...Oh, a tattoo?"
"...Huh? Seriously? Commander? What kind of tattoo did you get?"
They seemed intrigued. Anise, who had been lying down, sat up, and as her ample chest swayed, she approached, followed by Neon.
As soon as the two of them got closer, their eyes silently urged him to show the tattoo.
They didn't have to go that far; if they were interested, they could have just asked. Shrugging, Moore rolled up his left sleeve.
Protected by a film dressing, a tribal tattoo, inked in a deep black, exuded a strong presence just below his shoulder. Although the visible design seemed to be only a part of it, it extended all the way to his shoulder.
"...A dog?"
"...Not quite. A wolf, is it?"
"Yeah. Everyone calls me a wolf... even though I'm different from the actual behavior and personality of a real wolf..."
Thanks to that, he ended up choosing this design from among many others, Moore explained, prompting smiles from Neon and Anis.
Nevertheless, it wasn't a bad design. It suited him quite well.
"...So, what about the one on your right arm? It looks like letters."
"Oh, that's lettering."
Nodding, he rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt. Indeed, black numbers and letters were inked prominently on his right upper arm.
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04-F
COUNTERS
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"Wh-why that design!?"
A more stylish design could have been chosen—wasn't it a bit odd to vertically stencil the squad name in lettering to command it? Anis' suspicion of Moore's sense of aesthetics wasn't entirely unfounded.
"...Tattoos aren't easy to remove, you know?"
"I know. That's why I chose this."
"...But why?"
Anise asked, a pure and puzzled question mixed with exasperation. Moore scratched his cheek with the fingertips of his left hand, as if considering how to explain.
"...The origins of tattoos aren't entirely clear. But evidence of tattoos being engraved on human bodies dates back to ancient times, even before recorded history, and has been found all over the world."
It felt like a history lesson had started.
While she wasn't particularly skilled in studies, Anis decided to listen to his explanation quietly for the time being.
The culture of tattoos as a universal form of body decoration had been inherited worldwide from ancient times.
Over time, however, tattoos had evolved into something associated with criminals and outlaws, alongside the concepts of law and punishment. Eventually, in modern times, due to the development of popular culture, tattoos had interestingly regressed to become something akin to fashion.
Above all, as Anis pointed out, the characteristic of tattoos that they were not easily erased played a significant role.
Throughout history, tattoos had been used as a means of individual identification to indicate social status or affiliation, from ancient times to the present.
"...There's a historical precedent for tattooing prisoners of war or criminals during times of war... but in my case... well, it's closer to the reasons fishermen or sailors get tattoos."
"...What do you mean?"
Neon, who wore a puzzled expression, asked. Moore stroked the stencil-like tattoo on his right upper arm over the film dressing with the fingertips of his left hand.
"...It's for identifying corpses."
"...Huh...?"
The operation tomorrow was a total war. Especially in the second phase, it was anticipated that there would be a chaotic battle with the massive army of Raptures crawling out onto the surface. When it came to reaching the Heretic—him or them—there was a high likelihood of becoming embroiled in a melee.
"My limbs might end up scattered. If my identification tag gets blown away somewhere, I'll be listed as missing in action (MIA) or killed in action (KIA) without anyone knowing. It would be helpful if we could skip that hassle. If they find either of my hands, they should be able to recognize me."
It didn't seem like his personality to get a tattoo, but after hearing the reason—a reason that made sense in its own way—Anis, Neon, and even Rapi, who had been listening to the conversation, found themselves in agreement. It was a very Moore-like reason indeed.
Nevertheless, the possibility of not even being searched for after death was greater. Moore shrugged his shoulders with a playful demeanor that didn't suit him, and rolled down his sleeve.
----
Tomorrow was early.
They would be going to bed before 9 PM.
The four of them lay down on the row of outdoor beds inside the room, each showing their sleeping posture, but...
"..."
Sleep didn't visit Moore at all.
Usually, he had no trouble falling asleep—strangely enough, tonight was different.
Perhaps he had too much on his mind.
More than two hours had passed since he lay down on the outdoor bed. He opened his eyes, lifted his left wrist, and lit up his watch to check the time.
... It's 23:45.
His internal clock seemed to be a little off.
He sat up reluctantly, pushed the chemical fiber blanket away from his body, and placed his booted feet on the floor. He stood up, still wearing his boots.
He carefully draped his combat jacket over his shoulders, avoiding waking up the sleeping women.
Moore stepped outside.
The date would change shortly. The operation would begin five hours later.
He knew he should rest and get his condition in order, but for some reason, his body seemed to be rejecting the idea of resting. More accurately, it was his brain, perhaps.
To numb his brain a bit, Moore took out a soft pack from his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He opened the lid of the oil lighter he had pulled out along with it, flicked the wheel to light it up.
Amidst the cold desert air, a distinctive scent mingled as he exhaled smoke towards the starry sky above, the purple smoke covering the starry sky. As he gazed at the stars twinkling beyond the smoke and began connecting constellations based on his memories, the door of the newly emerged building quietly opened after a while.
"...Can't sleep?"
A melodious voice inquired. Moore sensed the identity without even turning around, but he found himself at a loss for words.
"...Sorry... Did I wake you up?"
Whether it was an excuse or an escape, he replied, but the presence approached, eventually reaching his right side. He glanced sideways, and indeed, there stood Rapi.
She must have been asleep earlier. She wasn't wearing her beret, jacket, gloves, or ammunition belts. She wore a sleeveless shirt with no sleeves, and there was no tie.
Remaining in her casual attire, which was so informal that Moore didn't even recognize her from the outpost base, she stood by his side. She looked up at Moore, her tall figure, while tucking her light brown hair behind her ears, with her crimson eyes.
"...Can't sleep?"
She asked the same question again. He couldn't hide anything from her penetrating gaze. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, indicating his affirmation.
"...I have various thoughts running through my mind."
"...Is it about Marian?"
Rapi asked the difficult question. She had the virtue of being straightforward.
While exhaling the purple smoke, he nodded slightly in response.
"...I figured as much..."
"...I know things might not turn out the way I want them to..."
Anderson supposedly favored happy endings, but Moore seemed to be disliked by some sort of deity. Endings that should have been near perfect at the last moment were more likely to be significantly influenced. That's why he also hated the gods to the point where the relationship couldn't be repaired.
Rapi looked up at Moore's profile as he emitted the faint sound of cigarette leaves burning and exhaled the purple smoke. When he noticed her gaze, he glanced at her, and then he casually took off his jacket and draped it over Rapi's shoulders.
"...Commander?"
"...I know you're not cold, but when you dress like that, I end up feeling cold watching you."
"In that case, you should wear it." Lapi immediately tried to return the jacket that had just been put on her. However, she sensed that Moore's personality would likely reject her attempt once again.
Unable to help it and feeling a sense of warmth in her heart, she gratefully accepted the jacket.
"...It's oversized."
"---Fufu...Considering the height difference between you and me."
A faint wry smile appeared on Moore's face. It seemed he still had the composure to smile. Realizing this, Rapi held the jacket in place with her left hand, making sure it wouldn't fall off.
After finishing his cigarette, he took out a portable ashtray from his pocket. He flicked the cigarette butt into it, closed the lid, and sighed.
"...Rapi."
"Yes, what is it?"
"I have a favor to ask."
Rapi, whose crimson eyes blinked, was genuinely surprised that Moore, who usually never hesitated, would preamble a request. Especially because he seemed a bit preoccupied and was looking down at her with his deep brown eyes.
"If... hypothetically speaking... if I were to die in tomorrow's operation, I want you to take command---"
Rapi's right hand rose naturally, interrupting Moore's words in progress. Her slender index finger was placed on his slightly dry lips, as if to silence the words he was about to say.
"I understand what you might be worried about. But... please, don't say such things."
Although her fingertip left his dry lips, he didn't continue with what he had been saying earlier.
Acknowledging this, Rapi held the turbo lighter and offered it to Moore. He nodded slightly, shook the soft pack once more, and brought the lit end of his cigarette closer to her, covering the flame with both hands.
A blue flame erupted, and from the scorched end, purple smoke wafted. Holding the cigarette between his left fingertips, he looked up at the sky and exhaled the purple smoke gently.
Her slender fingers touched his open right hand.
As if probing, or perhaps with a touch of fear, her slender fingers gripped his calloused hand firmly.
"You won't die. I promise. I'll protect you."
With a slightly stronger grip, Moore's calloused hand responded with an equal measure of strength. Interpreting this as a sign of acceptance, her delicate fingers eventually loosened, sliding away from his hand.
"...Thank you for the jacket."
"Are you going to sleep?"
"Yes. ...I'll go back to rest now. Commander, please... at least close your eyes."
Rapi tried to take off the combat jacket, but Moore placed his right hand on her shoulder, preventing her.
"It's okay as it is. ...Sorry, but could you leave it on my bed?"
"Understood. Goodnight, then."
"Yeah. ...Rapi."
Turning back towards the house, Rapi was stopped by his voice.
When she placed her hand on the door, she looked back over her shoulder.
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"...Thank you."
She was momentarily unsure of what he meant, but she accepted his gratitude sincerely, returning a smile and nodding before disappearing into the house.
Moore, watching her go, gazed up at the stars once again.
If there was any benefit to humanity being driven from the surface, it would be the exceptionally clear view of the stars. With artificial light sources being scarce, the stars appeared even more beautiful than in ancient times.
It was an ideal environment for stargazing.
With a sigh, Moore exhaled the purple smoke and flicked the cigarette into the portable ashtray. The moment he did, he reflexively drew the pistol from the leg holster strapped to his right thigh, pulling the slide back.
"Who's there?"
Quietly interrogating the darkness across the narrow street, he aimed the gun.
The faint sound of the trigger being pulled. Simultaneously, the darkness beyond the street flickered.
"...It's me."
"...Don't startle me like that."
Two more interrogations, and he would have pulled the trigger.
The revealed identity—Snow White—elicited a deep sigh from him. Keeping his thumb on the pistol's hammer, he removed his finger from the trigger.
"...You've grown a new arm while I wasn't looking."
"It's more convenient and practical than my original arm. ...Anyway, why are you here? This area will turn into a battleground early tomorrow morning."
"...I thought so. I was chasing Chatterbox and ended up here..."
Having sensed something from the concentration of Arc forces in the city outskirts, Snow White approached him and looked up with her golden eyes.
"...I plan to intrude into the battle tomorrow."
"...That's quite sudden. Well, I appreciate you informing me beforehand, but..."
"Also... leave Chatterbox to me. I have to handle him."
Looking down at Snow White, who spoke as if it were a casual matter, Moore's expression turned sour. It was an obvious rejection.
"...You can make that face too, huh?"
"I don't want my prey stolen away."
Their current record was one win and one loss. Perhaps this was their third encounter, or perhaps it was a fortunate opportunity after all.
Having the chance for a reunion taken away didn't sit well with him.
"...Probably your objective isn't Chatterbox 's defeat, is it? Don't lose sight of your goal. Leave him to me."
"...I understand. You're right. Our top priority isn't taking down that talkative bastard. I'll... relent."
Snow White's lips curved into a faint wry smile at the expression "relent" – not a request or a plea, but an acknowledgment of her stance.
"...I'll graciously accept that. Until tomorrow."
"...To be precise, it's already 'today.' It's past midnight."
"...Indeed. ...Well, you should rest now."
"Let's do that. Ah, wait."
As Snow White was about to leave, Moore called out to her and approached her with a portable device in hand.
"Do you have a messaging app installed? If you're intruding, I'd like to exchange contact information just in case... You do have a cellphone, right?"
"Ah..."
Unexpectedly, it was about exchanging contact information. While she said this, she took out her own device, observing Moore's phone as he approached with his.
Although it wouldn't be appropriate for the person who suggested it to feel this way, Moore couldn't help but be surprised when he saw that she indeed had a cellphone.
"─ Now, please sign here."
In a small store located somewhere in Ark, the female attendant handed a tablet and a stylus pen to Captain Moore, who was dressed in military attire, seated on the waiting room sofa.
Displayed on the screen was a consent form.
Various precautionary notes regarding the upcoming procedure were meticulously outlined. He had to read and acknowledge all of these points before signing.
After carefully reading through everything, he grasped the stylus pen and signed his name in the designated space.
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Shaw Moore
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After completing his signature in cursive, he returned the tablet to the attendant, who confirmed the signature with a nod.
"Thank you. ...By the way, your first name is... unusual."
"Is it?"
"Yes. Normally, it's the family name. Oh, I apologize."
"No, don't worry about it."
In the current world, where the blending of skin and blood had advanced, the concept of distinctive names based on the old era's "race" seemed obsolete. The reason the attendant found his first name unusual might have been due to the sound resembling something from the ancient Far East, while the spelling deviated from the family names commonly seen in English-speaking regions.
"...Let me confirm once again. Lettering on the right arm, tribal design on the left arm. Is that okay, as discussed earlier?"
"Yes, please proceed."
"Understood. Follow me, please."
The procedure was about to begin. Prompted by the attendant, he nodded and stood up, following her guidance towards the back of the store.
----
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─ Sunset was approaching.
In the outskirts of the devastated city, self-propelled multiple launch rocket systems (MLRS) and self-propelled howitzers (HSP) were neatly lined up, undergoing resupply of shells, propellants, and fuel.
It was the Goddess of Victory, Nikke, operating the battlefield goddess field gun. Unyielding and reassuring.
This area was the gathering point for various units that would be deployed in tomorrow's early morning operation, marking the zero hour of the mission.
Helicopters on perimeter alert took off from a makeshift heliport and headed towards the darkening eastern side. Amidst this scene, an armed vehicle arrived at a campsite set up in the outskirts, raising clouds of dust.
Stepping out of the vehicle was a group from the Special Counter-Terrorist Unit "Counters."
A mass-produced Nikke rushed over to them after completing the weapon inspection. She recognized Captain Moore as the commander and saluted crisply.
"─ We've been waiting for your arrival!"
"I appreciate the welcome. It's a bit of trouble, but make sure the vehicle has enough fuel."
"Understood! I'll guide you to your accommodations!"
─ She's quite an energetic young lady.
Thinking such things in his mind, Moore was led by them along with the mass-produced Nikkes to what was referred to as their accommodation.
They arrived at a single house. Among the surrounding scenes dominated by half-collapsed or completely ruined buildings, this one was relatively intact.
"I'm sorry... this was the best we could find..."
"No, it's more than enough. Being able to rest for tomorrow's preparations is more than appreciated. Thank you once again."
"─ N-No, not at all! Well, then, I'll take my leave here! Leave the nighttime watch to us!"
"Thank you. Please report and stay in touch if anything happens."
─ Ahh...Commander-sama's Nikke natural seduction is in action again.
Was this the first time the mass-produced Nikke had met a commander who wasn't condescending? Perhaps it was due to his gentlemanly demeanor, or maybe it was because he had expressed gratitude and appreciation.Initially flustered, she eventually left with a slightly ecstatic expression.
Seeing this, Anis let out a wry smile as she looked around the interior of the house where they had been accommodated.
The sleeping arrangements seemed to have been prepared in advance. The debris from furniture and such that might have been there in the living room had been removed, and instead, four outdoor beds were arranged in a row.
"...Commander, are you going to sleep here too?"
"...It's too late to change that now."
During their missions, they often ended up sleeping in the same space. Moore sighed as if to say he couldn't afford to complain anymore.
"...If you really don't like it, I can rest in a different place..."
"...Isn't that a bit sneaky? It sounds like I'm being selfish."
"Huh? Isn't it anything but selfish?"
"...Commander, please go ahead and rest. When you change, please let me know beforehand."
"...I'll take your word for it. When I change, I'll ask you to leave the room."
Thanks to the covering fire from Neon and Rapi, he managed to secure a place to sleep. Carrying his backpack, assault rifle, body armor, helmet, sunglasses, and other gear, he approached the outdoor bed placed nearest to the exit, sat down at the edge of the bed, and set his gear down beside him.
It seemed to be for Nikke. Even with Moore's weight on it, the bed didn't creak.
"Oh, that's right. Master, congratulations on your promotion."
"...Thank you, Neon. ...Well, I can't honestly say it's a happy occasion..."
"The day before the operation—oh, is it on the day of the operation? You got promoted on the day of the operation."
Anis seemed to have chosen the outdoor bed assembled in the farthest location. She sat down there, took off her coat and the beret she was wearing, and as soon as she became unburdened, she lay down on the bed with her shoes still on, facing Moore with just her face.
It wasn't the attitude one would usually have towards a superior officer, but it was too late for that. Moore returned the nod and took off the hard knuckle gloves he had been wearing on both hands, placing them on his backpack on the floor.
"...Is it okay if I take off my coat? I want to be a bit more comfortable."
"Go ahead."
While watching Neon sit down on the outdoor bed next to Anis, Moore asked for permission, which was granted. Moore expressed his gratitude, removed his shemagh, took off his combat jacket, folded it lightly, and placed it on the bed.
Now he could finally take a breather. With a somewhat exaggerated gesture, Moore took a deep breath. Meanwhile, Rapi, who had sat down beside him, noticed the presence of a solid black tattoo peeking out from both sleeves of his black short-sleeved shirt.
"...Did you get it done?"
"Huh? Oh, I didn't mention it, did I? I had it done before returning to the forward operating base."
"...Oh, a tattoo?"
"...Huh? Seriously? Commander? What kind of tattoo did you get?"
They seemed intrigued. Anise, who had been lying down, sat up, and as her ample chest swayed, she approached, followed by Neon.
As soon as the two of them got closer, their eyes silently urged him to show the tattoo.
They didn't have to go that far; if they were interested, they could have just asked. Shrugging, Moore rolled up his left sleeve.
Protected by a film dressing, a tribal tattoo, inked in a deep black, exuded a strong presence just below his shoulder. Although the visible design seemed to be only a part of it, it extended all the way to his shoulder.
"...A dog?"
"...Not quite. A wolf, is it?"
"Yeah. Everyone calls me a wolf... even though I'm different from the actual behavior and personality of a real wolf..."
Thanks to that, he ended up choosing this design from among many others, Moore explained, prompting smiles from Neon and Anis.
Nevertheless, it wasn't a bad design. It suited him quite well.
"...So, what about the one on your right arm? It looks like letters."
"Oh, that's lettering."
Nodding, he rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt. Indeed, black numbers and letters were inked prominently on his right upper arm.
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04-F
COUNTERS
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"Wh-why that design!?"
A more stylish design could have been chosen—wasn't it a bit odd to vertically stencil the squad name in lettering to command it? Anis' suspicion of Moore's sense of aesthetics wasn't entirely unfounded.
"...Tattoos aren't easy to remove, you know?"
"I know. That's why I chose this."
"...But why?"
Anise asked, a pure and puzzled question mixed with exasperation. Moore scratched his cheek with the fingertips of his left hand, as if considering how to explain.
"...The origins of tattoos aren't entirely clear. But evidence of tattoos being engraved on human bodies dates back to ancient times, even before recorded history, and has been found all over the world."
It felt like a history lesson had started.
While she wasn't particularly skilled in studies, Anis decided to listen to his explanation quietly for the time being.
The culture of tattoos as a universal form of body decoration had been inherited worldwide from ancient times.
Over time, however, tattoos had evolved into something associated with criminals and outlaws, alongside the concepts of law and punishment. Eventually, in modern times, due to the development of popular culture, tattoos had interestingly regressed to become something akin to fashion.
Above all, as Anis pointed out, the characteristic of tattoos that they were not easily erased played a significant role.
Throughout history, tattoos had been used as a means of individual identification to indicate social status or affiliation, from ancient times to the present.
"...There's a historical precedent for tattooing prisoners of war or criminals during times of war... but in my case... well, it's closer to the reasons fishermen or sailors get tattoos."
"...What do you mean?"
Neon, who wore a puzzled expression, asked. Moore stroked the stencil-like tattoo on his right upper arm over the film dressing with the fingertips of his left hand.
"...It's for identifying corpses."
"...Huh...?"
The operation tomorrow was a total war. Especially in the second phase, it was anticipated that there would be a chaotic battle with the massive army of Raptures crawling out onto the surface. When it came to reaching the Heretic—him or them—there was a high likelihood of becoming embroiled in a melee.
"My limbs might end up scattered. If my identification tag gets blown away somewhere, I'll be listed as missing in action (MIA) or killed in action (KIA) without anyone knowing. It would be helpful if we could skip that hassle. If they find either of my hands, they should be able to recognize me."
It didn't seem like his personality to get a tattoo, but after hearing the reason—a reason that made sense in its own way—Anis, Neon, and even Rapi, who had been listening to the conversation, found themselves in agreement. It was a very Moore-like reason indeed.
Nevertheless, the possibility of not even being searched for after death was greater. Moore shrugged his shoulders with a playful demeanor that didn't suit him, and rolled down his sleeve.
----
Tomorrow was early.
They would be going to bed before 9 PM.
The four of them lay down on the row of outdoor beds inside the room, each showing their sleeping posture, but...
"..."
Sleep didn't visit Moore at all.
Usually, he had no trouble falling asleep—strangely enough, tonight was different.
Perhaps he had too much on his mind.
More than two hours had passed since he lay down on the outdoor bed. He opened his eyes, lifted his left wrist, and lit up his watch to check the time.
... It's 23:45.
His internal clock seemed to be a little off.
He sat up reluctantly, pushed the chemical fiber blanket away from his body, and placed his booted feet on the floor. He stood up, still wearing his boots.
He carefully draped his combat jacket over his shoulders, avoiding waking up the sleeping women.
Moore stepped outside.
The date would change shortly. The operation would begin five hours later.
He knew he should rest and get his condition in order, but for some reason, his body seemed to be rejecting the idea of resting. More accurately, it was his brain, perhaps.
To numb his brain a bit, Moore took out a soft pack from his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He opened the lid of the oil lighter he had pulled out along with it, flicked the wheel to light it up.
Amidst the cold desert air, a distinctive scent mingled as he exhaled smoke towards the starry sky above, the purple smoke covering the starry sky. As he gazed at the stars twinkling beyond the smoke and began connecting constellations based on his memories, the door of the newly emerged building quietly opened after a while.
"...Can't sleep?"
A melodious voice inquired. Moore sensed the identity without even turning around, but he found himself at a loss for words.
"...Sorry... Did I wake you up?"
Whether it was an excuse or an escape, he replied, but the presence approached, eventually reaching his right side. He glanced sideways, and indeed, there stood Rapi.
She must have been asleep earlier. She wasn't wearing her beret, jacket, gloves, or ammunition belts. She wore a sleeveless shirt with no sleeves, and there was no tie.
Remaining in her casual attire, which was so informal that Moore didn't even recognize her from the outpost base, she stood by his side. She looked up at Moore, her tall figure, while tucking her light brown hair behind her ears, with her crimson eyes.
"...Can't sleep?"
She asked the same question again. He couldn't hide anything from her penetrating gaze. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, indicating his affirmation.
"...I have various thoughts running through my mind."
"...Is it about Marian?"
Rapi asked the difficult question. She had the virtue of being straightforward.
While exhaling the purple smoke, he nodded slightly in response.
"...I figured as much..."
"...I know things might not turn out the way I want them to..."
Anderson supposedly favored happy endings, but Moore seemed to be disliked by some sort of deity. Endings that should have been near perfect at the last moment were more likely to be significantly influenced. That's why he also hated the gods to the point where the relationship couldn't be repaired.
Rapi looked up at Moore's profile as he emitted the faint sound of cigarette leaves burning and exhaled the purple smoke. When he noticed her gaze, he glanced at her, and then he casually took off his jacket and draped it over Rapi's shoulders.
"...Commander?"
"...I know you're not cold, but when you dress like that, I end up feeling cold watching you."
"In that case, you should wear it." Lapi immediately tried to return the jacket that had just been put on her. However, she sensed that Moore's personality would likely reject her attempt once again.
Unable to help it and feeling a sense of warmth in her heart, she gratefully accepted the jacket.
"...It's oversized."
"---Fufu...Considering the height difference between you and me."
A faint wry smile appeared on Moore's face. It seemed he still had the composure to smile. Realizing this, Rapi held the jacket in place with her left hand, making sure it wouldn't fall off.
After finishing his cigarette, he took out a portable ashtray from his pocket. He flicked the cigarette butt into it, closed the lid, and sighed.
"...Rapi."
"Yes, what is it?"
"I have a favor to ask."
Rapi, whose crimson eyes blinked, was genuinely surprised that Moore, who usually never hesitated, would preamble a request. Especially because he seemed a bit preoccupied and was looking down at her with his deep brown eyes.
"If... hypothetically speaking... if I were to die in tomorrow's operation, I want you to take command---"
Rapi's right hand rose naturally, interrupting Moore's words in progress. Her slender index finger was placed on his slightly dry lips, as if to silence the words he was about to say.
"I understand what you might be worried about. But... please, don't say such things."
Although her fingertip left his dry lips, he didn't continue with what he had been saying earlier.
Acknowledging this, Rapi held the turbo lighter and offered it to Moore. He nodded slightly, shook the soft pack once more, and brought the lit end of his cigarette closer to her, covering the flame with both hands.
A blue flame erupted, and from the scorched end, purple smoke wafted. Holding the cigarette between his left fingertips, he looked up at the sky and exhaled the purple smoke gently.
Her slender fingers touched his open right hand.
As if probing, or perhaps with a touch of fear, her slender fingers gripped his calloused hand firmly.
"You won't die. I promise. I'll protect you."
With a slightly stronger grip, Moore's calloused hand responded with an equal measure of strength. Interpreting this as a sign of acceptance, her delicate fingers eventually loosened, sliding away from his hand.
"...Thank you for the jacket."
"Are you going to sleep?"
"Yes. ...I'll go back to rest now. Commander, please... at least close your eyes."
Rapi tried to take off the combat jacket, but Moore placed his right hand on her shoulder, preventing her.
"It's okay as it is. ...Sorry, but could you leave it on my bed?"
"Understood. Goodnight, then."
"Yeah. ...Rapi."
Turning back towards the house, Rapi was stopped by his voice.
When she placed her hand on the door, she looked back over her shoulder.
.
.
.
.
"...Thank you."
She was momentarily unsure of what he meant, but she accepted his gratitude sincerely, returning a smile and nodding before disappearing into the house.
Moore, watching her go, gazed up at the stars once again.
If there was any benefit to humanity being driven from the surface, it would be the exceptionally clear view of the stars. With artificial light sources being scarce, the stars appeared even more beautiful than in ancient times.
It was an ideal environment for stargazing.
With a sigh, Moore exhaled the purple smoke and flicked the cigarette into the portable ashtray. The moment he did, he reflexively drew the pistol from the leg holster strapped to his right thigh, pulling the slide back.
"Who's there?"
Quietly interrogating the darkness across the narrow street, he aimed the gun.
The faint sound of the trigger being pulled. Simultaneously, the darkness beyond the street flickered.
"...It's me."
"...Don't startle me like that."
Two more interrogations, and he would have pulled the trigger.
The revealed identity—Snow White—elicited a deep sigh from him. Keeping his thumb on the pistol's hammer, he removed his finger from the trigger.
"...You've grown a new arm while I wasn't looking."
"It's more convenient and practical than my original arm. ...Anyway, why are you here? This area will turn into a battleground early tomorrow morning."
"...I thought so. I was chasing Chatterbox and ended up here..."
Having sensed something from the concentration of Arc forces in the city outskirts, Snow White approached him and looked up with her golden eyes.
"...I plan to intrude into the battle tomorrow."
"...That's quite sudden. Well, I appreciate you informing me beforehand, but..."
"Also... leave Chatterbox to me. I have to handle him."
Looking down at Snow White, who spoke as if it were a casual matter, Moore's expression turned sour. It was an obvious rejection.
"...You can make that face too, huh?"
"I don't want my prey stolen away."
Their current record was one win and one loss. Perhaps this was their third encounter, or perhaps it was a fortunate opportunity after all.
Having the chance for a reunion taken away didn't sit well with him.
"...Probably your objective isn't Chatterbox 's defeat, is it? Don't lose sight of your goal. Leave him to me."
"...I understand. You're right. Our top priority isn't taking down that talkative bastard. I'll... relent."
Snow White's lips curved into a faint wry smile at the expression "relent" – not a request or a plea, but an acknowledgment of her stance.
"...I'll graciously accept that. Until tomorrow."
"...To be precise, it's already 'today.' It's past midnight."
"...Indeed. ...Well, you should rest now."
"Let's do that. Ah, wait."
As Snow White was about to leave, Moore called out to her and approached her with a portable device in hand.
"Do you have a messaging app installed? If you're intruding, I'd like to exchange contact information just in case... You do have a cellphone, right?"
"Ah..."
Unexpectedly, it was about exchanging contact information. While she said this, she took out her own device, observing Moore's phone as he approached with his.
Although it wouldn't be appropriate for the person who suggested it to feel this way, Moore couldn't help but be surprised when he saw that she indeed had a cellphone.
