01 The Meeting on a Rainy Day
What do you call a person who can face even the most desperate situation, even a formidable enemy?
Fearless?
Insane courage?
Hero?
Legend?
He already knows the answer.
"Lieutenant! Stop! The fleet is initiating coordinated fire! You'll be caught in it!"
"Not yet. I can still make it!"
A starless interstellar expanse.
A world between star systems, devoid of even the faintest trace of life.
A humanoid figure in obsidian black races across a battlefield saturated with dark matter.
Assault Frame Type 11, Raven.
The unit, meant to move in formation, cuts through the void alone.
Only the glow of its thrusters, venting from its back to accelerate, hangs faintly in the darkness.
Its motion resembles a meteor.
Yet its movement differs utterly from that of a meteor.
From this vantage point, the humanoid mobile weapon, nearly twenty meters tall, moved with chaotic, erratic motions.
Maneuvers like right-angle turns are just the beginning.
An acute turn that could only be interpreted as the pilot inside being crushed.
The black raven advances into the enemy's inner ranks, displaying lethal agility.
Insect, or something else?
Or perhaps a marine organism.
A cluster of entities with indescribable forms.
Scattered by a beam of light fired from an ether rifle, its form exceeding thirty meters in length.
Each sharp maneuver of the meteor reduced the enemy count.
A blade of light, drawn in passing—sheared apart by the Etherdagger, scattering into the debris of space.
They could not be ordinary beings, operating in a space devoid of even a single fragment of atmosphere.
ASID.
Fifteen decades since humanity first departed from its homeworld to venture into the cosmos.
A metallic organism, worm-like and limbless, existing as a constant predator.
"Queen captured!"
"Lieutenant Higashi!"
"Jin, it's dangerous. Step back!"
The footage was shot from a long-range lens; the finer details of its movement were indistinct.
But he sees it.
Of course.
The human referred to as Lieutenant in this footage is him—Higashi Jin himself.
A flash streaks across the scene.
Artillery fire launched from the rear fleet.
It melts the ASID along its path like sugar glass.
Then pierces deeper—into a single entity, vastly larger than the others, the queen of the swarm.
This entire battle was waged solely to destroy this one entity—the queen of the swarm.
After the torrent of fire subsided, nothing remained but the queen.
Light reignited in the void, swept clean by the torrent.
Jin’s Raven advanced alone toward the Queen.
Close-combat with the Etherdagger, a melee weapon.
Not sane.
The Queen, vastly larger than the others, spanned nearly a kilometer.
Alone, Jin lunged forward with a blade of light—then the footage froze.
“Now, Lieutenant. What do you make of this?”
“…Perhaps I’ve updated my kill count again.”
“Ah. Indeed. Congratulations. You’ve broken the all-time record. You’re the top ace. The ace of aces.”
The superior officer—Major—showed no sign of celebration.
Only a heavy expression.
“How many times now, Lieutenant? How many times have you come close to dying?”
Jin began to count, then stopped immediately.
Not even enough fingers on both hands.
“Stop fighting like this—self-destructively. The accident two years ago wasn’t your fault—”
“It wasn’t an accident!”
Jin cuts off the superior’s words.
The twisted ring hanging from his neck.
He grips it tightly, eyes fixed in a glare.
“I saw it clearly then! A super-large ASID!”
Two years ago.
A liaison vessel connecting two migrant convoys was sunk, officially classified as an accident.
Along with the military vessels assigned to guard it.
Jin was the sole survivor.
Among the dead were Jin’s comrades-in-arms—and his fiancée.
“A super-large model, classed at three hundred kilometers. Regrettable. No physical evidence. At least the black box had survived.”
Jin’s eyewitness account, as the sole survivor, was dismissed as hallucination under extreme stress.
That is an improbable report, beyond belief.
Even the queen-class vessel, at its largest, measures just one kilometer in length.
No previously observed specimen has ever exceeded ten kilometers.
"The wreckage should have been recovered. Restoration was possible."
"Impossible. That you survived, with the black box completely destroyed, is a miracle. Nearly full-body regeneration. I heard you're among the few who've undergone the most extensive regeneration post-treatment."
"……The doctor said the same thing."
Had rescue been delayed by mere minutes, let alone seconds.
Even a few seconds more would have meant certain death.
Fortuitously, vital organs—including the brain—had remained intact.
The lower body was nearly melted, indistinguishable from the cockpit.
Yet the upper body, relatively spared, proved fortunate.
A miracle of the narrowest margin. That is how Jin now stands here.
That is why he—.
"Given such fortune, didn't you think you deserved a moment's rest?"
"Exactly because of that fortune, I wish to carry on the will of my comrades. To avenge them."
A brief moment of eye contact.
As expected, it was Jin who looked away first.
He could not bear the superior's gaze—so piercing it felt like it saw through his soul.
"You're not seeking revenge, are you."
The lieutenant shook his head, sorrowfully.
"Do you know what you're called now?"
"No."
"Suicidal. You're not truly seeking to live. You just regret surviving, and you only want to return to your comrades."
Jin offered a faint smile at the answer.
What do you call a person who can still face an overwhelming enemy, no matter how hopeless the situation?
The answer is precisely that.
Suicidal.
A human can confront any threat, no matter how hopeless, if they do not consider survival.
They do not wish to die. But they do not fear death either.
Jin, who lost everything that day, finds no value in continuing to live.
He has no intention of wasting his life, nor does he hold back.
Seeing the expression on Jin’s face—already tinged with madness—the Lieutenant sighed deeply and withdrew a single document.
"Order. Accept it, Lieutenant."
"I accept."
It was common for someone like Jin, whose combat style seemed nothing short of suicidal, to be expelled to another unit.
He accepted without question, assuming this would be no different.
Yet the contents written there were more than enough to ignite his fury.
"Training school instructor...!?"
"Let me be clear—refusal is not permitted."
"Removing me from the front lines...?"
The battlefield is not a place to fulfill your desire to die. One cannot be placed on the battlefield without the will to survive.
Jin is silenced by a response with no room for rebuttal.
You've been occupying the nap chamber for quite some time now. For the next month, you have leave. Look upon yourself at your own home.
Turned away as if the matter were settled.
Jin gives a salute of form only to the figure's back, then exits the room.
... Rain
Raindrops tracing down his cheek the moment he stepped out from the barracks, baggage pressed against him.
He finally recalled that the weather setting for today had been set to rain from the afternoon onward.
He walks on, ignoring it as if it will stop on its own eventually.
A winter climate setting might have brought snow—so this was relatively mild by comparison.
Even if told to rest...
A month-long leave.
Jin’s longest stretch of time away from school since his student days.
Once completed, the instructor role would become an anomaly to him.
The idea of stepping away from the front lines was inconceivable.
Yet, as a soldier, refusal was not an option.
How to return to the front would be something to consider from now on.
……
Suddenly.
His ears caught something.
A sound. Not quite a voice, just a faint breath.
The faintest breath mingled with the rain.
Could be imagination.
But Jin trusted the sensation and altered his course toward where it came from.
He had survived this far by trusting his instincts.
Besides, there was nothing else to do.
The direction from which the sound came led toward the access stairs descending into the underground industrial zone.
Away from the residential section of the colony ship.
Who would be there?
Exposed pipes ran through the corridor. The low hum of machinery echoed.
From farther off, the sound of tools repairing the outer hull.
He recalls, suddenly, that the spot where he was hit during today’s combat was around here.
Calmly considered, no sound should reach him from this place amid the constant din.
“Hallucination…?”
Jin concludes this and turns back.
“—a…”
Truly faint.
But unmistakable to Jin’s ears.
Jin bursts into motion, propelled by the sound.
A frail voice. The desperation in it is unmistakable.
And Jin is a soldier.
Even if he cannot return to the front lines, he cannot ignore a plea for help.
Thus he finds her.
A girl lying motionless on wet ground.
The weather, having reached its scheduled time, has shifted to clear.
Sunlight streams down from above, as if pointing directly to the spot.
Jin races toward it.
A white back, exposed to the sun, lying fallen.
Judging by her height, she is five or six years old.
As he removes his jacket, Jin calls out.
"Hey. You okay!"
His mind races—high-speed, fragmented.
Eventuality. Hypothermia response protocols.
All vanish instantly, flung light-years away the moment he lifts the girl.
Nothing remarkable about her appearance.
Silver hair—uncommon, yes, but not unique; a hundred such would include one.
Yet the expression on her face—something that meant more to Jin than anything else.
"…………Mio?"
The name escapes him without thought.
Somewhere along the way, his right hand has closed around the warped ring slung from his neck—the one meant for his fiancée.
The same vessel that carried his beloved fiancée, two years prior, now sunk before his eyes.
He stands unmoored, staring at a girl who bears her likeness.
That day, a man seeking death met the girl who would decide his fate.