14 The Sound of Collapse
I didn’t think you’d be unaware.
"Um, you know how the sky sometimes flickers? That's ASID."
"Was it someone sparkling all along?"
No, this makes me just a lighting craftsman, Jin rephrases his words.
...Scary ones that attack humans.
Afraid? Which is scarier—the pink ghost or the one you're facing now?
Mio raises a ghost that steals children from picture books.
That must have been the thing she feared most within herself.
ASID is scarier.
Is that so?
Seemed not quite settled yet.
Her left hand rests against her jaw, brows drawn together, lips pursed.
Jin bursts into laughter at Mio's sudden grimace.
What’s with that face?
Jin's imitation of someone pondering something difficult
Jin touches his cheek, wondering if he truly looks that way.
"Speaking of which, Jake told me something—penguins are birds, yet they can't fly!"
"Hmph. A lack of willpower, then."
"But he said they swim really fast."
"Having a specialty is a good thing."
It was probably just a random question, dredged up from memory.
The topic shifts in an instant.
Mio recounts today's events with a light tone.
Jin replies as they reach home.
Tired, Jin sinks into the living room sofa, exhaling deeply.
"Mio, go take a shower."
"Yessir."
The Third Fleet standard: nanomachine cleansing shower rooms.
A single button maintains cleanliness—something that was unpopular in Rei's time, Jin recalls.
To Jin, the need to undress each time is nothing but a nuisance.
Rei's insistence meant this room also has a water-based shower, despite the modern standard.
But Jin had never used it once. Like the kitchen, it remained idle.
It's done—
The sensation of the cleansing process is a faint, prickling warmth enveloping the skin, yet Mio seems to like it.
Her face was radiant when she emerged.
I’ll join too...
Entering the shower room as she was, she pressed a single button.
A bursting sensation enveloping the entire body.
A vague sensation of tension uncoiling through the body.
Was that really enough... what if they say they want to quit?
A trainee undergoing combat technique instruction.
She is uncertain whether the guidance she provided was the right course.
Ask the mentor who was responsible for Jin.
"If there were a correct answer, I'd be the one asking."
It had been said.
Jin can only concede that it is a valid point.
If there were uniform answers, human relationships wouldn't be so difficult.
A raw gem that shines when polished.
A novice polisher might just as well become an ordinary stone.
Worse yet, their death on the battlefield could be traced back to my instruction.
The thought was more terrifying than facing combat myself.
He thought the same about Mio.
Ultimately, he felt he was unsuited to teach or guide anyone.
"Jin—shiny, it's here!"
"Again?!"
Jin shot out of the shower stall at Mio's call.
Grabbing the backpack he'd assembled for emergency evacuation, he took her hand.
He moved toward the shelter, thinking it was earlier than usual.
Mio’s prediction proved accurate once more.
"Pretty—"
Mio tilted her head back, mouth open.
Even if told it was dangerous, she still lacked real fear.
Her eyes were fixed on the spectacle.
Jin carried her as he ran.
The frequency was excessive—more than it should be.
Most unsettling of all, the humanoid ASID did not appear to be genuinely attacking the convoy.
After engaging in skirmishes, it would withdraw.
Previous ASID had always pursued until total annihilation.
Tactical patterns emerged and vanished.
The intent remained obscured.
“What is the objective?”
Was it the same as the other ASID—complete destruction of the convoy?
Did instinct, like a long-extinct predator hunting by habit, dictate its strategy?
Jin could not determine.
He did not know what had triggered this humanoid ASID to attack the convoy.
Combat with ASID was typically incidental.
A collision of routes and habitats.
No prior pursuit had been persistent.
“Did one of us steal an egg?”
ASID were not oviparous, yet the thought surfaced anyway.
If this continues indefinitely, the convoy’s defense system will eventually collapse.
No human or equipment can endure such daily deployments.
“…This is bad.”
Jin’s apprehension became reality.
The first weekend since Jin became Instructor.
A promise made with Mio to visit the aquarium.
That promise was not upheld by the aquarium’s indefinite closure.
Not the aquarium alone.
Other recreational facilities.
Many facilities not essential to urban operation reduced their functions.
Shortages of supplies.
The convoy is a fully closed-loop arcology, yet combat remains an exception.
There is no replenishment for the materials lost to the outside.
If this assault continues for another six months, the city’s cycle will collapse completely.
Even if victory is maintained in every battle.
The situation had deteriorated to the point where such calculations were necessary.
On the way home from the closed aquarium, thinking only of food, they stopped by Jake’s shop.
The owner stood there, face drawn with hardship.
“Sorry… resources seem to be redirected to Cube Food. Once our current stock runs out, natural ingredients won’t be available for a while.”
“Seriously?”
“Can’t eat rice?”
Jin stared, surprised at Jake’s apologetic tone.
Cube Food was easier to produce than natural ingredients.
Yet he hadn’t expected things to reach this level of austerity.
“This is just a rumor circulating among the guild, but apparently a food plant ship was hit.”
“No way.”
He dismissed it instantly, though he had no real confirmation.
Above all, if a food plant ship stopped functioning, starvation was inevitable.
Planets capable of sustaining human consumption are not common.
Considering that, even if the ship had been struck, such information would likely remain undisclosed beyond a select few in command.
"Still, that’s just rumor. Most likely, resources are being diverted to military production. Judging by the consumption rate, it’s substantial..."
"Hope so..."
Jake, too, was a former soldier.
Needless to say, the military supplies producible in a food plant were limited.
The lie would have been obvious—no comfort at all.
"Rice..."
"Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll have to make do with cube rations today."
"Uh-huh..."
She nodded obediently, but disappointment was unmistakable.
The aquarium, which she’d been looking forward to, was closed.
And the food—cube rations—was something she disliked.
Jin felt sorry for her. A thoroughly dull day, indeed.
"Shall we go to the stuffed animal shop again and buy a new one?"
She had heard it wasn't good to give toys often, but seeing Mio now, Jin felt compelled to do something.
Just a little, a flicker of life returned to her eyes.
Then it faded again.
"Fine... just the ones already at home."
"Ah."
The cube rations had been slightly adjusted by Jake.
To Jin, that made a noticeable difference in taste, but it still wasn't enough to satisfy Mio.
After finishing, Mio normally sat beside him—today, she climbed onto Jin's lap.
Pressed her head against the back of his skull, pushing gently.
"What's wrong?"
"Read me a book."
He had no book—hadn't planned to leave.
Receiving her quiet signal to return home, Jin gave Jake a wry smile and relayed the message.
"Alright, let's go home, Mio."
"Mmm..."
Holding her left hand, they turned toward the house.
Even the usually boisterous Hyperloop remained quiet, its rhythm disrupted.
"Welcome home..."
"Yes, welcome back."
Washing her hands, Mio sat atop Jin on the sofa.
A favorite penguin plush doll rested at her chest.
Regrettably, the Raven plush Jin had chosen had become the guardian of the bed.
He assumed it served as a bodyguard—always placed beside him at night.
"Which book should we read?"
"...This one."
The story of a penguin on an adventure, purchased the previous time they’d found it.
She’d read it repeatedly, even in short bursts.
As she began, she realized, without noticing, she had grown accustomed to reading picture books.
Mio listened silently, still on Jin’s lap, as he read.
Suddenly aware, she heard Jin’s breaths coming from his chest.
"Fallen asleep already...?"
Carry her to the bed without waking her.
Perhaps sadness lingered—every planned joy had been crushed.
A tear hovered at the corner of her eye.
"Really, can’t it end sooner?"
As long as the humanoid ASID attacks continued, Mio’s joys would be stripped away.
Jin wished for resolution, as soon as possible.
Wishing, he felt his own anger ignite.
How had he come to rely on others? He resented it.
Not “I wish it would be done”—but “I will do it.” His fury burned with resolve.