12 A Pleasant Long Weekend

The Third Fleet has a long weekend in May.

The reason it exists is, frankly, nothing more than tradition.

An ancient ace once said something like,

"Wait, isn't May the month for long weekends?"

That’s apparently the origin.

Jin, the current ace, finds that explanation utterly implausible.

Even an ace—how could a single individual’s preference dictate the entire fleet’s holiday schedule?

If that ace had actually existed, they’d surely be among the pilots with the highest kill counts, far ahead of Jin’s record.

Jin has never once succeeded in extending his vacation by claiming superior combat performance.

Still, he’d like a few more paid days.

Anyway, it is a long weekend.

The training academy rarely grants extended breaks.

Only four such periods per year: summer, year-end and New Year’s, the fiscal transition, and this May long weekend—each lasting about a week.

Four long holidays annually.

An opportunity to stretch one’s wings, occasionally.

The air should grow slightly restless as the day before a break approaches—.

Yet the three, whom Jin calls the Problem Child Squad, the Three Morons, were lying in the dining hall as if on the brink of death.

“Hey, shorty… you lost the rock-paper-scissors, so you’re the one who has to fetch the water…”

Kou, slumped against the backrest, spoke sharply, yet without strength, to May.

“No, no… it’s a five-round match… the outcome hasn’t been decided yet…”

“No, you… you were the one who changed it to three rounds, so just give up already…”

May, face pressed into the table, refused to move—stubborn to the end.

Yuria, leaning on her elbows on the table, urged her to hurry with her voice.

Neither Kou nor Yuria had the strength left to act.

May, weaker than both, needed no mention.

She no longer even felt like playing rock-paper-scissors.

Jake, idle at the moment, set down a cup and a pitcher of water beside the three still locked in their fruitless argument.

“What’s wrong with you three? You’re pretty worn out.”

The three drank the water in quick succession, as if racing to be first.

May, after a breath, looked up at the muscular cafeteria staff.

“That’s right. Please listen, old man.”

“Who’s the old man? I’m still in my late twenties.”

Jake tried to emphasize his youth, but was immediately deflated by the next words.

“No, you’re definitely an old man…”

“Hey, both of you—stop saying things like that, seriously.”

“You’re both awful!”

Tired, perhaps. The unrelenting honesty from the three, their slightly slack expressions, carved through Jake’s composure in an instant.

He wanted to scream that he could only afford such recklessness in his teens—but he swallowed the words down tight.

"Instructor is a demon."

"A demon, really... I heard from someone in another squad, they said our team’s antics are unheard of."

Yuria, relatively sociable, says this, and May collapses into a strange, muffled sound.

Probably something like "u-eh," or similar, Yuria speculates.

"Ah well, they’ve got their job to do. I know someone whose instructor’s been through the same—said they’re desperate to keep people alive."

"I get it, I suppose..."

"Especially with Sasamori. The Instructor’s tough. I’m starting to worry they’ll need a memorial offering."

"...Don’t be ridiculous, that kind of thing."

Kou grunts, voice dry, as if the insult were a prelude.

"Training’s absurdly strict, but that’s exactly why I feel the skill’s there. So what’s there to complain about?"

"Still so stoic, you brute—like your brain’s made of muscle."

"Shut up, you dried-up corpse. Get some meat on you."

"Challenging me? I'll take you on, you bastard."

Yuria almost retorted, "You were the one who started it," but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Instead, she turned her gaze toward Jake.

"Can we eat dinner now?"

"Yeah. A bit early, but... it's ready."

"Then excuse me. I'll have the daily special."

"Me too."

"Count me in."

"Alright. Three daily specials."

Jake disappeared into the kitchen after taking the orders.

"Still, today was really tough."

"Since it's before leave, they pushed harder than usual."

"Hmph. If you can't handle that, you don't belong."

"Coming from someone who was panting like a dog just a moment ago... well, what do you expect?"

"Fine. You really are picking a fight. You, I see."

Still, half-lidded, Yuriya watches the two of them.

A year and a bit since they were assigned to the same unit as first-years.

The two of them are always at it like this.

The content of their arguments is difficult to call substantial.

Honestly, Yuriya wonders how May can keep confronting Kou like this.

Kou seems, at best, of questionable character.

He doesn’t flinch from mere conversation, but during combat, he’s a little frightening.

They argue constantly, so they’re not exactly close. Probably not.

Still, she asks anyway.

“Just what is this display of affection between you two? Some kind of ‘mean to the one you like’ thing?”

“What are you muttering about, Yuriya? Are you actually sleepy?”

“Don’t go linking everything to romance like a grade-schooler.”

Yet when she counters, her breath matches his perfectly.

Ugh, annoying—Yuria mutters inwardly, complaining about the lot of them.

Still, she continues the friendship despite the annoyance.

Yuria has finally regained enough strength to sit up.

She finishes another glass of water, then brings up the topic of the upcoming holiday.

"Hey, May. You’ve got everything ready, right?"

"Of course, Yuria. Perfectly."

The trio of troublemakers had planned a two-night, three-day trip during the break.

Ship 5 is currently in dock, but other ships are available for sightseeing.

Yuria had proposed this as a chance to stretch their wings a little.

"Wait—why the hell do I have to go too..."

Kou grumbles, still resentful about being dragged along.

"What’s the problem? It’s a girls’ trip, after all."

"Can’t you feel bad about saying 'after all' like that yourself?"

Yuria silenced Yuri with a sharp look.

It wasn’t as if she’d minded going alone with May.

Still, it was only a three-person squad.

Leaving one out felt off. They needed a male hand. And it helped avoid unwanted attention. Yuria justified it and invited him.

"Indeed. The vanquished. Pay the price with quiet resolve."

"Shut up. Don’t get cocky just because you won unexpectedly."

Kou declined, as expected, but for some reason May challenged him to a mock battle—resulting in the outcome the two had just described.

Yuria, now caught in a bet where she’d agreed to obey anything, scowled at May.

"I won’t lose next time."

"Is it really that important to have me obey you? You pervert."

"Who said that?!"

"Sasamori’s deviant."

"Stop making baseless accusations!"

Taking advantage of the empty mess hall, the three of them make a little noise.

“Here you go—three daily specials. Heard you’re going somewhere on a trip, huh? You two.”

“Thank you. Yes. Starting tomorrow.”

May and Kou, instinctive companions, immediately begin eating after setting down their plates.

Naturally, Yuriya responds to Jake.

“Jealous. We’re stuck with other duties, so no days off for us.”

“The mess hall’s old man’s busy, huh?”

“Old man? Nah. Well, you know. Planning menus and such.”

“Come to think of it, the food’s been better since the old guy joined.”

“Huh. You notice? I put in extra effort. And it’s not like I’m an old man.”

“Good food every day gives you energy. Thank you. Sir.”

“You’re welcome. Hey. I still think being in your twenties isn’t quite old man territory, socially speaking.”

Jake hesitated, attempting to adjust his way of addressing her.

The effort seemed futile.

"Wait—May-nee-chan!?"

"Uh?"

The sudden childish voice echoed through the mess hall, snapping May from her hunger-induced trance.

She blinked, her gaze drifting as the silver-haired girl approached—slow, hesitant steps.

"Ah. Not the lost child from before? It's been a while."

"Yep—7,192,843 seconds!"

"What's with that number?"

May smiled at the childlike delivery, a vague, recently learned fact spoken with earnest clarity.

"...Who are you?"

"Mio!"

Mio explained herself to Kou, who tilted his head in confusion.

A self-introduction with nothing but a name—Kou grew more bewildered.

Yuria recalled, belatedly.

"Oh. That time May got lost."

"It was Yuria who did it."

"No, it was you."

"Never mind that—what are you doing here? Getting lost this dramatically isn't exactly subtle."

Normally, elementary school students wouldn't enter a training academy—military facility—under any circumstances.

"Mio isn't lost, is she?"

"Besides, you couldn't just walk in through the gate normally. How did you even get in…?"

"Look at this!"

Mio pulls the guest ID from around her neck.

The group tilts their heads in confusion—how did she even obtain such a thing?

"Maybe a relative?"

"Did she wander off?"

"Hey, runt. Where's your dad or mom?"

"You. Treating me and this child as equals? That question was—"

May, recalling her earlier failed attempt to communicate, reaches out to stop Kou—then suddenly remembers.

That's right—what exactly did Mio say back then?

Certainly—.

‘Jin?’

The person from the training academy. The name. Connected in May’s mind.

No—impossible, May thinks. Doesn’t quite match the image.

A brief glance to the side—Yuria’s gaze meets hers.

A question asked without words.

‘Hey… the one who came to pick us up back then…’

‘I know nothing. I saw nothing. I remember nothing.’

She tries to convince herself it’s just imagination—then Mio’s words pull her back into reality.

‘If it’s Daddy, he’ll be here soon?’