22 Jin's Reason for Fighting

Jin opened his eyes, thinking, It's been a while since I dreamed of Mio.

His gaze dropped. Mio lay asleep, her expression relaxed.

From her posture, it didn’t seem he had been the one dreaming.

"Is it becoming the past already…?"

He remembered feeling the same when he last saw it—gradually, the clarity of the dream was fading.

"Was that before we started…?"

It should have been, but he wasn’t certain.

He had thought he remembered every moment with Mio, but even that certainty had grown thin.

Jin recalled how surprised he had been back then.

That period had been turbulent—something had happened just a year or so ago.

He now marveled at Mio’s courage for coming to him in such a state.

In the end, that shared living arrangement—.

"No, not that. The reason for fighting matters more."

Jin quickly shifted his thoughts from his own past to May’s training.

Jin felt, from his own experience, that May might lack motivation to fight altogether.

Kou had it. The reason was unclear, but he sought strength.

What about Yuriya? Jin wondered. Her motivation toward combat was also weak.

Still, there must be some reason. She did not avoid it.

Then what of May?

The reason to fight.

That might be absent.

……Maybe check her family structure.

Jin acted on the idea the next morning.

Hmm… they’re just ordinary, aren’t they?

A slight disappointment.

He’d feared she’d be like him—only to be left hollowed out.

No notable issues in her record… huh?

Accessing another file.

Sasamori Kou.

Comparing his record with May’s.

Elementary school, middle school—same schools…?

They must have lived in the same district. Checking the address confirms they were close neighbors—more than that, likely next-door neighbors.

It’s implausible they wouldn’t know each other.

Glancing at Yuriya, she lived in a different district. Slight surprise.

From Jin’s perspective, comparing Yuriya and Kou, Yuriya appeared the one with longer acquaintance.

“The outing during the last long break…”

Both Yuriya and Kou had returned home once each.

May, however, showed no sign of having returned home at all, as far as Jin could tell.

Same ship, Ship 11—no reason Kou could return and May could not.

Jin considers listening to both of them once.

Before confronting the main issue, gathering information is essential.

Still, discreetly questioning them might raise May’s suspicion.

Then, he decides—approach them openly, all at once.

"Very well, today... we will conduct training evaluations."

"Evaluations?"

"Second-years have been here three months. Apparently, we're to conduct routine interviews—assess their daily routines and habits. We'll proceed in this order: Sasamori trainee, Nastin trainee, Bellwair trainee."

"What order is that?"

Typically, standard fleet terminology would follow alphabetical order. But this sequence differs from that.

Yuria, slightly intrigued, asked.

"Gojūon order."

Jin's concise reply left Yuria visibly confused.

Well, that's to be expected, Jin thinks.

He himself didn't know such a system existed until he'd asked the command staff.

"Once today's lectures conclude. I'll call you individually. Don't leave yet."

With that, he began today's session.

Theory was quiet.

Practical training was severe.

That was the nature of Jin's instruction.

It leaned more heavily toward practical drills.

Jin’s academic performance was hardly distinguishable from that of the trainees. He followed the prepared textbook without deviation.

He roused May, who had begun to doze off during lecture.

He crushed all three during the simulation exercise.

Thus concluded today’s entire session.

Gazing at the three, utterly spent, Jin addressed Kou.

“Trainee Sasamori. We will begin the interview.”

“…Yes.”

Reluctant, yet steady, Kou followed behind Jin with deliberate steps.

Entering Jin’s instructor’s office, Jin gestured toward a guest chair.

“Your endurance has improved noticeably.”

“Yes. Well. Thanks to you, I’ve gained a little more margin during piloting.”

“That is good. Now, today’s interview focuses primarily on daily life. Is there anything troubling you in dormitory life?”

He began with Kou’s own circumstances.

"No particular issues. Ah, the hallway lights—there's a problem with the switch. It'd be good if that could be fixed."

"I'll relay that."

He jotted down a few requests regarding facility issues.

"Anything else?"

After a brief pause, Kou seemed to consider.

"No, not really on my end."

"Then, is there anything concerning your current squad?"

"Nothing in particular."

As the conversation continued, Jin noticed something.

This one shows even less interest in others than expected.

He cares only for his own strength—obsessively so.

"Sasamori trainee seems deeply fixated on becoming stronger. Is there a reason for that?"

In the depths of Kou's eyes, Jin thought he saw a flicker of flame.

That color—familiar.

Different vector of intensity, but this is—

"Actually, Instructor, I'd like to ask you. What good is there in being weak?"

A glare. A challenge in the gaze.

A deep scar lying further beyond.

—Weakness is taken. Weakness cannot protect. Being weak is a crime.

This color of flame—revenge.

A hue that burns with the cost exacted from the one who was lost.

The same color as Jin two years ago.

—That’s why I want to become strong. Is there an issue with that?

—No, there isn’t.

Unlike Jin, he does not consider death acceptable.

He may still cling, even if only his head remains.

Then, there is nothing more Jin can say.

Let that flame burn without extinguishing—grow stronger through it.

—Returning to the matter at hand, regarding team dynamics. Nastin, Trainee, how about you and Bellwahr, Trainee?

A glimpse into Kou’s hidden burden, unexpected, but this is the real subject.

Especially, I wish to know how May appears to Kou.

“With Nastin… I’d say we’ve reached a moderate level of rapport. We even went out together recently.”

“Ah. You two get along pretty well. Just one guy among two girls—doesn’t that cause issues?”

“Nothing at all, except when she occasionally treats people like a pervert.”

“And Bellwahr, the trainee? How’s that?”

Kou’s expression twisted—just slightly, barely perceptible.

Even Jin wondered if he’d imagined it.

“She’s… ordinary, I suppose. About on par with how I interact with Nastin.”

“Hmm…”

Then Jin paused, considering.

Had Kou spoken May’s name aloud at all in the past three months?

There were insults—tiny, childish ones. Things like “little one” or “chicken thief.” Those had happened.

But they weren’t her name.

“Come to think of it… Sasamori and Bellwahr—were their homes next to each other? Even before enrollment—”

“She’s—!”

Was there ever any connection between them? The question was cut off by Kou’s voice.

He seemed surprised at having shouted so loudly himself.

“I’ve never met that person.”

A strained voice, pulled out with difficulty.

His face twisted, as if holding back pain.

There was something familiar about that expression.

Where had he seen it before? Jin strained to recall, but could not find the memory.

And now, these words.

A complete instinct, yet he sensed a lie within them.

“I see. Sorry. I’ve gone off track.”

“No… it’s fine…”

“Anyway, this is something I’ll only tell you, personally, among my squad…”

As if shifting the atmosphere, Jin lowered his voice, speaking quietly.

Kou noticed the change in tone and returned to his usual expression.

“Don’t bring girls into your dorm room. It’s likely to be noticed.”

“I didn’t bring anyone in!”

“Sasamori trainee isn’t saying that. It’s just… happens occasionally. Someone sneaking in, getting pregnant… that sort of thing.”

Approximately once every three years.

“Also make sure to lock the door properly. There are rare cases of girls sneaking in… that pattern too.”

About once every three years, on this side as well.

“And don’t you dare reverse it. The security at the girls’ dormitory is incomparable to the boys’.”

Specifically, the budget is on a different scale.

“I won’t do it!”

Seeing Kou shout, face crimson, Jin thought their relationship was fine after all. He relaxed slightly.

Kou’s usual demeanor remained consistent—rigid, proper. Jin felt reassured.

“Then it’s settled. That concludes today’s meeting. Apologies for the lecture’s end.”

He watches Kou leave.

“Seems deeper than I thought.”

But he had only wanted to ask about May’s life—yet Kou seemed to have something on his mind regarding May.

He had claimed no acquaintance, but Jin thought that was a lie.

Almost certainly, they had known each other before—yet why conceal it?

…Wait. Ship Eleven.

The name triggered a memory. Jin checks.

Next is Yuriya’s interview—only a summary for now.

Found it. Ship Eleven.

Ten years ago.

The ASID attack on Ship Eleven.

Jin locates the news report.