27 Jin's Concern

Having issued a challenge to May, what should he do now?

Make someone want to live. Saying it is easy. That is why it is difficult. Most living things desire to live.

—Hmm.

"Dad’s making another complicated face again."

"Yeah. There’s another problem, actually."

"Like Mr. O."

"I suppose I am the professional."

Jin sits deep in thought on the living room sofa. Mio approaches.

She has just finished her homework. She holds a picture book, attempts to sit to Jin’s left, then stops.

Instead, she settles firmly onto Jin’s lap, claiming it as her own.

Recently, Mio’s usual spot has been either to Jin’s left or here.

"Hey, Mio."

"What is it?"

Jin meets Mio’s gaze as she tries to look upward.

"How do you think one should make someone want to live?"

"Where to?"

It’s not about where you want to go—what matters is wanting to live, that’s the core of it.

Jin’s question draws a deeply complicated expression from Mio. If forced to name it, one might wonder if it’s disbelief.

“Are there people who don’t want to live?”

“Yeah… there are.”

A close example would be Jin himself.

“Hard to understand…?”

Too difficult for a six-year-old.

Or perhaps something a six-year-old should understand, but has forgotten.

A matter of uncertainty.

“Yeah. For instance, Mio—when do you feel like you’re alive?”

“Mmmmm…”

She furrows her brow, deep in thought. Perhaps she’s never even considered such a thing.

“Don’t strain yourself too much…?”

“…When I’m sleeping with Daddy!”

“Good girl, good girl.”

The sweetness of it catches him off guard—he can’t help but run a hand through her hair.

He’s being threatened—more than once—that he’ll soon stop allowing himself to be touched—so now is the time, as if to say.

His mentor is unmarried, after all.

“Next time, playing with friends! Fun!”

“Is that so.”

It’s good to see school life is enjoyable for Mio—Jin feels a measure of relief.

But Mio’s words give Jin a hint.

“Fun, is it?”

Make something so enjoyable that the thought of dying becomes unbearable.

Indeed, a direct approach.

The problem, though, is that the capacity to perceive enjoyment may already be numb—based on personal experience.

“Or maybe not.”

In daily life, Mio seems genuinely cheerful. It’s hard to believe all of it is an act.

Make something enjoyable.

In other words—entertain others.

How should one go about it? Study under a comedian? No, that’s definitely wrong.

As Jin thinks, he spends another day immersed in simulation combat.

A close-quarters fight, flanked by Kou and May.

Coordination has improved dramatically compared to a month ago.

Trapped between them, Jin must respond with full effort to avoid several dangerous situations.

Seizing the ether dagger thrust forward by the arm, he hurls it directly at the opponent in the momentum.

The reflexive action blurs the origin—whether it was his own machine or the one approaching from front or rear.

Jin realizes his mistake.

He relied entirely on reflex.

Normally, this would not matter. Even in real combat, it would not be a significant issue.

Reflexive action—the optimal solution drilled into his body for this exact scenario.

The problem arises only when facing an opponent who knows Jin’s movements intimately.

A sniper shot from Yuria pierces the tangle of three combatants.

It is not sane. Even by simple numbers, their side holds the advantage.

A sniper shot aimed at a tangle of combatants carries a higher risk of striking allies than enemies.

Yet the shot was fired regardless.

It was proof that every machine’s movement had been read.

Not just the two at the front—Jin was also advancing rapidly in skill.

Yuria was steadily honing her abilities as a marksman.

The ether bullet approached Jin’s Leopard, avoiding Kou’s machine, avoiding May’s.

(To evade.)

It would strike if not avoided.

Jin did not care about victory or defeat.

But not now. These three were at their peak.

They were desperately striving to surpass an unbreakable barrier.

If they had succeeded in downing Jin here—

Jin would become that barrier.

Then their growth would surely cease.

Intellectually, he understood.

But the heart would falter, complacent.

Evade in time—it was impossible.

Then Jin made his decision.

There is no choice but to intercept.

The ether dagger drawn in a sudden, unannounced strike—its speed a challenge to the limits of human reflex.

Cutting through a speck of ether fire is not enough to stop it.

The aim is a return shot, like before.

Redirect the trajectory of this ambush and strike back at the attacker.

But the timing was perfect. Despite having aimed precisely, Jin could not execute the maneuver.

He barely parried the thrust aimed like a spear.

Two hunting hounds lunged at once, seizing the opening created by Jin’s destabilized posture.

Their greed in the gap. Reassuring. Terrifying.

He meets them with full force.

In a minute, the three were all downed.

“Not bad, Yuriya. This simulation came close to a decisive outcome.”

“…Yes.”

After the simulation. May and Yuriya finish all lectures and rinse off sweat in the shower room.

They no longer collapse with faces like they’re dying right after a simulation—this recent.

The luxury of showering only three days ago.

“Still, that was Yuriya. That sniper shot was flawless. You really know how to manipulate a man.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Yuriya’s expression remains unimpressed as May praises her while washing her hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, it was just… a little uncharacteristic of an Instructor.”

“Really? I thought it was just as per usual—creepy as ever.”

“Yeah, it was just as per usual—creepy as ever.”

Jin would sigh at that shared understanding.

“It felt… off, somehow.”

That sensation eluded May, who fought on the front line.

No matter what, the closer you get, the narrower the view becomes.

Yuria, who observed the whole situation from a bird’s-eye perspective, would understand it better.

Above all, May trusted Yuria’s intuition.

“If Yuria says so, it must be true.”

“Sorry, May. I already ate. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I understand! I’ll make sure to eat Yuria’s share too!”

“I didn’t say you had to eat first!”

The two were, as always, unchanged.

After changing clothes, Yuria went looking for Jin.

At this hour, he’d likely be in the instructor’s office. She headed there with that assumption, and as expected, Jin was already there.

“What’s wrong, Nastin trainee? No reflection paper today.”

“No, um… there was something that caught my attention during today’s simulation. I’d like to discuss it.”

"Hmm. Something you didn’t notice during debriefing?"

Jin glanced briefly at his watch.

There’s still a little time before the daughter arrives. If you’re willing, let’s discuss it now.

Thank you. Regarding the sniper strike at the end—

Ah. That one. You’ve improved, Nastin trainee. That timing was flawless. Reading an opponent’s behavioral pattern is crucial in ASID combat. Once you can insert yourself into that single moment of vulnerability, the next step is guiding their pattern—-

At that moment, it seemed to me you were thinking of something else, Instructor. That’s why you made such a mistake. If I’m mistaken, I’m sorry.

Jin’s words were cut short as Yuriya spoke abruptly.

A flicker of shock passed through Jin—unexpected, even from a student. Especially from the way she’d moved during combat.

He was struck by the precision of her observation.

He decided it wasn’t that he was unusually transparent, but that Yuriya was unusually sharp.

That sharpness, however, served little purpose in ASID combat.

But in interpersonal combat—this would be invaluable.

And in human-targeted combat—well.

He turned a blind eye to that possibility.

"I apologize. I’ve been preoccupied with a personal matter. It must have affected my piloting."

How to amuse another person.

He couldn’t say he’d been pondering that.

Yet the Instructor had noticed such things.

Jin felt a flicker of warmth.

"Ah, that personal matter—is it… a love affair!?"

He withdrew his earlier thought. The man had come just to talk about romance.

"Nastin trainee. That’s incorrect."

"Is it the blonde technician?!"

"Listen. And stop making those awkward assumptions."

He calmed the excited Yuriya.

From their earlier meeting, he’d suspected Yuriya had a taste for romance—but not to this extent.

To think he’d come straight to the Instructor like this… fearless, perhaps. Or reckless. Either way, unsettling.

But Jin thinks.

He’s been stuck on his own.

Yuria shouldn’t be directly involved with Kou and May’s situation.

Above all, she’s a girl of May’s age. Her sensibilities—probably close. Should be.

Slightly off the average, both of them. Uneasy, but closer to May than he is.

He’ll ask. It felt natural.

“Just thinking… how to enjoy life.”

“Obviously.”

Yuria pauses for a breath—then declares, confident.

“Fall in love!”

Damn, Jin thinks. Honestly impressed.