11 Overnight Stay 4
"Otou-san, hug me."
"Yes, yes."
Holding Mio close as she leans in, she shifts contentedly.
This kind of closeness will likely only last for now.
He knows the rebellious phase will come eventually.
When it does, she'll surely refuse to share a room, let alone breathe the same air.
"Sharon, hug me too."
"Of course."
Still, Jin thinks, Mio and Sharon have grown quite close in such a short time.
No, in Mio’s case, she tends to get along with almost anyone.
But what about Sharon?
Jin had joked about maternal instincts, but could it be true?
He certainly doesn’t recall her ever expressing unconditional affection for children.
As Jin steps back to make room, Mio follows after Sharon’s embrace.
"Father stays just like this."
"Just like this?"
In other words. It seems they want to be squeezed between the two of them.
An utterly extravagant request.
...An unrelated anxiety, though.
The thought of her one day having men serve her makes him slightly uneasy.
No, not even the future—right now she's already having three subordinates at her beck and call.
Jin shudders at the sight of such a queenly potential.
He was certain, without doubt, that this one would become something great.
"Um, then, I'll be going."
Mio is small.
If both of them try to embrace her—Jin and Sharon would end up nearly embracing each other.
The breath of Sharon, felt so close again after years, makes Jin stiffen slightly.
He notices the same reaction in her—slightly reassured.
"Something about you, Sharon... you're like a mother..."
"Mio, that's..."
Jin thinks he’d rather she not say any more.
It’s not the same as the lingering feelings he once had for someone he’d broken ties with.
Not the same as the lingering thoughts he once had for someone he severed ties with.
Jin himself cannot clearly define the emotion driving him.
Yet he restrained himself at that moment.
Mio likely isn’t thinking about it at all.
She probably just spoke without deep consideration, imagining what a mother might be like.
Or perhaps she’s unconsciously seeking one.
Sharon, upon hearing this, was slightly shaken.
She had intended to be an older sister figure.
Unfortunately, that role seems already filled in Mio’s mind.
For a moment, she murmured something quietly within her mouth, then fell into sleep.
“She’s asleep now.”
“This one sleeps incredibly well….”
As if a switch had been flipped, she slipped into slumber smoothly.
That ability, to Jin, seemed enviable.
Being able to fall asleep quickly, anywhere, at any time—useful for recovery, whether on the battlefield or elsewhere.
"Thank you so much for going along with Mio's request today, Sharon."
"You're welcome. I had fun too—feels like I got a little sister."
Sharon smiles, "I was an only child, after all."
"Mio said you're like a mother to her."
"It's flattering, but I'm not old enough to be a mother yet..."
"Face reality. There are plenty of women around your age with daughters like Mio..."
"There are also plenty of unmarried women around my age!...Oh, speaking too loud might wake Mio up."
Jin answers to that reasonable objection.
"Relax. Once this one falls asleep, they don't wake up unless something serious happens."
"Is that so...?"
Why did she suddenly put a little distance between them? Jin wonders.
Regardless.
"Hey, I want to ask you straight out..."
"What is it?"
"Am I... really being a proper father?"
Sharon's eyes widen at the question.
Why would you ask something like that?
I don’t know what a parent looks like.
That’s right…
Even among the migrant fleets, there are children without parents.
Like Mio—those whose origins are uncertain.
Children abandoned. Children whose parents are dead.
Jin was apparently abandoned.
Jin was found placed in front of the facility, only a few months old.
The name "Tohgo Jin" was given to him at that facility.
And nothing else was given to him.
So Jin doesn’t know.
What a parent is supposed to be.
"Come look in the mirror."
"Huh?"
"You can see your otō-san’s face—Mio’s father."
Sharon smiled faintly.
"Just thinking about being a father for Mio’s sake—doesn’t that make you a father already?"
"I suppose that does ease my mind a little."
…Was it because of that… you took Mio in?
"Huh?"
"Maybe that's why I didn't want her raised in an institution."
"One of the reasons, yes."
He hadn't ignored it.
The facility Jin had lived in closed the year he entered the training academy.
It had apparently broken numerous laws.
Children were fed only cube rations three times a day, and there was an unusual number of female children taken in.
There had been reports of irregular financial flows—enough to make headlines for a time.
He knew, intellectually, that the current facility wasn't that bad.
But inside Jin, the facility remained that same wretched place.
"Any other reasons?"
He thought—hadn't they ever discussed that before?
Not that there'd been a chance to talk.
"…Because she reminded me of you."
A flicker of surprise came from Sharon.
"Really? What do you mean?"
"Yeah. Honestly, the first time I saw her, I was shocked."
They were identical.
……You’ve never met her before, have you?
No. Only her name. But… I see. Lieutenant…
Sharon closes her eyes for a moment.
“Lieutenant.”
“Hmm?”
When she opens them again, her expression has hardened into that of a sergeant.
“You said once, Lieutenant. That you didn’t know why you were fighting.”
……Ah. I did.
Perhaps because he was from the facility.
Jin had no reason to fight.
The slogan—protect the civilians behind us—was raised like a banner.
To Jin, that was all he could feel: why.
To Jin, friends were only those he’d met after entering the training academy.
All of them comrades, trained for war.
But in truth, they were all shields.
Shields for someone whose name or face he did not know.
That was what hurt him most.
No one stood beside him when he thought he didn’t want Jin to die—no one at all behind him.
Until he met Rei.
And after losing Rei, he lost her again.
"Are you alright now?"
"...Yeah. Worried you. I’m fine now."
But now Mio is here.
Jin holds Mio’s hand, guarding her—yet Mio holds Jin’s hand, keeping him from leaving.
"Then I’m relieved. With Mio-chan around, I feel safe."
When he opened his eyes again, the expression had softened.
"...Anyway, things have changed."
He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, so Jin changed the subject.
"The drone analysis I asked for earlier."
"Yeah. That one. Not making progress yet..."
"Let’s handle that one directly—no network upload. Direct exchange only."
Meaning: no emails, no intermediaries—only direct data chip transfers.
That is how one handles maximum-level classified material.
“…Do you think there’s a net spread within the convoy?”
“Only considering the possibility. The situation’s unclear. Still, leaving it alone would be troublesome. We’re already deeply involved.”
The drone incident.
The cocoon-like object recovered.
The suspicious behavior of the humanoid ASID.
Three anomalies, all known to Jin.
And all of them connected to Jin.
“Information this sensitive can’t be made public, that much is certain. We need to proceed with caution.”
“Indeed. Understood. But meeting frequently might raise suspicion in itself.”
Jin had considered that.
Yet, unwittingly, Mio provided the opening.
“Should be fine.”
“Any particular idea?”
“Same as before. We’ll use Mio as the base.”
“…I see. A blind spot, indeed.”
But this approach had a fatal flaw.
“The problem is, if we meet this often… well, people will start assuming things.”
“…They probably will.”
Two unmarried adults, past their prime, spending nights together at home.
Jin would assume the worst.
Sharon would assume the worst.
Yuria would faint from shock.
Jin aside, Sharon might become a factor in the future.
It would be a pity if she missed her chance at marriage.
Thinking this way, the plan that once seemed brilliant now felt like a mistake to Jin.
“No, this strategy—let’s just forget it—”
“No. Let’s do it. There’s no better alternative. It’s fine. We won’t worry about what others say.”
Sharon says firmly.
“Besides, let’s involve Jake too. He’s got connections, and insights from outside the military.”
“Sometimes, seeing it from outside the ranks gives a clearer view… yes, that’s true.”
Jin nods in agreement with Shirley’s assessment.
"Then it’s settled. Let’s call it a day."
"Indeed. We’ll sort the finer details tomorrow onward. Good night."
"Good night."
Saying this, Jin falls asleep.
No need to envy Mio—his sleep was deeply sound.
And as for Shirley.
Her presence makes the chest tighten; sleep eludes him.
For Mio.
To prevent information leaks.
He knows, better than anyone, that all of this is merely pretense.
"I’m… "
Another justification for staying by Jin’s side.
He could not withstand it—had already rushed toward it.