28 Jin's Reason for Fighting 4
It was an inevitable notice.
Rather, Jin was shocked at how obvious it had become—so obvious that he himself had forgotten it.
"Sure, well. Of course, right?"
"Yeah. Naturally."
If it were just occasional visits, that’d be one thing.
But the dorm supervisor’s notice: not even allowing her to stay in the single-occupancy dorm.
Of course. Not that she was the one.
Jin didn’t expect any understanding even if he explained.
He was certain that if someone else said the same thing, he’d receive nothing but a look of disbelief.
That was beside the point.
Either the order would have him leave within days.
Or it would have both him and Jin leave.
Two choices forced upon him.
No longer could he let things slide as they had before.
"Can’t help it, huh."
That was all the sigh Jin let out.
He began packing his belongings.
Three months.
In that span, remarkably, Jin had accumulated more possessions than expected.
That was proof enough that the ID had already been reissued—but Jin deliberately looked away.
Here, it was impossible to ignore.
It wasn’t merely that he had begun to like it.
He had wanted to prolong this life, just a little longer.
Jin became aware of that truth.
Slowly—deliberately.
The traces of Rei were vanishing from the room.
His own space, once eroded, was being reclaimed.
A sensation tinged with coldness.
“I can’t impose further. Maybe I stayed too long.”
“That’s right. It’s gotten quite long.”
Originally planned for just a few days, now three months.
Long stay, indeed.
Yet the one who acknowledged it was none other than himself.
His belongings were packed.
“What now?”
“It’s not that late. We’ll find a hotel.”
“…That time of night incurs extra charges.”
“Can’t help it.”
What I truly wanted to say wasn’t this.
I know perfectly well I can’t be held back by such pretenses.
Rei smiles slightly, repeating it as if unable to help.
When she arrived here, she’d refused to stay at the embassy even for the cost of lodging.
“This.”
Rei pinches the physical key between her fingers.
The master key to this room.
“Return it, then.”
Staring intently.
Of course, that won’t change the reality of now.
She takes it.
Clenches it in her palm.
“Then…”
“Take care.”
What I truly wanted to say wasn’t this.
Slowly—over a minute—she puts on her shoes.
Even with that time, Jin finds no words to say.
“…When things settle, I’ll contact you.”
“…Yeah.”
A phrase anyone could offer.
They part.
◆ ◆ ◆
Even after returning from duty, no one is there.
That was the routine three months ago.
Entering a room frozen through.
Jin exhales in the quiet room.
This is boring...
In other words, for some time now, it has been enjoyable.
The pleasure was surely akin to what she had known when dating Shirley.
But he did not tense up.
Jin realizes now, belatedly, that he had been himself all along.
This is not a farewell for this lifetime.
You can meet if you want to, and contact if you choose to.
Then why does Jin not attempt it?
The answer is simple.
I don’t know.
His contact information, and his current place of residence.
There had been no need to know until now.
Of course, at first meeting.
Even after settling in here.
Such a thing would be impossible in any other fleet—entrusting a duplicate key to an opponent like that.
But this is the Third Fleet. A society with unique surveillance.
Attempting to steal an object results in immediate detection due to the change in mass.
Every action is monitored. In other words, the fleet system safeguards its own assets.
Yet when Jin entrusted the master key, he did not seem concerned with such matters... No.
He simply trusted someone he barely knew.
He did not mind that he lacked her contact information.
She would be here when we returned.
"...No progress."
The words slipped out too easily.
That way, someone—she—might respond.
He had grown accustomed to this passive environment.
Self-deprecating, he called it.
Like with Sharon.
He had retreated too quickly.
He had offered her no defense.
If he had clung without shame, without regard—
perhaps something would have changed.
And even now.
He realized he was still doing nothing, merely waiting.
A voice murmurs, repeating the same thing again.
Accepting it as inevitable, he resigns.
Alone in this cold room.
“…Right.”
He rallies himself.
If it fails, it fails—preparing himself with a mental shield.
This is entirely his own convenience.
His selfishness, indifferent to her circumstances.
Yet he wanted her to hear it.
If she were not a comrade, perhaps it was acceptable to show a little of his vulnerability.
That was the feeling he had.
◆ ◆ ◆
December 24.
“Missed the mark….”
For the past two weeks, he had been searching for her—nothing.
Only a few places where other ship crew would stay.
He had thought he’d find her by patrolling those areas, but Jin regrets the miscalculation.
For some time now, he had searched immediately after his shift ended—completely unsuccessful.
Besides that.
"Damn it. Who the hell decided Christmas weather must always be set to snow?"
Cursing under his breath as he navigated the unfamiliar snow-covered path, Jin searched for Rei's silhouette.
There had been an agreement.
A routine exchange, casual as ever, held in that warm place.
Still, it had been a real agreement.
"…Can't find her."
Today, the streets were simply crowded.
People walking past with cheerful expressions, radiating happiness.
People he had been guarding.
Even seeing them did not stir any emotion in Jin.
Only the thought that their presence or absence made no difference.
They were strangers to him.
Yet he believed Rei had felt the same.
No connection had existed—until they had made one.
It was because of that connection that he had come to know Rei.
And Rei had come to know him.
If she were to speak, she might say they had come to know each other's histories.
It was surely only a fraction of their shared lives.
There remained countless things still unsaid.
He had come to want to know them.
He had come to want her to know them.
Not a relationship from the start that required them to be strangers to one another as soldiers.
To desire knowledge of someone unnecessary to know—this was the first time.
To wish for someone unnecessary to know to understand himself—this was the first time.
For someone who had never cared for another's history to suddenly care—this was the first time.
That was why Jin still searched beneath the cold sky for her form.
He should have made his decision the day she left his room.
Had he spoken then, he would not have endured this effort.
Now, as the date changed, a sense of futility settled into his body.
Few people remained on the streets.
If anyone were there, he would have seen them. But even with his eyes, she was not there.
…Perhaps he’s returned to the Second Fleet.
He doesn’t know what the original plan was, but it was clearly beyond the limit.
Given how thoroughly they’ve searched and still found nothing, Jin considers the possibility with resignation.
Then suddenly, he remembers.
The words from Mio.
‘I’ll contact you when I’ve calmed down.’
Upon reflection, that makes no sense.
Just as Jin doesn’t have Mio’s contact information.
Mio shouldn’t have Jin’s either.
So how was she planning to contact him?
A single thought crosses his mind.
There is no evidence to refute it.
The destination is the military bachelor dormitory.
At the entrance.
A figure stands alone.
Exhaling white breath.
Staring at someone, waiting.
Cheeks flushed from the cold.
A faint dusting of snow on the hat.
Jin knows it won’t be so easily shaken off.
If he himself has become that way, how long must he remain like this to reach such a state?
The answer comes immediately.
Forever. It becomes clear he has been standing there for hours.
At that moment, Jin approaches.
Considering what words to speak.