11 Parent-Child Quarrel 4
Staring at the father’s机体 lying on the ground.
The ASID that Jin had called a Princess Type—the true body of Mio.
Its chest housed a space designed to contain a pseudo-biological core.
Within it, saturated with high-density ether to ensure smooth signal transmission, Mio swayed.
The eyelids of the pseudo-biological core were softly closed, but to Mio, the sensory apparatus of the body was her own senses.
She fixed her gaze firmly on the scene below.
She expected to have lost consciousness from the impact.
Jin emerged from the cockpit hatch of the battered机体.
At this altitude, human voices could not reach.
Yet she understood, from the movement of his lips, what he was saying.
She looked away.
Instead, she scanned the ship.
Eight years—no, nearly the entirety of her life had been spent here.
The only place she could call home.
Every corner holds memories.
Memories of Jin.
Memories of Sharon.
Memories of Shu, Emisa, and Ya.
Memories of days spent with countless others.
The city is burning.
Buildings collapsed during Mio and Jin’s battle.
Damage sustained earlier, during May’s combat.
The fire originated from there.
Perhaps the only relief is that most civilians have evacuated.
Burning.
The city filled with Mio’s memories.
(But really—)
Those memories should have been etched by someone else.
She learned it from Chi.
She realized whose furniture occupied the room she had claimed as her own.
She realized whose home the place she had thought was hers truly was prepared for.
Once she understood, she could no longer pretend.
The place she had taken from another—she must return it with her own hands.
(Yes. That is correct. I was never meant to be born.)
Because I am a monster.
A creature that harms people.
Happiness, perhaps, is merely being able to live like a human.
A monster.
A creature that harms people.
And suffering, perhaps, is feeling human emotions despite that.
But please, Mio prays.
I will return this place.
The memories that should have been carved—those are yours.
But please. Just until then, let them be mine. For a moment.
Until the moment I must fulfill my duty, I wish to keep them as my own.
I wish to vanish, holding those memories.
The primary sensory array detected the approaching unit.
The model was certain.
(Leopard…)
Recalled from long ago—taught by Shirley. An old-model unit, she remembered.
I wonder if Shirley is safe.
I wish to see her once more.
Yet Mio thinks perhaps it was better not to meet after all.
If they had, she would not know how she might be reproached.
She could not endure reproach.
Two Leopard units advance, ether rifles raised toward her.
May and Shu’s units, attempting to rescue the fallen Jin, but Mio does not know this.
Only that, if they had come like this, rushing forward as they are now, then perhaps on that day—when she realized her true identity—she would have welcomed their arrival.
That is all she feels.
She channels her focus into her hair.
Those strands, loyal to her will, fuse into a single ribbon, deflecting the ether projectiles.
Closer still. At the point when their forms become visible to the eye.
The enemy’s movements falter.
The unit at the rear trembles most violently.
The leading unit also shows signs of unease, but suppresses it instantly.
A second volley.
But this time, the targeting shifts to limbs.
Mio hesitates, questioning the change, yet again intercepts with her hair.
(……In the way.)
She thinks it with detached irritation.
Almost like blame.
If you had done your duty that day, she might never have realized the truth.
A pointless, misplaced anger.
Her hair flares into an erratic arc, reflecting that intent.
The hair, now transformed into ultra-thin wires for attack, slices through the lead Leopard in an instant.
No mercy. No remorse.
The fact that the cockpit remains intact is purely coincidental.
At that moment, Mio’s mind holds not a single thought of the pilot’s survival.
The机体, limbless, descends.
Without witnessing it fully, she aims at the second unit behind.
She raises the rifle.
Then lowers it.
Though she questions the action, she still intends to dismantle it—
the enemy’s cockpit hatch opens.
What a suicidal act, Mio thinks, yet she does not stop moving.
But when she sees the figure there, she freezes.
(Toya-kun...?)
Why is he here, a trainee? The question forms.
Then—she turns her gaze again to the unit she just shot down.
Shu cannot operate solo. A trainee alone on a mission—impossible. Even Mio, lacking detailed knowledge, understands this.
Then—
The unit she just abandoned, the one she’d written off as dead—was she riding it?
(May-nee-chan...?)
She wanted to protect that life.
So why is she here now?
Yet she had just been about to destroy it.
Irrelevant. Everything will be as if it never existed.
Even if dead.
It’s obvious.
It’s obvious, yet why—
why does it hurt so much?
Something—guard—is screaming.
If I read the movement of her lips, I’d understand what she’s saying.
But I’m afraid to hear it.
Afraid of what she’ll say.
I don’t look aside. I aim for Sol.
I don’t belong here.
I break through the zenith screen and launch into vacuum.
I feel sharp intent.
Communication only the kin can perceive.
Screaming.
Whatever is contained there is surely the same as Jin’s.
I scream back, pushing it away.
Just restoring what should be.
Her outstretched hand slips through.
I push back—her hair attacks the other.
She cuts it all apart with the Long Sword, deflects it with the gauntlet.
But one instant is enough.
She advances without hesitation, seizing the fleeting opening.
There—waiting on the deck—was the Second Fleet’s Longinus-class vessel. Trishula stood in readiness.
“Welcome back, Your Highness. Was the summoning ritual completed to your satisfaction?”
A fleeting glance in reply to Harold’s mocking tone, then Mio lands on the deck.
She thinks the number has decreased considerably since the first time she saw it.
Most of them were likely destroyed—by the humanoid ASIDs.
She thinks it was a pity.
For the Second Fleet.
For the humanoid ASIDs.
A futile battle.
A meaningless battle.
Not far from now.
This battle itself will be erased.
“My main body and I are now fully connected. With this, I can activate your Literra using that Stalt Reactor.”
"Overlapping. Yet perhaps it should be called a blind spot... I didn't expect connection to the main body to weaken after acquiring pseudo-biological integration."
Mio sighs as Harold begins to ponder.
She normally ignores his habit of deep thought—but not now.
The humanoid ASID stares motionlessly at the Second Fleet formation.
More precisely, it stares at Mio.
Unable to meet that gaze directly, she looks away.
Her gaze shifts to the Third Fleet, tightening the encirclement.
Far too many ships.
The remnants of the fleet dispatched to eliminate the Stalt had gathered here.
Simply put: they are surrounded.
Mio sees no reason to linger.
As the last passenger, she should be ready to depart at any moment.
『There’s no more use for this fleet. Let’s go.』
Umn. Indeed. Then let us proceed. Toward the place of our promise.
……No intention to linger. As soon as possible. To fulfill everyone’s wish.
To fulfill it. And end it.
Overlight begins.
Overlight Jammer is the exclusive technology of the Second Fleet.
Neither the Third Fleet nor the humanoid ASIDs possess the means to prevent its jump—.
The Second Fleet vanished.
Until that moment, Mio had kept her gaze fixed on the Third Fleet.
For so long. So long.
What remained was the opposing fleet of the Third Fleet, the army of humanoid ASIDs.
And nothing but an infinite sea of wreckage.