12 Parent-Child Quarrel 5
Watching the Second Fleet vanish into the distance.
A pain like a hammer strike beneath the arm.
Probably broken—Jin strained to keep his composure, remaining in a half-crawling posture from the cockpit, gazing upward at the sky.
Cut across the forehead.
Even as blood streamed down and blurred his vision, he continued to look up.
It was unreachable.
He could not reach Mio’s true form. He could not respond to her full resistance.
No—was it even right to move at all?
Clearly, he did not know what to do.
Fighting with such uncertainty—victory was impossible.
Even so, what would count as victory in this conflict?
"...Mio."
He did not know what to do.
Outside the fleet, the fleet and the humanoid ASID remained locked in silent confrontation.
The reason no battle had begun remained unclear—but Jin should have been there, by now.
Otherwise, get treatment immediately.
"——Sir!"
What needs to be done comes into focus.
But movement is impossible.
"Mr. Higashi!"
"...Mr. Higata?"
A sudden realization—there, before him, stood the classmate of the girl who was gasping for breath.
Shouldn't have been a pilot trainee yet—why was she in a pilot suit?
"Help me! My older brother—he's been shot down, the hatch is warped, won't open!"
"I'm going right now."
The urgency of his former student's peril triggers instinctive motion.
He follows Shu's lead, enduring the pain.
"...I see. Indeed, this is—"
The aircraft must have crashed on its chest.
Even a layperson could see how severely deformed it was.
Nearby, a Leopard stood in parking posture.
The fact that it was unmanned confirmed it was Shu's machine.
"No response from inside."
Good. Take that component there. Push it through the gap to force the hatch open.
Attempting to pry it open with the Leopard’s brute strength might warp the interior further.
Simultaneously, request rescue team deployment.
May might be needed, even if most of the firefighting unit is deployed across the city.
Ready. Three, two, one!
They apply their full weight. The hatch shifts—just barely.
Possibly only a suggestion of motion. Perhaps it didn’t move at all. Not even a millimeter.
One more time.
No idle chatter except in sync. They continue in silence.
May’s crisis. The fact that Mio is gone. Neither of them knows what to say.
...You were still a trainee, weren’t you? How are you piloting a Leopard?
Jin wiped the sweat from his brow and could no longer endure the silence.
A portion of that sweat came from suppressing pain.
Sticky, oppressive, undeniable.
“The communication network within the convoy was severed. We were holding the relay tower to maintain beacon transmission. No one else was available at the training facility immediately.”
“Is that so.”
He understood, then, that much had happened even while they fought outside.
And again, he resumed work in silence.
At the moment a slight gap appeared, it was Jin who spoke first.
“That was the East乡, wasn’t it?”
“…You recognized it?”
He was honestly surprised.
The shape of Mio’s primary ASID bore little resemblance to her.
To distinguish a girl from that form—what eyesight, Jin thought, shuddering.
“I saw it once when it was summoned.”
“Ah. So that’s how it was.”
Jin learned, from Mio’s words, that she had shown it before a friend. He offered a measure of understanding.
The cry: no one was waiting.
It had been born from that very event.
“…You were afraid.”
Not just that.
Even knowing better, he could not prevent his voice from lowering as he asked.
“We were attacked by ASID. Me, my sister, Junpei, Higashi, Carmine, and the one from Hasegawa—on our way home from shopping.”
Shu’s reply was not an answer to the question, but a description of the moment.
“ASID?”
Jin’s doubt arose: how could such a thing happen within the Fleet?
Or perhaps it was all part of the Second Fleet’s design.
To expose Mio’s true nature—Jin thought, that was surely overthinking it.
We were trying to escape, but couldn’t get away. Your sister was captured by that ASID. Then, when the guy from Higashiō said ‘Stop it!’, the one from earlier showed up out of nowhere.
They both pushed at once, widening the hatch gap further.
“Mio-chan was screaming.”
“Sister!”
“Are you alright, Bellwair?”
“Now it’s Sasamori, Instructor. Sorry, I lost control… I mean, Mio-chan’s freaking strong, what even is that?”
Still talking as usual, Jin exhaled in relief.
At least her consciousness seemed clear.
“I see. So this is the kind where the hatch is warped and won’t open?”
“Good, you’re quick. How are you doing? Any injuries?”
“Looks okay at a glance. No bleeding. Airbags are deployed all over—kind of cramped.”
Relief washes over Jin and Mio as they confirm the situation is stable.
A moment of relaxation brings the pain in his arm back. He winces, instinctively.
“Something wrong?”
“Just a bit of pain in my arm…”
“Say something like that sooner!”
Hastily, Mio returns to the Leopard’s cockpit to retrieve the fast-aid kit.
“She said not to look, didn’t she? I’ve told her friends I’m sorry…”
“…Not to look…”
Mio’s hesitation becomes clear—she did not want her friends to know she was not human.
“After that, the ASID kept yelling. Too loud to hear anything else.”
“Did your friends say anything?”
“…Nothing. Just stared, pale.”
Given the circumstances, their reaction is understandable.
A regular high school girl attacked by an ASID and dragged into combat.
That she hasn’t collapsed is remarkable.
...Even seeing that, you’re still Mio, aren’t you.
“What is it, Instructor? You think I’d change how I treat Mio just because of that?”
No reply. No nod. But she felt the unspoken affirmation all the same.
Mei spoke, her voice sharp with indignation.
“That’s just a cute little thing. You’re the one who’s far too detached from humanity.”
“Hey.”
“Ten percent joke.”
“Ninety percent serious, aren’t you?”
Gazing at her, Shu returned and administered first aid.
“Wait—no way! It’s broken! You could’ve said something before I started lifting!”
“There. The Instructor, calm as ever even after a severe injury—now that’s the one who’s clearly the odd one out.”
She stiffened at Mei’s teasing, but after receiving pain relief, her body finally relaxed.
“And yet, here you are—Mio, who doesn’t even care about this foolish little brother. I’ve been searching for you ever since that day.”
“H-hey, sister…”
Shu shifts his gaze between Jin and May, his face flickering between pale and flushed.
He wants to press further on the earlier comment, but holds back.
"Isn’t just me. Carmine’s been searching too. Hakagawa’s boy has been looking for Tōgō all along."
He forces a strained expression as he says it.
"On that day, we never even thanked Tōgō for saving us."
At the moment he speaks, Shu’s profile carries the weight of a decision made.
"If he doesn’t want to stay with us, that’s fine. But not even a goodbye? That’s not right."
He meets Jin’s eyes directly, unflinching.
A gaze sharp with youthful resolve.
It’s almost too bright for Jin right now.
"Hey, Tōgō’s father. Where’s Tōgō?"
"...Probably the Second Fleet."
"Second Fleet? Why again?"
May's voice carried doubt.
To Jin, who grasped the chain of events, it was self-evident. But without that understanding, the connection would remain invisible.
He hesitated, unsure how to explain, when two Ravens descended.
"May! Are you safe?"
May's voice, sharp and grating, came through the external speaker. From inside the cockpit, she replied with a whine.
"Needn't shout so loud... You could've said that, Instructor?"
"Since you're already here, just tell her yourself."
Kou and Yuria approached the wreckage of the Leopard.
From beyond, a rescue team arrived.
Equipment for prying open the hatch was brought in, and May was pulled out from within.
Watching her lean lightly against Kou, seeking comfort, Jin smiled—relieved.
Then the smile faded.
How to stop Mio.
He did not understand it at all.