01 The Most Happy Nightmare 4
"Calm now?"
Rei places the freshly brewed coffee on the table and asks.
"Startled me—suddenly bursting into tears."
"Sorry. Scared you."
"It's fine... Are you really okay? Should we stay home today and rest?"
"Home..."
"Yeah."
Yes. The house.
Ten years since Rei married Jin.
The house they've lived in all that time.
And yet, something feels off.
Are the furnishings arranged like this?
Are these the dishes he used to favor?
Small, but irreconcilable discrepancies.
"Hey, are you really okay? You look pale."
Rei takes Jin's right hand in hers.
The sensation—overwhelmingly, painfully familiar.
The weight of the ring on her left hand presses sharply into her awareness.
Something is wrong today. Every minor detail of daily life stirs deep, unnameable emotion.
"Something... seems a little tired."
"Indeed. Then let's rest a little before continuing."
She taps the cushion on the sofa and beckons with a hand.
Feeling a familiar tenderness toward the gesture, she sits beside him on the sofa.
— Was this really my place? The same unease lingers, unchanged.
"It feels like we haven't relaxed like this in ages."
Jin says this, and Mai, seated to his right, laughs softly.
"Nonsense. You're not that busy."
"Shouldn't be, but still..."
For the past ten years, encounters with ASID have been nonexistent.
Not just with the Third Fleet, but across all移民 fleets.
ASID hasn't vanished from this cosmos.
They exist—but we detect them before they notice us, altering course in time.
As a result, even Jin, once called an ace pilot, has grown dull.
Training is never neglected—but there are things that can only be forged in actual combat.
The last time they fought, Jin recalls, was when the memory finally surfaces.
"Since that humanoid assault, I've been free from busyness."
An incident eight years prior, when a thousand humanoid ASIDs attacked a convoy.
A swarm of humanoids that never retreated, pressing forward until the final unit was destroyed.
Looking back, those ASIDs had shown a desperation unlike any others.
A desperation that resembled a parent robbed of their child.
A sharp pain in the head.
A fragment of thought forming.
At that moment, the headache cuts in, interrupting it.
Hand pressed to the forehead, enduring the pain.
"Hey, are you really okay? Should we go to the hospital?"
"I'm fine. Just had my routine check-up not long ago. There shouldn't be any issue."
Yet something feels off since a moment ago.
Yes—like this, talking with Mio.
Jin realized the unease he felt was about that matter, and let out a snort through his nose.
Impossible.
To feel unease toward a wife he’d lived with for ten years—was he already senile at this age?
—Ah, but.
Once noticed, the source of the unease became clear.
Was the person sharing this house with him, actually Rei?
The image that flashed in Jin’s mind was too terrifying to bear.
Impossibly so—he shook his head.
Perhaps he was simply tired.
That thought came.
He decided to ask for something slightly more sustaining for dinner, and opened his mouth.
“Hey—”
He called out toward his left hand.
No one was there.
More importantly, who exactly had he been trying to call?
The name that had nearly reached his throat was not Rei.
“Something wrong, Jin?”
Rei asked, leaning in.
Her brown hair swayed as she did so.
Was Rei’s hair this long?
No, it was longer than this… perhaps.
To suppress the dissonance, Jin resumes the sentence he had begun moments earlier.
“That’s right. Then I’ll just order some pork for dinner, shall I?”
Speaking as he does, Jin begins placing the order for dinner ingredients, humming softly.
Why did I speak to my left hand just now?
Rei’s position is on the right.
Yet why…? The question lingers, unrelenting.
No, Jin shakes his head.
He turns on the television to shift his focus.
“This is the site of the Great Assault Memorial Ceremony. Eight years have passed, yet the scars left behind on the convoy remain deep—”
“Is that so. It’s already been that long.”
The same event Jin had just spoken of— the large-scale assault on the humanoid ASID.
The convoy itself suffered massive damage. The defense forces were nearly destroyed.
Jin’s comrades had also suffered heavy losses.
That is why the current peace feels more irreplaceable than anything else.
“A lot of people died…,”
“Yeah. The defense force personnel on patrol were completely wiped out.”
Among them, certainly—
“…a promising trainee was included. They fought bravely—”
A face appears on the screen.
Young trainees, still barely adults.
The moment Jin sees their faces, he feels a sudden vertigo, as if shaking his head violently.
He’s seen these faces before.
Every year around this time, they appear in a special broadcast.
Back then, Jin felt nothing.
Only sorrow.
And yet—
Why does this shock him so deeply?
“Jin? Are you really alright?”
Lei sends a concerned glance toward Jin’s pale face.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.”
She barely managed to reply with those words.
Dead.
The trainees have died.
Eight years ago.
An inexplicable feeling of impossibility rises within.
The death of a trainee with no apparent connection should be sorrowful—but even Jin did not expect such a shock.
Yet this feeling—something I’ve experienced before, it seems.
Jin thought that amidst the chaos.
A despair similar to this—but far stronger.
Searching memory for the time.
A parting that carries the weight of loss.
Nothing comes to mind but the thought of parting from Rei.
Jin could not help but ask.
"...Hey, did we ever end up fighting like we were breaking up?"
"Uh? How was it... we've argued plenty of times, but never quite that far. Oh, Christmas!"
Ah... So that’s when it is...
The strongest sense of loss was that moment.
That moment.
Nothing could be greater. It couldn't possibly exist.
Why did I even think that? I can no longer remember.
Frowning, muttering, Rei suddenly clapped her hands as if struck by an idea.
"Right. Since we're at it, let's make lunch and eat outside."
"Outside?"
"Yes. A little picnic. Under the trees in the environmental preserve. Isn't that fun?"
Not bad. Better than just eating out aimlessly.
Nodding, drawn in by Rei’s lunch and her cheerful expression.
"Settled then. Jin, you gather a plastic sheet or something."
"Got it."
It was sudden, but better than staying indoors, Jin thought.
This house felt too wrong. Too many inconsistencies.
Perhaps stepping outside and breathing the air would alleviate the unease, Jin thought.
"Where did I put it? The plastic sheet."
"Um... in my drawer. Probably the bottom one."
"Got it."
He enters Rei's room.
The unease intensifies.
It feels as though something essential is missing.
What it is.
Unconsciousness spills from his lips.
"Bed...?"
The bed is gone.
No, of course it is. Their bedroom is next door. They sleep in the same bed.
So it makes sense it's not here.
Yet it should not be missing.
He shakes his head violently.
Something is wrong today.
He told Rei it was fine, but if it continues, reconsideration is necessary.
Perhaps he should visit a clinic tomorrow, Jin thinks.
"Jin, couldn't find it?"
"No, it's fine. I found it."
He exits Rei's room, shaking off the unease.
"—san."
—Someone is there.
He felt as though someone had called him by a name he did not recognize.
He turns.
Of course, no one is there.
"Next... I have to put tea in the thermos."
"I'll handle that."
He joins Rei in the hurried preparations.
As the busyness sets in, the unease gradually fades.
Why had he even noticed the unease in the first place? Jin wonders.
It was so ordinary, nothing strange at all.
"Going out with lunchbox, just like old times—how nostalgic."
"Was that right?"
"Yes. Haven't done it in years, I think."
Indeed, recalling memory, they had gone out like this several times when they were together.
But after marriage, after Rei resumed work—those moments were gone from memory.
He had thought they went out quite often, but it seems he was mistaken.
No surprise there. Even as encounters with ASID have declined, patrol duties remain unchanged.
Expedition missions too.
Considering all that, meaningful time off is hard to come by.
Especially since Mio is a university lecturer. Synchronizing holidays proves difficult.
"Thinking about it like this, it's starting to feel exciting."
"Whatever you're looking forward to, it's probably just lunchbox food, right?"
"Caught red-handed."
They chuckle as they continue preparing.
The unease had vanished unnoticed.