05 The Most Happy Nightmare 6

"Hcksh!"

Jin wrinkled his brow abruptly, caught off guard by a sudden sneeze.

"...What?"

"Did you catch a cold or something?"

Laughing softly, Mio began tidying her lunchbox.

Now that she mentioned it, a slight chill did seem to be in the air.

Oddly, only on his left side.

As if the warmth that had been there moments ago was now impossible to feel—such a sensation.

Probably just the wind direction, Jin thought.

Lunchtime at a corner of the environmental protection zone, spread out on a vinyl sheet.

Scanning the surroundings, several other pairs were doing the same.

Usually meals were eaten at home or in the military mess hall; this kind of unstructured dining felt refreshingly novel.

"Never eat outside much, do we?"

"...Was that right?"

He thought he vaguely remembered having a barbecue once a year—though perhaps he only imagined it.

Two people grilling together feels a little too quiet.

Yet inviting Jake alone feels like severing the fragile connection that remains—something he hesitates to do.

Inviting Chi, Rei’s younger sister, is an option—but summoning her from the Second Fleet would be inconvenient.

Other friends with whom one might socialize privately…?

“Hnn?”

Jin stops thinking mid-thought, as if catching himself on the verge of noticing something he shouldn’t.

He shifts the topic instead, turning to Rei.

“By the way, did Chi start her new job?”

“Yes. Finally.”

A faint, slightly strained smile crosses Rei’s face, her expression easing just slightly.

While each fleet assigns positions based on aptitude, that doesn’t guarantee suitability.

Even with adequate skill, people still leave jobs—due to interpersonal dynamics, personal temperament, or other factors.

Thus, career changes were not particularly uncommon.

"Still, he wasn't cut out for military service."

When I first greeted him, he was still a trainee.

I remember the bright-eyed admiration he expressed.

But his talent was merely average, and his temperament did not suggest combat suitability.

He hesitated even to point a weapon at someone—let alone at an ASID member.

He could not become intoxicated by the grand justification of protecting the convoy's crew.

If she ever fought with true intent, it would only be—when retreat was impossible.

Only by surrendering her body entirely, becoming machine, and holding an unshakable resolve could she endure.

And fortunately—or unfortunately—this convoy does not currently face such a brink.

Since Chi assumed office, encounters with ASID had drastically declined—timing that might signal a review of Defense Force personnel.

Not an unfavorable timing.

Chi used the opportunity to transfer to another role better suited to her aptitude.

A path Jin could not have chosen.

“Yet childcare worker… unexpected.”

“I myself. You see, the child is the youngest—never seen her attending to other children.”

Ah, yes, Jin silently agreed within his mind.

The youngest child tends to be self-centered.

“Still, she mentioned struggling during interviews because of her past job.”

“Rigid, you see… the Defense Force.”

The harsh resonance of ‘former military’ does not vanish after a year or so of retirement.

Jin had observed her struggling earnestly to correct it—so he could not laugh.

It was a relief, when he first heard the news. Her efforts had paid off.

"More exhausting than combat training—she emailed me that just the other day."

"Of course it is."

Jin chuckled, a low sound from deep in his throat.

Children's stamina was limitless, they said.

Chi, too, was former military, and confident in her endurance—though it remained to be seen how long she could keep up.

Jin did not know that limit.

Life at the facility she had come from had not been so carefree, so overflowing with vitality.

Since then, he had never had the chance to learn.

He had not.

"Mother was glad she was no longer a soldier—said she no longer had to worry about her life."

"True enough."

Jin believed his own role was necessary. He took pride in protecting the convoy.

Others saw that sacrifice as honorable—but a parent, of course, would still worry.

Unspoken, but clear: death and injury rates were far higher than in any other position.

Even Jake, his closest friend, would not be alive today if not for a single misstep.

"But Mother seems to worry about something else."

"Else?"

"When you'll get married, I suppose."

"Isn't that a bit soon?"

Whether Chi is the one leaving or coming in, she is certain to be twenty-seven this year.

Older than the age when Rei married.

In fact, Rei was relatively young to marry—yet parents still tend to measure against that benchmark.

Jin could not judge.

Unfortunately, he had never become a parent himself.

Still, it was not unreasonable for someone of his age to be married.

"She's complaining—wants to get a family going so she can travel with the convoy."

"Maybe invite her here next time..."

Rei's mother, also his stepmother, makes excellent chow mein.

Regrettably, when Rei cooks it, it takes on a peculiar taste.

The only dish Jin was known to dislike, among the few he struggled with.

"That's right. No more incidents with supply vessels since... that."

"Yeah. That was truly fortunate."

It had been ten years ago.

Jin and Mio were scheduled to visit Mio’s family aboard the Second Fleet for a wedding announcement.

But then Mio had done it again.

Lost her ID—another misstep.

With that, she could not leave the fleet.

Jin’s escort duty could not be postponed, so he went ahead alone, just to make the formal appearance.

Then came the attack by a colossal entity on the supply vessel.

The vessel was destroyed.

The escort unit was wiped out—except for Jin.

Jin himself sustained injuries requiring near-total regeneration.

That he survived was sheer luck.

Officially, it was recorded as an accident.

The administrative body’s reasoning was understandable—acknowledging the existence of such a large ASID would cause panic within the convoy.

Thus, Jin could not speak the truth to the Order.

It was somewhat burdensome that there were things he could not say to the Order.

Not because he had anything to hide.

“Not quite turning misfortune into fortune, but thinking back… if you hadn’t lost your ID that day… it gives me chills.”

“Yeah. A miracle of surviving nine deaths to gain one life.”

If he hadn’t lost it.

At that time, Jin would have boarded the supply vessel as scheduled.

And afterward.

“…!”

A headache struck.

No—was it really a headache?

He felt pain, but it did not feel physical.

Something vital. Something extremely vital—had been forgotten.

But what exactly had been forgotten?

The important person was still beside him.

Nothing else came close in importance.

Jin could not recall.

Somewhere, sometime.

As if he had seen beyond that point before—

“Jin?”

“…Nothing.”

Jin feigns composure, brushing aside the hand that had instinctively pressed to his forehead.

Where his own hand had been, Rei’s now presses against his temple.

“Temperature… doesn’t seem elevated.”

“Morning vitals were fine, weren’t they?”

“Even if morning was okay, fevers can still come by noon.”

The left hand pressed against his forehead.

The faint sensation of the ring against his skin.

Ah. Yes. That persistent discomfort had been there all along.

“Hey… did Rei always wear that ring?”

“Wedding band? Not always… I take it off when washing dishes, for example.”

Which meant she wore it at all other times.

Then why now—why this sudden unease about the ring?

Unconsciously, his hand moves to his chest.

Reaches for something—grasps only air.

“…?”

What was he trying to grasp just now?

He feels as though he’s been trying to grasp something all day—something he can’t recall.

“Hmm, maybe I’m just tired.”

“Could be.”

He’d certainly noticed, over the past few years, a gradual decline in physical capacity.

He can no longer move as he once did at his peak.

“…Maybe it’s time to be pulled back to the rear.”

“You said absolutely no to that kind of thing, didn’t you?”

“Now’s different.”

To remove Jin—the shipboard unit’s top ace in kills—from frontline duty would be unthinkable. His transfer requests were consistently denied.

But given how few encounters he’s had in recent years, his presence or absence might not matter. That possibility might have occurred to command.

Rear duties—training squad, perhaps.

“Or maybe I’ll just follow Chi’s example and become an instructor.”

“A training academy? You’re that good, Jin. Wouldn’t most people fall behind?”

It seemed plausible, Jin thought.

To refine and refine—training only a handful of humans left at the end—sounds intriguing, though.

Becoming an instructor at the training academy.

The sense of déjà vu when saying that—why it arose—was sealed away within himself.