28 The End That Will Come: Above

'Just this remains.'

'...First, let's try breaking this thing and see if it vanishes.'

He does not know how to seal the open hole.

But something existing that should not normally exist requires energy.

The only possible source is the ether flowing from within the hole.

Or perhaps the reactor powering the Stalt that drives the Laitera.

'I'll handle it. This puppet-like thing— I'll reduce it to dust in one strike.'

A faint smile crosses Jin's face at Edelweiss's eager tone.

Even Jin himself wants to destroy this nuisance in a single blow, raising the Long Sword.

Then Mio's voice halts him.

'Are you certain?'

If we destroy this.

If we give up on meeting Rei again.

Words filled with unspoken thought.

What should he say? What should he convey?

Jin hesitates, words failing him. Then Edelweiss's voice cuts through.

‘Fuh.’

A sigh.

Before Jin can retort—what even is a sigh in electronic speech—Edelweiss unlatches the cockpit hatch.

“Huh… wait.”

Taken aback by the sudden action, Jin falters. Perhaps it’s simply time to descend now that the battle has ended.

‘I have heard this from his sage.’

Before Jin can ask—could that be Shirley?—

‘When speaking with another, one must look them in the face.’

The obviousness of it draws a genuine smile from Jin. A smile that reaches deep.

“Edelweiss.”

‘What?’

“Good to see you.”

‘Likewise.’

In the time spent together through this battle, these words carried everything.

With unspoken gratitude, Jin steps out of the cockpit.

Edelweiss stepped forward, approaching Mio. Leaping onto the outstretched hand, she was carried to Mio’s side.

“You said I took your happiness.”

‘……Yeah.’

“You’re wrong.”

I was given what I thought I could never have again.

I had believed peace—sitting with someone, finding stillness—was lost forever.

It was definitely Rei who made Jin human.

But it was Mio who kept Jin human after that.

“I was happy these past eight years because of you.”

I only realized that loss when I understood—

a world without Mio, with Rei present.

That emptiness, only then, made me understand. Even now, I feel shame.

“You said there was no place to come back to.”

‘……Yeah.’

“It’s a lost thing. Without this, you can’t enter your home.”

She dangled the keychain key Mio pushed back at her, fingertip to key.

"Future plans are uncertain... but right now, the place you return to is still our home."

"But that place was supposed to be where I lived with Ryou—"

"If you dislike it that much, we’ll move."

"No... that’s not it..."

Jin’s deliberate misstep unsettles Mio.

"There’s no place for someone like me... a fake..."

"A fake? No such thing."

Jin cuts through it decisively.

"To me, right now, there is only one daughter—Mio. There’s no distinction between real and false."

That truth cannot be denied by anyone.

If Mio wished to sever parent-child ties, to cut all ties, that would be another matter.

But if not, then she cannot deny it either.

A slight softening in tone.

"Hey. Show me your face. I haven’t seen you in so long. I can’t settle."

He hasn’t seen Mio’s face since the day they parted at the Third Fleet warehouse.

Three days had never passed without seeing each other before, yet now suddenly they were separated for an extended period.

Unable to bear not seeing her face.

Even when urged, Mio did not move right away.

Just as he was about to give up, the hatch on Mio’s main body opened.

Mio appeared flustered.

“Why are you opening it, Tōya?!”

“Why are you hiding inside, anyway?”

“This is your body—why can you not control it yourself?!”

“Who knows? Maybe your subconscious wants it that way. Go on. Hurry to your father’s place.”

Mio gave up trying to close the hatch, stepping out with an embarrassed expression.

Jin felt like awarding her a medal for endurance.

“You look terrible.”

“That’s not true…”

She denied it weakly, but her words carried no weight.

Sharon’s hair, once meticulously tended, was now thoroughly disheveled.

Her eyes were swollen, her usual beauty entirely ruined.

"...I met you. It was incredibly nostalgic."

Her shoulders twitched at the words. Mio asked, as if frightened.

"Then why weren’t you with her?"

"Because you weren’t there."

"Liar. I was— for Jin—"

"You weren’t a substitute. No. I’ll admit it honestly. The first time I saw you, I must have thought you resembled Mio, so I decided to take you in."

No matter how much she denied it, that fact could not be changed.

If you had looked completely different—

Jin would never have taken her in.

But—

"Still, you can’t raise someone for eight years just because of that."

There were times when seeing her reminded him of Mio, and it was painful.

But watching Mio grow, day by day—

There was not a single day he hadn’t looked forward to her growth.

Then why…?

Fearful of the answer.

Yet expecting it.

Holding this contradiction, Mio asks again.

Because I love you. More than anyone in this universe.

That is why I am here now.

This much, I will not yield.

Not to Seven, not to Edelweiss, not even to Shu. This is a line I cannot cross.

Because my father is only me.

I am not a substitute for Rei. I am Mio. That is why we have shared these eight years.

Because I am…?

No one else could have made these eight years happier. It was you who brought me back to life—after I died once ten years ago.

Only because of Mio could a new story be written upon the ashes of the old.

I can state this with certainty.

Then what about Rei…?

Still unwilling to concede, Mio resists.

Or perhaps she is building a defense.

To avoid being overturned at the last moment. Whether she could retract her hand once it had reached out.

Because hope, once lost, becomes all the more painful.

"Did you come to hate Rei?"

"…Certainly not."

Jin shakes his head.

Ah, yes. That too, I must admit.

The ten years spent with her were no less significant than the time spent with Mio.

Even if unaware, I am certain of that.

But that is a matter of an impossible possibility.

A world that must not be real.

A matter of severed ties, of lingering attachments left behind.

"I loved Rei. I would have given everything for her."

But that is past tense.

It could have been present.

If Jin had been able to let go of Mio, it wouldn’t have been past tense.

But he couldn’t.

So this is now—

"It’s already been ten years."

A story already concluded.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it, yet it took this long to accept.

He had regretted it for so long.

The words he never got to say.

The proper farewell he never reached.

No matter what the ending had been, Jin would have found peace in it—otherwise he wouldn’t have carried it this far.

But in reality, it had come too suddenly.

Too unjustly.

He couldn’t accept it as mere chance.

He couldn’t accept this ending.

That thought had bound Jin to that moment for ten years.

"...But thanks to you, I finally said what I’d always wanted to say. I said what I never could."

A different kind of happiness, just within reach.

To have felt it, even briefly, was enough for Jin.

That he had loved her.

The regret vanished, simply because the words were spoken.

"My happiness now is that Mio grew up strong, became an adult."

He runs his fingers through her disheveled hair. A comb would do nothing against this mess.

He continues, thinking he’ll have to ask Shirley later—there’s no other way.

That’s what he wants.

To convey even a fraction of his feelings through action.

“If you can’t wish that, you can’t raise a child.”

Mio’s shoulders tremble.

Ah. Yes. He recalls his own vow.

He vowed to make her happy—up to the measure of Rei’s life.

That promise remains incomplete.

If he is to return everything he has received, then he is still not yet that man.

“No parent can hear a child say they’d have been better off never born and not feel pain.”

Only now does he realize.

That was the deepest wound. More than the words that Mio was Rei’s reincarnation.

It felt like all eight years of his life with her had been denied.

So, I’d like to hear your thoughts now, Mio. Maybe they’re shaky, but if we think together, we might come up with something worth considering.