“…So basically, a kid was forcibly implanted with a magicite crystal by their lunatic parents and, by some freak chance, managed to absorb it, only to end up being yanked around by the military as a guinea pig?”
That was what I found myself muttering under my breath right after finishing the mandatory orientation video that all students had to watch as part of the enlistment process. I bet everyone who saw it had the same thought.
Still, I had to admit I owed that kid. They were the reason I was able to fight now, too. I was grateful for that, at least.
I offered a silent prayer to the child, now remembered as “the Original,” and took a moment to reflect on my current situation.
My name is Keita Kawakami. I’m fifteen years old and about a hundred and seventy centimeters tall, with black hair, black eyes. Nothing really stood out about me. I was an average teenage boy, someone you could find just about anywhere.
If there was one thing that set me apart from others, it was that I still faintly remembered my past life.
Those memories had people calling me a genius for a while when I was younger, but not anymore. You know the saying—a prodigy at ten, a talent at fifteen, and just another adult after twenty. That said, I was still considered one of the brighter kids even now that I’d turned fifteen, so it wasn’t all bad.
What really made a difference, I think, was that I understood the meaning and value of the words hard work before I even started elementary school.
Thanks to that, I was still alive today. No doubt about it.
As for my parents…they were gone.
Last year, they’d gotten caught up in a battle with demonkin while on a business trip somewhere in Thailand or Vietnam. They died, leaving behind me and my sister, who was three years younger than me.
After it happened, the government and the company that Mom and Dad had worked for gave us a small compensation payout. That was it.
Then again, given the state of the world, we were lucky to get that much.
What was inexcusable, though, was how our so-called relatives had suddenly decided they were our guardians, sold off our house and land, and even tried to steal the compensation money.
I’d kept quiet about the house and land, since maybe they had paid into it somehow. But no one was touching that compensation. That was for my sister’s tuition.
These days, getting into high school was one thing, but university cost a lot. On the plus side, though, anyone could get in so long as they had the money.
In Japan, people who received higher education were officially recognized as national assets. That meant if my sister got into university, she wouldn’t have to be sent to the battlefield.
You could say it was just a trick the rich used to keep their kids out of combat, but right now, I was grateful for it.
The problem was, the compensation money alone wouldn’t cover tuition. So instead of going to school, I’d decided to get a job.
Of course, being a middle school graduate with no connections, no external support, and no special qualifications meant I had zero chance of getting into a proper company.
I’d been left with only one option: to join the National Defense Forces, which was notoriously always short on personnel.
But that wasn’t the only reason I picked the military. During a regular medical checkup, I’d found out that I had a natural affinity with magicite crystals—and a pretty high compatibility rating, at that. I figured it probably had something to do with those memories from my past life, but I didn’t know for sure, and I certainly wasn’t about to go around telling anyone about them.
As of 2055, there were a decent number of people with an affinity for magicite, but their compatibility ratings varied wildly. Someone like me, whose level was relatively high, was apparently considered a valuable military asset.
And if I was valuable, I figured they’d treat me accordingly. Sure, there was always a chance I’d be thrown onto the front lines right after training, but at least I wouldn’t be tossed out there with nothing but a rifle.
If I made it as a mech pilot, my odds of survival would skyrocket. And as long as I stayed alive and kept fighting, I could keep those good-for-nothing relatives away and protect my sister.
That was why I chose the military.
The military’s main concerns were both external enemies and internal spies. As such, anyone with the potential to become a spy wasn’t allowed to enlist, and once someone did enlist, their family was also closely monitored to keep sketchy people away.
Also, if you moved into military housing, there were always soldiers guarding the place for free.
Some people might have found that kind of environment suffocating, but personally, I saw it as a win. It meant dangerous people wouldn’t be able to come near us.
On top of that, military personnel actually had decent social standing. My sister would be treated far better as a soldier’s relative than as just a random orphan, and she’d be less likely to face discrimination when applying to schools.
Unlike the past, danger was now visible and close. No one in their right mind would bad-mouth the people who protected everyone else or their families.
Well, some people did, but most of them were either enemy agents sent by demons or else brainwashed by them.
Seriously, anyone clamoring to cut military spending in times like this was downright insane.
Their arguments? Stuff like “We can communicate with demons, so we should try to understand each other,” or “We might not be able to negotiate with demons, but we should try to come to an agreement with demonkin before resorting to weapons.”
Let me be clear—that just wasn’t going to happen.
Demonkin, by their very nature, hated humans, not to mention we were currently in the middle of a cutthroat race for survival. Negotiations served no purpose other than to sow discord within our ranks. Nothing productive would ever come from it.
Promises to spare our lives? What was that, some kind of joke?
There was one exception: a demon that had lost a battle against another demon and cozied up to humans afterward. They hadn’t done that because they wanted peace, but for self-preservation. So no, you couldn’t negotiate with demons. Anyone who thought otherwise was out of their mind.
Demons essentially saw humans as food. The only kind of “negotiating” you could do with them was to offer unconditional surrender and agree to live as a slave for the rest of your life.
…Whether you could even call that a negotiation was up for debate, though I guess technically it counted.
In fact, the Symbiosis Faction seemed to operate on that very premise. And look, I didn’t entirely blame people who were tired of the war and wanted to live out their lives somewhere peaceful, even as slaves. But they were underestimating what becoming a slave to a demon actually meant.
Sure, under a demon’s protection, you might be kept alive. But only because once you were dead, you were no use to them anymore.