Chapter 6 Rusalka Evereska 1 At a terrible cost of life, the battle with Mistletoe finally drew to a close. Having failed to fully evade the pillar’s omnidirectional attack, most Valkyries had taken damage that made it impossible to continue flying, but few had died—they had not all survived, though. The Valkyries who had been called in for the decisive battle were all top-tier, and while their craft had been badly damaged, they managed to safely make emergency landings. The ones who picked them up where they fell on the battlefield were friendly forces from another base that had been stationed at the very edge of the combat zone as a precaution. Rusalka was picked up by them as well, leaving her plane behind for the moment and returning to Holm base. Along the way, she confirmed the safety of Lisbeth, Leili, Claudia, Shannon, and the rest of her squadron, and she managed a sigh of relief. And of course she confirmed that Alma was safe as well. The soldiers giving them a ride all praised Sigrdrifa’s spirited efforts in battle and congratulated them on finally defeating Mistletoe. Rusalka quietly accepted their words while consumed by a terrible swirl of conflicting emotions. She suspected Alejandro was feeling the same thing back at the base. Thinking of him struggling to deal with the aftermath of the battle, she felt just a little bit relieved. Right then, all she wanted was a short respite. A brief moment where she could forget about the counting of those who had been lost. But— “” As she rode in the military transport, Rusalka was speechless when she finally made it back to Holm base. Soldiers were already hard at work repairing the damage caused by Mistletoe’s attack, the clearing of rubble and putting out fires. But she did not recognize any of the faces of the people working. They were not from Holm base. They were all allies who had heeded the request for support that had gone out before the battle. And at the base, her comrades, the people who had faced Mistletoe together with her and the rest of the Valkyries, were— “…This…is…” She stepped forward falteringly, her hand outstretched. For a second, she hesitated to touch it, but when her fingers brushed the coarse surface, the reality of the situation hit home. It was real, not a figment of her imagination or some dream. “Michelle…” In the command post, at Major Michelle Heyman’s designated post, stood a tree the size of a human, wearing her uniform. She wasn’t alone in that bizarre scene, either. It was the same no matter where she looked in the command post. Every seat of all the operators and analysts were filled by human-size trees wearing uniforms. And it wasn’t just the command post. It had happened everywhere, all around the base. Mistletoe’s ability had swallowed every last one of the brave fighters who had stayed at their posts until the very end, transforming all of them. Michelle Heyman, Roger Reever, and every other soldier on the base. The only ones who survived were the Valkyries who had defeated Mistletoe and from whom the saplings had been expunged. Twenty-one survivors. That was the final tally for the Battle of Weihnachten. “—! Gjallarhorn.” Rusalka shuddered, turning on her heels as the worst thought crossed her mind. Every human on the base had fallen victim to Mistletoe’s ability. That meant it was entirely possible that the person they had needed to protect above all else—Mistletoe’s target, Shirin—had suffered the same fate. If she had fallen before completing the ritual, the battle could not even be called a Pyrrhic victory. It would render everything meaningless. Rusalka desperately sprinted through the base— “Where are you going, Rusalka?” Inhaling sharply, Rusalka spun around at that question. The figure she was searching for was standing in a random hall in the base. Odin stood there, his visible red eye trained on Rusalka while a patch covered the other. “Odin…I was looking for you.” “I see. What a coincidence. I was looking for you, too. I guess we were brought together by mutual affection.” “What are…?” Rusalka stepped forward, latching on to Odin’s terribly out-of-place response. But she stopped when he tossed something to her. “” Catching it reflexively, Rusalka gazed in wonder. It was something that she had seen in pictures and books but had never held before. A blowing horn. It was slick to the touch and made of some mysterious material. Rusalka gasped. “This is Gjallarhorn,” Odin stated simply. “This…” “At first glance, it just looks like an ancient horn, but there is no mistaking it. That is a true sacred treasure. It will sound a loud note when it senses the appearance of a pillar… Make replicas. I won’t ask how.” Pointing to the horn in Rusalka’s hands, to Gjallarhorn, Odin gave her that command. The replication of a sacred treasure. It was unclear whether that was even possible to do by human hands, but Odin would not have ordered it without some reason to believe it possible. There was almost certainly a way. And by the fact that Gjallarhorn had been completed… “…What happened to Shirin?” “…You already know. I said before that her existence was necessary for the restoration of Gjallarhorn. That was neither hyperbole nor a lie. The fruits of Shirin’s existence rest there in your hands.” “” “…I’ll be going back to Hlidskjalf. Even I am weary after all this.” Odin turned his back on Rusalka with an explanation that sounded almost detached. Something about his dearth of emotions nagged at Rusalka. “Please wait. There’s still more. We defeated Mistletoe like you said. There are still many things to… Ah.” “Forgive me, Rusalka.” Rusalka was speechless when Odin stopped and turned around to face her head-on. As she stood frozen, he apologized to her. A single tear trailed from his one eye— “You and I have both lost too much today. Look at yourself in a mirror. You look terrible.” “” “And I can hardly say I look very godlike reflected in your sky-blue eyes.” His expression softening, Odin started to leave again. This time, Rusalka could not find it in herself to stop the god walking away from her. But he had shed a tear. His breast was pained by the thought of what had been lost. That was enough for her. She didn’t need to know anything else. “Major! So this is where you were!” A voice called out as someone approached Rusalka. Looking up, she saw Claudia running toward her from the other end of the hall, her golden hair swaying behind her. Like Rusalka, she was still wearing her flight suit, a slight sense of relief visible in her gallant expression. “I was concerned when I heard you had run off alone, ma’am… If something had happened to you as well…” “…Apologies, I didn’t consider that.” “No, it’s understandable… Really…” Getting close enough to touch Rusalka, Claudia’s voice dropped softly in tone. No one could rejoice unreservedly at their victory in the battle. Too much had been lost to achieve it. Far too much. There were too many things—too many people who could never be brought back. “I didn’t have many chances to speak with Natalie. I can’t claim to understand how you and Lieutenant Alma must feel. But it is truly a shame.” “…Yes, it is. I’m sure you and she would have been able to get along well.” Rusalka nodded as Claudia mourned Natalie. It wasn’t a lie. Natalie was the sort of person who could become close with anyone. Or rather, she simply wouldn’t give up until she had become close with them. There was surely a future where she and Claudia would have become fast friends as well. Rusalka closed her eyes as the thoughts of all that had been lost tormented her heart. “…Major…what is that?” Claudia furrowed her brow as she looked down at the thing in Rusalka’s hands. At an ancient-looking horn that seemed terribly out of place— “Gjallarhorn. I received it from Odin just now.” “That’s…! I see. So at the very least, we managed to achieve our goal.” “Yes, Claudia. I’m grateful to you. Though words cannot adequately express it.” “—? Not at all, ma’am. I’m glad I was able to help, whatever little help I may have provided.” Claudia shook her head as she looked at the completed Gjallarhorn, responding with a polite confusion. “Whatever little help” did not remotely begin to describe it. She had been critical in defeating Mistletoe. And more than anything, Shirin had been the sine qua non for the completion of Gjallarhorn. Claudia didn’t know the specifics of the ritual, but Rusalka did, and it was her role to convey that to Claudia, to let her know what had been lost. “I swear on the many lives that were sacrificed to complete this, especially for your precious Shirin—” “—Shirin?” “” Rusalka stopped in the middle of her vow. It was because Claudia’s reaction to hearing her sister’s name was nothing like what she expected. It was a confusion akin to hearing a word she had never encountered before. And with Rusalka unable to say anything, Claudia cocked her head slightly— “Who is Shirin?” 2 The cleanup after the battle continued at a hectic pace. The vast majority of trees around Holm base were identified by the rank insignia and uniforms they were wearing. With Mistletoe confirmed to have been destroyed, the fact that there was no change in their conditions made it impossible to argue with Odin’s theory. Those who had been transformed could not be changed back. What had been lost could not be brought back. And even aside from those who had been transformed, there had been many soldiers who had simply died in the fighting. There were many even in the base who had been lost to Mistletoe’s omnidirectional attack. It was perhaps a more fortunate fate that they had died without being transformed and their still-human bodies could at least be recovered. It was difficult for many people to find closure when the bodies of their loved ones could not be found. It was the same for those connected to the several hundred people whose bodies had been transformed. No one could blame them for holding out hope beyond hope for some impossible miracle. Even if the man synonymous with miracles was among those who had been lost. “” A memorial was held to commemorate the victory as well as to mourn those lost in the line of duty. Lined up for the ceremony were the allied forces that aided the cleanup in the aftermath of the battle as well as the twenty-one Valkyries who had made it back alive after participating in the operation—Rusalka was there, too, of course. In exchange for almost complete losses, they had achieved an incredible result. The generals from the IPO in attendance for the ceremony praised Holm base’s incredible bravery and dedication. They also declared that, with the help of Odin, the mass-production of Gjallarhorn had made it possible to have advance warning of pillar attacks, and this development was hailed as a massive step forward in humanity’s counterattack against the invaders. Every Valkyrie involved in the operation was given awards and promotions. And from Rusalka on down, it was a thorough ceremony that did not bring any shame to the name of Sigrdrifa. It had been a beautiful commemoration, and no one would deny that the greatest Valkyries in the world had gathered there. The cenotaph was buried with flowers, and the names of every last one of the heroes who died in the battle were inscribed on the large memorial. Natalie’s name was there of course. And Michelle’s and Roger’s, too. And the name inscribed at the very top of the memorial— 3 “” When she opened the door to her room, she half expected to see the sight that greeted her. Whenever an important conversation happened, it always seemed to take place in her room. She had changed rooms often with all the times she had moved around, but the people bearing important things to discuss always seemed to find her. And that day as well, an uninvited guest had helped himself to a seat on her bed when she came back after a full day’s work. And to top it off— “…Why are you reading someone else’s journal without permission?” “I had time on my hands, so I just gave in to temptation on a whim.” “I’m quite sure you had to have gone out of your way to unlock the drawer of my desk to be able to do that.” He held up the bent paperclip in his hands without any sense of guilt. A desk drawer lock was a simple enough thing. Even a paperclip would be enough to open it with a little effort… “But even if it was possible, to actually act on that potential is ethically problematic.” “Hey now, this is a necessary measure in the course of professional duties. I’m your commanding officer. I have to understand the sorts of concerns my subordinates are dealing with in their day-to-day work.” “And do you think you can understand those concerns now?” “Unfortunately, your journal reads too much like a daily log of business reports, so I can’t get a read on the emotional level. There’s hardly anything to profile in here.” “My thanks for the compliment, sir.” She saluted ironically as he snorted. Still, though, it had been a long time since she had shared this kind of exchange. They had both been too busy in the lead-up to the battle, so it had been difficult to have a conversation like that. And if she was forced to say it— “Also, regarding your previous comments, unfortunately you are no longer my commanding officer. There have already been several staffing adjustments. And more than anything…” “More than anything?” “—You died during the fight, sir.” “” Hearing that, the man sitting on her bed, Alejandro Ostley, playfully shut one eye. Closing her journal, he set it down next to him. “Well, that’s how it goes. There’s no helping it.” “No helping it? I find that hard to believe. Since you are…” “Here now? That’s true… But that’s all it is. I’m sure you understand, Rusalka.” Alejandro slowly stood up, looking directly at Rusalka. She couldn’t help averting her eyes to avoid his straightforward gaze. She could not manage to muster the courage to face Alejandro head-on. “Rusalka.” “…I’m not sure what you are trying to say, sir. Please explain yourself.” “Rusalka.” “You were always like this. Perhaps because all your subordinates were so skilled. You never explain yourself enough. You mistake it for everyone being able to understand you even if you don’t finish your thoughts.” “Rusalka.” “Have some consideration for those of us who have to figure it out. Michelle, Lieutenant Colonel Hammond, me…we all had to deal with your… And yet you always…!” “Yes, I’m sorry for always being so selfish. All the way to the very end.” Rusalka’s voice trembled as she voiced her complaints even now. Hearing that, Alejandro slowly stepped toward her, a meek look on his face that was out of character with how he usually behaved. They were inside a room. There was not much distance between them. With only three steps, they were close enough that he could hug her. But that didn’t happen. Because— “It’s true; I’m a failure of a commanding officer… I can’t even wipe away my subordinate’s tears anymore.” Alejandro’s fingers tried to brush away the tear running down Rusalka’s cheek, but he couldn’t. His fingers passed through her. Having it confirmed for her with her own body, Rusalka exhaled slightly. “It doesn’t make sense. Why could you read my journal?” “It looks like animate and inanimate objects are treated differently. I can touch memories but not make them… God is awfully cruel.” “…God…” Rusalka’s lips trembled slightly as Alejandro shrugged. It was a mysterious scene that should have been impossible. It was only natural that God had had something to do with it. The problem was that she still could not begin to guess what his intent was. She didn’t understand anything at all. “Can you just stay here like this…?” “…It would be nice if I could. But it’s not that sweet of a deal. And it’s already a pretty good deal as is.” “What do you—?” “—Rusalka, I’m dead. I died in battle long ago.” Alejandro interrupted her as she tried to ask for some sort of explanation. Her eyes widened as a hoarse gasp escaped her throat. But there was no trace of playfulness in Alejandro’s expression. It certainly didn’t look like he was trying to trick or mislead her. He touched his chest as a self-deprecating smile crossed his lips. “My heart stopped long ago. Even before I met you.” “…More than six months before then, right?” “That’s right. Since I died in the middle of the Miracle at Lamia… More precisely, I achieved the Miracle at Lamia after dying and being resurrected.” The feat that had made him synonymous with miracles. Pandora’s Calamity, where Amy had died to defeat a secondary pillar. The continuation of that battle, the Miracle at Lamia, had actually been achieved with the intervention of a god. “Though, to be clear, the actual situation on the ground and the fact that so many people were saved was still due to my quick wits. That part wasn’t some god. Your precious commander wasn’t just a paper tiger.” “I wasn’t worried about that at all… Actually, I am a little bit relieved.” “Ha-ha-ha. If you’re going to be like that, then why not act a little cuter?” Alejandro laughed wryly as he tried to put his hand on Rusalka’s head in what had become a habit. He looked a little sad as his hand slipped through her, though. “Like I said before, I died once in Greece. The pathetic brother who had forgotten who his little sister was when Amy fell met his death there. But someone grabbed that dead man by the scruff of the neck.” “Odin?” “That’s right. That god said he had hopes for me. So he revived me in exchange for giving me a certain mission. On a limited time basis.” “A limited time…” “That’s right. Until I achieved my mission of defeating Mistletoe.” Odin had been watching Mistletoe from long before. In order to protect the Brafford sisters and complete Gjallarhorn, it had been necessary to stop Mistletoe’s obstructions. And the one he had chosen to see that through to the end was Alejandro. “Einherjar is the name for it supposedly.” “Einherjar…” “Basically, it’s like being a soldier of God. Personally, I didn’t ever really feel like considering Odin my superior officer, though. He’s more like a chess partner.” That was far too disrespectful when discussing a real god, but Rusalka didn’t comment on it. She didn’t really feel much at hearing the term Einherjar. The part that most concerned her was Alejandro himself. His time limit was until his mission was completed. In that case, he— “—I’ll disappear. This right now is a reward from Odin for having fulfilled my duty. Letting me say my last good-bye to the person I most wanted to tell it to.” “…Why…why?” “” “You too… Why does everyone choose me as their last…?” Alejandro scratched his cheek as Rusalka looked him in the eyes and quietly questioned him. At the very least, she had intended for it to be quiet. But she didn’t have the composure to be sure that her voice wasn’t quivering, that there wasn’t an undertone of grief creeping into her tone. She just wanted to know the answer. Why was it always her—? “I’m always left behind. By Amy, by Natalie… It was a little different, but Shirin was the same. And now it’s you.” “I’m sorry for always burdening you. But this one thing is something I can’t leave to anyone else. I can’t imagine leaving it to anyone other than you.” “” “A witness—that’s what you called yourself.” She had said it in Hlidskjalf when she saw Shirin off. Shirin had described her that way, and she had confirmed it bitterly. Did Alejandro expect the same thing of her? To see him off, to not forget him— “You can forget about me if you want, Rusalka. But there is one thing I want you to remember.” “—Ah.” “Sigrdrifa is in your hands now. Teach them, guide them, and do what you can to make sure that as many of them make it through alive as you can. And that applies to yourself, too. There’s nothing great about dying.” “” “Survive, Rusalka. Stay alive and make it out. And once you’ve exterminated all those damn pillars, find yourself someone nice, get married, have some kids, live a nice life, and then you can die.” “” “That’s my final order for you.” Alejandro took a step back, opening up enough space so they could properly see each other’s faces. Rusalka looked at him, her eyes pleading, asking how she should take that final order. “…You really are siblings. Always running me about with your whims.” “Yeah, I guess so. Seems like our family really loves you. And Claudia’s a distant relation, too, so you should watch out for her.” “She won’t become like that… She will surely become a splendid Valkyrie. And I will live through the end of this war, find a good partner, have a child, and die peacefully.” “Heh, sounds like a nice life. Think you can do it?” “Were you not aware? I’m quite used to following absurd orders. And an order from a superior officer is absolute in the army.” And among all the remaining active Valkyries, Rusalka was the only veteran who had worked her way up the chain of command capable of saying that. A true believer in the myth that orders were absolute. Rusalka saluted as she looked at Alejandro. Not the Valkyrie salute covering her eye but the first one she had learned—the army salute. “Yes, sir, Brigadier General Ostley. Lieutenant Colonel Rusalka Evereska hereby acknowledges your order and will comply.” Hearing that, he nodded in satisfaction. “Still, though, me a general and you a colonel? Personnel has been busy.” “It was simply that large of an operation. It was splendid work, sir. Were it not for your direction, we wouldn’t have won. I will surely think of you with pride for the rest of my life.” “You don’t say. In that case, pass down my story to the next generation and tell them about how great I was.” “I’m not sure about telling my grandchildren about the troublesome boss I had to deal with…” “I’m sure you can find a better way to put it!” Rusalka and Alejandro both burst into laughter at the same time. And after laughing, and laughing, and laughing— “It’s in your hands now, Rusalka. You were the best subordinate and a great woman.” “The latter aside, the former is an honor, Alejandro.” She put her hand over his outstretched hand. They could not touch, but it was a handshake in form at least. A trifling exchange that proved the connection that could not possibly be shared between the living and dead. But even so, even if it was a hackneyed line, as long as they saw the same thing… “” They both pulled their hands back as Alejandro moved away from Rusalka, a smile still on his face. Mysteriously, just like with her journal, his hand gripped the doorknob and managed to turn it. And just like that, he stepped leisurely out through the open door. But while the door should have led back into the hall, the other side was a place she couldn’t reach— “Thank you so much!” Turning around, Rusalka shouted to the back that was receding into the light. Hearing that, Alejandro stopped and then raised his hand, a wild, lionlike smile on his face.
Chapter 28
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