Chapter 7:
The Hero Returns
Rin didn’t come back until morning.
She insisted she had no memories of where she’d been or what she’d done there, but she suddenly seemed terrified of water. Such a shame, Kuon thought in an extremely flat tone. Did she have to listen to hummed radio?
If she hadn’t been in that state, she may have stopped to wonder just why Kuon was in their room that early in the morning. But she was too preoccupied to do much more than grab the luggage she’d already packed and leave with Hanabi. Kuon snuck out after them.
“Senpai, we’ll have to go out together again.”
“Yes, definitely,” Hanabi agreed.
Kuon and Hanabi parted on the military wharf. Fuji had greeted them both already and given Kuon a nod as if acknowledging a job well done. Rin refused to even drink water.
The rest of the Fuji Squad headed toward the gate leading to the Kuou, leaving Kuon behind. He kept waving, trying to convince himself it would be fine, that he would see them again.
This Operation was a blitz, a huge force sent in to catch the enemy off-guard. Nearly the entire combined might of the Lunar Defense Force would drop from orbit onto the capital, smash the enemy forces, and seal the Gate. The Fuji Squad was positioned at the rear. The active Cavalleria would eliminate the main enemy forces, then the Gate Seal Squad—including the Division 5 Hanabi—would come in behind.
They’ll be fine. By the time senpai drops in, most of the enemy will be gone.
If he didn’t keep telling himself it would be fine, all his anxiety would come bursting out. He wanted to go with them, even if he had to do it in his temp frame.
He couldn’t calm the qualms in his chest.
The final adjustments to his new frame ended without issue, five days earlier than scheduled. The development engineers had really pushed themselves.
It felt like summer vacation had begun at school. Kuon spent every day going between school and the training grounds, but it had been weeks since he attended any classes. He’d been going through the front gates and right to the garage without ever stopping by class 1-A, so he’d completely forgotten about vacation.
There were still plenty of students there doing self-training. Kuon wandered through them, heading for the training ground at the garage. The oversized DM rocket booster pointing to the heavens was his guide. Like the smokestack on a sento, the bath-addicted ex-Hero thought.
Cicadas sang in his ears and the humid summer wind brushed his face as Kuon faced his new partner. It was a brand-new blue frame, standing on unmowed grass.
En gazed up at it like it was blinding.
“They call it the Soukyu (Pleiades),” she told Kuon. “The base is the Division 1 Soukyu. They added additional disposable boosters all around it and strengthened the close-range combat capabilities to enhance Machine Fencing. It also inherited the special weapon that Master uses, along with the Pleiades subtitle.”
“Amazing…”
“Isn’t it?” En said proudly, although she’d had nothing to do with making it.
Kuon stared up at the slim silhouette of the DM in awe. It shone in the light like a blue-armored warrior.
The mass-produced model had been shaved, tucked, tightened, and honed. The Pleiades had been fitted to its left shoulder, and the frame sported a long, rectangular backpack like a collapsed fan on its back with a ridiculous number of boosters.
Ah. Saying they’d strengthened close-quarters capabilities was a positive spin on what they’d actually done, which was lighten the frame by removing all the sensors and stabilizers that assisted with ranged-combat. This thing likely didn’t even have a lock-on, yet its back and shoulders had boosters larger than the frame itself. Kuon thought it looked like it was shouldering a bunch of birdcages.
“Mm, those boosters make it look all slapped together. They’re totally in the way,” he commented.
“What are you talking about, Kuon-sama?! Those were specifically added to compensate for your lack of magic!”
“Oh, right.” That made sense. He chose to be grateful for them. The head developer gave him a detailed rundown as well as the new Device. The frame returned to the Device, and Kuon went back to the training grounds.
Two days passed since Hanabi had left, and he was scheduled for three more days of hard training, though that could go longer depending on how fast he learned.
What was going on with the Operation? He’d heard nothing more. Was the Fuji Squad still on standby aboard the Kuou? Or was the Operation already over, and everyone was getting ready to come home?
He wanted to see Hanabi again.
For the first time, Suzuka Hachishiki’s soul learned how painful it was to be separated from the one you love.
“How many years have I been teaching you?” Kaede asked.
Why was she staring into the distance like that? Kuon wondered. A gust of wind blew across the training ground.
“Twelve years in my last life, seven in this one, so nineteen years total.”
“Hmm,” his master muttered. “Surprisingly short.”
“Is it?”
“Not many Cavalleria could get this good at Shichisei Kenbu in only nineteen years. I suppose even an idiot can get somewhere if he tries hard.”
Kuon found her behavior unsettling. Nothing good ever happened when Kaede gave out compliments.
“Let me ask you something. Don’t answer me as Suzuka Hachishiki, but as Okegawa Kuon.”
“Okay.”
“Answer directly from the heart—are you ready to throw your life away?”
Okegawa Kuon answered immediately. “I am.”
He failed to notice the shadow that crossed her face.
This extremely simple question was asked of anyone inheriting Shichisei Kenbu. Seven generations ago, it had taken the student two months to arrive at the answer, and four generations ago, the student had taken six months. The last student—Kaede herself—had answered correctly the first time. Not because she was highly skilled, Kaede knew, but because it was simply a matter of personality. Many would consider it a trick question.
Suzuka Hachishiki and Okegawa Kuon had both done well. She had never thought it would be time to ask this question after only nineteen years. He may have no talent for magic, but he did for Fencing. She felt a light from this student that made her think he did, at least. But even so, or perhaps doubly so, Kaede’s mind was made up.
“Shame,” she said. “You can’t learn the ultimate art.”
Kuon’s mind nearly went blank with confusion. He couldn’t understand it. He’d been thrown in a river and nearly died, brought to low-oxygen environments and nearly died, seen his friends head off to war with his heart breaking, and trained as if his life depended on it. After all that, this? Why?
“Can I ask,” he said, barely able to contain his rage, “the reason?”
“Sorry. Rules say I can’t tell you.”
“Master!”
“I said sorry. I’m apologizing. Is that not satisfactory?”
“We’ve only got seven years until the Queen returns! I can’t afford to get stuck here!”
“That’s the problem. You’re still trying to do it all on your—no, never mind.”
“Master!” he protested, but Kaede cut him off.
“Don’t.”
He could hear his teeth grinding. He’d put up with so much unfair crap from her, but this was beyond reason.