“Just because I’m not sure doesn’t change anything about what we’ve done in our battles up until now.” Koyuki was proud of herself on that front. By killing heroes, they had saved many, many people along the way. “But if possible…going forward, I would rather avoid using the Chronoses whenever we can.”
“That’s understandable.” Kaguya lowered her eyes, apparently having thoughts of her own. “In any case, we’re going to have to change the way we fight.”
“The style Takanashi explained might be a good idea,” Koyuki suggested. “Where everyone works together to corner the hero before delivering a final blow with a Chronos.”
A look of pain crossed Kaguya’s face, but Koyuki pressed on.
“I know you don’t like it, but it’s the only way. We can’t just leave the heroes to run amok, can we?”
Kaguya nodded reluctantly. She was probably feeling sorry for the young men and women stuck inside the Chronoses. Some things never change, thought Koyuki, amused.
“You’re just as sweet as always, Kaguya. You feel sympathy for the people inside the weapons, even though we can’t even sense them.”
“Of course I do. It’s just so sad, the way they’re trapped in there.”
“Yes, I guess it is…”
When a human transformed into a hero, a Chronos was manufactured using a piece of the detached flesh of that hero. But the consciousness of the original human remained within the new Chronos.
The young men and women who became heroes did so out of a craving for solace and dreams. Instead, they only became Goddesses or Chronoses in the end. It was more like a nightmare than a dream.
“It’s not exactly pleasant to hear, is it? There were probably people like that inside the heroes we’ve faced up until now. And in the weapons we use.”
“Don’t, Koyuki. None of us knew any better. If Mari hadn’t remembered what the Director had told her, all of this might have stayed a secret forever.”
“I know…”
Koyuki understood what Kaguya was saying. And regardless of the truth, nothing could be done about it now, one way or another. Koyuki knew better than to blame herself for her ignorance, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a sense of responsibility anyway.
Rebounds didn’t exist for the members of Special Ops Squad Charon. Meaning that they had essentially denied the people trapped within the Chronoses that one manic cry of resistance. Koyuki decided not to pursue that train of thought any further.
“I’m probably just overthinking things… No one did any of this on purpose, after all.” Upon calmer reflection, maybe things weren’t so complicated. “Besides, as long as we keep defeating the heroes, that will mean fewer boys and girls winding up in that same situation in the end. All we can do is keep the faith.”
“No…I don’t think that’s all we can do.”
Kaguya’s and Koyuki’s expressions were like night and day. Kaguya looked troubled. Koyuki may have wanted to keep things simple, but something was obviously weighing on Kaguya. Enough so to cause Koyuki to worry.
“What do you mean…?”
“Chronoses are created from pieces of flesh cut loose from heroes. But what if we could prevent that from happening?”
“Prevent it…? I think I understand what you’re trying to say, but how would that be possible? We would have to defeat them without attacking at all, wouldn’t we?”
Consider Azuma’s slashing attacks, for example. No matter how carefully he chose to swing his sword, a blade was still a blade. It was going to cut.
“And not just Azuma’s sword, either. My guns and Rindou’s blows cause damage. The heroes’ bodies are going to be affected by that.”
“No… Theoretically, it’s perfectly possible. Assuming I participate, that is. We just do things like we did before—Captain Azuma, yourself, or Rindou takes the lead while I make a beeline for the hero. That way, no one has to wind up as a Chronos.”
“That’s…easily said, but…” Koyuki’s anxiety was beginning to spiral. “You’re still not going to stop, are you? That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
“Stop? You know me better than that—”
“Don’t you see? No one wants that.” Koyuki’s voice suddenly grew pointed. “I’m not mad, but…why are you so dead set on acting this way…?”
“I just don’t want to give up, and I don’t see any other choice. This has to be what I’m here for.”
“Kaguya…”
Koyuki was already speaking before she even realized she had opened her mouth. This was something she hadn’t been able to say until now. Because of how indebted they all were to Kaguya.
“…I don’t like that,” said Koyuki. “That’s something I don’t like about you.”
“Huh?”
“The way you don’t give up. It’s one of the best things about you, but honestly, sometimes, I absolutely hate it.”
Never give up. Never quit. The words had such a cruel ring to them. How could a person ever run when they had already convinced themselves that never giving up was a virtue?
As soon as a person decides they won’t give up, they are trapped by those words. Every individual has their limits, and properly understanding those limits and stepping back when necessary is the most natural thing in the world. And yet Kaguya was allowing herself to be ground down beneath the curse of never giving up.
“Maybe hate is too strong a word. But it certainly doesn’t make me happy.”
“I guess I can see how you would be a little upset with me. I’m sorry, Koyuki.”
Koyuki lifted her face suddenly, not having expected to hear that. Was Kaguya beginning to see reason?
But no—Koyuki’s faint hopes were dashed to pieces as soon as she looked into Kaguya’s eyes. Nothing had changed. It was that same expression that Kaguya held in her eyes the day they had first met. Koyuki sensed, intuitively, that she was already too late.
“Kaguya.”
Koyuki took a step closer. There was something she wanted, no, needed to say to Kaguya. But Kaguya smoothly evaded her, striding toward the door. She must have already known what Koyuki was about to say. Koyuki shouted after her from behind.
“Kaguya!!”
Something took hold of Koyuki. A feeling that she had to stop Kaguya now while she still could.
“I’m not saying you need to quit. Of course not! That side of you is something that I love. But try to understand how I feel…! Can’t you see what I have to go through every time I’m forced to watch you collapse?!”
Kaguya looked like a deer caught in headlights. Koyuki continued.
“I shared this room with her—with Sakura—for so long. And then, after she was gone, it was just you and me. Me on the top bunk, you on the bottom.”
Kaguya nodded silently, overwhelmed, but Koyuki wasn’t finished. She had needed to let Kaguya know how she felt for so very long.
“Every time I climbed that ladder to the second bunk, I caught sight of you asleep down there. I saw you from up close, closer than anyone, even closer than Azuma. Saw what you were going through each and every time.”
Koyuki was the one who had been there. Who knew better than anyone the way Kaguya had been suffering. No one could tell her otherwise. They had shared the same room every single day before and after battle. They had lived their lives together. So Koyuki knew full well what Kaguya’s reckless behavior was doing to her. She had seen it intimately, whether she wanted to or not.
“It’s why I eventually came around and opened up to you.”
At first, Koyuki had not wanted to accept Kaguya. It was only after seeing what Kaguya was going through that Koyuki slowly began to change her mind. She knew that someone had to keep an eye out for her.
“But the way you’re acting now… It’s not like before. You’re not just trying to save the heroes anymore. You’ve let Sakura’s words—no, your own words—paint you into a corner.”
“Wh-what is that supposed to mean?”
“You keep saying you won’t give up, and now that promise has trapped you. But you’re worth more than just that. No one is going to be upset with you for not keeping your word!”
“I’m not trapped! And, of course, I know no one would be upset with me. I don’t care. I’m not doing this for respect.”
“You know that’s not true.”
Koyuki could see through her. They may have only known each other for half a year, but Koyuki understood what went on in Kaguya’s sharp mind. A kind of intuition, girl to girl, that Azuma couldn’t see.
“You’re afraid of letting someone down. I know it. But it’s not us you’re worried about letting down, Kaguya. It’s yourself.”
Kaguya couldn’t see outside herself. No, not couldn’t. Wouldn’t. That stubbornness had saved them countless times in the past. For instance, when Kaguya had come back to them after Azuma had begun to turn. That was part of the reason why Koyuki felt like she didn’t have a right to press Kaguya on this issue.
But she had a duty. An obligation as a friend.
“Don’t you see?! You were in a coma for a whole month. The next time you enter a hero’s psyche, you might never wake up! And even if you do, what if it’s two months this time? What if it’s years? Don’t you even care?”
Kaguya seemed too overwhelmed to respond. Maybe she cared, maybe she didn’t. Who knew? She was just standing there, saying nothing. Like a coward.
“Well, I’m not okay with it…” Koyuki just barely managed to get the words out, probably too quiet for Kaguya to hear. “I’m not okay with the possibility of you never waking up again.”
Tears suddenly began to well up in Koyuki’s eyes.
“This room…is too quiet for just one person, Kaguya.”
With that, Koyuki fell silent. If she said any more, she was worried she would begin crying for real.
“Koyuki…,” Kaguya said, concern in her voice.
Instead of leaving the room, Kaguya walked back toward where Koyuki stood. Koyuki reflexively looked up, and they were face-to-face. A little above her own eye level—but nowhere near as high as Sakura’s—Kaguya’s beautiful violet eyes were fixed on her.
Kaguya hugged her gently. Koyuki meekly accepted, unable to stop her.
Koyuki already knew what Kaguya was going to say next. Don’t, she prayed softly. Please don’t say it.
“I’m not going to stop. But…I am sorry,” Kaguya whispered, her voice like a sigh.
Koyuki swallowed, her eyes widening. But she had known what was coming, and she didn’t cry.
Kaguya gently separated herself from Koyuki and turned to leave once more.
Now alone, Koyuki sank to her knees. It wasn’t that Kaguya hadn’t understood. It was that she hadn’t even tried.