Chapter 5.3 - "The Roads we Carry"

I. Doctor's Orders

Kade Bher had been ordered to sit down.

Not advised.

Not encouraged.

Ordered.

The distinction was important, because Dr. Irena Holt had apparently decided that the only effective way to make Horizon Atoll's eighteen-year-old Commander take a break was to treat him as a particularly troublesome patient.

Kade found this unreasonable.

He had told her so.

She had remained unimpressed.

He had explained that his paperwork wouldn't complete itself.

She had informed him that his paperwork would survive forty-five minutes without his supervision.

He had pointed out that the island was still recovering from a major battle.

She had replied that this was precisely why she preferred its Commander conscious, fed, and capable of reading the same document without having to start over three times.

Then she had taken the folder out of his hands.

That had seemed unnecessarily aggressive.

"Doctor," he'd protested.

"Commander."

"That belongs to Naval Command."

"Then Naval Command can collect it after lunch."

Kade had stared at her.

She had stared back.

He had considered appealing to Mara Fenwick.

Unfortunately, Mara had been standing in the doorway.

Smiling.

The traitor.

So now Kade was sitting on a wooden bench near the eastern administrative gardens, wondering whether the military justice system recognized conspiracy to enforce healthy behavior as a punishable offense.

He rather suspected it didn't.

A terrible oversight.

The bench occupied a shaded corner of the garden, where a short stone path curved between flowering shrubs and a few carefully maintained tropical trees. Beyond the low railing, the land fell gently toward the inner lagoon.

The view was pleasant.

Annoyingly pleasant.

Sunlight moved across the water in bright, shifting patterns. A faint breeze carried the smell of salt and warm vegetation through the gardens, stirring the leaves above his head.

Farther down the hillside, someone was repairing a section of walkway.

The occasional sound of a hammer carried through the air.

Beyond the lagoon, a patrol craft moved steadily along its assigned route, leaving a narrow wake behind it.

Kade watched for a while.

Then checked his wristwatch.

Eleven twenty-three.

He had been sitting there for seven minutes.

Seven.

Entire.

Minutes.

He sighed.

"Tragic."

A seabird landed on the nearby railing.

Kade looked toward it.

The bird regarded him with the peculiar arrogance possessed by creatures that had never been required to complete a requisition form.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Don't."

The bird tilted its head.

Kade folded his arms.

"I'm not sharing my lunch."

The bird looked away.

He nodded.

"Excellent. An understanding."

The bird made a sharp cry.

Then flew off.

Kade watched it go.

"...Rude."

For a moment, he smiled.

Then the smile faded.

The garden returned to its quiet rhythm.

Leaves moved.

Water glittered.

A distant engine hummed.

He could hear sailors speaking somewhere along the lower road, their words too faint to distinguish.

Nobody seemed to need him.

For once, the radios were quiet.

No one was demanding a decision about ammunition.

No engineer had arrived with a list of broken machinery.

No medical officer was asking whether the latest wounded could be transferred to less crowded accommodations.

No supply officer was explaining why fresh vegetables required three additional signatures.

And no enemy formation was approaching the island.

At least, none that Horizon's watch stations had detected.

Kade leaned back.

His shoulders gradually relaxed.

He closed his eyes.

Just for a moment.

He hadn't intended to remember anything.

That was the problem.

He almost never intended to.

The memories simply found him when he became quiet enough to notice them.

 

II. The Road Beneath the Cedars

The breeze moved through the leaves.

And for a moment, the sound wasn't quite right.

The rustling foliage above Kade's head became something deeper.

A thousand cedar needles shifting against one another.

The faint murmur of a stream.

A wind chime ringing somewhere beyond a row of old wooden houses.

He could almost smell the damp stone of a mountain path after summer rain.

Mizunokuni.

The name passed through his thoughts like a breath.

He had not spoken it aloud in a very long time.

Not here.

Not to anyone.

But he remembered.

Every road.

Every familiar turn.

The old shrines.

The distant railway crossings.

The little market stalls where somebody always seemed to be arguing about the price of something.

The peculiar certainty that a road could take him somewhere entirely unexpected if he failed to pay attention to where he was going.

And, above all, the people.

He remembered a little boy being brought into a household that had already survived more centuries of arguments than most countries.

A boy who had once been frightened that nobody would want him.

A boy who slowly discovered that he had an almost unreasonable number of people willing to make sure he ate enough, slept properly, and didn't wander into places that would require an expedition to retrieve him.

Twelve aunts.

Twelve extraordinary women.

Twelve different opinions about what constituted appropriate behavior for a growing human child.

Kade smiled faintly.

Gods, they were impossible.

Then he remembered Ranmei.

Golden-blonde hair.

Nine tails.

Fox ears that had an unfortunate tendency to reveal exactly how annoyed she was.

The way she'd stand with her hands on her hips when he did something particularly stupid.

The way her face would turn red whenever he called her Auntie.

He could still hear her voice.

KAAAADE!

His smile grew.

He remembered stealing the last sweet from a plate while she wasn't looking.

Remembered her finding out.

Remembered running.

He had always been running from Ranmei.

Not because he was afraid of her.

Because making her chase him had been one of life's greatest pleasures.

She had usually caught him.

That was fine.

He hadn't really minded.

Kade rested his hands on his knees.

For a moment, he was twelve again.

Running along the old stone path.

Laughing so hard that he could barely breathe.

Ranmei behind him, shouting accusations of cheating.

Kuroha nearby, watching them with an expression of affectionate resignation.

A simple afternoon.

One he'd never realized he would spend the rest of his life wishing he could have back.

His smile faltered.

The memory continued.

The road.

The bridge.

The golden light.

Kade's fingers tightened.

He remembered the strange note that had passed through the air.

The way the stones had begun glowing.

Ranmei catching his wrist.

Her expression changing from anger to fear.

The horrible sensation of being pulled somewhere he couldn't see.

Kuroha moving.

So fast.

Faster than anyone he'd ever known.

The boundaries opening around her.

The road itself bending beneath her hands.

He remembered reaching.

Their fingers touching.

Almost.

Then the golden light closing between them.

And Kuroha's face.

He had spent sixteen years trying not to remember that face.

Now it came back with terrible clarity.

Not calm.

Not composed.

Not the amused, faintly exasperated expression he associated with the woman who had helped raise him.

Terrified.

Kuroha Sakaime.

The strongest person he knew.

Terrified because she was losing him.

Kade's jaw tightened.

The garden breeze moved across his face.

He didn't notice.

His eyes remained open now, but he wasn't truly seeing the lagoon.

He was seeing a little road beneath the cedars.

And a woman reaching toward him.

I'm sorry, Aunt Kuroha.

His throat tightened.

I really did try to come back.

The sound of distant hammering became something else.

Metal striking metal.

Weapons clashing.

A bell ringing beneath an enormous vaulted ceiling.

And the memory shifted again.

 

Marble beneath his hands.

White robes.

Golden banners.

Seventeen children standing in summoning circles, too frightened to understand why so many adults were crying with happiness.

A little girl holding a Book she had never asked for.

A boy staring at the Firearm that had appeared in his hands.

And Kade himself.

Twelve years old.

With metal forming around his fingers.

HOLY GAUNTLET HERO.

The words seemed to hang in the back of his mind.

He remembered hating them.

He still did.

Then came the years.

Not neatly.

Not in order.

Sixteen years of memory could not always be persuaded to arrange themselves into a sensible sequence.

A ruined road in Yollandia.

An exhausted soldier asking whether the line would hold.

A monastery turned into a field hospital.

The smell of burning wood.

The sharp tang of blood.

Ayame shouting at him because he'd ignored a shoulder injury.

Elias checking ammunition beneath a moonless sky.

The Hammer Hero laughing through a mouthful of bread.

Seventeen chairs arranged around a battered table.

Sixteen years of victories.

Sixteen years without losing one of their own.

Until the last Wave.

The memory tightened around him.

Kade stared through the garden railing.

The Pacific was no longer the only sea before him.

He could see the Dawnward Expanse.

The sky torn apart.

The ground opening beneath soldiers who had already endured too much.

Black light spilling through cracks that should not have existed.

The Book in Ayame's hands, its pages burning as she tried to hold reality together.

Elias still firing.

The voices of friends disappearing from the battlefield one by one.

The awful knowledge that the promise they'd kept for sixteen years was finally breaking.

Come back.

They had said it to one another the night before.

All of you.

Kade swallowed.

He remembered the Heart of the Final Wave.

The last desperate decision.

The Holy Gauntlets answering him.

And the moment he knew he would not be going home.

Not to Mizunokuni.

Not to Ranmei.

Not to Kuroha.

Not with the others.

His fingers slowly curled.

He could almost feel the Gauntlets.

The old weight against his knuckles.

The pressure through his wrists.

The familiar sensation of sacred machinery responding to movements so deeply practiced that he'd stopped thinking about them.

But there was nothing there.

Only his hands.

Human hands.

Eighteen-year-old hands.

No scarred metal.

No golden inscriptions.

No Weapon system waiting at the edge of his vision.

Kade looked down.

For a moment, the sight felt wrong.

Then he remembered the end.

The Final Release.

Light swallowing everything.

The last thought he'd managed to hold together as the Heart came apart.

Write us as people.

He had wanted that.

Not statues.

Not medals.

Not another collection of sacred titles.

Just proof that the seventeen of them had been human.

That they'd laughed.

Complained.

Fallen in love with the idea of ordinary futures.

Wanted to go home.

That they'd been children.

And that the world had taken them anyway.

Kade's breathing became shallow.

He stared at his hands.

He had died.

He remembered dying.

And somehow, he was sitting on a bench in another world, eighteen years old, commanding a naval base full of people who had no idea what he remembered.

Beyond the railing, the lagoon glittered.

A seagull cried.

Somewhere in the distance, somebody laughed.

Kade didn't hear any of it.

His eyes were open.

His body remained perfectly still.

But his thoughts were somewhere sixteen years and an impossible distance away.

III. The Girl Who Noticed

Aster found him ten minutes later.

She had not initially intended to go looking for the Commander.

At least, that was what she told herself.

The original plan had been simple.

Find Kade.

Invite him to lunch.

Possibly tease him about his ongoing war against paperwork.

Then return to the mess hall before Riko consumed anything that had been left unattended.

A perfectly sensible plan.

Unfortunately, nobody had seen Kade in the administrative offices.

Mara had informed Aster that Dr. Holt had ordered him to take a break.

Dr. Holt, when asked where the Commander might have gone, had pointed toward the eastern gardens and added that Aster was welcome to remind him that eating lunch was not an optional component of being alive.

Aster had promised to deliver the message.

Gladly.

She'd walked through the shaded garden path with a smile, enjoying the warm breeze and the opportunity to move around without wearing her Fletcher-class rigging.

The doctors still had her under restrictions.

She'd completed another controlled rehabilitation session without serious problems, but the previous day's strain had been enough for Hana and Irena to insist that her next period of physical activity remain comparatively gentle.

Aster disliked the restrictions.

A great deal.

Nevertheless, she'd learned that arguing with two medical-minded women who possessed both professional authority and access to her equipment was a poor use of everyone's time.

Besides, walking was allowed.

So was eating.

And teasing Kade.

As far as she knew, there was no medical restriction against that last activity.

Aster rounded the bend in the garden path.

Then spotted him.

"There you are."

The words were quiet.

More to herself than anyone else.

Kade sat on the bench beneath a tree, facing the lagoon.

At first glance, nothing appeared unusual.

His brown hair moved slightly in the breeze.

One hand rested against his knee.

His uniform was neat enough, though she suspected he'd once again neglected to straighten the collar properly.

The sunlight caught the side of his face.

He seemed relaxed.

Almost.

Aster smiled.

Then slowed.

Something wasn't right.

Kade wasn't watching the water.

She knew what he looked like when he was watching the water.

He'd sometimes sit on the seawall with a report in his hands, apparently absorbed in the horizon while his attention quietly tracked patrol craft, repair teams, and the movement of the harbor.

Even when he was exhausted, there was usually something alert about him.

A small shift of the eyes.

A reaction to a distant engine.

An absent-minded glance toward the nearest communications station.

The habit of a Commander who found it difficult to stop checking whether everyone was where they were supposed to be.

Now he wasn't doing any of that.

His gaze was fixed on a place beyond the railing.

Not on a particular vessel.

Not on the horizon.

Not on anything she could identify.

His shoulders were still.

His face had become strangely distant.

And his right hand was clenched so tightly that the knuckles had gone pale.

Aster stopped.

Her smile faded.

"...Kade?"

He didn't answer.

She waited.

A breeze stirred her reddish hair.

A few loose strands moved against her cheek.

"Kade?"

Still nothing.

He didn't seem to hear her.

Aster studied his face.

She'd seen him exhausted.

After the night battle, she'd found him looking as though he'd forgotten how to sleep.

She'd seen him furious, too.

During the PCA attack, when he'd refused to surrender people who had sought refuge at Horizon.

She'd seen him frustrated by broken machinery, amused by Riko's stubbornness, and quietly pleased when Sakura's convoy reported its safe arrival at Summit Key.

But this was different.

He wasn't reading.

Wasn't sleeping.

Wasn't watching anything.

And for a moment, Aster had the uncomfortable impression that he was somewhere she couldn't follow.

She took a few steps closer.

Slowly.

Carefully.

There was nothing supernatural about her observation.

She had no idea what he was remembering.

She couldn't possibly have known.

But she recognized the look of someone whose attention had turned inward so completely that the world around him had become distant.

Aster had seen it in other people after battles.

She'd experienced something similar herself.

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An unexpected sound.

A familiar smell.

A quiet moment that allowed a memory to return with more force than it possessed any right to have.

She looked toward his clenched hand.

Then toward his face.

Her chest tightened.

What are you thinking about?

The question rose naturally.

She didn't ask it.

Not yet.

Instead, she moved close enough that he would be able to hear her without her raising her voice.

"Kade."

Nothing.

Aster hesitated.

Then sat on the far end of the bench.

The wooden seat shifted slightly beneath her weight.

Still no reaction.

She watched him for a moment.

Then leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"The Doctor told me I'd find you here."

Kade didn't answer.

Aster smiled faintly.

"Apparently, you're a very difficult patient."

Silence.

"Which is a terrible surprise. Nobody saw that coming."

His expression remained distant.

Her smile faded again.

She turned toward him.

Then spoke more gently.

"Hey."

A pause.

"Kade. It's Aster."

His fingers moved.

Only slightly.

But she noticed.

She waited another moment before extending one hand.

Then she touched his sleeve.

Not his face.

Not his clenched hand.

Just a light pressure against his forearm.

"Kade?"

He reacted.

His shoulders tightened.

His head turned toward her with sudden, sharp attention.

For a fraction of a second, his expression was unfamiliar.

Focused.

Guarded.

His eyes moved from her hand to her face with the startling speed of someone trying to establish where he was.

Aster went still.

Then the moment passed.

Kade blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His fingers relaxed.

"...Aster?"

She smiled carefully.

"Hey."

He looked toward the garden.

Then the lagoon.

Then back at her.

A small frown appeared.

"...How long have you been there?"

"Not long."

He stared for a moment.

Then looked down at his hand.

Aster watched his expression.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Kade exhaled.

"No. You're fine."

He looked toward the water.

Then rubbed one hand over his face.

"...Sorry."

Aster raised an eyebrow.

"For what?"

"Not hearing you."

She considered that.

Then shrugged.

"Well, I suppose I could file a complaint."

Kade glanced at her.

Her familiar smile returned.

"Commander Bher, refusing to acknowledge a highly important Fletcher-class destroyer who has graciously taken time out of her busy schedule to visit him."

He stared.

Then one corner of his mouth moved.

"...Highly important?"

"Extremely."

"Busy schedule?"

"Very."

"Does that schedule include annoying your commanding officer?"

Aster grinned.

"That's the most important part."

Kade breathed out a quiet laugh.

It was small.

But genuine.

Aster felt herself relax.

A little.

 

IV. Thinking of Home

For a while, neither spoke.

Aster remained beside him, looking toward the lagoon.

Kade's hand gradually opened against his knee.

He could still feel the echo of the old Gauntlets.

Not their power.

Not actual weight.

Only memory.

He forced himself to notice the bench beneath him.

The warmth of the wood.

The breeze against his face.

The distant sound of a small engine.

Aster's presence beside him.

The ordinary world returned in pieces.

He breathed.

Slowly.

The smell of salt replaced the smell of smoke.

The sunlight belonged to Horizon's lagoon rather than a distant battlefield.

The hand resting on his knee was eighteen years old.

And beside him sat a girl with red ribbons in her dark-auburn hair who had absolutely no idea what had been passing through his mind.

Kade was grateful for that.

He was also, in a strange way, lonely because of it.

Aster glanced at him.

"You were really far away."

He looked toward her.

"...Hm?"

"When I found you."

A small pause.

"You didn't hear me the first two times."

Kade looked down.

"Yeah."

She didn't immediately continue.

He appreciated that.

Then she asked, quietly:

"Something on your mind?"

The question was simple.

He could have answered in several ways.

He could have told her he was thinking about reports.

About Sakura.

About the damaged base.

About the Pendants.

All of those things were true enough that the lie would have been easy.

But Aster was watching him.

Not suspiciously.

Not trying to catch him in something.

Just watching.

And he found that he didn't particularly want to lie to her.

He also didn't know how to tell the truth.

Not the whole truth.

How could he?

I was remembering the first home I ever really had.

I was remembering the girl who found me when I was three.

I was remembering the aunt who almost tore open the world trying to keep me from being stolen.

And then I remembered sixteen years in another world, the people who fought beside me, and the day we all died.

He imagined saying the words.

Imagined Aster's expression.

The questions that would follow.

The impossible explanations.

The danger of turning something he barely understood himself into a burden she hadn't asked to carry.

His throat tightened.

He looked toward the water.

Then answered quietly.

"Home."

Aster blinked.

"...Home?"

Kade nodded.

"Yeah."

He paused.

"Just thinking about home."

She watched him.

For a few seconds, he wondered whether she'd ask where.

He wondered whether she'd want to know about his parents.

About where he'd grown up.

About the family he'd left behind.

He prepared himself to give the sort of vague answer he'd become very good at giving.

Instead, Aster looked toward the lagoon.

"Oh."

That was all.

Just one word.

Understanding without explanation.

The breeze moved through the garden.

Kade glanced toward her.

She was sitting comfortably, hands resting against the edge of the bench.

Her expression was thoughtful.

Not disappointed.

Not offended.

He hesitated.

"...You're not going to ask?"

Aster looked at him.

"Ask what?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"About home."

She considered that.

Then shrugged.

"Do you want to tell me?"

Kade opened his mouth.

Stopped.

Then looked away.

"...Not really."

Aster nodded.

"Okay."

He blinked.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

He studied her.

She smiled faintly.

"You don't have to."

For several seconds, Kade didn't answer.

The simplicity of it caught him off guard.

Aster leaned back against the bench.

"I figured you were remembering something. You had that look."

"What look?"

She hesitated.

Then tilted her head.

"Like somebody was talking to you from very far away, and you were trying to hear them."

Kade went still.

The words struck closer than she could possibly have known.

He looked toward the water.

For a moment, he could almost hear Ranmei again.

Then Ayame.

Then Elias.

Voices separated from him by distances no ordinary chart could measure.

He swallowed.

Aster noticed his expression change.

Her own softened immediately.

"Sorry. That was probably a weird way to put it."

Kade shook his head.

"No."

He paused.

Then gave her a faint smile.

"Not weird."

She watched him.

"Okay."

Another quiet moment passed.

Then Aster looked toward the harbor.

"Sometimes I think about home too."

Kade turned slightly.

She continued.

"Before all this. Before the equipment became real. Before we had to worry about actual ammunition and medical clearances and people getting hurt."

A small smile appeared.

"I used to think I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for the beta."

Kade regarded her.

Aster looked toward her hands.

"I knew the mechanics. The maps. The ship classes. Which guns behaved properly and which ones were more trouble than they were worth."

She laughed softly.

"Well. I thought I knew."

Kade smiled faintly.

She continued.

"But I didn't know what it was going to feel like when the world stopped being a game."

Her voice became quieter.

"Sometimes I miss how simple things used to be."

He nodded.

"Yeah."

Aster glanced toward him.

"That doesn't mean I don't like being here."

"I know."

She smiled.

"I like the people."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Even Riko?"

"Especially Riko."

"Terrible judgment."

Aster laughed.

"And Hana."

"Understandable."

"And Yuna."

"Good choice."

She turned toward him.

"And a certain very annoying Commander."

Kade stared.

"...Questionable."

Aster grinned.

"Extremely."

For a moment, they smiled at one another.

Then she looked back toward the water.

"I guess I just think it's possible to miss somewhere and still be glad about the people you have now."

Kade said nothing.

Aster didn't look at him.

Didn't press.

She simply let the words settle between them.

Kade lowered his gaze.

I know.

He had learned that lesson in Wysteria.

Painfully.

He had loved the companions he'd found there.

Ayame.

Elias.

All seventeen of them.

Their friendship hadn't made him miss Mizunokuni less.

His longing for home hadn't made the people beside him less important.

The two feelings had simply existed together.

Sometimes so closely that he couldn't distinguish where one ended and the other began.

Now here he was again.

A different world.

A different life.

People who were beginning to matter to him.

And the same terrible fear that he might lose them.

Kade looked toward Aster.

She was watching a distant patrol craft move across the lagoon.

The breeze lifted the ribbon near her shoulder.

He remembered finding her beside him after Horizon's night battle.

The warmth of her body leaning against his.

The way she had stayed without demanding an explanation.

The way he'd eventually fallen asleep because, for a little while, he hadn't felt the need to remain awake.

His expression softened.

"...Thanks."

Aster turned.

"For what?"

He hesitated.

Then shrugged.

"Not asking."

She smiled.

"You're welcome."

A pause.

Then she added:

"Although I reserve the right to ask why you keep leaving your paperwork on the mess-hall tables."

Kade closed his eyes.

"...Of course."

"That's a different matter."

"Naturally."

"A matter of public safety."

"Tragic."

Aster grinned.

And the afternoon returned to something a little more ordinary.

 

V. A Very Important Invitation

Aster let another minute pass before remembering why she'd come.

Then she straightened.

"Oh!"

Kade glanced toward her.

"What?"

"I almost forgot."

He raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds dangerous."

She ignored him.

"I came to get you."

He blinked.

"...Why?"

Aster stared.

"Really?"

"What?"

"You're going to make me explain why somebody might want to find you?"

Kade considered that.

Then nodded gravely.

"Could be an arrest warrant."

Aster folded her arms.

"Kade."

"An official complaint."

"Kade."

"Possibly a very hostile requisition."

She leaned closer.

"Lunch."

He stopped.

"...Lunch?"

"Yes."

He regarded her.

Aster smiled brightly.

"Food. Plates. Chairs. Eating. I'm told it's a common activity among humans."

Kade stared for another moment.

Then sighed.

"Sounds suspicious."

"Extremely."

"Any paperwork?"

"Not unless you bring it."

He considered that.

Then looked at his watch.

Eleven fifty-one.

He blinked.

"...Huh."

Aster noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Kade."

He looked toward the sky.

"Apparently, time continues passing even when I'm not working."

She sighed.

"An incredible discovery."

"Terrifying, really."

Aster smiled.

Then extended her hand toward him.

"Come on."

He looked at it.

Then at her.

"...Where?"

"The mess hall."

"With you?"

"Yes."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Just us?"

Aster's cheeks warmed slightly.

Then she grinned.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Kade stared.

She laughed.

"Riko, Hana, and Yuna are coming too."

"Ah."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"A tactical ambush."

"Absolutely."

"Four against one."

"Terrible odds."

Kade smiled faintly.

"For them."

Aster pointed at him.

"Don't get any ideas."

He raised both hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"You absolutely would."

"Unfounded accusation."

She smiled.

Then her expression softened.

"Seriously, though. Come eat with us."

Kade looked toward the water.

For a moment, he felt the old hesitation.

The urge to remain sitting.

To let the quiet continue.

To avoid the noise of a crowded dining room and the possibility that somebody might notice how difficult it had been to return from his memories.

He could stay here.

Tell Aster he wasn't hungry.

Claim he had work to finish.

Perhaps wait until the mess hall emptied and collect something afterward.

He had done that before.

Far too many times.

Aster didn't pull her hand away.

She waited.

Patiently.

Without making the invitation sound like another order.

Kade looked toward her.

Then smiled a little.

"...All right."

Her expression brightened.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"No excuses?"

"Not yet."

"No suddenly remembering urgent paperwork?"

"Depends how urgent."

"Kade."

He sighed theatrically.

"Fine."

Aster grinned.

"Good!"

He stood.

The movement was ordinary.

No Gauntlets.

No sacred armor.

No familiar battlefield weight.

Only an eighteen-year-old human rising from a wooden bench beneath a tree.

Aster stood beside him.

He looked down at her outstretched hand.

Then, after a brief hesitation, took it.

Her fingers closed warmly around his.

She blinked.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Aster smiled.

A small, pleased smile that she made very little effort to conceal.

Kade glanced toward the garden path.

"Lead the way."

She squeezed his hand once.

"Gladly."

Together, they started walking.

Behind them, the bench remained beneath the shade.

The lagoon glittered.

The garden leaves moved in the breeze.

And the memories did not disappear.

But for the moment, Kade no longer had to sit alone with them.

VI. Five Places at the Table

The mess hall was busy when they arrived.

Not crowded enough to become uncomfortable, but busy enough that the ordinary sounds of lunch filled the room.

Plates clattered.

Chairs scraped against the floor.

Conversations overlapped in a cheerful, occasionally incomprehensible mixture of military complaints, personal stories, and arguments about whose turn it was to help clean the tables.

The smell of warm bread drifted from the kitchen.

Something savory was simmering in a large pot.

And somewhere near the serving counter, Eliza Ward was explaining to a sailor that asking whether the kitchen had anything better was an excellent way to volunteer for washing dishes.

Kade heard that part clearly.

He smiled.

"Ah."

Aster glanced toward him.

"What?"

"Eliza's maintaining discipline."

The Fletcher-class girl followed his gaze.

The sailor in question had abruptly decided that the day's lunch looked perfectly acceptable.

Aster laughed.

"She's very good at that."

"Remarkable leadership qualities."

"Should we make her an admiral?"

Kade considered it.

"Too powerful."

"Fair."

Aster continued leading him through the room.

She had released his hand shortly before they entered, though Kade could still remember the warmth of her fingers.

He found that mildly distracting.

An unfortunate development.

He was supposed to be a competent military officer.

And yet apparently holding hands with a Fletcher-class destroyer was sufficient to interfere with his thoughts.

He considered filing a complaint.

Then looked toward Aster.

She was smiling.

He decided against it.

The table was near one of the large windows overlooking the eastern side of the harbor.

Riko sat there already.

Of course she did.

The Yamato-class girl had claimed a position with a clear view of the room, and her golden chrysanthemum ornament caught the sunlight whenever she turned her head.

Yuna Mori sat beside her, glasses in place, reviewing something in a small notebook.

Hana occupied the opposite side of the table.

The Akashi-class repair girl had a cup of tea beside her and the expression of someone who had spent an entire morning answering questions about equipment that had not yet been delivered.

Riko saw them first.

Her face brightened.

"Commander!"

Kade stopped.

"...Oh, good."

Aster grinned.

"What?"

"She's spotted us."

"How terrible."

"Nowhere to run."

Riko waved vigorously.

"OVER HERE!"

Several nearby sailors glanced toward her.

Kade closed his eyes.

"Subtle."

Aster laughed.

Then walked toward the table.

Yuna looked up.

"Hello, Commander."

Hana raised one hand.

"Good afternoon."

Kade nodded.

"Afternoon."

Riko looked toward Aster.

"Finally!"

The Fletcher-class girl raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You took forever!"

"Excuse me?"

"We've been waiting!"

Hana took a sip of tea.

"For approximately six minutes."

Riko turned.

"Hana!"

"What?"

"You're supposed to support me!"

"I support accurate timekeeping."

Yuna nodded thoughtfully.

"A respectable position."

Kade regarded the table.

Then looked toward Aster.

"You brought me into this."

She smiled sweetly.

"You're welcome."

He sighed.

Then sat down.

Aster claimed the chair beside him.

Riko leaned forward immediately.

"Commander!"

Kade looked at her.

"Yes, Riko?"

"Did you hear?"

He considered that.

"...Depends."

"About my training!"

"Oh."

She brightened.

Kade nodded solemnly.

"Yes. The incident."

Riko froze.

"...Incident?"

Yuna lowered her notebook.

Hana's mouth twitched.

Aster looked toward Kade.

He continued.

"I understand a Yamato-class battleship was seen behaving responsibly in the training lagoon."

Riko stared.

Aster pressed one hand over her mouth.

Kade shook his head.

"Naturally, I was skeptical."

"COMMANDER!"

"Extremely concerning report."

Yuna began laughing.

Hana smiled into her tea.

Riko folded her arms.

"I WAS RESPONSIBLE!"

Kade nodded.

"So I've heard."

"AND I DID WELL!"

"Also reported."

"AND I'M PROGRESSING!"

He smiled.

"That part I believe."

Riko stopped.

For a moment, she looked almost surprised.

Then her expression softened.

"...Really?"

Kade nodded.

"Really."

Her smile returned.

Aster watched the exchange with amusement.

Then leaned closer to Riko.

"Although you haven't completed the intermediate-assistance qualification yet."

Riko's smile faltered.

"I know!"

Hana set down her cup.

"She's been recommended for the next evaluation stage, subject to the required inspections and clearances."

Kade nodded.

"Good."

Riko looked between them.

"Everyone keeps saying that!"

"Because it's important," Hana answered.

"I know it's important!"

"Then stop trying to skip ahead."

"I'm not!"

Yuna raised one finger.

"You asked this morning whether the engineers could finish preparing the reduced-assistance configuration before breakfast."

Riko turned.

"YUNA!"

Hana nodded.

"She did."

Aster grinned.

"Very patient."

Riko stared.

Then lowered her head onto the table.

"...I hate all of you."

Kade smiled.

"No, you don't."

Her voice came muffled against the tabletop.

"...No, I don't."

Yuna laughed softly.

And somehow, Kade found himself laughing with them.

 

Lunch was not luxurious.

Horizon wasn't in a position to provide elaborate meals every day.

Eliza had done what she could with the supplies available: a substantial vegetable-and-bean stew, rice, warm bread, and modest portions of preserved meat prepared with enough seasoning to make the limitations less obvious.

There were still some fresh ingredients remaining from earlier deliveries, but the kitchen was using them carefully.

The refrigerated-food aircraft hadn't arrived.

Its cargo allocation and flight arrangements were still being finalized.

And Corwin would probably have suffered a personal crisis if anyone suggested treating the provisional shipment as food already sitting in Horizon's stores.

Nevertheless, the meal smelled wonderful.

Kade took a bite.

Paused.

Then looked toward the serving counter.

Eliza was watching him.

He swallowed.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Commander?"

Kade considered the question.

Very carefully.

Then nodded.

"Excellent."

Her expression softened.

"Thank you."

He continued.

"Possibly enough to make me forgive the last three meetings about vegetables."

Eliza folded her arms.

"Only three?"

Kade sighed.

"I have unreasonable standards."

She laughed.

Then returned to the kitchen.

Aster leaned toward him.

"Smart."

Kade glanced at her.

"Hm?"

"You complimented the cook."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Always compliment the cook."

"Military doctrine?"

"Survival instinct."

Hana nodded thoughtfully.

"At last, something sensible from the Commander."

Kade stared.

"...Hana."

She smiled.

"What?"

"You're becoming very cruel."

"Occupational hazard."

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

"I believe she's spending too much time around Aster."

Aster looked offended.

"Excuse me!"

Riko raised one hand.

"I agree!"

"RIKO!"

Kade smiled into his bowl.

The table dissolved into laughter again.

And for a while, lunch was exactly what it was supposed to be.

A meal.

Not a briefing.

Not a casualty review.

Not a meeting to decide how many shells Horizon could afford to fire if the Blackwake attacked tomorrow.

Just five people eating together.

 

VII. The Girls Who Were Still Learning

The conversation gradually shifted toward the morning's training.

Riko had apparently decided that her intermediate-assistance evaluation was now the most important event in the history of naval warfare.

Kade found this understandable.

He also found it extremely entertaining.

"So," Riko announced, leaning forward. "Once I pass the next evaluation, they'll start reducing the Mk. I assistance."

Hana raised one finger.

"Depending on the results."

Riko sighed.

"Yes, Hana."

"And the engineering inspection."

"Yes."

"And the medical clearance."

"Yes."

"And the suitability of the modified configuration."

"YES!"

Hana smiled.

"Good."

Kade regarded her.

"She's very enthusiastic."

Yuna nodded.

"She has been explaining the process to anyone willing to listen."

Riko looked offended.

"Because it's important!"

"It is," Yuna agreed.

The carrier's tone softened.

"You've worked hard."

Riko blinked.

Her expression changed.

"...Thanks."

Aster leaned back.

"And she actually listened during the maneuvering evaluation."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"An extraordinary achievement."

Riko pointed at him.

"Don't you start!"

He held up both hands.

"Just appreciating history."

She groaned.

Yuna laughed.

Then the carrier set down her utensils.

"Jokes aside, she's improving."

Kade turned toward her.

Yuna continued.

"Her corrections are becoming more deliberate. She isn't attempting to force the entire rigging to respond as though it has the turning characteristics of a destroyer."

Aster nodded.

"Exactly."

Hana added, "And the equipment records show fewer major stabilizer interventions during the later exercises."

Kade looked toward Riko.

The battleship girl was sitting a little straighter now.

Not because she was being praised for having enormous guns.

Because the people who understood her machinery were acknowledging that she'd learned to use it better.

He smiled.

"Good work."

Riko's expression brightened.

"Thank you, Commander!"

"Just remember the next stage is going to be harder."

Her smile became determined.

"I know."

"Less assistance means more responsibility."

"I know."

"And I don't want you rushing the evaluations because you're tired of looking like a floating warehouse."

Riko froze.

The entire table went quiet.

Then Aster made a terrible choking noise.

Yuna closed her eyes.

Hana looked down at her bowl.

Riko slowly turned toward Kade.

"...A floating what?"

He considered his options.

Then smiled pleasantly.

"Magnificent battleship."

"KADE!"

Aster burst out laughing.

Yuna followed.

Hana finally gave up trying to remain composed.

Riko looked around the table in betrayal.

"I HATE THIS LUNCH!"

Kade took another bite of stew.

"Food's good."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

He nodded.

"Fair."

Then he looked toward her with a more serious expression.

"But I'm glad you're making progress, Riko."

She stopped.

His voice was warm.

Unmistakably sincere.

"Really."

For a moment, she didn't know what to say.

Then she lowered her eyes.

"...Thanks."

Aster smiled.

Yuna reached for her tea.

Hana returned to her lunch.

And Riko, who had spent the better part of the meal attempting to defend her dignity, suddenly looked quite content.

 

"Speaking of training," Kade said, turning toward Aster. "How are you feeling?"

She blinked.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'm fine."

Hana immediately looked up.

Kade noticed.

Aster noticed him noticing.

Her expression changed.

"...Mostly fine."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

Hana set down her spoon.

"Aster."

The Fletcher-class girl sighed.

"Oh, come on."

Kade looked toward Hana.

"Go ahead."

Aster stared.

"Traitor!"

Hana continued calmly.

"Her controlled trials are progressing. The rigging is behaving appropriately, and her mobility is improving."

Kade nodded.

"Good."

"However, she experienced some discomfort after the last session, so we've adjusted the activity schedule."

He looked toward Aster.

She made an elaborate show of examining her lunch.

Kade folded his arms.

"...Aster."

She looked up.

"What?"

"Doctor's orders?"

"Yes."

"Following them?"

"Yes."

"Actually?"

She sighed.

"...Yes, Kade."

He smiled.

"Good."

Aster narrowed her eyes.

"You have absolutely no right to lecture me about taking breaks."

The entire table became very quiet.

Kade blinked.

"...Excuse me?"

She folded her arms.

"Doctor Holt told you to rest."

He hesitated.

Riko looked interested.

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

Hana slowly turned toward Kade.

Aster continued.

"And what were you doing before I found you?"

Kade considered that.

"...Sitting."

"Because?"

He looked toward the ceiling.

"...I was told to."

"By?"

He sighed.

"Dr. Holt."

Aster smiled triumphantly.

"Exactly."

Riko began laughing.

Hana nodded approvingly.

Yuna looked toward Kade.

"An excellent example of mutual accountability."

Kade stared at the carrier.

"...You've been waiting to say that, haven't you?"

"Possibly."

Aster grinned.

Then leaned a little closer.

"See? You follow your doctor's orders, and I'll follow mine."

Kade regarded her.

For a moment, his expression became unexpectedly gentle.

Then he nodded.

"Deal."

Aster blinked.

She hadn't expected him to agree so easily.

Then she smiled.

"Deal."

Hana looked between them.

Her mouth twitched.

"Wonderful."

Riko raised a hand.

"What?"

"Does this mean we can make the Commander take another break tomorrow?"

Kade closed his eyes.

"...No."

Aster grinned.

"Absolutely."

"ASTER."

Yuna nodded thoughtfully.

"I think the arrangement has merit."

"YUNA."

Hana took another sip of tea.

"I can ask Dr. Holt."

Kade stared at all four girls.

Then slowly shook his head.

"...I've created a monster."

Riko smiled.

"Four monsters."

He sighed.

"Even worse."

 

VIII. The Things They Couldn't Fix at Lunch

The meal continued.

Outside the window, the harbor remained busy.

Maintenance crews moved between damaged facilities.

A service vehicle traveled along the lower road.

Farther out, a Keelborn patrol group passed through the lagoon's designated channel, the girls' physical rigging leaving narrow wakes behind them.

Kade watched briefly.

Then returned his attention to the table.

Yuna was speaking with Hana about the next series of equipment evaluations.

The carrier wanted to refine the communication procedures between her flight crews and the station's air-defense teams. Her own training had progressed considerably, but she knew how much remained to be learned before every aspect of carrier operations could be performed safely under pressure.

Hana listened carefully.

Then made a note.

"We can schedule a review once Engineering finishes the current maintenance priorities."

Yuna nodded.

"That would help."

Riko leaned forward.

"Can I join?"

Yuna looked toward her.

"For carrier communications?"

"Formation training!"

Aster smiled.

"Only if you promise not to declare every contact a target for your main guns."

Riko groaned.

"I DON'T DO THAT!"

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Should we check the records?"

"COMMANDER!"

He smiled.

Then returned to his lunch.

For a few minutes, their conversation felt wonderfully unimportant.

Training schedules.

Minor equipment problems.

Which repair teams were available.

Whether Riko's enthusiasm could be accommodated without causing Hana to develop a permanent headache.

But eventually, the subject of repairs led somewhere more serious.

Hana set down her cup.

"Actually, Kade."

He looked toward her.

"Hm?"

"Have you heard anything more about Mei's technical cargo?"

He nodded.

"Sakura's convoy is still at Summit Key. They're completing the remaining inspections and replenishment before requesting onward clearance."

"Nothing new from Resolute?"

"Not that I've seen this morning."

Hana sighed quietly.

"I've sent another list of measurements to the depot."

"Good."

"The preliminary information is useful, but there are still things I need to confirm before the components arrive."

Kade nodded.

"Take the time you need."

Hana glanced toward him.

He continued.

"I don't want you opening a crate and discovering that somebody neglected to tell us the control modules require connections our equipment doesn't possess."

She smiled faintly.

"Neither do I."

"And even if everything is compatible, we still have a damaged Respite Bath to rebuild."

"Exactly."

Riko's expression became more serious.

Yuna lowered her eyes.

Aster sat quietly beside Kade.

None of them needed reminding what the machinery represented.

Eleven Pendants.

Eleven girls who might, someday, have a chance to return.

Four more still missing.

The possibilities were extraordinary.

The uncertainties were worse.

Hana looked down at her cup.

"I'm trying not to get ahead of myself."

Kade nodded.

"Good."

A pause.

Then he added:

"For what it's worth, you're doing everything you can with the information we have."

Hana looked up.

He smiled faintly.

"That's enough for now."

She considered that.

Then nodded.

"...Thanks."

Riko looked toward the window.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she asked quietly:

"Do you think it'll work?"

Kade's expression changed.

He looked toward her.

The battleship girl was no longer smiling.

Her hands rested against the table.

She looked young.

Not because she was small.

Not because she lacked experience.

Because hope could make people look terribly vulnerable.

Kade considered his answer carefully.

"I don't know."

Riko lowered her eyes.

He continued.

"I hope so."

A pause.

"But Hana needs to examine the equipment. Irena needs to evaluate any medical implications. We have to repair the installation and make sure everything is safe before we even consider what comes afterward."

Yuna nodded.

"Of course."

Hana looked toward Kade.

Her expression was grateful.

He continued.

"And Sakura has to get the parts here in one piece."

Aster smiled faintly.

"With all five escorts."

Kade nodded.

"With all five escorts."

Riko looked down.

Then slowly raised her head.

"...Right."

For a little while, nobody spoke.

Then Aster leaned back in her chair.

"Well."

Everyone looked toward her.

She smiled.

"Seems to me that we have plenty of work to do while they're away."

Riko blinked.

"Like what?"

Aster counted on her fingers.

"Training. Repairs. Looking after the wounded. Making sure the island doesn't fall apart."

Yuna smiled.

"A modest schedule."

"And making sure our Commander eats lunch."

Kade closed his eyes.

"...There it is."

Hana nodded solemnly.

"Very important."

Riko brightened.

"Especially that last part!"

Kade stared.

"Why is everyone suddenly obsessed with my eating habits?"

Aster grinned.

"Because you're here."

He blinked.

Then she added, more softly:

"And we want to keep you that way."

The words settled over the table.

Not dramatically.

Not as a declaration.

Simply spoken.

Kade looked toward her.

Aster's expression was gentle.

Riko watched them for a moment.

Then looked away with a small smile.

Yuna returned to her tea.

Hana began gathering the empty dishes.

And Kade, who had spent sixteen years watching people fight desperately to stay alive, found himself unexpectedly moved by the simple fact that someone wanted him to finish his lunch.

He looked down at his bowl.

Then picked up his spoon.

"...Well."

Aster raised an eyebrow.

"Hm?"

He took another bite.

Swallowed.

Then looked toward her.

"I suppose I'd better cooperate."

She smiled.

"Excellent decision."

 

IX. The Memory of Empty Chairs

Kade had learned to recognize the particular silence that followed battle.

It wasn't the absence of sound.

Not really.

There were always sounds.

Medical equipment.

Footsteps.

People speaking quietly.

A kettle boiling in a room where nobody felt much like drinking tea.

Someone attempting a joke because the alternative was crying.

But beneath those sounds lay the knowledge that certain voices would never answer again.

He'd heard that silence in Wysteria.

After the Final Wave.

Or rather, in the last moments before there was no more time for silence.

He remembered the seventeen chairs.

The room where they'd shared dinner.

Ayame writing their names in her Book.

Elias checking his ammunition.

The Hammer Hero half-asleep while everybody complained about his snoring.

He remembered asking them to come back.

Every one.

Then the final battle.

The Black Wave.

The names vanishing.

The terrible knowledge that sixteen years of keeping everyone alive had not been enough to protect them from the end.

He'd carried that memory with him even after awakening into the life he now inhabited.

It had returned with the others.

The road in Mizunokuni.

Kuroha.

Ranmei.

The Gauntlets.

The companions he'd loved.

The friends he'd lost.

The death he remembered as clearly as any injury he'd suffered before it.

Now, seated at a table in Horizon's mess hall, he heard Riko complaining that her training configuration made her look like a floating industrial installation.

Aster was laughing.

Yuna was trying to explain why Riko's comparisons were technically inaccurate.

Hana was explaining that the stabilizers were not going to become more aesthetically pleasing merely because Riko shouted at them.

It was ridiculous.

Ordinary.

Noisy.

And so painfully alive that Kade had to lower his eyes for a moment.

He looked at the girls.

Aster, whose reddish hair caught the light when she turned her head.

Riko, wearing the golden chrysanthemum ornament that seemed almost as stubborn as she was.

Yuna, whose glasses reflected the window as she tried to conceal a smile.

Hana, who had somehow learned to threaten people with repair schedules more effectively than most commanders could threaten them with artillery.

Four people.

Four lives.

Four friends sitting around a table.

Kade felt an old fear move beneath his ribs.

Please.

The thought came without warning.

Let them live.

It was an unfair thing to ask of the world.

He knew that better than most.

He had watched courageous people die.

He had seen victories that cost more than anyone had been prepared to pay.

He knew skill couldn't guarantee survival.

Neither could strength.

Neither could love.

But he still wanted it.

He wanted all four girls to finish their lunches.

Go back to their work.

Complain about training.

Argue about equipment.

Have dinner tomorrow.

Then breakfast the day after that.

And a hundred ordinary mornings after.

He wanted Sakura and her five escorts to return.

He wanted the wounded at Horizon to recover.

He wanted the missing Pendants found.

He wanted the island to remain a place where people could laugh without feeling guilty.

Kade stared at the table.

Aster noticed.

She didn't say anything immediately.

Instead, she reached toward the serving plate.

Took a small piece of bread.

And placed it beside his bowl.

He blinked.

Then looked toward her.

She smiled.

"You're going to need that."

He raised an eyebrow.

"...Am I?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

She nodded toward Riko.

"She's about to explain her training results again."

Kade stared.

Then slowly turned.

Riko was already leaning forward.

"ACTUALLY, COMMANDER—"

Aster grinned.

Kade closed his eyes.

"...Oh, no."

Yuna began laughing.

Hana sighed.

And Riko launched into a detailed explanation of her latest maneuvering performance with all the enthusiasm of someone who had recently been informed that the ocean itself was beginning to respect her.

Kade listened.

He even asked questions.

Real ones.

About the stabilizer intervention records.

About the turn where she'd lost a little control.

About the adjustments she'd made during the final exercise.

Riko answered every question.

Proudly.

Carefully.

With considerably more understanding than she'd possessed during her earliest training sessions.

And as Kade listened, the old memory began losing some of its hold over him.

It didn't vanish.

The empty chairs remained somewhere inside his mind.

So did the battlefield.

So did the shrine road.

But there were people in front of him now.

Living people.

People with futures they were still trying to build.

He owed them his attention.

Not because he was their Commander.

Because they were here.

And for the moment, so was he.

 

X. An Afternoon Worth Staying For

Lunch eventually ended.

Not because anyone particularly wanted it to.

But because the island still had work to do.

Hana needed to return to the repair workshops.

Yuna had an afternoon training review.

Riko had been instructed to attend a discussion of her next equipment evaluation, with the explicit warning that attending the discussion did not mean the evaluation itself had been approved.

She had complained.

Briefly.

Then hurried away anyway.

Kade watched her go.

"She seems happy."

Hana smiled faintly.

"She is."

"Good."

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

"Her confidence is improving."

Aster nodded.

"Slowly becoming manageable."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Her confidence?"

"Her ego."

Hana laughed.

Yuna smiled.

Kade shook his head.

"Good luck with that."

Riko's voice echoed from near the doorway.

"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!"

Aster burst out laughing.

Kade smiled.

"Excellent hearing, too."

"COMMANDER!"

The girls laughed again.

Then Hana collected her notes.

"Come on, Yuna. We should get going."

The carrier nodded.

"Of course."

She looked toward Kade.

"Thank you for joining us."

He blinked.

Then smiled.

"Thanks for inviting me."

Hana nodded.

"Try not to work yourself into another medical order."

Kade sighed.

"...Everyone's obsessed."

Yuna smiled sweetly.

"With good reason."

Then the two departed.

Aster remained beside him.

For a moment, neither moved.

The mess hall had begun settling into its quieter afternoon rhythm.

The busiest lunch period was ending.

Kitchen staff collected dishes.

Sailors returned to their stations.

A few off-duty personnel lingered over tea.

Outside the windows, the sunlight had shifted.

Kade glanced at his watch.

Then toward the administrative headquarters visible beyond the far road.

Aster noticed.

"No."

He looked at her.

"...No?"

"Don't."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't what?"

"Start thinking about your paperwork."

Kade stared.

Aster folded her arms.

"You're doing it."

"I possess the ability to think."

"Debatable."

He placed one hand against his chest.

"Wounded."

She grinned.

Then her expression softened.

"Doctor Holt told you to take a proper break."

"I did."

"You sat in a garden for a while."

"Yes."

"And ate lunch."

"Also yes."

"And you're already thinking about going straight back to your office."

Kade hesitated.

Aster pointed at him.

"See?"

He sighed.

"...You know me too well."

She smiled.

"Getting there."

The words lingered for a moment.

Kade looked toward her.

Aster's expression remained warm.

Then she glanced toward the doorway.

"Come on."

He blinked.

"Where?"

"Outside."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"Planning to drag me around the island?"

"Only if necessary."

"Terrifying."

She grinned.

"Let's walk a little."

He considered that.

Then looked toward the harbor.

The afternoon was beautiful.

Warm sunlight.

A gentle breeze.

The sound of gulls.

No immediate alarms.

No urgent calls from Mara.

No reason he couldn't spend a little more time away from his desk.

And Aster was watching him with an expression that made it increasingly difficult to invent an excuse.

Kade sighed.

"All right."

She smiled.

"Good."

He stood.

Aster followed.

They left the mess hall together.

 

The path outside ran along a low seawall overlooking the inner lagoon.

It wasn't the most important part of Horizon Atoll.

No great guns stood there.

No defensive command post occupied the little stretch of shoreline.

It was simply a place where people could walk beneath the sun and watch the water.

Kade appreciated that.

Aster walked beside him.

Her pace was comfortable.

Not hurried.

Not especially slow.

Just easy.

The sort of pace that allowed them to enjoy the view without making a deliberate effort.

For a while, neither spoke.

Kade looked toward the harbor.

A maintenance craft moved between the piers.

Several sailors were repairing a railing damaged during the recent fighting.

Farther away, the remains of the western lighthouse stood against the sky, still awaiting the long process of proper reconstruction.

The island was wounded.

But alive.

Aster glanced toward him.

"Feeling better?"

He considered the question.

Then nodded.

"Yeah."

She smiled.

"Good."

He looked at her.

"...Thanks."

"For lunch?"

"For finding me."

Aster's expression softened.

"Oh."

He looked toward the water.

For a moment, he seemed about to say something else.

Something more.

Then he stopped.

She noticed.

But she didn't ask.

Instead, she moved a little closer.

Their shoulders brushed.

Kade looked down.

Aster looked toward the sea.

For several seconds, neither moved away.

Then she spoke.

"Hey, Kade?"

"Hm?"

"Next time you want company..."

He glanced toward her.

She smiled faintly.

"You can ask."

Kade didn't answer immediately.

Aster continued before the silence became uncomfortable.

"Doesn't have to be anything important. We can eat lunch. Walk around. Sit somewhere and complain about the birds."

He raised an eyebrow.

"The birds?"

"Very suspicious creatures."

He smiled.

"Agreed."

"They're probably planning something."

"Absolutely."

She laughed softly.

Then looked toward him again.

"Or we can just sit."

Kade's expression changed.

Not much.

But enough.

Aster continued.

"You don't have to tell me everything you're thinking about."

A pause.

"Sometimes it's enough to have someone nearby."

Kade looked toward the lagoon.

The words settled gently.

He remembered a quiet night after the battle.

The seawall.

Aster leaning against him.

The simple warmth of another person refusing to leave him alone with everything he was carrying.

He had slept.

For the first time in what had felt like far too long, he had actually slept.

Now she was offering something similar.

Not asking for secrets.

Not demanding explanations.

Just company.

Kade drew a slow breath.

Then nodded.

"...I'll remember that."

Aster smiled.

"Good."

They continued walking.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the wind and the water.

Then Kade glanced toward her.

"Although."

Aster raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

He smiled faintly.

"If I ask you to sit quietly with me, are you physically capable of doing that?"

She stared.

Then narrowed her eyes.

"Kade."

"Just checking."

"Of course I am!"

He looked thoughtful.

"...Really?"

"Yes!"

"Fascinating."

She folded her arms.

"You are such a menace."

He smiled.

"Been told."

Aster shook her head.

Then laughed.

And Kade found himself laughing too.

 

He still remembered Mizunokuni.

He always would.

The shrine road remained clear inside his thoughts.

So did Ranmei.

So did Kuroha.

And the people he'd loved in Wysteria.

Ayame.

Elias.

The seventeen who had sat together the night before the Black Wave, exhausted and hopeful and desperately afraid that they would never see their homes again.

Those memories belonged to him.

He did not know whether he would ever be able to speak about them.

Perhaps one day.

Perhaps not.

For now, the past remained his own.

But Horizon Atoll was real.

The people here were real.

Aster was walking beside him, her red ribbons moving in the breeze.

Riko was celebrating the first meaningful steps toward greater independence from her training rigging.

Yuna was preparing for another session with her carrier equipment.

Hana was returning to the workshops to keep the island's machinery functioning.

And somewhere across the Pacific, Sakura Nagase was trying to bring home parts that might give Horizon another chance to restore what the Blackwake had taken.

The supply aircraft was still being arranged.

The damaged base still needed repairs.

The eleven Pendants remained secured.

Four were missing.

There were problems everywhere he looked.

And, just as certainly, there were people doing their best to solve them.

Kade rested his hands in his pockets.

The afternoon sun warmed his face.

Beside him, Aster was explaining why she believed Riko would eventually become much more dangerous once her equipment progressed beyond the Mk. I configuration.

Kade listened.

Then pointed out that Riko was already dangerous to anyone unfortunate enough to be responsible for approving her training reports.

Aster laughed.

He smiled.

The conversation continued.

No one asked him to save a kingdom.

No sacred Weapon demanded that he rise.

No priest called his suffering a blessing.

No one spoke of another Wave.

For this one ordinary afternoon, he was simply Kade Bher.

Eighteen years old.

Commander of Horizon Atoll.

A young man taking a walk with a girl who liked him enough to come looking when he disappeared into his own thoughts.

He glanced toward her.

Aster smiled back.

And somewhere beneath the exhaustion, the grief, and the memories of roads he could no longer find, Kade felt something he had spent much of his life trying to protect for other people.

A small, quiet measure of peace.

He looked toward the lagoon.

Then smiled.

"...Hey, Aster."

She turned.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for lunch."

Her expression brightened.

"Anytime."

He nodded.

Then added:

"Though next time, I'm choosing the table."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

Kade glanced toward the mess hall behind them.

"Preferably somewhere Riko can't shout directly into my ear."

Aster burst out laughing.

"Oh, good luck with that!"

He sighed.

"Tragic."

She grinned.

Then slipped her hand into his.

Kade glanced down.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then his fingers closed around hers.

They kept walking.

The Pacific glittered beneath the afternoon sun.

And Horizon Atoll, damaged and imperfect and full of people who still had far too much work ahead of them, remained a place worth coming home to.