quite clean. “Well…even if you say we’re going to live in it, we’re just borrowing it for a few days.”
“Even so, if we have to stay here anyway, doesn’t it make you happier if it’s clean?” Tina’s eyes were sparkling. She looked like a child who had made a secret hideout.
When she led them to a Western-style dining room, they were met with an unexpected warmth. There was a long table with benches and a redbrick fireplace with brightly burning flames. Shoma, Midori, Tamaki, and Yuzuki had been preparing a meal and were just about to finish. There was a wood-chopping ax on the side, meaning someone had split apart the extra chairs and turned them into firewood.
Thinking about it sensibly, it did not seem to make sense that they would need to use the fireplace in the middle of summer, but after the ashes from the Monolith covered the sky, the temperature dropped suddenly, and to Rentaro, the warmth from the fireplace felt just right.
When preparations for the meal were completed, they didn’t need to be ordered to sit and eat. The stew piled on plates and bowls smelled sweet, and when Rentaro brought it to his mouth hesitantly, his eyes widened in surprise. “This is good…” It was a little salty, but they probably thought that on a battlefield, it was better to have strong-tasting foods. It was hard to believe that these were made from canned rations and ready-made food packages.
“Hah, how about it? What do you think of me now?” It was Tamaki, who sounded proud as he rubbed his nose.
“You made this?” Rentaro asked.
Yuzuki answered, challenging but triumphant. “My big brother’s the chef at home. A perv like you couldn’t even come close to his skill.”
Rentaro crossed his arms. This was exactly what was meant by “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” He felt the call of rivalry stir at the idea of another cook.
Once the meal was devoured, they were filled with a languid satisfaction. It wasn’t that there was a lot of food. In fact, since their storehouse had burned down in yesterday’s fighting, the amount of food they’d been given wasn’t enough to match the needs of all the civil officers who were left. If operations in Tokyo Area hadn’t been frozen, they’d have promptly received relief supplies, but right now, those prospects were dim. Even so, the sense of relief they felt that all eight of them had survived the battlefield and were able to share another meal together overrode the physical shortage of food and gave them comfort.
Midori and Tina brought coffee out unstably after the meal, and after that, they all chatted pleasantly. At first glance, it looked peaceful, but Rentaro noticed some awkwardness mixed into their conversation. If he had to say, it felt like they were choosing words in such a way that the critical points of their conversation were not meshing.
But at that moment, Enju’s innocent voice interrupted without sensing the mood. “Rentaro, why did Aldebaran run away?”
“There are rumors flying among the ranks of civil officers,” Rentaro started. “But no one knows the real reason why…”
“Oh, is that so?” Enju made a serious face and crossed her arms. However, she seemed to think of a different question and murmured, “Will the Gastrea attack us again?”
Everyone stopped suddenly and looked down. The light of the candles in the three-pronged brass candlestick flickered ominously. It was the question no one had dared to ask until now.
Everyone had already lost too much. For Rentaro, he had studied how tragic war was time and time again in class. However, what he experienced after actually being thrown into the middle of a battlefield was a hell that destroyed the clichéd view of war he had a hundred times over. That battlefield, filled with screams that made his hair stand on end and dyed red with blood and guts, had opened up the lid to his sealed-off trauma and overlapped with images of the Gastrea War he had seen as a
“Even so, if we have to stay here anyway, doesn’t it make you happier if it’s clean?” Tina’s eyes were sparkling. She looked like a child who had made a secret hideout.
When she led them to a Western-style dining room, they were met with an unexpected warmth. There was a long table with benches and a redbrick fireplace with brightly burning flames. Shoma, Midori, Tamaki, and Yuzuki had been preparing a meal and were just about to finish. There was a wood-chopping ax on the side, meaning someone had split apart the extra chairs and turned them into firewood.
Thinking about it sensibly, it did not seem to make sense that they would need to use the fireplace in the middle of summer, but after the ashes from the Monolith covered the sky, the temperature dropped suddenly, and to Rentaro, the warmth from the fireplace felt just right.
When preparations for the meal were completed, they didn’t need to be ordered to sit and eat. The stew piled on plates and bowls smelled sweet, and when Rentaro brought it to his mouth hesitantly, his eyes widened in surprise. “This is good…” It was a little salty, but they probably thought that on a battlefield, it was better to have strong-tasting foods. It was hard to believe that these were made from canned rations and ready-made food packages.
“Hah, how about it? What do you think of me now?” It was Tamaki, who sounded proud as he rubbed his nose.
“You made this?” Rentaro asked.
Yuzuki answered, challenging but triumphant. “My big brother’s the chef at home. A perv like you couldn’t even come close to his skill.”
Rentaro crossed his arms. This was exactly what was meant by “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” He felt the call of rivalry stir at the idea of another cook.
Once the meal was devoured, they were filled with a languid satisfaction. It wasn’t that there was a lot of food. In fact, since their storehouse had burned down in yesterday’s fighting, the amount of food they’d been given wasn’t enough to match the needs of all the civil officers who were left. If operations in Tokyo Area hadn’t been frozen, they’d have promptly received relief supplies, but right now, those prospects were dim. Even so, the sense of relief they felt that all eight of them had survived the battlefield and were able to share another meal together overrode the physical shortage of food and gave them comfort.
Midori and Tina brought coffee out unstably after the meal, and after that, they all chatted pleasantly. At first glance, it looked peaceful, but Rentaro noticed some awkwardness mixed into their conversation. If he had to say, it felt like they were choosing words in such a way that the critical points of their conversation were not meshing.
But at that moment, Enju’s innocent voice interrupted without sensing the mood. “Rentaro, why did Aldebaran run away?”
“There are rumors flying among the ranks of civil officers,” Rentaro started. “But no one knows the real reason why…”
“Oh, is that so?” Enju made a serious face and crossed her arms. However, she seemed to think of a different question and murmured, “Will the Gastrea attack us again?”
Everyone stopped suddenly and looked down. The light of the candles in the three-pronged brass candlestick flickered ominously. It was the question no one had dared to ask until now.
Everyone had already lost too much. For Rentaro, he had studied how tragic war was time and time again in class. However, what he experienced after actually being thrown into the middle of a battlefield was a hell that destroyed the clichéd view of war he had a hundred times over. That battlefield, filled with screams that made his hair stand on end and dyed red with blood and guts, had opened up the lid to his sealed-off trauma and overlapped with images of the Gastrea War he had seen as a
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