Chapter Text

Fleeting Sparks: Aria

4

On the night she was to be the sole survivor, the sky was bereft of stars.

Asuna remembered the evenings in the inner sectors, where such nights were the norm and not the exception. She was in the third grade of primary school when she first internalised that detail. Her best friend at the time eagerly led her to her favourite spot in Liberté et Égalité to see the fireworks on the eve of the new year. 

Minutes before the heavens were painted with a spectrum of colours, Asuna had made her observation. The Republic’s lights polluted the air, obscuring even the most brilliant of stars. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Only a year later, her life would be turned upside down. Anyone unfortunate enough to be born with hair and eyes other than the colour of bleach and glue was forced outside the main sectors of the Republic. Despite their relative wealth, the chestnut hair of Asuna’s family consigned them to the same fate. Not that an exemption from the atrocity would make the situation any better.

Now, forced to fight and die against an army of murderous machines, Asuna did not look back on that farcical night too fondly… for a multitude of reasons. She didn’t like to think about it. About warm memories turning cold. 

From then on, Asuna had considered starless nights to be a curse, despite her usual lack of superstition. Their abandonment of humanity signified the loss of their guidance, that nature was punishing them however insignificantly. The stars hated artificial lights. 

On that night, Asuna likened herself to such artificial lights. If the stars were to cast her aside, then she preferred for her flame to extinguish in a brilliant spark. Even if only for a moment, a single flash of lightning, she would feel warm again. 

Dark clouds covered the Eighty-Sixth sector, acting as a veil that concealed her suicidal approach. The foolish girl had tracked her retreating quarry all the way to their deactivation point.

The Legion of the Giadian Empire slept like any other creature, despite their mechanical nature. It made some sense to Asuna. Solar power allowed the Legion to operate more effectively during the day, and even robots needed to conserve energy. It wasn’t a flaw in the Legion’s design, per se. To consider it a flaw was to consider the animal kingdom flawed. Still, it was a quirk that predators often exploited. Predators such as Asuna.

She hid herself behind a patch of trees, reaffirming her decision to throw away her life. Delaying her death simply prolonged her pain. She had grown to the age of fifteen in the hellish nightmare that was the Eighty-Sixth. Five years in the camps and nearing a year in the combat wards… It wore down her strength. 

If not now, then when? When their numbers had dwindled enough to be trampled over like bugs, or perhaps when she was to be sent off on the special reconnaissance mission so frequently gossiped about?

Asuna left those trivial questions unanswered and fired into the hornet’s nest. With the press of a button and the flash of her muzzle, she was at war.

She struck with the force of lightning, swift yet precise. Each discharge of her smoothbore found their marks on her barely awoken targets. The scouts fell to her machine gun fire like ants sprayed with insecticide, stripping the lions and wolves of their senses. Visibility was naturally reduced at night, making it difficult for them to track her rig as she ran circles around them.

But Asuna could not exploit the element of surprise forever. Grauwolf rockets began streaking toward her, homing in like a pack of hunting dogs. She shifted gears. Her offence was stalled as she performed evasive manoeuvres, retreating to the tree line, weaving in and out to lose her pursuers. Only after being free of them could she return fire.

Asuna maintained a steady pace in her guerrilla warfare, knowing one mistake would be the end of her. Naturally, her controls grew sluggish over time, her breathing ragged, and her ammunition near empty. She had whittled down the enemy to a single platoon of four Grauolf and a lone Löwe. 

That’s good enough, she felt. 

As rockets were to rain down on her from all sides, she felt at peace, leaving behind a selfish little prayer. For her actions tonight to have some meaning for another. If she had delayed a young hopeful’s death for a single day. If she had contributed to somehow ending this impossible war, then she was content. But this was the end for her… 

But her death never came.

The arrows of death raining upon her exploded in the heavens like blooming fireworks, ignited by a hailstorm of gunfire.

“Nightblade to Friendly Processor, entering combat from your right,” the stranger communicated through the terrible speakers of the M1A4 Juggernaut. As Asuna hadn’t taken her grip off the controls, her own rig continued sprinting in the opposite direction of the enemy, leaving the friendly on his own. 

By the time she realised this, her unwarranted saviour made quick work of the pair of advancing Grauwolf. A moment passed before Asuna finally turned her coffin around to provide fire support, although her contribution provided little to the overall result. Just like their brethren, the final three units perished to Nightblade's cannon. 

The battle was over. Asuna had failed to die. 

Asuna had failed to register the loud silence between the two Processors. She had barely processed that she was still alive, despite fighting a battle with abysmal odds. Herself against a whole squadron, and while she had received help in the end, she had won. 

“That was reckless, don't you think?” The Processor with the personal name of Nightblade exited his cockpit, shivering in the frosty winter air as he reprimanded her. Her optics projected the visage of a boy her age with Imperial black features. “Is it just you? Where's your backup… umm, sorry, my bad,” Nightblade blushed as he seemed to realise his insensitivity a little too late. 

“It doesn't matter,” Asuna replied, “Since you so gracefully asked, my backup is dead. I am alone. And my recklessness is none of your concern.”

He feigned a cough, “Well, discretion is the better part of valour, you know? With your comrades gone, you should be prioritising survival. Taking on a squadron on your own is, frankly, insane.”

“... It doesn't matter,” her voice was hoarse, coming out of her Juggernaut's speakers softly. 

“... Sorry?” 

“Today or tomorrow, next week or a year from now, we're all gonna die, anyway. This war isn't ending. It's only a matter of time… I just…” she began to choke up, “I just want to die, satisfied that I didn't run from my fears.”

Despite her clear venom towards him, the boy did not interpret her words with ill intent, perhaps knowing he was to blame for riling her up. He gave her an awkwardly cynical smile and sighed, “Well, if you're so eager to die, I won't stop you. But I'm in a little bit of a bind. My navigation equipment’s malfunctioning and… I'm kinda lost,” Nightblade scratched his cheek. “So… Assuming yours still works… How about we trade Juggernauts? My tank is still full and I've got a scav back there with extra ammo. You can take it all,” as if he was some sort of salesman, Nightblade repeatedly struck the machine’s aluminium armour emblazoned with his personal mark—a black branch-like longsword dotted with stars. 

Asuna heaved a deep sigh before opening her rig. She was honestly too tired to think straight, let alone continue on her death march. Her fatigue showed with the scowl on her face. “Fine,” she said, accepting Nightblade’s proposal without knowing what she was going to do afterwards.

She had moved on autopilot, unaware that stepping out of her cockpit was a terrible decision. She couldn't feel the blood in her head, her legs turned to mush as soon as her feet hit the snow. 

“H-hey!”

Her face plunged into the ground before Nightblade could save her. 

“Hey you, you're finally awake! You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush…” were the first words Asuna heard upon regaining consciousness. No longer was she stuffed into her coffin of a war machine, but instead lying on a marginally more comfortable bed. The sun was now shining bright through the window. 

Asuna blinked, “... Excuse me?”  

“Hehehehe,” her caretaker chuckled to herself at Asuna’s bedside. She was a girl with beautiful golden hair cut short and three streaks of red face paint on each cheek. The girl fancied herself some whiskers. “Don't mind me, just talkin’ to myself,” she spoke with a nasal hint in her accent, uncommon for a native San Magnolian. Asuna wondered if it was a personal quirk or part of her background. 

“Where am I?” Asuna asked. 

“This here's the Fifty-Sixth ward, Ironclad Squadron HQ to be precise. Still the Eastern Front, in case you were also wonderin’. Name's Tomo, by the way. Carina Tomo Hosaka. Personal name: Argo, although some call me The Rat . How about you?”

“... Asuna Yuuki.”

“Gotcha. Nice to meetcha, Asuna!”

It took a few minutes before Hosaka picked up the conversation once more. Although Asuna figured out the reason was less that she was awkward, and more that she had gone to grab Asuna some food.

“Here, eat up,” she ordered, “Kii-boy tells me you've got… I ain't gonna sugar coat this, you got a death wish, yeah?”

Asuna accepted her canned meal, still infinitely more appetising than the slop given to them by the Republic. Although, she didn't answer Hosaka's question. “Kii-boy?” she asked, deflecting. 

“The guy who brought you here, Nightblade… Hey, speak of the devil. Kii-boy, meet Asuna Yuuki. Asuna, meet Kazuto Kirigaya”.

The boy she spoke with the night before wandered into the room like a lost deer. In clear light and through her own eyes, he appeared androgynous, especially with his wet shoulder-length hair. It was something she didn't feel through her Juggernaut’s optics. “Uh, right. I forgot to ask your name back there. Nice to meet—” 

 “You shouldn't have bothered.” 

Nightblade's eyes—or Kirigaya's, she supposed, briefly looked away from her before returning with that cynical smile of his. “I didn't do it for you.”

“What? Then why didn't you leave me there?”

“For my own peace of mind, of course,” he answered calmly. “If you decide to go and get yourself killed, that's your decision, and I can only respect that. But collapsing in front of me is a different story. You can't make that decision while unconscious.”

Kirigaya turned around, addressing Hosaka before he left, “Showers are free, by the way. I gotta hang up the laundry, see you at dinner.”

Hosaka sighed, although her expression was filled with a wide grin. “Kii-boy's a terrible guy, don'tcha think? Goes around sayin’ he doesn't care, then saves you anyway, playin’ with your heart all the while? They call him the Dark Duelist, but really, he’s just a master of dark psychology. Before you know it, you're swoonin’ your guts out while he acts oblivious.”

“I'm sure he's not all that great,” Asuna quipped. “Have you been with him long, Hosaka? Since you seem to know all of his… tricks?”

“You could say that. We met a year and a half ago in our first squadron. Then, we were both transferred to different squadrons before we reunited here. He was way cuter back then, like the type of kid you could pamper. Now he's grown to be a cynical punk with long hair,” she replied, although Asuna could tell she was joking for the most part. “Also, none of that polite crap, alright? The name's Tomo!”

“Wasn't your first name Carina?”

“There's too many Carinas out there, so it's Tomo!... Or Argo the Rat, if you want.”

“I'll stick with Tomo, then.”

The self-proclaimed Rat went ahead and procured her a drink as soon as Asuna was done with her food. The canned tuna was honestly quite palatable, albeit spicy. It was possibly one of the more premium items the squadron had scavenged. 

“Well,” Tomo began, “Kii-boy's given me the gist of your situation. Last one left standin’, right? Not something to be ashamed of really. I knew plenty of folks who went through the same thing… It’s more common than you think…. And, you know, these folks were strong. Some of the strongest I’ve ever met. Strong enough to give others strength… What I’m tryin’ to say is… on the macro, things may never look up for us, but on the micro, we’ve got a lot to live for.”

“Such as?”

“Ever had sex?”

“Pfttt,” Asuna did a spit take on her drink, coughing wildly as her face burned. Her coughs slowly turned into laughter and tears as she tried to calm herself, the weight on her chest lifted for a brief moment, “T-that was not the direction I thought you were going…”

Tomo chuckled, “My bad. I ain’t the type of person who can give a sappy pick-me-up… For real though, we may have just met, but I can’t leave a cute girl like you out to dry without living her life to the fullest. Just let Big Sis Argo handle it, yeah? I’ll have you spoofed into our squadron roster in no time!”

“I see your idea of a pick-me-up happens to be the same as your idea of a pickup line.”

“Aww, did lil’ old Bandanas eavesdrop and get jealous all by his lonesome?”

“I ain't jealous! And I just happened to be passing by!… Guess you weren't lying when you said you were batting for the other team though, huh.”

“Nah, that's only half true. I only said that to get you to back off.”

“So I still have a chance?”

“Imma be real with you Klein, I ain't into dudes with facial hair. Or dudes who wear bandanas. Or dudes desperate to get laid. Or dudes who can't brew a decent cup to save their lives.”

“... I walked straight into that one.”

“That you did, bud.”

Asuna observed what looked to be a comedy routine between squadmates on her way to the showers. She simply stood there, reminiscing about how her former squadron would put on similar shows, equally as fluent as Tomo and her comrade. She never did partake in any of their antics. 

The goateed redhead rubbed his neck in defeat, turning toward Asuna instead, “‘So you're gonna be sticking with us, yeah? Good to have you on board! Ryoutarou Klein Tsuboi is at your service! But, you can just call me Klein. Personal name: Furinkazan. I also happen to be looking for a girlfriend!”

“...Asuna Yuuki… Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Klein frowned, “Sheesh, at least sound like you are. Any more formal and I'm gonna start calling you princess.”

“Stop bein’ weird Klein,” Argo said, grabbing Asuna by the hand, “C'mon, we got places to be. I bet you'd kill for a hot bath right?”

Asuna's ears perked at the mention of a warm soak, her heart skipping a beat, “You have a bath here?!”

“Hell yeah we do!”

A jolt rushed up Asuna’s body as her cold legs entered the water one at a time, reeling her deeper into the bath. Her mind relaxed as easily as the tension left her chest and shoulders. Any trace of her impulsions from last night disappeared, leaving a gap for only guilt to seep in. She could only be so grateful before it turned into loathing for her own survival. 

The sensation of being submerged in steaming water was something she truly missed. It was a luxury other squadrons seldom had. Not everyone had the luck of finding a working water heater. 

The tub itself could also be considered a luxury piece of furniture, as it was large enough to fit a platoon. Even more surprising was that Kirigaya and Tsuboi built it. The younger boy apparently had some know-how in the subject of carpentry, while the elder provided the extra manpower, as Tomo sarcastically put it.

Asuna didn’t see how she’d deserved such a luxury. 

Perhaps Asuna should have invited Tomo to bathe with her. They hadn’t even known each other for a day, but being alone with her thoughts wasn’t the best idea. Another time, perhaps. 

Her mind drifted to yesterday, to her squadron. She didn't know them too well, despite the months spent together. She wasn't the most sociable to her squadron. Asuna was simply tired of everything, now that she thought about it. Her only true belief was in the assured nature of their deaths in the near future. Ironic that she—the person who was always anticipating it—was the only one allowed to still breathe. 

For how much longer? She didn’t know. She didn't want to think about it. 

Asuna’s blissful soak may have ridden her with guilt, but if she could experience it until the end of her life, she would die with no regrets. 

There was another thing she needed to do before dying, she supposed. She put it on her mind to apologise to Kirigaya later… or perhaps a show of gratitude was her first priority.

Every dinner in the Ironclad squadron was a social event. No exceptions. 

Mandated by the squadron leader, fifteen Processors—sixteen including Asuna—formed a circle on the common room carpet with their food of choice, mostly assorted fish or eggs. 

Half of the room was filled with the older generation, or in other words, those above eighteen. A fifty-fifty ratio was unheard of when Asuna first became a Processor. Alas, the squadrons inevitably became younger over time. 

“Considering we have a new face here with us, we should do some introductions, starting with the leaders, perhaps,” a blue-haired man said. “Asuna Yuuki, was it? I’m Kanji Tagliaerba, 24 years old, Personal name: Diavel.” Asuna immediately recognized the word from her studies. It meant ‘devil’ in certain southern dialects. If she had to guess, he was originally from Wald. “I'm the company commander of the Knights of the Round Carpet.”

“Translated into Continental Lingua Franca, that means his position is A-L,” Tomo interjected, “Well, you already know me. Tomo, Argo, and my age is a secret, teehee. I'm B-L, which is cool, ‘cause BL is the best genre of fiction… Oi, Kii-boy. You're next.”

“Huh? Oh, Kazuto, Nightblade, 14,” so he was younger than her, “C-L.”

“Classy.”

“... What else is there to say?”

Asuna put her hand up, “I have to ask, is there a reason why younger members are leaders?”

Klein laughed, “Don't be fooled by the age of some of these guys, they haven't even reached their first year. ‘Sides, we young ones are just better pilots.”

“You're not that young, bro.”

“Seventeen is young, Rat!”

Another woman joined in on the laughter, “Well, that's our D-L for you. I'm Kai Schulen, by the way. My age is also a secret, but I'm on the older side. Personal Name: Deadeye. Position: F-L… That’s it for the leaders. Our E-Platoon fell in battle recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Asuna said, “Is that all for the name bearers?”

While Asuna had only been in two squadrons so far, she knew five was an impressive number of Processors with personalised callsigns. Her previous squadrons had only two each, acting as leader and deputy respectively. Having all veterans for platoon leaders was unheard of to her. 

“Hmph, yeah, yeah, rub it in. The rest of us are just no name geezers.”

“Don't be an ass, Kibaou… Sorry about that. I'm Lind Lakia, A-1. He's Kiba Outan, A-2. We're both 27.”

The introductions went around until everyone had their turn. The squadron's fifteen members were divided into five platoons, each having three members. The frontline platoons acted in pairs, with Argo supporting Diavel, and Furinkazan supporting Nightblade. Deadeye's was the marksman unit. 

After some deliberation, it was decided that Asuna would join Argo's platoon. Fire support was an easy task to fill, although not fully effective without proper chemistry. That was something for later drills to address. 

All that was left was to request Handler One to recalibrate Asuna’s device remotely.

Interlude: Fallen Light (Kazuto and Kai)

“Kai!” Kazuto called out. He wouldn’t consider himself close to the sniper, but they weren't simple acquaintances either. 

Klein and Tomo often treated him as their rebellious younger brother who needed to be looked after. That sentiment naturally spread to Raz, Kai, and Diavel as well.  Never mind that no one could match his skills, other than the captain. He was the youngest of the name bearers and would continue to be for the foreseeable future. 

“Hn? What's up, Kazu?”

“Umm, I…” Kazuto struggled to get the words out, wondering if it was the right thing to do. Would she appreciate it? Would it be the token of a sweet memory, or would it be a curse to haunt her for the rest of her short life? 

“Listen, Kazu. It's not your fault. You did your best, more than any of us could… we almost lost you too,” Kai moved closer for a hug, whether to comfort him or hide her tears, he didn’t know. Their height difference made for an awkward embrace. Kazuto was reminded that he was still a child, no matter how much he was forced to mature. Even so, he didn’t mind it. He enjoyed the comfort until the end. 

Kai continued, “It's more than any of us could have asked for.”

“Thank you… Kai, I have something for you. From Raz.”

“...His lighter?”

“Yeah.”

She took the small metal box in her palm, inspecting it with the tips of her fingers. It wasn't fancy or ornamental, but Kazuto found beauty in its simple design. If he could say anything about Raz, it was that he had good taste.

Kai flicked it open, sparking a fire, and closing the lid. Multiple times in a row, as her long-time flame would often do. It was equally a fidget toy as it was a survival tool. She smiled with a barely audible sigh. 

“I think you should keep this,” Kai said. 

“What? Why?”

“You found it, right? It's yours now.”

“B-but, it's Raz's—”

“Come on, now. I've known him since before you were born, I don't need a memento to remember his stupid mug. Keep it.”

In the end, Kai sternly shoved the lighter back into his hands before rushing off, leaving a dumbstruck Kazuto behind. 

“Oh, but don't you dare start smoking, alright!”

3

Asuna snuck out from the girls’ shared room in the hour before dawn, tip-toeing around her new squadmates. There were only six of them, herself included, cramped into a single room. It wasn't the only room they had, but in the winter, heat was a resource they had to share. 

While she only went to the restroom at first, Asuna caught the shadow of the boy she needed to talk to. He had exited the base from the common room, venturing into the cold for reasons unknown. Perhaps she was too eager to reach him. Forgetting the slippery nature of frosted grass, she rushed to catch up. And, well…

“Kiri—Waaah!” “Woah!”

Kirigaya deftly caught her arms without falling himself. His gloved grasp was firm. The boy was stronger than his frame suggested. 

“Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” Asuna picked herself up, brushing it off despite the heat on her face. She wanted to die all over again, but for different reasons. “I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. Got carried away.”

“Uhuh. Well, I won’t talk to you for free,” he smiled.

“What?”

“Look, I didn’t save you for free, right? It was an exchange. I got the navigation systems I needed, and I brought you back to the base. So if you want to talk, then you gotta give me something in return.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Follow me.”

Asuna honestly couldn’t get a read on the guy, whether he was kind or mean, smart or dumb, or whether anything he said was sincere. She followed him anyway, being led into one of the forward operating base’s hangars. It was empty, save for a log of wood thrice as long as Asuna was tall. 

“Lind and Kiba chopped this one down yesterday. Said it was my job to split it into firewood, since I got lost and all that.”

“Really?”

He shrugged, “All they care about is if I'm doing my share of chores. And, well, I'd like to stay warm too. The base isn't gonna heat itself, and the Alba sure aren't sending us extra fuel. So, why don't you help yourself to a saw… and we can talk while we work.”

What a sly boy , she thought. Yet, Asuna grabbed herself a handsaw and started cutting away. “I was originally planning to thank you for bringing me here,” Asuna confessed, “But since you're making me do all this work, you better be a good conversation partner.”

“No guarantees on that, but I'll try my best.”

“...”

“...”

“... Well?”

“Alright, alright. I was just focusing on the wood… How about this, you wanna know how I got lost in the first place?”

“Sure, I guess I should know how we even met in the first place.”

Kirigaya took a moment before starting his story. What for? Asuna could only guess. He sat there, pushing and pulling his saw until the smaller piece detached from the rest of the log. 

“It was a rough sortie,” he said, “E-Platoon got separated, chased away from the fight by a larger force. I was the one closest to them at the time, so I went after them with a scavenger for supplies. There was no way back after that. The Legion closed their formations to cut the rest of the squadron off.”

“E-Platoon… then.”

“They knew they couldn't fight, so they ran as far as they could, but the Legion just wouldn't give them a break. When they reached the edge of a cliff, Raz… our E-L, stood his ground and fought while the rest tried to escape down the cliff. Grauwolf missiles picked them off. Raz made a mistake and took a direct hit… while all I did was shoot the Legion in the back. They didn't even turn around to acknowledge me.”

“That… that’s ridiculous. The Legion so far only fights head-on battles. And you're saying they executed defeat in detail?”

“Defeat in detail?”

“Oh, um, it's using a larger force to defeat smaller sections one at a time instead of all at once. It's simple if you think about it, but if the Legion is innovating from their usual…”

“I don't think they're growing all that smarter,” Kirigaya frowned, finally continuing to saw through more wood, “If that was a strategy, they executed it rather clunkily… It is a scary thought, though.”

“And then?” Asuna asked, “How did you survive?”

“... I bolted down the cliffside as soon as Raz fell and looked for a hiding spot. I was so panicked that I didn’t use my wires. That's probably when some of my equipment got damaged. I waited for them to leave and went back to my scav to resupply. By that point, I was so far from base that I didn’t know where to go.”

“And the others? Did they try to find you?”

“They tried, sure. But I wasn’t showing up on their systems either. I told them not to bother after that. I wandered around for two days, trying to use the sun as a compass. That’s kinda hard to do when it’s always cloudy,” he laughed, “Seriously, you saved my ass back there. Any longer and I would’ve run out of supplies and died in the cold.”

His smile was different from before, Asuna felt. Less of a farce intended to antagonise himself and more… genuine. It was the face of someone sincerely happy to be alive.

“You’re… different from how Tomo describes you.”

“How so?”

“She called you a cynical punk.”

“Umm,” he pondered, “I can see how I give off that vibe. I think it’s because I wasn’t as sociable as when we first met.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“Just… being separated from friends. Friends from before the world went to hell. That’s all.”

 “You’re quite aware of yourself. Are you sure you’re fourteen?”

“That’s what happens when all you mostly do is talk to yourself for six months straight.”

“... Did that friend… did you separate on good terms?”

“We did… is what I would like to say. The mood between us wasn’t great when we parted. We hugged it out and said our goodbyes, but… a part of our friendship died before then… along with another friend of ours.”

Asuna briefly paused. She thought their pasts could've been similar; wishful thinking on her part. She wanted someone who understood what she went through. Someone who knew how to move on. 

“Do you still wish to see that person again?” she asked. 

“More than ever.”

They were the same in that regard. 

“Hey, Kirigaya.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for saving me. And sorry for how I acted before.”

“Likewise.”

“I heard you and Kii-boy got up early and got sweaty together in the hangars. How bold,” Tomo said to her after breakfast as they were preparing for their first drill together. “Whatcha talk about?”

“You make it sound so degenerate,” Asuna replied, which only earned a snicker from the Rat. “I was just thanking him and got dragged into doing his chores.”

“See? What did I tell ya? Master of dark psychology, he is.”

“And I still maintain my position, he's not all that great.” Asuna kept the part where her opinion of him grew to herself. She didn't need any more teasing.

“Say, Tomo. Can I ask a question?”

“What? You want my three sizes?”

“No… I was just wondering about your… makeup?”

“Ahh, you mean my whiskers?” Argo scratched them as if they were real. “That's a question even more personal than my three sizes. I can't answer that. You got any other questions though? Keep shooting, you'll hit one eventually.”

“Alright, then. Out of everyone here, who would you say you're closest to?”

“Oh? What makes you ask?”

“I’m curious about the squadron dynamic, that’s all. I never really talked with older members of my squadron, so I was just wondering if it was the same here.”

“Ahh, that’s fair… our squadron’s not too chatty, but it ain’t a bad thing. We got a lot of new blood, old and young, cheerful and apathetic. I try to befriend them all, but you can’t force it, yeah?”

Asuna nodded.

“As for who I’m closest to…” Tomo averted her gaze, “I gotta say Kii-boy.”

A week and many drills later with her new platoon, Asuna was met with her first sign of action. 

“Handler One to Ironclad, you got some bogeys heading down the south bank. Standard procedure folks, deploy at 376 087.”

“You sound ecstatic as always, Handler One,” Diavel replied. 

“It's hard to like an RTS when the meta doesn't change. There are only so many times I can play without getting bored… Nah, sorry. I shouldn’t be joking about this. Fellas, let’s not have a repeat of the last battle.”

“Serious mode, huh?” Furinkazan asked. “Alright then, chief. Give us a headcount on our foes.”

 To Asuna’s surprise, the squadron’s handler was an earnest soul, which was something of a rarity in the Republic Armed Forces. There were three types of people attracted by the position of a handler, Asuna had once surmised. One was the military kid, someone put into the position as a stepping stone for their future career. The second was a new graduate looking for an easy job to pad their resume. The last—purely hypothetical until now—was the type of person who wanted to do good, but did not have the power to make actual change.

Seeing was believing, Asuna thought. She would wait to pass her judgements.

“I have a count of thirty-six. Deadeye, F-1 try moving to 365 084, you should get there in five minutes. F-2, stay at 369 and spot for them. Ratio of enemies, if you don’t mind.”

“... a lot of Grauwolf,” replied the voice of a girl younger than Asuna. “Four Löwe, rest are Ameise.”

“Alright. Everyone, stay behind the tree line. Don’t overextend. Don’t get separated… Nightblade, I know we relied on you for scout killing, but reign yourself in for today. You deserve some rest.”

Kirigaya didn’t respond.

“New kid. B-3, what's your name?”

It took a moment for Asuna to register that it was her the handler was talking to. 

“It's alright,” Diavel said, “He's doing some bookkeeping. That's all.”

“... Okay. It's Asuna Yuuki.”

“Thank you. Take it easy for this one, just follow B-1's lead and you’ll be set. I’ll keep you all posted on any sudden developments. Transferring command to Diavel, good hunting to you all.”

Despite having seen him in action before, only now did Asuna acknowledge Nightblade's incredible prowess behind the controls. He effectively ignored Handler One’s suggestion, mowing down the enemy vanguard with his constant machine gun spray from the edge of the forest's tree line. 

His agile piloting betrayed the fact that no movement was wasted. Every shift of his Juggernaut’s four legs took into account which enemies would register him as an immediate threat. With their focus drawn, Nightblade continued to adeptly reposition behind cover, holding strategic angles of fire and creating openings for his wingman—Furinkazan—to shine alongside him. 

From her position, Asuna could watch exactly which Legion units were being drawn toward Nightblade’s presence, only to be fired upon by Furinkazan. It was like a mole who could not be whacked and a hungry snake who devoured the whacking hammers. 

Diavel and Argo were executing a similar dance, although less frantic-looking from an outside perspective. The squadron’s leader and deputy respectively fought at a closer tempo to each other. While Nightblade and Furinkazan were in sync at different speeds—one swift and the other precise, Diavel and Argo maintained a steady rotation of fight and flight. 

In the meantime, the rest of the squadron held their line of defence with intermittent volleys of smoothbore shots, ensuring the Legion's attention was always spread out. Few newbie Processors could intensely engage the enemy without succumbing to fatigue quickly. 

And of course, Deadeye’s platoon of marksmen shot down any threats that slipped through the cracks. 

So this is how a group of name bearers fight. 

Asuna's observation of the squadron's tactics only left her impressed. Ironclad used their home-field advantage well, immediately targeting the Legion’s eyes and gutting their long-range support, forcing the enemy to push forward. 

“Kirito!” Furinkazan called a nickname Asuna hadn't heard before, “Ameise are all dead on our end. Second phase?”

“Roger. Diavel? I need your status, do I continue delaying?”

“No need, Argo and I are done. Proceed with the anti-Löwe protocol. All platoons should fall back and set up the encirclement. Wait for confirmation before firing. Handler One, mind calling the shots?”

“Roger that.”

After exterminating the Ameise, it only made sense to invite the Grauwolf and Löwe into the woods. Without their scouts, the tank-type’s guns meant nothing at range, and the many trees did well in hampering the accuracy of the dragoon-type's missiles. 

Asuna also recognised the advantage of having the handler decide when to shoot. Only the handler knew the general positions of all enemy units. They were the best person to determine when the enemy had truly overextended. This also freed the Processors to focus on staying out of sight while tracking any Legion units they saw.

Even with the four name bearers reloading, the squadron had effectively created a kill zone to fire upon the transgressors from all sides. 

“All units,” Handler One called, “Fire on sight.”

It was a clean execution the likes Asuna had never seen before.

Interlude: Starlit Rangers (Kazuto and Klein) 

“Let's go again,” Klein huffed through the Para-RAID. He and Kirito had gone out for a movement drill in the hours right after dinner. The light conditions weren't exact, but nightfall decently simulated a blanket of Eintagsfliege—the Legion's EM-jamming flies. And because of this, these otherwise quiet nights were filled with training. It had become something of a routine, although not perfectly maintained. 

“This is more than you usually ask for, what gives?”  

“I need to catch up with your pace,” Klein answered, “If you think I'm gonna sit behind you and take potshots at the Legion forever, you're wrong.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“And what happens when you burn out? You saw what happened to Raz personally. I don't care whether it was his mistake or if it was some bullshit out of his control, he was one of the best, invincible even… and that means nothing without support, Kirito.”

Kazuto sighed, “You're supporting me just fine.”

“It’s not enough, damn it!” He reflexively slammed his fist on the side panel, “On our own turf, sure. We can do whatever the hell we want, but our reinforcement sorties are a mess! As soon as we get out of comfortable ground, I'm fucking useless…”

“Klein… we have nothing to prove here. Win or lose, live or die, we aren't earning any medals. No one's gonna blame you for taking it a little slow. And no matter how perfect we are, people will still die.”

“... The numbers don't lie, Kirito. We've been here four months and we're down to fifteen. Remind me, how many did we lose in our last squadron?”

Kazuto was hesitant to answer, “... Four.”

“Total. Four. In six months. That's a goddamned bloody miracle. I don't care if you think it's pointless, it matters to me, and that's that.”

“You can't possibly be comparing them and thinking you're the one at fault.”

“Think about it. We rarely fought in the same place twice, yet every single sortie was near perfect. The only reason we lost people was because of freak accidents and Skorpion shots. Why?”

“... It's because we had a brilliant tactician.”

“And because you had the best partner.”

“...”

“I can't do shit about our tactics. Diavel ain't perfect, but he's the best we got. Being a good wingman, though? That I can do something about. I'll get on Eugeo's level for ya, alright? Just watch me.”

“... Get on Yuji's level?” Kazuto chuckled, “Sure thing buddy. Not in a million years. You’d be better off actually searching for him and dragging his ass back here.”

“Oh I'll make you eat those words, Blackie. I'mma savour the day you ask for a switch from me. We're going for another lap, I don’t care what you say. And you're teaching me how the fuck you do those slides!”