Shirabii

Yes, that was probably true. They would live on the battlefield, fight until their luck ran out, and die there. It wasn’t the kind of life any person should have had to live. And yet…

Shin clenched his fists.

Pride is all we have.

The Republic is the enemy.

The scars of the Republic’s atrocities etched into the Eighty-Six, the despair toward this world that runs all too deep, are my—and likely their—greatest enemies

May even death not do us part.

A source of pride. A wish. A bond. A prayer. Or perhaps…a curse.

—FREDERICA ROSENFORT,

His calm expression, unbefitting his age, gave his handsome features a certain cold quality, and his slender build and pale features were characteristic of the old Empire’s nobility.

“You never called us Eighty-Six? Not calling us that was the only thing you did do! Protecting the state is a citizen’s duty? Answering those feelings? Screw that! Do you think we’re fighting out here because we want to?! You’re the ones who trapped us here! You forced us to fight! You’ve let millions of us die these past nine years, haven’t you?! And you do nothing to stop that and think that if you talk to us all Goody Two-shoes every night it’ll make it all better?! For starters—”

“…Then it shouldn’t. What he said doesn’t reflect the opinions of everyone else. We all know you didn’t personally put us in this situation and that you don’t have the power to undo it, either. You have no reason to feel guilty just because someone blamed you for not doing something you can’t possibly do.”

He who silently buried his myriad comrades. In place of the graves they were denied, he carried those little pieces of aluminum and countless memories. It made sense that everyone liked him so much. This boy known as the Undertaker must be kinder than anyone else—

The beauty of it threatened to bleach Shin’s very soul

It was a vicious downward spiral where the lack of personnel was only causing further deaths.