Chương 137: 52. Focus 1

This was actually harder to get used to than the rainforest. I stood by the table for three seconds, and the first thing out of my mouth was:"... You all look nothing like people who dig trenches." Harvey looked up immediately.

"Look who's talking. You look way more like a junior high girl having a meltdown over homework than a tyrant yelling at people from the edge of a trench."

"I am a junior high girl."

"Yeah, but you used to be the battlefield expansion pack." Jess propped her chin on her hand, smiling like trouble.

"Welcome back to civilized society, Hoshino Shimo." I sat down and went straight for the iced soda on the table. Cold. Sweet. Carbonated. I almost teared up on the spot.

"... How is this allowed to taste this good." D glanced at me.

"You caught up on sleep?"

"More or less." I put the glass down.

"If I'd slept another half day, I might've missed legal adulthood entirely."

"You're talking about sleep more and more like an old person," Jess said.

"Only people who understand sleep understand life."

"Didn't you write something like that on a scrap of cloth?"

"Shut up." When the server came to take drink orders, the awkwardness spiked a level. We'd rolled around on the edge of death together, and now we were hung up on the most mundane, brutally ordinary question imaginable: what drinks to order. D said it naturally: "Beer." When it was my turn, the server glanced at me.

"Underage, so soft drinks."... Factually correct, and still annoying to hear stated that bluntly.

"Coke," I said.

"Same," Jess followed.

"Oolong," from Kushima.

"Ginger ale!" Harvey announced like he was declaring revolution.

"Water's fine," Linde.

"Orange juice," Roy, careful and precise. Akari already had her iced oolong, so she just shook her head. D's was the only glass on the table that smelled faintly bitter and malty—the lone symbol of adulthood. Harvey stared at it for two seconds, voice full of feeling.

"So jealous." Jess shot him down immediately.

"Jealous of adulthood, or the beer?"

"Both."

"Learn to dig a straight trench first."

"Please don't tie my human rights to trench quality." I was unwrapping chopsticks and couldn't hold back a laugh. Good. The awkwardness was still there, but at least it was being diluted by familiar bickering. That felt more like us. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Once the meat arrived, things got truly weird. The first plate hit the grill and the moment it went ssss, all eight of us froze for a beat. Really froze. The synchronicity was ridiculous.

I stared at the steam rising off the meat, and my first thought wasn't smells good. It was the heat wall at the front of the firestorm.... Infuriating. Just barbecue, and the assessment's aftershocks still had to butt in. The one who finally broke that strange silence was D. He picked up the tongs, flipped the meat, and said, very evenly:"This fire doesn't chase you." The whole table held for two seconds. Then Harvey was the first to crack, laughing so hard he almost sprayed soda.

"Shit—that's the most comforting line I've heard all week." Jess laughed too, dropping back against her chair.

"Alright. Best line of the night is yours, for now." I tried not to smile and kept my eyes on the grill.

"... I can work with that." Akari took a sip of iced oolong and added, completely calm:"And it's more worth eating when it's done." Even Kushima laughed at that. Not obviously, but I saw it. In that second, I realized the truly strange part of this wasn't that we were seeing each other in the city for the first time. It was that we were only now getting the chance to look at each other like normal people. D wasn't just a shield. Akari wasn't just those dead-cold eyes.

Kushima wasn't just the med kit plus weaponized sarcasm. Jess wasn't just bite and explosives. Harvey wasn't just his collection of noisy junk. Roy wasn't just the notebook. Linde wasn't just quiet and steady. And me—I probably wasn't just the captain who stood at the edge of a trench and yelled. Even if everyone was clearly happy to keep milking that image forever.

"Speaking of," Harvey said, dropping a slice of meat into his bowl with a dangerously nostalgic smile, "I can still hear a certain someone at the trench screaming: 'If old-school trenches keep you alive, then they're cutting-edge tech.'" The entire table went quiet for one beat. Then exploded.

"Shut up!" I flared on instinct. Jess laughed so hard she nearly spit out her Coke.

"No way, that line was legendary. Hoshino Shimo, fourteen, high priestess of the Trench Renaissance."

"Say one more word and I'm taking all the cooked meat."

"See? Weaponizing food as a leadership tool. Very on-brand." Roy actually nodded thoughtfully.

"From an outcome perspective, that speech was effective."

"Roy, do not turn this into a performance metric."

"I'm just stating facts..." Kushima took a sip of oolong and added, perfectly mild:"It was effective. There was a marked drop in complaints afterward."

"Because I yelled them into submission?"

"No." Akari set her cup down and looked at me.

"Because you were right." I stopped. So did everyone else. That's how she is. Says nothing most of the time, then drops one line straight down the center. Every comeback I'd prepped jammed in my throat. All I could do was clear it and look down, fiddling with the grill.

"... Eat first." Jess let out a very obnoxious little "oooh."

"Captain's embarrassed."

"You've been talking non-stop tonight."

"Because I'm on Coke, not survival water."

"That's a terrible reason."

"But it's freedom."... Fine. No comeback for that one. Halfway through, the atmosphere finally loosened for real. Not into some big, healing group-hug vibe. We are absolutely allergic to that tone. More like we collectively slid into: alright, if we're alive and sitting here, we get to cash out our grievances and jokes from those two weeks mode. Harvey made a serious case that his three sets of trip-wires belonged in the official commendation appendix.

"At the very least they should add a line: 'Harvey's artisanal rigging played a critical role in multiple night operations.'" D didn't even look up.

"They can add: 'Visual profile: trash.'" Linde quietly twisted the knife: "But more effective than some issued equipment." Harvey's face was torn between pleased and offended.

"I can't tell if that's an insult or a compliment."

"Description," Linde said. Jess formally brought up the bite incident.

"I would like the record to show that when I bit the captain's arm during that midnight cramp, it counted as a medical accident, not an attack."

"Am I eligible for emotional damages?" I shot back.

"No," Kushima said.

"You didn't refuse."

"I didn't have time to refuse!" Akari slipped in another line.

"I still think you two are close."

"How?!" Jess and I barked in perfect unison. D took a sip of beer and finally, openly laughed. Good. Apparently, in sixteen-year-old legal adults, alcohol doesn't cause drunkenness—it just upgrades spectator enjoyment. The make-up system didn't stay off the table either. Mid-meal, Roy finally couldn't help himself.

"Do you really think... the ones who go to the written and simulation make-ups are locked into the lower track afterward?" We quieted down. D answered first.

"Probably." Short, but solid. Kushima set her chopsticks down, voice steady.

"It's not about looking down on that path. Logistics, technical, support roles—they're all necessary. The problem is the school never said upfront it was a sorting mechanism. They packed it as remediation. That's the dirtiest part." I picked it up from there.

"And the worst part is, it'll make a lot of people think they were just unlucky. That they just need to score higher next time. When really, some doors, once you miss them the first time, it's not just 'take the test again.'" Harvey, for once, didn't crack a joke. He just stared at the grill.

"So when they call us 'qualified,' we're just getting a different label slapped on."

"Yes," Akari said. Jess snorted.

"Then let them. If they're slapping labels anyway, at least this one's something we actually earned instead of getting handed by someone's pen." I glanced over at her. Sometimes she really did sound better than she thought she did.

"Yeah," I said.

"I'm pissed, but this label at least isn't free." Harvey blinked, then slid neatly back into his usual persona.

"So inspirational all of a sudden. In that case, to commemorate our fancy label, I propose we order another plate of short rib."

"You just want more food," Kushima said.

"Yes, but I phrased it with high spiritual value." Roy nodded, deadly serious.

"I think that's a reasonable emotional outlet."

"Roy," I said, looking at him very sincerely, "you really need to learn that not everything needs to be rationalized."

"... Okay. I'll try." Then he added, one second later:"But another plate will help stabilize group morale." The whole table broke again.