Chapter 29: Primula-san

Primula-san’s explanation came to an end.

I glanced at Master. He was leisurely puffing on a cigarette.

I looked at Catherine. She gave me a cheerful little wave.

Both of them clearly expected me to speak.

“…”

I looked up at the sky. Then down at my feet. Met eyes with Rudo. He let out a soft bark—hyahn. It felt like he was telling me to go. I gave a strained smile.

“Um…”

I slowly raised my hand.

All eyes turned to me. That was the point, but still, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it, but there was no helping it. I gripped the necklace. Say it, I told myself. Just say it. I’d decided I would.

“I think it would be unfair to leave it at this, so… would it be possible to have Akito’s centipede perform the same demonstration?”

“Wh—! Touji, that’s—!”

“It’s fine!”

I cut off Akito’s shout, speaking over him.

“It’s fine, Akito. It’s really fine…”

“—!!”

That shut him up. It really is fine. I believe in you—no, not you. I believe in your centipede—no, not that either. That would be a lie.

I believe in me.

That’s all there is to it.

“I don’t mind at all.”

Primula-san, watching our little exchange like it was a comedy routine, spoke with a smirk she didn’t bother to hide.

“Are you suuure about this? If they get hit, they could die, you know? These are live rounds, after all.”

Heeheehee.

She was clearly enjoying herself. She must believe in herself too. She believes in the auto-sniping system she built. She believes there’s no way some no-name centipede and unknown sniper could ever replicate what her masterpiece accomplished.

She’s marvelous.

I thought so, sincerely. Primula-san is a marvelous woman.

To believe in oneself at all, that’s already incredible.

“…”

And so, I must be incredible too. That’s what it means.

“Fair enough. Primula-san, in case something happens, would it be possible for me to purchase the children?”

“Oh no, Touji-san! No need to talk about buying them. Sleepers with no skills have no use anyway. And thanks to legal restrictions, I can’t exactly discard them, so I was wondering what to do with them after this. Please, take them.”

“…Thank you.”

I accepted her generosity and started equipping Akito’s centipede.

Then I called over one of the children I’d been given. The oldest, probably around twelve, stepped forward. In this era where they have no one to rely on, what must be going through their minds? The question flickered across my thoughts.

No—save the sentimentality for later. Move now.

“Let’s keep this brief. What’s your name?”

“Souta.”

“Good. Souta, I have a question for you. Don’t you want to give her a taste of her own medicine?”

“Huh?”

“I do. I’m a Sleeper too, after all. And I’m reasonably pissed off.”

“Yeah, but—”

I held a finger to my lips.

“Shhh. No ‘buts.’ It’s a simple yes-or-no question: will you do it, or won’t you?”

“I’ll… do it. I will!”

Good answer. I smiled and ruffled his hair. Then I loaded three rounds into my familiar Type-5. Just three. That’s all I’d need.

“Anyone else willing to run besides Souta?”

“…”

Two girls stepped forward in silence. In order of age. The older one stood protectively in front of the younger.

That said it all.

“—, —”

I inhaled. Exhaled.

Leveled my emotions. I pictured the color blue, like I’d done once before.

I asked them the same question I’d asked Souta. Got the same answer. I ruffled their hair too, just like I did with him.

“I’m not going to tell you to trust me, I can’t. If you want to pray to a god, go ahead. If you don’t, that’s fine too. This is simple. Embarrass Primula-san. That’s your only job. Just win. Order to Win. That’s all.”

---

Simplify. Streamline.

Fool that I am, I simplify the situation. My task is to hit the targets.

Clumsy as I am, I reduce all action to a single motion. My task is to hit the targets.

In other words, all I have to do is hit them.

It’s simple.

Three bullets, three targets.

So I pulled the trigger.

Rapid-precision fire—Rapid Sniping.

My left hand danced. The lever snapped forward.

If you can’t beat a semi-auto in rate of fire, then beat it in the aim.

I surpassed the machine. Sharpened senses fired into the future.

That’s all it took.

---

“Fuuuuhhh—”

It felt like I was breathing for the first time in ages.

The world seemed to expand around me, or no, more like it had returned to its proper shape.

I looked around, checked the positions of the targets and the kids. No injuries. All bullseyes.

Alright, now the real test. The three-hundred-meter target… borderline. The five-hundred… close. The thousand-meter one—this one was clearly mine. I was faster. Good. It worked.

I felt a wave of stunned stares on me. Master was grinning as he puffed his cigarette. He held out his fist. I bumped it.

“Nice shot, Puppy. No, Hound.”

“Thank you, Hound.”

I smirked and brushed past him like it was some movie scene.

Ahead, Primula-san stood in my line of sight.

“Judging by performance alone, Akito’s looks like the better unit, doesn’t it?”

“—! Y-Yes, well, that may be true, but really, that was more about Touji-san’s skill! than the centipede itself!”

The way she stressed the word made me give a sheepish smile.

“Yes, you’re right. That was purely thanks to my skill.”

I flexed my arm in a mock muscle pose. Impressed?

“As long as you understand that, then that’s fine. Just make sure you remember it, okay?”

“Yes. And you remember this too.”

“…?”

Primula-san looked puzzled.

Somehow, that confused expression of hers was a little cute.

---

Performance metrics: productivity, defect rate, safety—there are countless ways to evaluate a centipede unit.

But in the end, what matters most is field opinion.

After all, it’s your life on the line. You can’t just say, “We reduced survivability to boost production, but hey, it’s cheaper!” No one’s buying that.

“Now then, may I ask for the opinions of our three snipers?”

So naturally, it came to this.

The man who introduced himself as President Kamisawa of Kamisawa Heavy Industries turned to us—the test pilots—for comment.

He wasn’t some pampered rich kid of a president who didn’t understand the field. You could tell he was perfectly aware of the flaws but was testing us young ones to see how we’d respond.

I scratched my head.

The young ones, huh? Right, that meant me. He said “the three snipers,” but let’s be honest, the question was aimed solely at me. Proof? Master was seated right beside the president, and Catherine was standing back with her arms folded like she was evaluating a contestant.

As for the other “young ones,” they weren’t even addressed. No, more accurately, they weren’t even listening. Akito had already lost all will to fight after seeing the auto-sniping system, and Primula-san looked like she already believed she’d won.

It’s a depressing thought, but in this whole mess, I’m apparently the one holding it together.

That says a lot.

“First, allow me to confirm the product concept. After that, I’ll share my opinion.”

Given how ridiculous this situation had become, I couldn’t help but sigh as I spoke.

“Yes, this would be the second product in the Happy Project line. Following the first, the Blade Happy, we’ve stuck with the same concept—‘create stronger soldiers.’ In this case, more specifically, ‘create stronger snipers.’”

“Got it. ‘Create stronger snipers,’ huh?”

I gave a sly grin as I said it.

Even I want to land a few hits once in a while.

“In that case, I’d say Primula-san’s model is the better fit. That thing makes it easy to mass-produce ‘strong snipers.’”

I said it casually, like it was nothing. Akito slumped forward with a defeated “I knew it…” while Primula-san practically jumped with a triumphant “I knew it!” Master gave me a strained smile. Catherine let out a little snort. And President Kamisawa started to panic.

Well, of course he would.

If they put Primula-san’s model on the market, Kamisawa Heavy Industries would earn itself a nasty reputation. Probably something along the lines of “The Sniper Killer.”

Still, one person looked positively thrilled by the whole thing.

“You remembered, Touji-san! You actually remembered what I said! That’s right! My Trigger Happy is superior! Ahh, now I can finally return to Father’s company!”

“Return? So this was… some kind of training assignment?”

“Yes! I came here to study the technology!”

“I see.”

Though inwardly, I muttered, Doesn’t seem like you learned much.

The Arawn Corporation, known for their expertise in electronics and optical weaponry, has a particularly bad habit.

They’re too far removed from the soldiers who actually use their products.

They’ve got fans. They’ve got top-tier engineering. Performance-wise, their products are solid. But now and then, something slips through, something fatal disguised as a feature. Like a smartphone that bursts into flames.

Lately, I’d heard those kinds of “features” were becoming less common. Sending Primula-san—the president’s daughter and a technician herself—outside the company was likely part of the reform.

But judging from how giddy she looked now… it hadn’t worked.

“Now then, Touji-san, let me take your measurements. I’ll make sure your reward is perfectly tailored! Ah, maybe I’ll even throw in a spare unit—”

“No, I don’t want it.”

“Right?! I knew it! With my Trigger Happy, one unit is all you’ll ever need—”

“No.”

I cut her off, firmly. With both hand and voice.

“I mean it. I don’t want it. At all.”

I referred to Primula-san’s pride and joy as that thing.

“Wh… What do you mean by that, Touji-san? Don’t you remember?”

They say someone’s anger can churn their guts. That expression finally made sense. Even the children and a few adults nearby unconsciously stepped back from the force radiating off her.

“Akito. This wasn’t the original plan, but… could I have your centipede? No, let me buy it from you. That thing’s well made.”

“Touji-san!”

Akito’s voice rang out, sharp and incredulous. I turned back to Primula-san, my tone carrying a trace of would you quiet down already?

“Primula-san, aren’t you the one who doesn’t remember?”

“Of course I remember! That’s why—”

“Then don’t recommend it. That thing, the one that makes you worse at sniping.”

“Ah—”

Her eyes went wide.

She’d finally realized it.

“To put it plainly…”

I smiled. Deliberately. A mocking, scornful grin.

And I said it.

“Something that useless has no practical use. I wouldn’t take it if you paid me.”

“~~!”

Primula-san turned bright red, grinding her teeth.

I wondered if she’d start yelling. Maybe even lose it entirely. It wasn’t some kink in our profession or anything, but having a company president’s daughter throw a fit in public seemed… oddly proper, in a way.

“I-I understand your… your point.”

But she didn’t explode. As expected of a company heiress, she held it in. Maybe she found some scrap of pride to cling to.

“…”

Well, I could guess easily enough.

In short, I was going to be in attack mode for a while.

“Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that my Trigger Happy was officially selected—”

“Well, I hate to say this after recommending it… but to be honest, I think you should call it off too.”

“Why!?”

She yelled. I thought she might actually hit me.

Sadly, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that Primula-san was stronger than me. So, I quietly moved closer to Asherica.

With a sigh of utter exasperation, Asherica slowly stood up and took a seat in front of me. The look she gave me said everything.

It was the same look an older sister gives her hopeless little brother.

“I believe the core of the Auto-Snipe System lies in its coordination with the Monoz spotters—”

“Exactly! That’s right! It’s practically future computation, an accuracy system that goes beyond ballistic prediction by fully utilizing Monoz’s calculation capabilities while they’re deployed near the enemy! What part of that system could possibly be a problem!?”

“Can you use that system on an actual battlefield where there are tons of Tree Crystals?”

“—”

She fell completely silent.

And with that, even those who had been advocating for Primula’s centipede stopped talking. Naturally so. At this point, it no longer functioned as a proper centipede unit.

I had expected this outcome, but the disconnect between the operator and the system was just too great. What a pathetic conclusion.

Tree Crystals scatter electromagnetic interference. Long-range wireless communication is heavily affected by it. Even I have to relay communications through Team A or Team C to stay in contact with other sniper units during combat.

Sure, at close range, it works fine. But considering a sniper’s role, “it works at close range” is no consolation at all. Moreover—

“The burden on the Monoz is far too heavy. They end up being limited to just observation, and during processing, the heat and operating noise are intense. That makes them easy to detect, and they can’t even run away. There aren’t many soldiers who’d treat their Monoz like that, you know?”

I glanced at my mentor. He gave a slight nod. Looks like that answer passed. Good.

“Well, maybe there’s demand for it in competitions or exhibitions,” I added offhandedly.

What came to mind was some feel-good school sports day where everyone uses the same gear and everyone wins—a classic case of overcoddling.

“Ugh… how stupid. Typical of an uneducated mercenary. Honestly, I’m disappointed. …Haa.”

“Scientific progress requires trial and error. Even if there are performance issues, by continuing to use a system, the flaws become clear. That’s how we improve. For that, you need the courage to adopt new technology. So please, stop clinging to outdated traditions and tech, would you?”

“You’re saying today’s soldiers should sacrifice themselves for the sake of technological progress?”

“Exactly. That’s how humanity has always advanced. Haa, this is why I can’t stand people without an education. They only ever focus on the short term. Honestly—”

“Master.”

Leaving Primula—who probably didn’t even understand half of what she was saying—rambling on, I turned to my mentor.

“What is it, Hound?”

“If I were to hurl an insult at Primula-san… how much of it could be swept under the rug?”

“Hmm. The CEO of Arawn Corp is a reasonable man.”

In other words—

“As you like. As You Like It, Hound.”

“Well then… I humbly accept.”

How generous of him.

“Primula-san, Primula-san.”

I stepped forward, placing myself between her and Asherica, calling out.

“What do you want, mercenary!”

I crouched down, bringing my face level with hers at close range.

Primula’s eyes widened in surprise. I could sense her bodyguards stirring.

But this would only take one sentence. Let’s get it over with quickly.

“I get it, masturbation feels good. But maybe keep it behind closed doors instead of putting on a show. You’re embarrassing yourself, little miss bitch.”

I muttered it in a low voice, brushing past Primula as I walked away.