Chapter 3 – Alliance
The child lying on the navy-blue bedsheet had faintly furrowed brows.
He waited patiently for the child—who had already awakened—to rise on their own.
For a moment, the child’s face flashed through his mind: the way they had frowned as if displeased with the name he had given them. The image drifted away like smoke.
Soon, the child’s eyelashes began to tremble slightly.
He tapped the side of the cot a couple of times with his hand.
“You’re awake. Stop stalling and get up.”
At his words, Sasha slowly opened one eye and shrank back slightly. The movement was still full of caution, but somehow it seemed much less guarded than before.
Am I imagining it?
Sasha wobbled as she pushed herself upright. Then she made a gesture as if writing something on her palm. She was probably asking for paper and a pen.
The man obediently took out a notebook and pen from his coat and placed them in the child’s hands.
While the child wrote, he gazed at the frame of the hastily erected field hospital tent.
Then suddenly he felt a careful tap on the back of his hand.
[Are you planning to leave me here?]
The moment he saw the neat handwriting, the man frowned.
“Do I look like that kind of good person to you?”
At his question, Sasha buried her face in the notebook again and began writing.
[Who knows. We still don’t know much about each other.]
“….”
Not understanding what the child meant, the man pondered her words for quite some time. Meanwhile, Sasha continued writing.
[I heard the conversation earlier. Anyway, you’re not planning to send me to a camp, right?]
Seeing those words, the man found himself liking the child more than expected. She was sharper than she appeared.
After all, in this era there were neither eternal enemies nor eternal allies. To him, abandoning narrow-minded thinking was the most important trait one needed to survive in such times.
And because of that, he did not want to crush the will of a child so desperate to live.
“…How old are you?”
[Twelve.]
“I thought you were eight… no, maybe seven at most. Your name?”
The child gripped the pen for a moment as if hesitating. Then she began writing slowly, one letter at a time. Her command of the common language was surprisingly good.
[In Inferna, they say a person’s name is their soul. I’d like to send my name along with my family instead.]
A crimson glow spread over the eyes of Sasha—who had always spoken her mind without crying, even when she looked frightened.
Her head suddenly drooped, and her fingers tightened around the pen as if enduring something. Her knuckles had turned pale white. It seemed to be one of Sasha’s habits.
Slide.
He hadn’t intended to do it. His hand had simply moved on its own.
He placed his hand on the child’s dry, brittle hair. Feeling the weight, Sasha tried to raise her head, but he pressed down gently with a little more force.
“I’ll tell you what you need to do from now on.”
“……”
“Survive. Exactly that much. Survive for your family’s share as well.”
With those words, he withdrew his hand.
A moment later, tiny droplets—tap, tap—fell onto the pages of the notebook Sasha was holding.
The man quietly remained where he was until Sasha’s crying stopped.
Those were the only kinds of words he could offer—trite as they were. Strictly speaking, the country to which he had devoted himself was the very one that had massacred this child’s family.
Still, he wished the girl would grow stronger.
To survive in such times, one had to learn to use even others’ pity and sorrow as weapons.
Even if that meant wearing a mask for the rest of one’s life.
If survival was the goal, there was nothing one could not do.
* * *
[To Mother, Father, and Theodore in Heaven,
Mother, Father, Theodore—
I wonder if you all arrived safely in heaven.
This is the first spring I’ve known that feels nothing but painful. I’m still very frightened and confused.
But perhaps because everyone protected me…
I ended up surviving alone.
I still remember that moment vividly—when the warmth of everyone’s embrace crumbled away within my hands.
I know you would tell me not to cry. Mother would surely say that at twelve years old I’m already a grown adult.
So I’m trying not to cry anymore.
You must all be wondering most about how I’ll live from now on, right? I don’t know where I’ll be sent eventually, but for now I’ll be staying for two weeks with the 32nd Infantry Company fighting on the front lines of the Salvatore Empire.
Apparently, this is the Major’s decision.
You’re asking what kind of person the Major is?
He’s the commander of the enemy army, but right now he’s acting as my guardian.
You could say we’ve formed a temporary alliance.
What? Theodore, you think I’m interpreting things however I like again?
That’s not it! He’s blunt and sometimes scary, but I don’t think he’s a bad person.
Ah—it must be dinner time now. Someone is walking toward the barracks. The Major is very busy, so a large, fierce-looking man usually brings my meals.
Oh—and even though he looks scary, he doesn’t treat me badly. Sometimes he even chats with me.
But there’s one thing bothering me.
Just like Mother told me, I’m pretending to be a boy. But even so, is it really right to keep deceiving the person who saved me?
I think I need to think about it more.
I’ll write again soon. I wish this letter could reach heaven too.
Mother, Father, Theodore—I will always remember you and pray.
Forever.
P.S. I’m sending the name Celine Nicomache to heaven in my place. Whenever you miss me, look at the soul of that name. I’m sure my heart will be there.
—Sasha, who misses her beloved family.]**
* * *
After coming to live with the Salvatore unit, Sasha rarely went outside the barracks.
She could feel that most of the soldiers did not look kindly upon her presence.
Perhaps it was because she had always been perceptive since childhood.
In a strange place—especially one where she had no idea what fate awaited her—she couldn’t help shrinking into herself.
Thud, thud.
Hearing the heavy footsteps approaching, Sasha hurriedly folded the letter and shoved it into her personal drawer.
Knock—knock.
The moment someone knocked on the barracks door, it opened without delay.
A silver-haired man entered, carrying a tray with soup and coarse bread.
It had only been two days since Sasha arrived here.
In those two days, the only people she had properly spoken with were the man called Aizen, standing before her now, and the Major.
Aizen—the man who had argued with the Major. He looked fierce, but the way he spoke reminded her of an ordinary middle-aged man.
Whenever he spoke, the impression he gave was completely different from his appearance.
“Hey, kid. Eat. With nothing but bones left on you, how are you supposed to wander around anywhere?”
“……”
Sasha wrote something on paper and showed it to him.
[I’m not a kid. I’m already twelve years old.]
“Right, right, young master. Just hurry up and eat. If you don’t eat again like yesterday, the Major will chew me out. So scrape the bowl clean.”
At Aizen’s words, Sasha tilted her head and gave him an innocent look.
[If I don’t eat, why does Mr. Aizen get scolded?]
Seeing the child frown at his single remark, Aizen felt a petty irritation rise within him. He forced it down, shrugged, and sat the child at the table.
Who exactly is worrying about whom here?
That thought naturally came to him.
After all, if the Major changed his mind, the child could be sent to a camp immediately.
Salvatore’s camps were places people avoided even approaching. Inferna soldiers and refugees alike were thrown into them indiscriminately, where torture and disease ran rampant.
If that tiny child ended up there, only two outcomes were likely.
Either she would be lucky enough to die quickly from illness…
Or she would be unlucky—assaulted and killed afterward.
Even if she were a boy, there were no exceptions in times like these.
Aizen sat beside the child at the table and motioned for her to eat.
After hesitating for a moment, Sasha reluctantly began spooning up the soup.
Her hair, unwashed and dry, fluttered like reeds in the wind, and she wore the Major’s oversized shirt. Despite her poor appearance, her features were remarkably delicate.
They said the women of Inferna were extraordinarily beautiful. Even though she was supposedly a boy, one couldn’t help but think she was rather pretty.
More than that, her wrist was as thin as Aizen’s thumb.
Seeing the still immature boy made Aizen suddenly think of several madmen within the Salvatore army.
Those bastards would pounce on anyone—child or man—as long as their body lines looked soft enough.
Disgusting scum.
Aizen despised men like that the most.
Fortunately, the Major—his superior officer—was not the kind of person who tolerated such behavior, which was why this unit remained relatively well-behaved.
Tap, tap.
“…Huh?”
Lost in thought, Aizen flinched at the cautious touch and looked at the child.
Sasha had white soup smeared around her mouth and was grinning broadly while holding out an empty bowl.
It clearly meant she had finished eating.
After years on a battlefield soaked in blood, perhaps his mind had gone dull.
For some reason, Aizen felt as though that innocent smile made him forget reality for a moment.
Every day here was filled with tension, never knowing when death might come.
And in this place, he had never once felt that brief, blank moment of relief—
until now.
