Five years. It had been five years since they had arrived on Pekopon. Five years of failures, of invasion plan after invasion plan down the toilet. Five years of a leader who cared only for Gunpla, of a platoon that cared only for their continued easy coexistence. Five years of complaining, of polishing his weapons, of open fires, of roasting sweet potatoes for two.
Five years of unrequited love. Five years of getting used to the hollow ache in his chest.
Five years of Natsumi Hinata.
And sometimes he decided it was enough. He'd had enough. Enough of the platoons incompetence, enough of maintaining weapons that rarely saw use, enough of invasion meetings that were now so often missed by their leader. Enough of Pekopon. Enough of the desperate longing in his heart.
But when next they received a report from headquarters ordering them to either show some results of the invasion or return to Keron, he panicked and worked just as hard as the others to come up with some false proof of their progress. Day and night he slaved away with the platoon, creating fake videos of their battles and building props designed to honour their leader.
Because when that happened, he was finally reminded of all the things on Pekopon he hadn't had enough of. Of battles fought beside one with whom he was always in perfect sync. Of too-sweet home made confections. Of long nights spent roasting sweet potatoes. Of conversations held under cover of darkness. Of pink hair and hazel eyes and a fierce temper. Of Natsumi Hinata.
Because sometimes, five years just wasn't enough.
Secretly, she was scared of losing them.
It had happened a few times now. Their leaders on Keron would demand proof their invasion progress, and they would all pitch in to create some fake evidence to placate the army of invaders back home. So far, they'd managed to bluff their way into remaining on Pekopon, but she knew time was ticking. How long now until the next demand for a progress report? How long until they tired of this slow 'invasion' and sent another platoon, or a whole army, to finish the job?
She wondered what she would do if it did happen, if they were called back to their home planet. What she would do without the frogs, who she had grown up with and loved like family for five years. What she would do without the stupid frog to bicker with, without their troublesome invasion attempts to keep her busy, without Tamama's cute 'Na-chi!' when he saw her, without keeping an eye out for Kululu's traps, without Dororo to help her understand their actions in a way her upbringing could not.
Without sparring practise and silent company and after-dinner sweet potatoes. Without Giroro.
She was no fool. She knew he of all the invaders was the one most likely to support returning to their home planet, or calling in reinforcements. He was still a soldier through and through, still determined to invade Pekopon in his mind if not through his actions. But little by little, over the years, his tenacity had dulled slightly. He was no longer so quick to complain when Keroro failed to show for a meeting, or when an invasion attempt inevitably failed.
Instead, he opened himself up to her more. He became more likely to seek her out of his own accord, to invite her on training missions or to his sweet potato harvests. He kept a spare cinderblock permanently by his fire in the event she joined him, which she did often now.
And so she hoped. She hoped that, eventually, her friendship would wear him down. She hoped that, when the time did finally come to return to their home planet, they'd say no. She hoped that he'd say no.
She hoped that, eventually, he'd give up on being a soldier, so he wouldn't have to give up being her friend.