Shoukaku frowned and clicked her tongue—but not because of the odd musty scent wafting into her nose. Lieutenant Ohtori Kensaku was rummaging through an old duffle bag, searching. The things he wasn't looking for—some tools and worn books from his time as a prisoner of war—were strewn across the floor. He only stopped after finding a flight jacket that she recognized as his.
Shoukaku noticed Ohtori appeared to be delighted over finding it, but the reason why was beyond her—the clothing had clearly seen far better days. It was dotted with moth-eaten holes, some hopelessly unmendable. She could see the patches of dried bloodstain on it, silently hoping it wasn't his. And unless her senses were fooling her, the stench must be from the jacket. It must've been left unwashed for too long, allowing a foul cocktail of tobacco smoke, mildew, and traces of sweat to cling to it.
"...So, why are you looking for it?" she inquired after allowing him some time for himself. He continued to grin and cradle the jacket even as he answered.
"...Well, I've decided. I'm going to reenlist and fly again, you know."
Shoukaku found that she wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be upon hearing it. She had once or twice thought that he likely would indeed decide to reenlist, even though he had never brought it up before.
But a part of her was struggling to accept it, and she wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was because he had often insisted that her fight was over, and now it felt like he was being selfish for wanting to return to that old world they used to be in. Maybe it was because she knew he was just as broken as she was.
Or maybe—and she hated it the most—it was because it felt like he was leaving her behind.
The conflict within Shoukaku didn't go unnoticed, and Ohtori bowed his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Truth is...deep down, I still wanted to fight. Every time I looked at the sky, I wanted to return there. It was selfish of me, but..."
He then looked up at Shoukaku. His gaze was sharp.
"...I wanted to feel like I could protect people from above again. I wanted to fight for them once more."
Shoukaku shook her head and sighed. She had an inkling Ohtori wasn't quite finished, but for whatever reason, he had thought it was better to leave those things unsaid. And she knew better than to pry—he had become stubborn, in a way.
"Give me that jacket so I can wash it, then. A soldier should not look like a tramp," Shoukaku told Ohtori, who handed her the clothing despite being bewildered by the request.
It was pointless to wash it, Shoukaku realized as she walked away. If he did reenlist, they would just give him a new one instead of allowing him to wear this jacket. Maybe it was just her attempt to abate the turmoil within her. So she can pass it all as something ordinary and mundane.
The stench became more potent and revolting when she held the jacket closer to her chest, but Shoukaku didn't let go. She was just as stubborn, if not more so. It didn't take long for her to decide—if he fights, then she, too, would fight.