By the time all the details of the plan had been finalized, Lena was at last beginning to feel her weariness after the long and emotionally exhausting day. Although she tried not to show it, Shinrei clearly recognized her need for rest. To her mingled embarrassment and gratitude, he soon politely instructed the Shepherds to settle down for the night and allow their guest to sleep.
For them there was no formality in this peculiar sort of "bedtime". With a few casual good nights thrown Lena's way, the machines simply became silent and motionless—but the human girl knew they would not sleep. Instead they would shift their conversations and pastimes to the electronic inner world they now shared. She couldn't help but wonder how much of their private discussions would be about her: their appraisal of her now that they had met her in person, their judgment of whether she could succeed at the crucial mission she was tasked with.
Of course, they had probably been debating those subjects for hours already, even as they talked with her directly. It was still difficult to remind herself of how swiftly and thoroughly their minds could multitask.
Shinrei considerately dimmed the lights to a soft level that cast no disruptive glare on metal bodies, but also did not leave Lena in darkness amidst the former nightmare fuel of the Shepherds' inanimate forms. He guided her to a corner somewhat removed from the others, and there he settled, carefully arranging his massive legs to partition a small space and provide a greater sense of privacy. Touched by the gesture, she proceeded to unfurl her blanket, but he gave her pause as he said softly: "I think I can offer you something at least slightly more comfortable than the deck."
Curious, Lena watched as an oversized hand emerged from beneath Shinrei's carapace. The fingers fused together as it stretched and swelled into a broad flat shape that rested on the deck. When she gingerly touched it, she found that Shinrei had formed the liquid micromachines he controlled into a fine metallic mesh. It was different from the solid hands he usually created, more flexible and with greater give to it, like an air mattress—which she suddenly realized was exactly what he meant it to serve as.
Pink-faced, Lena looked up at him awkwardly. "You're sure it won't bother you to just sit here cradling me all night?"
"You know I can't feel any physical discomfort. Besides, if anything were to require my attention, I can just use a White Sheep to take care of it from here."
"I guess you have a point," Lena conceded, throwing her blanket across the palm of the inflated hand and carefully easing herself onto it. Given the stifling warmth within the base, there was no need to wrap the blanket around her, so she merely stretched out with her head resting on the upward curve of Shinrei's fingers. It was an undeniably weird feeling—emotionally if not physically.
"Are you alright?" he asked attentively.
Lena draped a forearm over her eyes, letting out a feeble laugh. "Oh, sure… Most of the people I care about have become machines, and I'm sitting here literally in the palm of the most powerful being on the planet, plotting to betray my own government. I'm terrific."
"I'm sorry, Lena."
"Don't be. It's not you… It's this world we live in. None of us ever asked for the things that have happened. Now we're just doing our best to try to fix what we can." Dropping her arm, she squirmed to a more comfortable position on her unlikely bed, and changed the subject. "So exactly how many of these hands can you use at one time?"
"The standard operational limit is eight," he replied innocently—only to concede with a chuckle when she raised an eyebrow. "But I've found I can sustain as many as twelve before the micromachines' connections begin to lose integrity, affecting fine motor control."
"Always pushing your limits," she smiled sadly. "That's definitely Shin."
She could feel her own somberness reflected in Shinrei for a moment. At last he observed quietly, "You still have questions."
And you're still so damn perceptive. Lena closed her eyes and breathed deeply, gathering her thoughts. The things that remained unspoken would be the hardest of all, and she was certain he knew that as well as she did.
"You explained the logic behind your plan to demolish a section of the Gran Mur," she began at last. "To show the Eighty-Six that you're their ally while running the lowest risk of getting anyone hurt, because the Republic will be forewarned. It does make sense… but it's not the only reason, is it?"
Shinrei produced the sound of a sigh. It felt distinctly as if he had expected this question, and did not look forward to answering it.
"No," he admitted quietly. "Breaching the Gran Mur will also serve as a statement to the surrounding nations… demonstrating the force they can expect to be met with if they try to harm the Eighty-Six."
Something fluttered painfully in Lena's chest, yet the response she breathed out was strangely almost a sigh of relief. "I thought so."
"The Eighty-Six are incredibly strong, and nothing will change that. They're resourceful and determined… but for all they've been hardened by what they've endured, those who have survived are still very young, and they've never experienced anything beyond the battlefield. They'll want to remain together, but they won't know how to build a functioning society for themselves on their own. Without protection, they could easily be taken advantage of."
"You think anyone would do that?"
"I believe it's more than possible. In my communications with the neighboring countries, I've learned a great deal about how the Eighty-Six are perceived. So far their governments have been at least outwardly cooperative and respectful, but the opinions among the populace can be… extreme. Some believe the Eighty-Six are poor abused children who should be adopted and coddled—while others imagine them as dangerous freaks who can only be capable of violence. The latter could threaten them out of preconceived fear, but the 'charitable' interference of the former could be just as harmful. The Eighty-Six need time and freedom to heal: to learn how to live normal lives on their own terms, and someday finally trust outsiders. So until they have the wisdom to protect themselves… the Shepherds will watch over them. The rest of the world needs to understand this."
The sudden twisting feeling in Lena's stomach nearly wrung a whimper from her, as she was slammed by emotions that were just too much and too conflicting.
On top of the shame the Republic would already face for its crimes, the Shepherds intended to mark it with a physical scar as a warning sign to other nations—and they were going to do it with Lena's full knowledge and cooperation. That was a terrible thing to feel, a crushing traitorous guilt in spite of herself, and yet…
And yet even this was outweighed by the glowing surge of joy that sang in her heart, because now she was assured that the Shepherds planned to survive. Until this moment, Lena hadn't even fully processed her fear that they would only want to end themselves once the Eighty-Six were free. The sudden absence of that nascent dread was a release that made her feel light as air. She was left struggling to hide the smile that wanted to spring to her lips, the tears that stung at the corners of her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Shinrei repeated once more. "Even after all they've done, I know the thought of what the Republic faces must be difficult for you."
Lena shook her head firmly. "What you're planning to do is so much more merciful than any country in their position could ever expect. The truth is, after the countless lives they've destroyed, it would be understandable if both you Shepherds and the Eighty-Six wanted to invade and burn the Republic to the ground—but you don't even want the lives of the generals and politicians who masterminded it all. I could never forgive like that in your place."
"It isn't forgiveness." A rare chill crept into Shinrei's tone. "Death would be too swift a punishment for those officials. They deserve to live on for years or decades knowing what they've done, and knowing that the world knows—and perhaps someday, if they ever open their eyes, having to bear the pain of sincerely coming to terms with their guilt. …I'm only sorry the Alba who were against the Republic's crimes or truly ignorant of them will be forced to share the consequences of their leaders' shame."
"Even if they started out never meaning harm to anyone, every citizen should have paid more attention to what was happening," Lena asserted. "We should have cared more. We let it happen, and now the only way forward is to face the truth and learn from it. If it hurts people's pride, or even if the rest of the world rejects us, it's nothing compared to what you and the rest of the Eighty-Six have suffered—or the fate the Legion meant for us. The fate you saved us from." Her eyes glistened. "There's going to be a future someday, even for the Republic. And for now, that's enough."
There's going to be a future.
Even as she said the words, it wasn't San Magnolia that her heart was singing them for. No matter how selfish it was, all she could think was that she couldn't imagine her future without the Shepherds, and most of all without Shinrei; and now she knew he would still be there. Now that the worst and best of fates had proved to be one and the same for him… she could admit to herself that she loved him.
She loved both of him. She loved all of him. It was not the simultaneously dizzy and painful crush she'd felt before, on quiet nights of listening to Shin's soft distant voice from afar. It was a deeper and gentler ache that somehow hurt even more, accepting all that Shin and Rei had become in assimilation and merging, and all that could never be possible now—and still loving him anyway. She had never known if her unspoken feelings could mean something to Shin, and that was only more true now, when the other half of Shinrei's essence remembered her as a child and all of him was bound forever in steel. Yet none of that mattered any longer to her love in its own new form. All she needed was to be at his side, to help make real the dreams he had found for himself at last.
Lena wouldn't be left behind this time. Not again.
Even so, before she could take her first steps to follow him, to make him understand, there was a final ghost of doubt in her that had to be dispelled. Closing her eyes, she drew a slow breath, and forced herself to ask the one question that most haunted her.
"Shin, of all people… how could the Legion have succeeded in taking you?"
The voice that answered her, with Rei's echo only barely perceptible beneath it, was as close to Shin's alone as she had heard since the day Spearhead Squadron set out for Legion territory.
"It certainly wasn't the plan. I only meant to distract the Legion just long enough to buy time for my comrades to escape, and after that…" He allowed the weight of a momentary silence to speak for itself. "…But then, I heard them calling to me from outside my disabled Juggernaut. Raiden, Theo, Anju, and Kurena followed me onto that battlefield with full knowledge of what would happen to them—and I knew it too. The Legion had wanted me for years… but the very fact we made it so far into their territory was enough to make them high-value targets as well."
"You knew they were going to be assimilated," Lena breathed. "And you couldn't bear to let them face it alone."
"My pistol had fallen, but I still could have picked it up. Somehow I just couldn't force my hand to reach for it. Not when I thought of their voices crying out as Legion… and no one being left who could hear them."
It was a heartbreaking confession. Lena instinctively slid her hand under the edge of the blanket, pressing her palm against the metallic surface of Shinrei's artificial one, even though she knew he could not feel her touch.
"I could never blame you for that. If I was in your place, and I had to choose between dying or enduring that hell with someone I cared for, I don't think I could have chosen differently. But now that things have turned out this way, I guess the last thing I need to know is… are you okay with all of this?—Is there any way in this world that you possibly can be okay with it?"
A deep metallic sigh preceded the response that still came purely from the core of Shin.
"I regret that I couldn't save the others from assimilation… and even more so, I regret that when I let myself share their fate, I only condemned them to become a part of me. For all their protests that they welcome it, they deserve better than to bear my burdens." He continued before Lena could counter his self-recrimination. "But for myself? Remember that I spent most of my life expecting to die on the battlefield—and without ever truly being able to save anyone. The Eighty-Six were doomed from the start, and no mere mortal could change that. Even the memories I vowed to carry as far as I could were going to die with me. Yet instead, at the very moment when I stopped fighting… my own surrender brought about the Legion's end, and gave me the power to save the Eighty-Six. More than that, I was able to become one with my brother after believing he was gone forever. And now, even my memories of the comrades I lost have become data that can be preserved, so they'll truly never be forgotten." Beneath its metallic distortion, his voice was soft and almost warm, without a trace of hesitation. "For the sake of both the living and the dead, even if the personal cost was not just my life but my humanity… this result was worth it."
Lena released a shuddering breath. It took her a long moment to formulate her reply.
"The very fact that you think suffering so much for others is worthwhile… That proves you haven't lost one bit of your humanity, Shin. It only makes you more human than anyone."
She couldn't be sure, but in the tender awkwardness of the silence before he spoke—now with the equally shared voice of Shinrei once more—she suspected she had caused his core temperature to rise again.
"You should get some sleep, Lena. You have a long journey back to the Republic ahead of you… but first, there's one more thing."
A liquid-metal hand stretched out, clutching something in its fist. As Lena watched, it deposited a small yet heavy black object on top of the blanket… and her heart tumbled into stunned dismay as she recognized its shape.
Her fingers reached out almost against her will, but she could not quite bring herself to touch the gleaming pistol.
"This… was yours, wasn't it?" she breathed through the sudden tightness that choked her voice. "The same one you used for so long to—"
"The mission we've asked you to carry out will be more dangerous than you're willing to admit," Shinrei interrupted her firmly. "We don't have any right to ask you to take that risk, but I know you're determined to see it through. That's why I want you to take this with you, and protect yourself—even if it means your part of the mission won't succeed. If your actions are discovered, if you become endangered, we'll find another way… and we'll reach you. I promise you that. Just stay alive, Lena. That is your first priority."
The heavy emotion, the quiet urgency in his words was expressed equally by both voices of the Nouzen brothers. At the same time, Lena realized an entity bristling with the inherent firepower of a Dinosauria could have no practical reason to carry that tiny pistol made for human hands. He could only have retrieved it from the steel tomb where Shin's headless body still lay because of what it meant to him.
Her hand flinched back from the weapon. "But this… After it's taken so many lives that were precious to you, how could I—?"
"Don't you see? There's no better reason than that." His double-voice grew very soft, yet deeply intent. "After all the burdens that weapon has carried, at least let its final service be the protection of a life that's precious to me."
Lena's breath escaped in a rush as her heart thudded dizzyingly. Too stunned to either cry or smile, she could only stare up at his unreadable steel countenance, trying to process what she had just heard.
She was precious to him…
He cared for her. His concern was not a matter of strategic practicality; it was a genuine and painfully human sentiment, and it came from the essence of both Nouzen brothers. She mattered to him not for what she could do to aid his cause, but for whatever intangible ways she as a person had touched his lives.
"Shinrei…"
"You're the reason we made it this far. …The reason I made it this far." The hand that had delivered the gun gently came to rest upon hers. "And besides, even if we save every life but yours, I'll still have failed in my promise to free the Eighty-Six without casualties. As much as I've asked of you already, I'm also counting on you not to let that happen. So take care of yourself until our work is done, and we find each other again… and then I can be the one to keep you safe."
Silver-blue eyes brimmed. Unable to find words to answer, Lena could only reach out, gently folding the edge of the blanket over the gun in a mute gesture of acceptance.
Shinrei's artificial hand lay twined over hers long after she finally drifted off to sleep.