"Junior, over here!" the soldier's voice called out. "I'll be taking a break for a couple of hours."
Adjusting the strap of his rifle across his chest, Kochi followed the soldier's gesture to the designated spot.
It was kind of funny, really. Being so accustomed to obeying orders. For as long as he could clearly remember, Kochi had been a soldier under FEDRA. Everything he knew, everything he was, revolved around that organization. Born and raised inside the walls of the quarantine zone, FEDRA had been the one controlling everything in his life.
When the infection had taken his parents during his early childhood, he and his brother had ended up in an orphanage. But then, in just one day, everything had changed. He had been told he wouldn't be returning to the orphanage and that FEDRA would take care of him from now on. That had also been the last day he had seen his brother.
The training had been brutal. FEDRA believed that only the toughest could survive. They had taught him how to handle various weapons, from rifles to blades, and drilled military tactics into his mind until they became second nature.
Yet, it hadn't been just combat they had taught. FEDRA wanted loyal followers, and FEDRA painted itself as the savior. They had ingrained in him a deep loyalty to the organization, emphasizing that they were humanity's last protectors.
As a boy, Kochi had idolized the soldiers who stood tall, defending the quarantine zone from the infected threat. He had longed to be one of them. His trainers had become his new guardians, and his days with fellow soldiers had filled the void left by his parents and brother.
However, as he had grown older and faced the world's harsh realities, the lines had also started blurring. The clear distinction between right and wrong had faded. He had witnessed the aftermath of FEDRA's strict rules, had seen innocent lives sacrificed, and had started feeling the rising doubts within him.
Was he truly raised to be a protector? Or was he just a pawn in FEDRA's power game?
He wished he had the answer. He clutched the gun against his chest.
Lost in his thoughts, Kochi failed at first to notice a young girl nearing the gate. She couldn't have been older than twelve, fear etched across her wide eyes.
Kochi's heart sank as he spotted some marks on her neck.
FEDRA's orders were cold and direct. Even potentially infected individuals were to be terminated on sight, no questions asked.
Kochi scoffed, feeling frustration and cynicism welling up within him. What a way to justify slaughtering anyone without doubts and playing this sick power game.
His finger hovered above the trigger. He did know what he was supposed to do. But he could feel the desperation in the girl's gaze, her innocence caught in a brutal world. Could he truly end her life, extinguish the flicker of hope she might still cling to?
A voice echoed in Kochi’s mind.
Is this what protection means? Sacrificing the innocent for the illusion of safety?
In that moment, he made his choice. Lowering his rifle, he met the girl's gaze, his voice barely audible.
"Go, kid. Find somewhere else to go."
The girl stared at him. Kochi nodded, urging her on. Without saying a word, she slipped past him and darted through the gate, disappearing into the forest where she'd emerged.
As Kochi kept watching behind her, he knew the consequences if his act was discovered. But he couldn't live with himself if he continued down the same path.
*****
Kochi stirred and jumped up, his eyes snapping open to the gentle dawn glow that filtered through the room's thin white curtains. The lingering weight of the dream's atmosphere pressed upon him.
Taking a quick look around, Kochi noted that the others, all five of them, were sound asleep. He hadn't been sure whether he had cried out loud during the dream, but based on the others' unbothered presence, it seemed that at least his voice hadn't reached their ears.
As Kochi settled onto his back, his thoughts drifted back to his dream and days with FEDRA.
To be honest, he wanted to talk. To share the guilt that gnawed at him, the doubt that lingered like a shadow.
But then— he glanced at Hokuto lying on a mattress beside him. Hokuto, whose own past with FEDRA had been different. Hokuto, whom fate had decided to throw into the same place with Kochi after all.
There were things they didn't talk about, things that hung between them like secrets buried in the ground. Kochi only knew that Hokuto's journey had been tough, shaped by experiences one could never fully comprehend.
He recalled a memory, a fragment of a conversation when Hokuto had said that letting go of something you once had is harder than never having it in the first place. That sometimes giving up on what you hold dear is the hardest choice to make. Kochi hadn't been sure, still wasn't sure to this day, whether Hokuto had referred to the past or future. Maybe both.
A faint voice pierced the silence.
"You okay?"
Hokuto's voice held a small concern, his eyes flickering open.
Kochi forced a faint smile, although Hokuto couldn't see it. He tried to shake off the dream's remnants and sound brave.
"Yeah, just a nightmare."
"Nightmare? We're practically living in one, buddy. But okay."
Hokuto was right. Their reality was as twisted as their dreams.
But maybe it was alright to keep certain things, Kochi contemplated. Not to burden Hokuto with his own guilt when they both carried their own loads, their silent stories.
"Go back to sleep," Kochi said to him gently.
Hokuto mumbled something, then turned to his side, emitting a faint snore. He had fallen asleep again.
Perhaps some things were best unsaid.