Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume12 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 1===

Morning came early for the Legitimacy Kingdom’s 37th Mobile Maintenance Battalion.

Even so, Quenser was not pleased as he rubbed his sleepy eyes in the triple bunk bed he was crammed into and glanced over at the glow-in-the-dark hands of the clock.

“You’re kidding, right? It’s not even four yet.”

It was an oppressively hot August night. He had been woken by the vibration of his wristwatch that was synced with his handheld device, so he sluggishly put his usual military uniform over his sweat-soaked shirt and boxers. To his displeasure, he realized he had been bitten all over by mosquitos and scratched at his arms and legs.

He had been received an urgent summons, so he did not have time to brush his hair or wash his face. He descended the ladder and stepped out into the hall while making sure not to wake the other soldiers in the dark barracks. His face and body were uncomfortably sticky.

His handheld device provided details on the summons.

It was from Frolaytia Capistrano.

He left the normal soldiers’ barracks and hurried to the special barracks for officers. He was acting on orders, but he was still blinded by the bright light of a patrolling soldier’s military flashlight.

And that soldier turned out to be his awful friend Heivia.

“Huh? What are you doing out this late?”

“Heivia? You didn’t have patrol duty tonight, did you?”

“…”

“…”

The two of them exchanged a glance that transformed into a wholehearted look of dread.

Waiting for them in the special barracks was a busty, silver-haired, and highly-educated(?) girl. Despite the late hour, that commanding officer of theirs wore her uniform impeccably.

“When do you sleep?” complained Quenser when he peeked inside her private room which was decorated by her love of the Island Nation.

“I’m more surprised that a battlefield student was sleeping the night away. The lights are still on in the Object maintenance bay, you know?”

Frolaytia tossed him a cylindrical bottle of wet tissues and he wiped off his oily face.

“Could I go observe their work now?”

“Absolutely not.” Their busty commander bluntly rejected the idea. “I called you two here for a reason. And sorry, but I want you to focus on this mission.”

“I don’t think I’m going to have much luck focusing on anything that isn’t peeping on the women’s bath or sneaking a late-night date with a sexually frustrated commander.”

“Do you remember former Councilor Flide?”

“You’re just going to ignore my great sexual harassment joke!? Please stop continuing the conversation like that. Especially when it means bringing up such a super pain-in-the-ass of a guy,” complained Quenser. “Frolaytia, you forgot the part where you tell us there’s no turning back after we hear this and then give us the choice to leave or stay. You’re just dragging us into this without a choice!!”

“That sly old man has nothing to do with this, so calm down. Do you remember the Pilot Elite he raised like a protégé? The one for the Exact Javelin.”

The two idiots exchanged a glance and gave their answers.

“Oh, you mean that one that rose up from its underground base to say hello?”

“No, you moron. It’s the one we fought on some test grounds overflowing with nature.”

“I think you’re getting confused with something else.”

“Hey, I’m dependent on my phone’s address book to make any calls. I doubt I could memorize an eleven digit number. Exact Javelin? It kind of rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it…”

“But I do remember there being a 12-year-old little girl Elite with a blonde braid.”

“But I do remember there being a 12-year-old little girl Elite with a blonde braid.”

“Well, at least I know how awful you two are,” said Frolaytia as she wrote this off as a lost cause.

The two idiots continued tilting their heads, but she got on with the conversation while spinning around her beloved kiseru.

“This is a request from the top brass sitting around in their safe countries. They have finished questioning that 12-year-old Pilot Elite named Catherine Blueangel. Based on the request from her case officer, she wants to retire and return to a normal life instead of living in a military facility while waiting for her ‘next’ Object to be completed…''if'' one ever is. We have no objection there, but this girl was separated from the military as a whole as a part of that pig Flide’s personal troops. There are some legitimate concerns whether or not she can really live a normal life.”

“Isn’t this a job for a school counselor?”

“She is going through the Civilian Acclimation Assistance System. Before she is left with the nonresistance group Archaic Smile, she must have her claws and fangs filed down. As someone who is halfway between military and civilian and as the battlefield student who took part in the operation to destroy the Exact Javelin and rescue Catherine, you would be best for the job, Quenser. And Heivia, you’re only the second best option since you’re an official soldier. Do you understand the situation now?”

Seeing the blatant disgust on the two idiots’ faces, Frolaytia gave a large nod.

“Catherine will accompany you to low-danger battlefields in order to gradually shift her thought processes from those of a battlefield country to those of a safe country. Once her small hands no longer need a gun in them, we can feel comfortable passing her off to a normal school or tutor. We’ll chuck her into a safe country and call it a day. And it won’t take that long. It should be a month or two at most.”

“That explains it,” muttered Heivia.

They were not in a filthy battlefield country like normal. This was still a military mission, but they had received the kind of warm welcome the 37th was usually never lucky enough to receive.

“But I don’t see why you had to wake us up at four in the morning to tell us that.”

“Catherine was the one who requested you two. And she seems to be accustomed to an entirely different time zone. Since the VIP arrived at the maintenance base zone before the newspapers were even delivered, we had to get started early.”

“What?”

Just as Quenser voiced his confusion, a modest knock came at the door.

The two idiots had a bad feeling about this and hesitantly turned around. The door cracked opened, but instead of stepping inside, a 12-year-old poked half her head inside and peered up at the people in the room.

Then the tiny demon nervously spoke.

“Big…brother…?”